Wicked All Night (8 page)

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 really was about more than the next adrenaline rush of danger and getting laid.

Hell, listen to him, all mature and shit. Decker rolled his eyes. Actually, they rolled into the back of his head as Rachel sighed, sucked back up his length with a flat, wide tongue, then opened around his girth to take him even deeper. God, she wasn't spectacular at it, and that didn't fucking matter at all. Knowing that she was trying, that she was trusting him, that she was giving him something she'd never given anyone . . . all of that turned him on. If she'd been insanely good at it, too, he would probably—

Oh hell, he'd thought too soon. Suddenly, she found a coordinated rhythm, a steady up-down that encompassed most of his shaft, paid extra attention to the head, then—
fuck
!—she cupped his balls. Now
that
was beyond stunning.

And if she did this for very long, he'd be totally done for.

“Rachel, beautiful . . .” He slid his fingers deeper into her hair and curled them into fists, gently tugging on her hair. “Baby, slowly. You don't want to—Oh, shit!” He hissed in a long breath, then tensed and shuddered. She might be a novice, but she'd quickly conquered that inexpert thing. That had to be one of the shortest learning curves in history.

“I'm doing it right?” she murmured, then licked the head like a damn ice cream cone, over and over and . . .

Jesus, she was killing him.

“Oh, yeah,” he gasped. “And then some.”

She giggled. “You sound distressed.”

No shit.
“That is
not
funny.”

“Maybe not to you . . .” Rachel flashed a coy smile at him, clearly happy with herself, before she set back to her task.

Decker closed his eyes and let the slow, burning heat of her mouth surround him. An intense suction that made him shudder came next. He jolted under her leisurely bobbing head. When her tongue lapped around the sensitive head, then a tender drag of her teeth followed, he groaned aloud and nearly hit the roof.

He'd had better in his life . . . maybe. He couldn't really remember right now. But no woman had ever paid so much attention to his reactions, adjusted so quickly, all to so obviously please him. That reality set him ablaze.

Swallowing back another groan of pleasure clawing up from his chest, he tried to nudge her away. Of course, his hips had other ideas, thrusting up into her sweet, pouty mouth and making his cock right at home.

“Rachel, you need to stop.”

“Why?”

He focused in on her sparkling eyes and swollen lips before she engulfed him again. With a groan, he closed his eyes and indulged for a moment, shafting her lips with his steely length for a few sublime seconds. Then he tugged on her hair just enough to bring her away from his cock and sat up.

“If I have to pick where I'm coming next, it's going to be deep inside that tight pussy again, beautiful. Lie back for me.” Decker rose to his knees and nudged her to her back. “Spread your legs.”

“But I was having fun,” she protested, not complying with his demand.

“I promise you can have more fun later.” Because there was no way he didn't want to immerse himself between her silken lips again.

Then he didn't give her another opportunity to talk. With his own body, he urged her back, eclipsing her. Decker looked down at her, tousled dark curls, rosy cheeks, sweet lips, pleading eyes. Christ, he wanted this woman.

When he'd first heard that some ass-hat wanted her dead, he had felt an undeniable urge to keep her alive. When he'd seen her picture, the itch to have her under him had broken out across his body like allover hives he knew he'd have to scratch away. Now that he'd seen her, met her, talked to her, fucked her . . . maybe a few nights with her might not be enough, after all.

Well, wasn't this quite a U-turn from his attitude the previous afternoon? But damn it, he was always packing up, moving on, setting out for the next “big adventure.” Color him cynical, but adventure often wound up with him chasing trigger-happy dirt-bags in third-world shitholes and either freezing his ass off, sweating to death, or picking sand out of some really uncomfortable places. At thirty-three, wasn't it time to stop playing the grown-up version of cops and robbers and latch on to something real? Wasn't it time to stop settling for Ms. Right-now?

Rachel was looking pretty damn real and right for him. He wanted to lay her out, fuck her, exhaust her, wake her up, and do it again until she was happily spent and clinging to him. Yeah, that sounded like an awesome version of paradise.

Tearing into a fresh condom, Decker rolled it down the desperate flesh of his cock. He didn't waste time with niceties except to check that she was wet and ready. The pair of fingers encountered slick, swollen flesh. Oh yeah, they were a go. She wasn't just wet, but juicy. Perfect.

Lining himself up, he pushed in one inch at a time, checking for discomfort. Her body had quickly adjusted to his size because she didn't have any difficulty taking every bit of him on the first agonizing thrust. But slow and steady had won that race. The urge to sprint to the finish now was strong—because when didn't coming inside a gorgeous woman feel good?—but he wanted to see her go off like a fireworks show first.

Buried in as deep as he could be, Decker flexed his hips and pushed a bit more. She hissed, then her eyes flew open and met his stare. He could happily dive into their chocolate depths and stay for a sweet, long while.

He stilled for a moment, feeling her tight walls engulf him, sucking him in deeper. He shuddered, his spine stiff, his body seized by the need to experience her in every way possible. The first time had been good. Already Decker could tell the second time was going to be even fucking better.
Yee-haw!

Gathering her against his chest, Decker lifted her lush hips and eased out of her snug pussy before he stroked deep again. She felt electric around him, squeezing him as she gasped, jolting him with another sizzle of need. Jesus, what was it about this woman?

Rachel wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked with him, thrusting to his rhythm, her little cries driving him higher and higher. Frantically, she kissed her way across his shoulder, to his jaw. Then he claimed her mouth, his tongue plunging as deep as his dick. He wanted all of her every way he could get her. Her nails dug into his back, and she went wild underneath him, urging him on silently to give her every fucking thing.

After that, containing himself . . . impossible. His hips moved like they had a mind of their own, hammering her with long, rapid strokes. Tingles burned in his balls, danced through his body.

He grabbed her tighter, somehow managing to sink even farther into her body, deeper than he swore he'd ever been inside any woman. Blood raced, his heart chugged. Fuck, this was going to be good.

“Mine,” he growled.

She'd probably question that statement later. He ought to as well. But now, what they shared felt damn good. Right. Like he'd willingly fight any man to the death who wanted to touch her. That shit wasn't happening—at all. In this moment, for this night, she was absolutely, unquestionably his.

And the thought turned him on even more. Fuck, at this rate he wasn't going to last long, which blew his mind. Orgasm number two didn't usually happen for a long while, and he could really lay thick pleasure on a woman while he took the time finding his own. This was completely different. Damn it, he intended to make sure she climaxed before this growing need blew off the top of his head.

As pleasure surged, his heartbeat roared, mixing with the deafening sounds of her mewls. As she screamed, arching up to him, Decker surged deep, filling her one final time. Blinding heat seared him. Her pussy constricted, pulsing, caressing the length of his cock and annihilating his restraint. As she shuddered through her orgasm, his seed spewed with the force of C4, detonating everything inside him.

Damn, at this rate, she was going to kill him. But he'd die happy.

With a groan, he stumbled from the bed, damn near dizzy, and disposed of the condom. She looked so gorgeous all flushed and damp, lying across her bed. He snagged a towel from the bathroom, ran warm water over a corner, then returned to clean her up.

“I'll do it.” She reached for the terrycloth, still panting.

Decker edged away. “
I'll
do it. You'll lie there and look pretty so I can contemplate all the other ways I can sully you.”

With a tired laugh, Rachel rested back against the mattress. She was a bit stiff, a little self-conscious as he wiped her clean, but he was relieved to see that she trusted him enough to allow this intimacy.

Once he tossed the towel back in the bathroom, he crawled over her body and hunkered down beside her, nudging her to her side so she lay against him, her thigh tossed over his. The ceiling fan churned anemically overhead, fighting ineffectually against the humidity, sweat, and blazing sexual heat in the room.

He didn't think he'd make it until dawn before he'd want inside her again. As she pressed against him, lips caressing his chest, her breasts cupping his ribs, he mentally revised that to an hour. Maybe less.

“So that's what sex is supposed to be like?” she whispered.

Decker hesitated. “Really fantastic sex. This was above and beyond for me, too.”

Rachel sighed happily. “I'm glad you came over tonight.”

“Yeah.” And if she thought for one minute that he was about to get up and leave, he had a big surprise for her. With someone out to get her, he wasn't budging. After that . . . well, he was starting to think that maybe he wouldn't budge then, either.

* * *

SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH
the window, despite the blinds slanting up. Decker cracked an eye open and found Rachel draped across him, still completely naked, her dark hair cascading over his shoulder and down his arm. He raised his head a fraction. Her eyes remained closed, dark lashes feathering gentle half-circles on smooth cheeks. In the morning light, he saw a little spill of freckles on her nose. Her fingers splayed across his chest. Her breathing remained deep and even. So trusting.

She made him hard as hell. Again. Still.

After waking her at two and four thirty to slide into those sweet curves and possess her again, he should be sated and totally exhausted. But at just before eight a.m., even with shaky legs and an empty stomach, he was contemplating another go-round.

Yep, this woman totally flipped every switch.

And if he wanted to keep her alive long enough to see where this was leading, he needed to stop mooning over her and figure out who might be trying to kill her. Item one on the agenda: Dig up a picture of the illustrious ex and see if Owen was a match for the ass-hat in the bar. Preferably before Rachel awoke and wondered what the hell he was up to.