“Six years ago?”
“Yeah.” My stomach twists.
He prowls back to the bed and switches on the lamp. “Where is he now?”
I close my eyes. Decker’s already figured out that I trusted the person who tried to kill me. My silence will only make this worse.
Dragging my gaze to his, I blink, swallow, and blink again. “Trey’s dead.”
And I just called out his name while Decker was touching me. If Decker didn’t know I was fucked up, he certainly knows now.
I brace myself for a barrage of questions and judgment. But he remains eerily quiet as he reclines on his back beside me and bends an arm behind his head. His other hand lifts the elastic of his briefs, stretching it over his stiff cock and down his legs.
My mouth goes dry, and my pulse howls in my ears. Holy fuck, his cock is beautiful. Long and thick, it defies gravity and pulses in the lamp light. The plump head beads with pre-come, and his balls sit enticingly in the cradle of his powerful thighs. If I sat on that thing, I’d definitely feel it.
I’d feel it for days.
Lifting my gaze, I find a lazy grin on his stunning face. Those sleepy eyes, plump lips, and coarse stubble—all the lineaments of his expression look stronger, hungrier, in the backdrop of that grin.
“You’re such a sexy bastard,” I whisper. “I bet you hear that all the time, don’t you?”
His arrogant smile tips sideways. “Touch me.” He kicks off the underwear and curls his fingers around his girth. “My chest, my cock… I don’t care where. Just put your hands on me.”
I kneel beside him and slide my palms over the compact ripples of his abs. He’s a masterpiece of flesh and steel. All hard lines, heavy muscle, and taut skin.
I peer into his hooded eyes and let him see my appreciation. But when the smacking sound of his fist fills the room, I’m drawn to it, hypnotized by the sight of this strong, virile man stroking himself into mindless pleasure.
“How many times have you done this since you’ve been here?” I skim my hands lower, tracing the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock.
“Every day. Multiple times a day.” He twists his wrist, fucking his fist with confident familiarity. “Do you touch yourself, Laynee?”
“Every day since I met you.” In the shower. In my office. Anywhere I can sneak away. I drift closer, and my nipples graze his chest. “You make me crazy, Decker.”
He groans, and his hand moves faster. “Give me that sinful mouth.”
I lower to my hip, stretch across his torso, and press my lips to his. His mouth lifts, hungry and hot, his tongue whipping as aggressively as the fist on his cock. He devours me with an urgency and fever that melts my insides and steals my air. I become consciously aware of the nerves beneath my skin, the muscles spasming between my legs, and the pull of my heart as it rips from my chest.
“Are you wet?” He nips at my lips.
“Yes.” I lean back to watch his hand glide erotically, furiously, up and down that gorgeous cock.
“Sit on my face.”
I moan with longing, a weakness that never ends well for me. “I like to watch.” Watching is safer.
“Sit with your back to the headboard.” He moves his free hand to join the other, widening his legs to play with his balls as he strokes himself. “I’ll keep my hands on my dick, and you can watch while I eat your pussy.”
My pussy throbs, rushing me toward climax just from his words.
“If you don’t fucking move,” he says, panting through harsh breaths, “I’m going to finish in the bathroom. Alone.”
Shit. “You drive a hard bargain, Decker Gabrielli.”
He half-laughs, half-groans. “Says the woman who negotiates sex.”
His reminder about the deal I offered should give me pause. I avoid intimacy for a reason, but in my lust-crazed haze, I can’t remember what that reason is.
Rising to my knees, I shift toward his head.
“The panties.” His eyes blaze with dark fire. “Take them off.”
I remove them quickly, shove the pillow away, and straddle his face with my back to the headboard. As I start to lower, he groans.
“Wait.” His hands still, one squeezing the root of his cock, the other cupping his balls. “I want to look for a second.”
My inner muscles clench, and I wonder if he can see it. This is such a vulnerable position with his eyes inches from my most private part, taking me in and forming opinions. I imagine most of his lovers are in their early twenties, half my age, and a whole lot tighter…everywhere. The urge to roll away bunches my shoulders.
“Pink and swollen and perfect.” He turns his head and nips at the inside of my thigh. “You’re so fucking wet you’re dripping down your legs.” His cock jerks his hand. “Lower that ass. I need to taste you.”