sounded throaty, and it turned him on even more.
“I want you again, Rachel.” He lifted her hand from his chest and eased it down to
his hard cock.
He died a small, shuddering death when she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked
softly, down and up his sensitive length, then brushed over the tingling head. When
she bent to kiss his shoulder, his chest, another tremor wracked his body.
It didn’t make sense. He’d spent three days in bed with a Victoria’s Secret model
last time he’d been in Manhattan. Besides being gorgeous, Mandy was experienced, voracious,
and unapologetic. She never expected anything more than an orgasm. Normally, she was
his kind of girl.
The fine trembling in Rachel’s fingers told Decker that touching him meant something
to her and that it was important to her to give him pleasure. And that was revving
up his libido more effectively than skimpy lingerie.
Was he getting older and going traditional? Or had he crossed from sentimental right
into sappy? It hadn’t escaped Decker that Rachel trusted him with her body when she
hadn’t trusted any other man but her husband. He was as moved by her nervousness,
her care, and her goodness as he was by her lush tits—and that was saying something.
She had a great rack.
He felt . . . stuck on this woman and had every intention of staying by her side,
not only to protect her, but until he could figure out why being with her smacked
him with the force of a two-by-four to the forehead.
“I want you, too.” In the dark, she closed her eyes and smiled a bit shyly.
Instead of annoying him or making him wish they could just skip to the fucking, Decker
found an answering smile stretching his lips. So sweet. So honest in her every response.
He felt a bit guilty for lying to her about his reasons for picking her up at the
bar, for being here with her now. But he couldn’t apologize for wanting to shield
her from a potentially ugly fate and keep her safe. Until this played out, he’d thoroughly
enjoy her goodness.
“I want to suck . . .” She glanced down and swallowed, watching her fingers slowly
move over his aching dick.
His breath caught.
Holy fuck!
Even the hint that she wanted her mouth on him made him harder than steel-reinforced
concrete.
“My cock?”
“I’m not used to that word.” Her voice trembled, and her hand shook. “But yes.”
He thrust his hands in her hair and led her down to his waiting erection. “Be my guest.”
Her back stiffened, and she tensed against him. “Don’t laugh at me, but I don’t know
how.”
Dumbass Owen hadn’t ever sank in between those luscious lips? Given what Rachel had
said about her ex, Decker wondered if the moron had even tried or had he found that
a time-consuming waste, too? Owen’s loss was absolutely his gain.
“There’s no right or wrong way. Open wide, suck deep, and do what feels natural.”
“All right.” She looked adorably nervous, and he loved the idea that he would be the
first inside her plump, pink lips. Yes, it was caveman of him. So fucking what?
Rachel didn’t hesitate or study the situation. She had a lot of gumption when she
wanted to; he was learning that already. In fact, he liked her for it.
Then her lips closed around the head of his cock, and he wasn’t thinking anything
anymore.
She had to stretch wide to fit her lips around the swollen mushroom head, and the
sight of it sent a hot rush of blood south, engorging him even more. He’d had plenty
of blow jobs in his life, but this one was different.
Because she was different. No denying that.
If he hadn’t been solicited to kill Rachel and had simply run into her in a bar, he
would have taken a long look at her, licked his lips, and kept walking. She was attractive,
no doubt. As well as warm and kind—two things he would have sworn he didn’t need in
a sexual partner.
But at his age, maybe it was time to realize that life