Another anxious glance at his face suggested he slept on. She could still get out undetected.
A terrified part of her wanted to defy his silent promptings and simply run away. But she’d learned to be pragmatic.
Laila gave in to the rhythm he set, closing her eyes, trying to separate her mind from her body and float away someplace else so she didn’t have to be—yet again—giving a man pleasure at her own expense. Except…Trees’s scent and gentle hands kept her in the here and now. The way he stroked her head. The way his moans sounded like praise. The way he rolled his hips under her, seemingly in thanks.
“Laila…” he whispered slow and soft.
Appreciation dripped from his sensual, sleepy groan. She wasn’t eager to continue exactly, but for the first time, she didn’t hate this act. A dangerous curiosity urged her on… She didn’t feel like his victim but like a seductress working for her lover’s pleasure.
That excited her. And it disturbed her, too.
Softly, she hummed. Victor had often demanded she do that because he liked the sensation. Trees also enjoyed it, if the low moan that suddenly tore from his throat was any indication.
Laila would have sworn it wasn’t possible, but Trees got harder. His end must be near.
That realization was bittersweet. The fact she didn’t loathe this act… It was a shock, a revelation. For the first time, she had some control over what happened between her and a man. She could exert her will, and he was merely along for the ride.
Oddly, it was…exciting.
She took more of him in her mouth, bobbing, sucking, swirling her tongue around him, experimenting to find what made him stiffen and moan. When his crest prodded the back of her throat, she paused. Victor and Hector had both demanded that she swallow on them. Would that maneuver work on Trees? Would it be the thing that sent him into climax?
Laila dragged in a deep breath and worked her throat over him. He groaned again, this time louder, deeper. His hand tightened in her hair, and she braced for him to force her down onto his cock until she couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t. He merely urged her lower with a prod from his fingers and another lift of his hips. He was firm but not harsh. Urgent but not forceful.
She’d never experienced anything like this.
So she did it again.
Once more, a verbal growl of need tore from his throat. The subversive part of her was thrilled. Why? She was stimulating him in his sleep, against his will. If she enjoyed his reaction, did that make her any better than Victor and Hector?
Laila pushed the horrible question aside. She wasn’t hurting Trees. And she wasn’t taking him in her mouth for her own selfish pleasure. She would give him something he seemingly wanted. And in return, she would get something she needed. After all, everything came at a price. She’d learned that long ago. And she was merely paying up front for her freedom.
After she took another long draw on his steely staff, Trees’s fingers tightened in her hair. To her shock, she didn’t despise that, either, especially when his breaths turned choppy and his body went taut.
He was close.
Another deep plunge into her mouth while she worked him at the back of her throat ought to send him tumbling into ecstasy…then sleep.
But when she lowered herself onto his massive cock again and positioned him against her throat, he stiffened beneath her. And he called out her name. “Laila!”
She glanced up. His eyes were open and dilated—and fixed on her.
Trees was awake. Uh-oh.
Laila froze. Anxiety seared her veins.
“What are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth. Every muscle in his body shook and strained as he fought need.
Stop…or continue?
Her thoughts raced as breaths rushed in and out of her nose. Seconds ticked by. He tugged on her hair again, tight enough to take control. She was hyperaware of his touch, of the heaviness and masculine flavor of him on her tongue.
Laila didn’t dare answer him truthfully. He would cuff her again. God knew what he’d do then. He might take advantage of her in ways that, despite the horror she’d endured, she had never experienced. Besides, she couldn’t talk with her lips around him. She suspected he didn’t want her to.
She closed her eyes and tried to lower her mouth on his length, but he held too tight for her to take in even another inch. So she wrapped her tongue around his shaft and slid up to bathe his engorged crest.
“Fuck…” He tossed his head back, his fingers tightening in her tresses. “Laila…”
“Let me give you pleasure,” she murmured in her most seductive tone.
“I shouldn’t.”
“But you want this, yes?” She attempted to lower her lips on him again.
Trees stopped her, closing her mouth with a thumb beneath her chin. “More importantly, is this what you want?”
She nodded, giving him her softest, most suggestive doe eyes. Then she pursed her lips, which must be swollen after having him in her mouth. Men didn’t usually need more encouragement.
His stare followed her gesture, but beyond his tight expression and choppy breaths, she couldn’t gauge his reaction. That meant he was thinking.
That was bad.
Suddenly, Trees rolled her to her back and followed, hovering above her and pinning her down, thankfully without settling his weight on her. “Why? You’ve been terrified of me since we met.”
“You have shown you will not hurt me.” She arched her breasts at him enticingly. “I want to know what you feel like.”
He searched her face. Then his gaze fell, fixating on her nipples. The buds felt hard. Tight. Blood scorched her veins and pooled where she began to ache. Because she feared him? Or for some other reason?
“It’s not smart, Laila.”
“I will feel safer with you…”
His eyes narrowed. “Will you? Really?”
Over the years she had learned ways to allay a man’s suspicions. She sent flirtatious glances and fluttered her lashes. She licked her lips. She smiled invitingly. “Of course.”
“I’m calling bullshit.”
She tried not to panic. “Truly. You are not like any man I have known.”
That was not a lie.
“Am I supposed to be happy you’ve decided I’m one step above a rapist?”
“Many more.” She caressed up the rigid bulges of his biceps to his granite shoulders.
At least he had tried to be. It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t interested in his kindness since it surely came with strings.
“That doesn’t mean you have to blow me, Laila.”
“I want to make you feel good. You liked it, yes?”
He scoffed. “You know the answer.”
“Then let me finish. Roll onto your back, close your eyes, and feel what I can do for you.”
When she tried to wriggle out from under his body, Trees refused to budge. “No. I’m betting too many men in your past have used you like that. I won’t.”
Carajo, she must be more persuasive. Otherwise, he would likely roll away and fall into another fitful sleep. Or worse, leave the bed and wait to see what she was up to.
Laila pressed a seductive kiss to his steely shoulder. The unexpected softness of his inked skin over hard muscle made her horribly aware of his masculinity and power. “You are not like them. You seem…nice.”