Rating Warning: Things get a little explicit in this chapter. Well very explicit. There's smut in here. You've been warned. 3
Soft murmurs lulled Darcy out of the darkness. Echoes of sleep clung onto her senses and she wasn't sure if she should fight them. The scent of earth and something sharper tickled her nose. Songbirds chirped, happy for the beginning of another day. Memories flickered through her mind but they were only flashes of the moon in the night sky and animals scattering across the dark forest floor. As she kept her eyes shut, Darcy tried to focus on the rumbling voices around her.
"I am uncertain if this proves anything," said the first voice, deep and gruff, holding onto years of ill luck and spite.
"How much proof do you need? We have lived our lives in the shadows and have been burnt when we sought the light but do not let that blind you from what is in front of us," said another man, annoyed and tired. Darcy thought she recognized the voice but she could not place it.
"We all fear the chance of false hope," spat the first man, voice rising from an angry whisper. "Going back home with our tails between our legs because we put all our eggs in one basket? What happens when all that hatches are chicks and not the cygnets we wished? Risking our necks for naught is what you ask of us."
"Brock would not be sniffing around her if he felt it was all for naught," said the second man and Darcy's brow wrinkled. She did not open her eyes but she kept her breathing steady. As much as she opposed the idea of anyone sniffing around her, she could not decide if she was angry that Brock might be using her for his own end or if she was pleased that he was indeed interested in her.
"He is a desperate man and a desperate man will do anything, even go against his best judgement," the first man argued. Now, that offended Darcy. Yet she could not find it in herself to be angry at the man. She could feel the pain and sadness that hid under his anger. Wariness was his defense in keeping his wound from growing.
"You should have seen him with her. Clawing at the seams of his skin just at the sight of her. In fact, I do not know what Brock is so timid about. They're practically bonded," the second man insisted and Darcy almost opened her eyes. She could not imagine Brock being timid about anything. This 'bonded' business though? They were talking in metaphors they only understood.
"Brock timid? That is an ill sign indeed. How can that not make you wary of the inevitable outcome?"
"You saw with your own eyes. You fear the truth because you do not want your losses to be justified," the second man said, conviction in his voice. A growl shook the air in response and she stilled, concerned a wolf had approached. The men were not moved by the sound.
"Since we are discussing our fears, I particularly fear what will happen when Brock finds her here in this state," said a third man. His voice held more joy and although some concern tinged his words, laughter seemed to be the undercurrent of his tone. "He will be angry for certain, if Jack's suggestion holds any truth and Brock has not laid claim."
"We kept her safe, that is all that matters," the first man mumbled.
"Not sure why Brock is taking his time on this matter. If he truly has entertained the notion of stealing her away from her betrothed, he shouldn't be running around like a maiden from a field mouse," the third man chuckled to himself. His joke pulled laughter from the other two men, one bitter and another mildly amused. That was certainly information she could use to her benefit. She also just wished Brock would stop taking his time and decide to steal her away. She certainly wouldn't complain.
At this time, Darcy took more note of her surroundings. A wool blanket was tucked around her tightly, and she realized she could not move her arms. A thin pallet lay below her, covering uneven earth and clumps of fauna. In fact, her bare arms were touching her bare sides…which meant she wasn't even wearing a shift.
Darcy struggled against the wool, opening her eyes but squinting at the streams of sunlight peeking through the trees. She lay stranded in the forest but she knew not how she got here and why she was wrapped in nothing but a blanket. A strange tang coated Darcy's tongue and she thought it might be blood. Had she fallen last night, dream walked again and bit the inside of her mouth? Looking down at the blanket, she recognized the plaid that Jack and Brock held dear. She turned her head towards the voices and saw Jack with two men she did not know. They all wore outfits similar to Jack's plaid wrap, with varying belts and weapons. Silver wolf's head brooches all sparkled in the early morning light against the plaid across their chests. The shorter of the three men noticed Darcy's struggling and stilled at her wide eyes. The other two men followed his gaze.
"What have you done to me?" Darcy asked hoarsely, finally able to free one of her arms from her cocooned prison. Her throat was raw, as if she'd been shouting for an entire week. With some difficulty, she sat up and readjusted the plaid tightly around her body. Her legs curled under her and she crossed her arms over her chest, fixing the men with a glare.
"What ha-" the tallest of the three men began to speak and Darcy recognized his voice as the angriest of the men. He had a long unkempt beard and despite the weary air about him, projected strength.
"We found you in laying in the forest," Jack interrupted the man swiftly, taking a step towards her. His hand was up, as if he were attempting to calm a rabid dog. "As naked as the day you were born. I wrapped you up and carried you to our camp. Do you have the habit of dream walking, perchance?"
"I...what?" The story seemed wild but his question stopped Darcy from tossing out its veracity all together. She had dream walked before. Did she dream of the fairies again and this time, thought she was dancing in the ring? The men noticed her doubt. The tallest man glared at Jack.
"Do you remember anything of your dream, m'lady?" asked the shorter man. His beard was trim and he was had a stocky build. Darcy did her best to recall the night but a sharp pain shot through her head. Grabbing her temples, she took a shaky gasp of breath. Memories fluttered through her head but they could not have belonged to her. The howls of wolves vibrated through her skull. Happy baying and barking as the wolves ran in the moonlight. She was leading them, chasing her tail before running after a rabbit. Bones crushed under her jaws and warm blood running down her mouth. Looking down, Darcy searched for the signs of carnage and found nothing but clean pale skin. The tallest man noticed her confusion and he walked over to a bag on the ground. Out of it, he pulled a small leather waterskin, which he handed to her.
For a long moment, Darcy stared up at him with a raised brow. From his words, she wasn't entirely sure she trusted him to not poison her but the other the men did not intervene. Although it was silly to trust men she hardly knew, Darcy still reached out and took the offered waterskin. An angry wolf had been scored into the leather. She ran her thumb over the growling creature before pulling the cork. Taking a hearty gulp, Darcy almost coughed up the fiery liquid. She'd assumed it was some sort of ale or wine but she'd never drank anything like it. Heat trailed down her throat where the liquid touched and into her stomach. She forgot the pain of her throat for a moment.
"Aqua Vitae will do you some good," the tall, gruff man said, crossing his arms sternly but offering Darcy a wink. His chest puffed out slightly in pride. "I made that whiskey myself. Finest you will ever taste." Taking another tentative sip and enjoying the way it warmed her up, Darcy concentrated on the night before. She tried to recall why she had ended up naked in the forest, if these men were telling the truth.
"I was...smelling bluebells outside my grandmother's home and I sat down because I was tired," Darcy admitted. It was the last memory she had that she could trust. Everything after that was just snapping jaws and light paws on the forest floor. People did not turn into wolves. No matter what her grandmother's stories suggested. There was a reasonable explanation for this. Perhaps the wolf howls she'd heard before falling asleep led her dreams into wild fantasy? Before Darcy found the courage to admit she remembered wolves, a frantic voice called out her name.
"Darcy?" The voice cried, scaring off the twittering birds. Three horses grazing nearby lifted their heads. But Darcy recognized the deep baritone. Relief washed over her and she allowed her shoulders to slump. As ease sunk into her gut, the ache of her muscles grew more evident.
"Brock," Darcy replied, voice cracking. The running of feet through the underbrush were the first thing Darcy heard but soon enough, Brock emerged through the thick copse of trees. He did not look much better than he had the day before, skin still pale and beaded with sweat. Deep shadows hung under his eyes and his hair was a rumpled mess. He only wore a shirt and braies, as if he hurried out of his hut without any regard for himself. Running through the forest probably would not help his health but Darcy could not stop the solace filling her at the sight of him. The moment his eyes fell on her, he let out a breath of relief and the tension in his entire body eased.
Darcy stood up, struggling with the wool plaid as it caught between her legs. Readjusting the plaid around her, she ran towards Brock. She didn't stop until her face was buried in his chest and her arms wrapped around his body in a tight hug. The scent of cloves and wood smoke engulfed Darcy. The steady heartbeat thrumming through him let her know that whatever mess she'd gotten herself into, would sort itself out just fine. Brock buried his nose in the hair at her crown and inhaled deeply. A warmth similar to the trail left by the whiskey heated her entire body. It was also at this moment that Darcy realized that she still had the waterskin clutched in her hand. Pulling her head back, Darcy looked up at Brock and her heart lodged in her throat at the adoration etched into his face.
"Your grandmother is frantic. She had to assist in a birth this morning and almost knocked down my door in search of you," Brock said quietly, voice rumbling pleasantly. Although Darcy felt guilt at causing her grandmother such worry, she couldn't stop herself from rising on the balls of her feet and rubbing the tip of her nose against Brock's. A tiny smile tugged at his lips.
"I didn't mean to upset her. I planned on meeting you last night but...but I fell asleep and woke up here," admitted Darcy. "I think I may have been dream walking again."
"I told you not to wander at night," Brock chastised but there was hardly any anger in his tone. In fact, he appeared all too relieved at finding her safe to really consider her stupid actions. She was sure the affection would wear off soon enough but she'd enjoy it while she could.
"You know why I wanted to see you," Darcy insisted and Brock just grunted. When he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, Darcy's entire body hummed in excitement. Something she could only describe as love blossomed in her chest, leaving fluttering butterflies in its wake as it spread through her limbs. As she preened, one of their forgotten audience cleared his throat. Darcy and Brock turned their gazes towards the three men. They stood at attention, as if they were knights waiting orders.
"Rulf, Gavin," Brock addressed the men and from their nods, Darcy determined the taller one was Rulf and the shorter was Gavin. "I am glad to see you two alive and well."
"Given that we were on the search for you, I must say we share the sentiment," Gavin said, a grin breaking out on his face. A repose settled over the men now, though they all stood tall and proud under Brock's and Darcy's gazes. The three men also shared almost delighted glances amongst each other as they watched Darcy burrow into Brock's chest.
She couldn't help herself, she just wanted to be closer to him.
"You kept Darcy safe, I trust," Brock asked, warning clear in his tone. He pulled Darcy closer at the statement. A large warm hand fell to rest at the base of her spine and the other gently took the water skin from her.
"I'm offended you would suggest otherwise," Jack said, smirk on his lips as he watched Brock's grip. His eyes caught Darcy's and he bowed slightly. "M'lady, you are free to join our men anytime you tire of Brock's company. You will always be safe in our presence."
"Perhaps I will consider keeping my kirtle in place if I choose to seek you men out," Darcy said, causing the men to chuckle. Taking a large drink from the water skin, Brock didn't even wince as he swallowed.
"Still the best whiskey," Brock said as Rulf took back the water skin, a pleased smile on his face. Turning his attention back to Darcy, Brock continued with a more solemn tone. "Your grandmother tasked me to find you and bring you back home. She insisted you not leave your bed until she returns, though she is uncertain when that will be."
With a sigh, Darcy nodded and looked down. Her feet were bare again but given the circumstances, it was no surprise. While most women would be hysterical if they were to find themselves naked in the middle of the forest with three strangers for company, Darcy found herself strangely serene. As foolish as she probably was for trusting their word that they meant no ill will towards her, in Darcy's heart she knew that her safety was not in peril. Her reputation was another matter completely but she didn't care much for it anymore.
Brock lifted her, carrying Darcy much like he had the night he found her dream dancing in the fairy ring. The journey back to her grandmother's home was quiet. Darcy wrapped one arm around his neck and placed her other hand on his chest, next to his heart. She found solace in his warmth and scent. His steady breathing eased any remaining tension she had over her dream and how it led her astray. This time, there were no scratches on her legs but she did note some of her muscles ached from exertion, as if she'd ran for hours.
"I was going to visit you last night," Darcy admitted. "I know you didn't wish me to but I couldn't help myself. I fell asleep when I walked outside and had strange dreams. Doubtless, I must have dreamt something wonderfully odd to end up as I did. I played with wolves in my dreams. Isn't that ever so strange?"
All she got in response was a toneless grunt. Although Brock didn't speak on her dream, he did tighten his grip on her just a little. He was being oddly docile this morning and she wondered if it was due to his illness that appeared to weaken his resolve against her wiles. Or perhaps he was that relieved to find her in good health despite her dream walking.
Once they returned to her grandmother's home, Brock carried Darcy inside and set her next to the table. There, she could see the neatly folded kirtle, shift and crimson cloak she wore the previous day. Vaguely, Darcy had a memory of her taking them off but she couldn't remember why.
"Your clothes were strewn about the herbs and flowers. Your grandmother talked in tongues by the time she reached my hut," Brock said, following her gaze. It was meant to tease her but it only caused Darcy's heart to sink. Her intentions had been to not worry her grandmother but that obviously hadn't happened. For all the freedoms her grandmother offered Darcy here in the small village, the least she could do was not upset the woman she loved so dearly. With her clothes strewn about in such a manner, there could only be one grim assumption of what happened to her.
"Was it tongues or French?" Darcy asked, looking back at Brock to see him shrug. She appreciated his attempt at humor nonetheless. "Were you as concerned?"
"With your preference for shucking off your garments and dancing in fairy rings, I assumed it was just a normal night for you," Brock said, light tone forced but his face held solemn. "But I am glad no harm has come to you."
"Those men seemed to be certain that you would be angry with them if they allowed any harm to come to me," Darcy said, deciding to keep most of the conversation she overheard to herself so she could think on it further. Brock stood a little taller at her comment.
"Then they still know me well," said Brock. Moving to the hearth, he poked at the embers and added a small log. After a fire roared to life, he placed a kettle onto the flame.
"Would they have harmed me if I hadn't known you?" Darcy asked. Although her instincts told her that they were nothing to fear, all the lessons her father tried to instill in her whispered caution.
"No," Brock said. He didn't look up but he did grab a mug and place it on the table. She peered into it to find dried herbs. It must have been set out by her grandmother in anticipation of Darcy's return. When Brock continued to work on the flames in silence, she sighed.
"What concoction are you making me?" asked Darcy.
"A mix your grandmother made before she left. Said it will ease your mind and send you to sleep. I'm to guard your door until she returns. She no longer trusts you to stay put," Brock said and Darcy couldn't help but roll her eyes. Not wanting to discuss her grandmother's ill judgment in having Brock be the one to keep Darcy out of trouble, she scooped up the pile of her clothes and made her way to her room. When inside, she let the plaid fall and poured some water into a small basin. As Darcy used a rag to clean herself, she searched for any signs of damage. She didn't feel particularly filthy, which she thought strange for a night running naked in the forest. The bottoms of her feet were dirty and she noticed some grime and dirt in her fingernails. Stains of red clung to her fingertips and all she could wonder was what the world she had gotten up to last night. Otherwise, nothing else was amiss.
After cleaning her skin and nails, Darcy brushed and braided her hair. She slipped on her shift. For a moment, she considered donning her kirtle but decided that if the drink was to make her sleep, there was no point. By the time she returned to Brock, hot water had been added to the herbs and it cooled enough for Darcy to drink. Brock stood over her, watching as she drank the vile concoction. It tasted both sour and bitter with no real forgiving flavor in it at all.
"The sleep will take over in about an hour. Perhaps shorter since you are smaller," Brock said, grabbing the mug from Darcy when she finished. Although a gentle warmth settled in her stomach and chest, she didn't notice any other immediate changes.
"Did my grandmother tell you that?"
"No, I know from my own experience. This is what your grandmother sends to me," Brock admitted. Darcy's brow rose. Why would her grandmother give her the same drink as Brock? And how did her grandmother know this would be the thing Darcy needed upon her return? It if made her sleep, it may simply be something to keep Darcy in her room until grandmother returned and could make a better assessment. Once Brock placed the nearly empty mug on the table, he ushered Darcy back to her room.
With a long-suffering sigh, Darcy let him shepherd her into her bed. In protest, she refused to lay down. Instead, she sat on the edge and looked up at Brock. He'd crossed his arms and fixed her with a glare suggesting he expected her to fall to sleep immediately because he'd commanded it. Although his skin held a pallor, he no longer appeared as flushed. It pleased Darcy that his health was slowly returning. Perhaps whatever ailed Brock subsided when he had someone to boss about. The thought amused her and Brock frowned at her giggle.
"What are you up to now?" asked Brock, voice stern but hued with the slightest uncertainty.
"Are you to be the sentry outside my door the entire time I sleep?" Darcy countered.
"Yes. I'm to make sure you do not get yourself into any more danger," Brock said.
"Would it not be more comfortable if you waited in here with me?" asked Darcy, voice coy and eyes wide with feigned innocence. Although her plans the night before had gone awry, Darcy still intended to seduce Brock one way or another. The fact he wasn't supposed to leave her offered better odds of success. As if Brock read her mind, he frowned deeply and his brow furrowed. He set her with another stern glare meant to stutter any willful behavior.
"Shouldn't you be filled with fear and terror at not knowing how you found yourself this morning?" asked Brock, clearly suggesting that Darcy should have simply fainted when she woke up in the forest.
"I suppose I should, but I'm not," Darcy shrugged her shoulders. She reached out to play with the hem of Brock's shirt and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't push her hands away. She tugged on the shirt to bring him closer. Brock's body straightened and his muscles tightened. When her hands crept under the shirt in search of skin, he pulled the fabric from her grasp. Assuming he would leave her now and shut the door behind him, Darcy's eyes widened as he stepped forward and cradled her body against his. Lifting her up, he lay her back firmly on the center of the bed. The bed ropes creaked under his weight as he placed a knee on the edge to balance himself over her. Brock moved back but Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him in place.
"I'm supposed to be protecting you," Brock whispered, his voice edging closer to a growl, sending a pleasant shiver down her skin and between her legs. A soft, airy sigh left her lips, tickling his nose. Brock's breath hitched. He closed his eyes, pressing his nose on her temple but his body tautened as if he would spring away at any moment. Still, he didn't break away from her. Encouraged, Darcy captured his lips in a kiss.
Although a gentle and uncertain brushing of lips, Darcy's heart pounded in her chest. Her heart cracked when he did not respond but she attempted another kiss, then another. Under her fingers, she felt Brock's body tense at each kiss. After the third kiss garnered no response, Darcy pulled away, loosening her hold. As she tried to come up with an appropriate response to the lack of interest, she noticed Brock's breath coming out in short, shallow gasps and the veins bulging out on his neck. Something between a whine and a growl sounded in the back of his throat.
"Brock," Darcy commanded gently. She would ignore her inhibitions and followed instinct, so, why couldn't he? Something wavered in his eyes and doubt sprouted in Darcy's chest, mixing with desire and guilt. She ignored it, choosing to brush another small kiss on Brock's nose. Warmth and tenderness began to bloom through the doubt and she allowed the giddy joy that Brock always caused to fill her chest. Lust darkened his eyes, clearing the uncertainty. After a long beat, his resolve snapped.
Brock's body covered hers and he nipped at her neck. It sent a shock of pleasure down Darcy's body, urging out a gasp. She turned her head towards his and Brock roughly took her lips in a desperate and wet kiss. Their tongues tangled and Darcy's hands skimmed along Brock's skin, over the hard ridges of muscle. He shivered lightly and broke their kiss. A bashful smile turned the corners of Darcy's mouth when he sat up to shuck off his shirt and boots. Her face and chest flushed under his heated perusal. Stalking his way up her body like a wolf hunting prey, Brock left kisses and nips along her legs and stomach. Yet, she knew she was no unsuspecting deer.
Darcy's eyes lingered on the pale, puckered scar on his shoulder. She could make out the indentations of where the wolf's teeth tore into his skin. She traced a finger along the marks and saw his eyes grow almost completely black. A growl hummed in the back of his throat. Darcy let out a giddy laugh as one of his hands ran up her thigh to rest on her hip. One of her hands tangled in his hair, bringing his face in for a hard kiss.
Although not well versed in the art of kissing, Darcy did her best to follow Brock's tongue. She discovered herself to be quite an enthusiastic student in the matter. In fact, she was so focused on mimicking his lips and tongue, she didn't notice his hand hovering at the crest of her thighs until he dipped his thumb into her folds. Darcy gasped against his mouth as he tested the slick wetness. When Brock flicked at the bud above her opening, she panted out a higher pitched gasp at the sensation. Delight burst through her body, centering in her gut.
"Oh, do that again," Darcy ordered and after a quick kiss to her temple, Brock obliged. His thumb slowly rolled back and forth over her bud. Darcy arched her head back as her muscles clenched. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Darcy tugged Brock in so he lay flush against her. He kept most of his weight on one arm, laying on his side. Darcy wrapped her leg around his hip and buried her face in his neck as little breaths of joy tumbled from her.
As Brock's pace quickened, Darcy's desire grew until it ached. One finger slipped slowly into her opening and she moaned. Her hips followed his teasing motion. A thickness pressed against her thigh and she pressed into it, pulling grunts from Brock. She placed a mix of kisses and small bites against the unscarred side of his neck, enjoying the way his moans grew louder. A scorching heat filled Darcy's body. As it twisted through her, she bit the juncture of Brock's neck and shoulder again. His thumb rubbed swiftly over her bud and the heat peaked. Pleasure pulsed through Darcy's body and her teeth ached. Brock shivered, burying his nose at the crown of her head.
When Darcy pulled back for a deep breath, she smiled up at Brock until her eyes found two spots of blood beading up on his shoulder. The indentations of her teeth were visible and she could clearly see where the sharp points of her teeth pierced skin. The surrounding skin shined bright red and she knew it would bruise. With a frown, Darcy sat up and wiped away the blood but more welled up. Her knees curled up against her chest and her shoulders slumped. Brock frowned at her change. He rose and gathered her into his arms.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Darcy admitted, a tight, painful lump forming in her throat.
"You didn't hurt me," assured Brock, smoothing little kisses along her cheek and the bridge of her nose. "If I had wanted you to stop, I would have pulled away."
"You're bleeding," Darcy whispered, horrified at herself for the satisfaction that welled up inside her. A strange, possessive emotion tore through her chest. Brock was hers. No one else's.
"I'm yours," Brock promised, whispering in Darcy's ear as if he read her mind. Her heart caught in her throat. "I'm yours, if you will have me."
The horror dispersed when Brock lay a tender kiss on her lips. Her body melted against his, responding well to the gentle touch. As they kissed with leisure, Brock lifted the hem of Darcy's shift. They broke the kiss only to allow him to lift the fabric over her head and toss it aside. Darcy let out a content sigh when her hot skin molded to his. She gripped his upper arms and nipped at his bottom lip. In response, he cupped her breasts and kissed her neck. His thumbs circled her nipples and heat ran down her spine to settle again in between her thighs.
"Brock," Darcy whined softly. It wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted him closer. Digging her fingers into his arms, Darcy let out another needy call.
"Are you sure?" Brock asked, pulling back and untying his braies. Though his question lacked conviction, Darcy only needed to send a pointed look his way to answer it. She had no intentions of stopping. His heavy, hard member jutted out from his center as Brock quickly rid his braies. It was thick and Darcy's eyes widened as it pulsed. Knowing the general way of how this was meant to work, Darcy bit her lip as she considered the dynamics. Although she had faith that he would fit inside her, she did have some doubts. Also, she was sure she was meant to be lying down. Instead, Brock settled himself against the head of the bed, legs straight out in front of him. He reached out a hand towards Darcy and she was intrigued.
Darcy followed his suggestion and crawled up his legs. As she straddled him, her bottom settled on his thighs. She fit snugly against him, with his member pressed against her folds. Reaching between them, Darcy delicately ran a finger along his hot member and enjoyed the needy snarl it pulled from Brock.
"You can play with it later," Brock swore with closed eyes, voice deep and harsh. He lifted his knees so she slid closer to him, his hands gripped on her hips to help guide her into position. Darcy held onto his shoulders to keep her balance, shifting her weight to her knees. A pleased gasp spilled out at the feel of his tip against her opening.
Allowing herself to slowly lower, Darcy's moans mingled with Brock's as he filled her. A sharp twinge of pain stopped her descent. Her grip tightened against his shoulders but he smoothed his hands up and down her sides. Sweet words of encouragement filled her ear and he showered sweet kisses on her neck and chest. Slowly, the pain subsided and Darcy continued to lower herself. When Brock was fully nestled inside her, she dragged him closer for a wanton, clumsy tongue kiss.
Darcy lost herself in their kiss, enjoying the way their tongues tangled and even the wet sounds of their smacking lips. Every so often, Darcy teased him by pulling her mouth away but Brock caught her each time, like a wolf toying with his meal. When Brock rocked his hips, she pulled back with a gasp. With his help, she lifted herself up and slammed back down. She slowly repeated this motion a few more times and keened at the feel of his member sliding inside her. Brock bit and sucked on Darcy's neck, giving her bottom a quick squeeze of encouragement.
Their coupling grew wild and frantic. The room filled with the sounds of their grunts, the creak of the bed ropes and of flesh against flesh. As she soared towards her peak, Darcy howled in ecstasy. She arched her back and scratched her nails down Brock's biceps. Kisses covered the top of her breasts and she let out a protest when he pulled out of her. Her limbs grew heavy and her body slacked in contentment as satisfaction hummed through her. Vaguely, she noticed being lowered down on her back and her body being covered by hot sinew.
Brock wrapped Darcy's legs around his hips and balanced above her on his elbows. She happily assisted his change in position when his member slid back into her, tightening her thighs at his fast, hard thrusts. Another peak approached and Darcy croaked a hoarse moan. She gripped his face with both hands and they shared a surprisingly gentle kiss. Brock's hips stuttered and he hummed into her mouth as wet heat filled her. His pumps slowed until he was spent and he fell slack atop her. They lay in silence, catching their breaths for a long moment.
"Is it always like that?" Darcy purred, body sinking into the mattress. A small yawn escaped and her eyes grew heavy. Although she was more than willing to blame this sluggishness on Brock, she knew that the concoction she drank likely shared responsibility. Her entire body was warm, relaxed and buzzing with the new sensations she went through. The restlessness that normally lingered below her skin disappeared. Peace settled over her. She was whole now, though she'd never realized until this moment that she'd been missing pieces of herself before.
"Hmm?" Brock intoned, paying more attention to nibbling on her ear.
"If it's always like that, I understand why other ladies find it so hard to keep their virtue," Darcy said and Brock chuckled. The rumble of his chest vibrated through her body. She wanted to giggle at the sensation but couldn't find the energy. It grew harder to open her eyes and she inhaled a deep breath of earthy cloves and wood smoke.
"S'never like that. Only with you," mumbled Brock, sliding out of her with a slight hiss. She whined at the loss but ceased her complaints when he cradled her against his chest. Brock appeared to be held by the same exhaustion that overtook her. They lay on her bed, breathing deeply in unison and enjoying the afterglow. Darcy could not remember ever feeling such tranquility settling inside her chest and somehow knew it echoed through Brock. Although the sun continued to rise, she allowed the sound of his heartbeat to lull her into sleep as it beat alongside hers.