Chapter 3
Darcy had never been one for subtlety.
So when Phil Coulson—a man who defined self-control—pressed her against his office door, all restraint slipping from his usually composed exterior, she knew she had him.
And she loved it.
“You sure about this, Director?” she teased, her fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt.
Coulson exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips brushing her jaw as he spoke. “Darcy, you have no idea how long I’ve been trying not to do this.”
Her breath hitched at the confession, heat pooling low in her stomach. She hadn't expected that—hadn’t expected the weight behind those words.
But then Coulson’s hands were on her again, skimming up her thighs, gripping her hips with a firmness that made her gasp.
“I think you should stop thinking so much,” she murmured, tugging at his tie. “And just—oh—”
His mouth was on her throat before she could finish, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin just below her ear.
Darcy whimpered. Actually whimpered.
Phil Coulson, Director of SHIELD, was apparently hiding some serious skills beneath that well-tailored suit.
Speaking of which—
She shoved his shirt off his shoulders, running her nails lightly down his chest, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. He was all lean strength, a man who kept himself in perfect shape, but damn—she hadn’t expected him to be this toned.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “Do they make you guys in a lab?”
Coulson chuckled, the sound dark and low. “Trade secret.”
Then his hands slipped beneath her skirt, fingertips teasing the tops of her stockings, and Darcy forgot how to be funny.
Her head fell back against the door with a soft thud as Coulson’s lips trailed lower, his mouth dragging over her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts.
The way he touched her—like he was committing every inch of her to memory—sent a shiver through her.
She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected him to be so thorough, so hungry.
And God, she wanted more.
“Couch,” she managed to say between breaths, her fingers twisting into his hair.
Coulson didn’t hesitate. He lifted her with ease, carrying her across the room and lowering her onto the leather couch like she was something fragile—something to be handled.
Darcy was not fragile.
She tugged him down, wrapping her legs around his waist, rolling her hips just to hear the way his breath hitched.
“Darcy,” he growled, and holy hell, she was going to make him say her name like that again.
“Less talking, more—”
His mouth found hers in a deep, desperate kiss, his hands slipping beneath her skirt, tugging at the lace of her underwear.
Darcy gasped as his fingers brushed over her, teasing, testing, before pressing exactly where she needed him.
“Shit—” she bit her lip, arching into his touch.
Coulson’s other hand settled on her hip, holding her in place as he worked her apart with slow, deliberate strokes.
“You’re impatient,” he murmured against her skin, amusement laced in his tone.
“I hate you,” she panted, but the way she was rocking against his hand told a different story.
Coulson smirked. “No, you don’t.”
Then he pushed two fingers inside her, and whatever smart-ass remark Darcy had lined up completely evaporated.
She gasped, nails digging into his back as heat coiled tighter in her belly.
“Phil—”
That did something to him.
With a low growl, Coulson pulled her panties down her thighs, his fingers still stroking, teasing, as he kissed his way lower.
Darcy barely had time to process before his mouth replaced his fingers, hot and devastating against her.
“Oh, my God—”
Her fingers tangled in his hair, her back arching as his tongue moved with expert precision, dragging her closer and closer to the edge.
Coulson, it turned out, was an incredibly patient man.
Darcy, however, was not.
She tugged at him, pulling him up, desperate for more. “Please—”
He silenced her with another kiss, one hand still between her thighs, drawing slow, delicious circles.
“Darcy,” he murmured, voice rough, “tell me what you want.”
She shuddered. “You. Now.”
Coulson didn’t need to be told twice.
There was a flurry of movement—clothes hitting the floor, heat pressing against heat—until he was finally poised above her, eyes locked on hers, waiting for permission.
Darcy grinned. “If you don’t do something in the next five seconds, I swear to—”
Coulson thrust into her in one smooth motion, and Darcy’s words shattered into a breathless moan.
He was deep, stretching her in a way that sent pleasure sparking down her spine.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Just the sound of their breathing, the slow, steady thrum of heat between them.
Then Coulson moved, and Darcy forgot how to breathe.
His thrusts were measured at first, controlled—because of course he was controlled—but she wasn’t.
She rolled her hips against his, urging him faster, harder, deeper.
Coulson’s restraint snapped.
His grip on her hips tightened, his pace growing rougher, more desperate, until Darcy was gasping, moaning, clawing at his back.
“Phil—” she whimpered, and that was what did it.
He buried his face in her neck, his thrusts turning erratic, his breath hot against her skin.
Darcy was so close.
And Coulson knew it.
His hand slipped between them, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing her over the edge with a few precise strokes.
She shattered with a cry, pleasure crashing through her in waves.
Coulson followed moments later, groaning her name as he spilled into her, his body tensing before finally collapsing against her.
For a long moment, they just lay there—panting, tangled in each other, the scent of sex thick in the air.
Then Darcy let out a breathless laugh.
“So,” she murmured, “is this where you tell me it can never happen again, orrrr...?”
Coulson lifted his head, his lips twitching. “Oh, it’s definitely happening again.”
Darcy grinned. “Good answer.”
Coulson kissed her again, slow and deep, before finally pulling away.
“Next time,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “we’re not doing this in my office.”
Darcy smirked. “Next time, I’m making you beg.”
Coulson’s eyes darkened. “Is that a challenge?”
She leaned up, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. “It’s a promise.”
Coulson chuckled, shaking his head. “God help me.”
Darcy just grinned.
This was going to be fun.