That wasn’t a lie, either. In her brother-in-law’s compound, Laila had known men with machismo, who had done unspeakably cruel things merely to prove they were “man enough” to be an asset to the cartel. But Trees seemed too sure of himself to bother with that.
“I’m trying, but you’re making it difficult.” He shook his head in the shadows. “Fuck it. I’m probably going to hell, anyway. If you really want this, we’re doing it my way.”
Her heart skittered. What did that mean?
“Do you hear me, Laila? Or we don’t do this at all.”
Just this once, she could give him what he sought. She could close her eyes, pretend she was elsewhere while he took whatever parts of her he desired. If he chose to fuck her, it might hurt since no man had penetrated her in months. But after he was done, the pain would subside. And intercourse shouldn’t last long. She had sucked him close to orgasm. A little stimulation, a few pumps of his hips, a couple of grunts, and it would likely be over.
“All right.” Her voice trembled.
Trees cupped her cheek. “I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.”
Impossible. Not that it mattered. But somehow his hushed vow made her dizzy and hot.
“Hurry.” She managed to sound as if she was begging.
In a way she was. Her unexpected reaction to him aside, the later the hour grew, the less likely nearby campers would be awake to help her find a ride to Louisiana.
Trees shook his head. “I’m going to take my time with you. I don’t think any man has ever savored you, and you deserve all the pleasure imaginable.”
Then Trees did something no man had ever done. He lowered his head, laid his mouth over hers, and he kissed her.
Laila froze. Despite being a giant of a man, he brushed his lips over hers softly. Shock and heat flared inside her. He lingered, his warm breath on her face…then he was gone before she was ready for the kiss to end.
Trees cupped her face, skimming his thumb over her lips. “You okay?”
Why did he ask? Why did he care? “Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to kiss you again. Breathe. Relax.”
How, when her lips burned? When she was naked and acutely aware of the damp crush of his bare skin against hers?
“Laila, did you hear me?”
“Y-yes.” She didn’t trust herself to say more.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed in that velvety voice that compelled her to comply. “Good. Now breathe in deep.” When she did, he glided a gentle thumb over her cheek in silent approval. “Let it out.”
As she exhaled, tension began to leave her body.
“Again,” he prompted. “Do it slowly. Focus on my voice.”
She did, feeling even more at ease. Then she blinked up at him. For approval, she realized the moment he smiled her way.
“Beautiful. Now I’m going to kiss you. And this time, I’m going to kiss you right.”
He’d done it wrong before? Too bad. She’d liked it. His lips against hers had been…sweet.
As a girl, she’d known school friends who had crushes on boys. They had all giggled and whispered about their first kisses the summer she’d turned fourteen. She had been fascinated, even a little jealous, not to have captured any boy’s notice. She’d been so curious to know what kissing felt like. Not long after that, she’d become horribly aware of men’s desires, thanks to life in her brother-in-law’s compound. Then she’d no longer cared that she had never been kissed.
But as with everything else, Trees seemed different.
“Is that all right?”
He was asking permission to touch her? Laila frowned. As if she could stop him.
Still, if real kissing—whatever that was—would excite him enough to demand a blow job, then her purpose would be served. She could escape afterward.
“Fine.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he assured. “If anything I do scares or upsets you, just say red.”
“You will stop touching me if I say that word?”
“Absolutely. Immediately.”
He was lying. There was no way she could utter a simple word and he would cease taking his pleasure. That would be giving her all the power, all the choice. No man would ever do that. After all, what would be in it for him?
“Why?” she asked skeptically.
“Because we’ll need to talk so I can understand what upset you.”
So he could do it again? So he could do it harder? More painfully? More degradingly? Was that his game?
The tenderness in his eyes made her wonder if she was wrong. But her head—and her experience—said otherwise. Laila didn’t dare show weakness. The word red could never cross her lips. “Okay. Kiss me.”
As he settled his weight onto her, his stare never wavered, seemingly penetrating all the way down to her thoughts. Laila’s breath caught. Her heart thudded. She felt shaky…and it wasn’t fear. A nervous excitement she didn’t understand made her tremble.
As he drew closer, Trees’s approaching heat and his warm breath against her lips had her eyes sliding shut. Instantly, the dark made her feel too vulnerable. She squirmed, eyes flaring wide again.
“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
If he did, he wouldn’t be the first. She would be fine once she reached Valeria and Jorge. But to get there, she had to give in and let Trees take over.
Laila closed her eyes again.
“Good girl.” His mouth settled over hers, perching there as if gauging her reaction.
She held her breath. Tension gripped her. Would he stay here until her thundering heart beat out of her chest? Or attack her when her guard was down?
Trees did neither. He cupped her face and nudged her mouth open, drawing her bottom lip between his for a soft, shocking moment. Her skin sizzled as he sank deeper, stealing her thoughts, her breath, and her reluctance. She got lost in the dizzying sensation.
Before she realized it, she fell into his rhythm, opening beneath him to invite him inside.
Clearly, he knew what he was doing. She was panting when he pulled away to search her face.
“Laila?”
She couldn’t look away. The moment felt terribly intimate. She was stunned to realize how much she liked his kiss. What was he doing to her? “Yes?”
The question was lost when he covered her lips again, this time urging them even wider. His tongue slipped inside and caressed hers. She recoiled against the new sensation, but he stayed patient and firm, cupping her nape and plunging in again. She couldn’t avoid him, so she yielded, giving him free rein of her mouth until lightning—unlike anything she’d ever felt or imagined—flared through her veins.
The moment she moaned and surrendered, he wielded his power like a king. He ruled over her blossoming pleasure, using it ruthlessly to sweep through her mouth and take every inch, as if proclaiming that—at least in this moment—she was his to touch and please as he wished.
Dazed, she curled her arms around his neck as she tilted her head and yielded to him. He continued his siege, sweeping one hand down her rib cage, dipping in at her waist, before cupping her hip with a groan. “Laila…”
His whisper swept through her, blanketing her skin with goose bumps and tightening her belly with heat. If he was the king, why did he sound as if he worshipped her? It confused her, just like her desire for more of his touch.