The Decoy

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The Decoy Page 10

by S. E. Rose


  “Not feeling any better, I didn’t know any of that except reverse cowgirl,” I say, my cheeks heating.

  “Where were we with the questions anyhow?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Grant says.

  “Ugh, I need water,” Harrison says as he stands up.

  “Yeah, it’s getting late, let’s head back to the rooms,” Zach agrees as he stands and holds out a hand for me.

  My head swims a bit from all the wine, and I fall into him as I stand.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, regaining my balance.

  “No problem,” he says, looping my arm through his. “Hey, your face looks a little splotchy.”

  I feel my face, welts. Shit.

  “Reagan, did you have that one plate with the nuts on it?” Grant asks, looking at me with concern.

  “What plate with the nuts?” I ask.

  “Fuck,” Grant groans. “She needs her Benadryl STAT.”

  We all manage to stumble back to our hotel rooms. When we reach Harrison and Zach’s room first, we all look at each other. Grant gives me pleading eyes.

  “Oh fine,” I mumble. “I’m just going to go take medicine anyhow, and probably pass out.”

  “Goodnight, gentlemen,” I say to them and give both Harrison and Grant a peck on the cheek.

  “Goodnight, Reagan. Now don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Grant says with a wink.

  “So, basically I’m good at doing anything as long as your grandmother doesn’t find out?” I ask.

  Harrison chuckles and shuts the door to his room, leaving Zach and me in the hallway alone. It’s quiet, except for the sea breeze and the distant sound of the waves crashing on the rock wall surrounding the beach area. The smell of salty air fills my nostrils. I walk toward my door and hold my wristband up so that it opens the door. For some reason, Grant’s grandmother doesn’t have one. I just realized this and wonder how she got out of having to have her “everything pass” strapped to her wrist. I roll my eyes to myself.

  I open the mini-fridge door and toss Zach a bottle of water, grabbing another for myself. I find my allergy meds and take two of them. I take off my heels and sprawl out on the bed.

  “That was fun,” I remark.

  Zach sits down next to me and drinks half his bottle of water. “It was,” he agrees. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m alright. I just need the meds to kick in. I’m lucky I only had a little of that dish that had nuts in it,” I say. “I’m allergic.”

  “I sort of figured that out,” he quips. I shrug.

  “I like chill nights like tonight. I mean, I enjoy festive nights too, but sometimes I just want to be low key with a few close friends,” I try to explain.

  “Do you usually go out?” Zach asks.

  I shake my head. “Only with Grant. He likes to go out…a lot!” I say way too loudly. I giggle. “I think I drank a little too much at dinner.”

  Zach smiles. “I think we need to sober up, and you need your allergy medicine to start working,” he says. “I have an idea.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Let’s order room service and go up to the hot tub and finish our twenty questions game,” he says.

  “But I don’t remember how many questions we did,” I admit.

  “It doesn’t matter. How about we say we were at five, so we do fifteen more,” he suggests.

  I shrug. “OK,” I say. “But I want quesadillas.”

  He laughs. “I think we can handle that,” he says with a broad grin as he dials room service. I go change into my bikini. When I come meandering out of the bathroom area, Zach waves an arm to follow him up to the rooftop deck. He has set out champagne, waters, and places to set our quesadillas.

  “Go ahead and get in. I’ll go wait for the food, it should be here soon,” he says.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yes, of course,” he assures me.

  “OK,” I say as I slip into the warm water. The jets are already on, and it feels wonderful. Tonight, there is a slight breeze. The hot tub is warm, but not unbearable.

  I lean my head back and stare up at the stars. I close my eyes and enjoy the silence. A few moments later I hear Zach coming back up the stairs. I’m super sleepy from my meds, and I hope the food will wake me up a little.

  “Your quesadillas, my lady,” he says, setting them down on a small table by the hot tub.

  I lick my lips and swim over to the edge. I grab one of the delicious triangles and take a bite, moaning as I taste the cheese.

  “This is maybe the best drunk food, right after pizza,” I say to him.

  He smirks and removes a lid from the second plate. I look up at him in awe. He also ordered pizza. I must have been really feeling the alcohol because I don’t remember that at all.

  He grins. “I may have called while you were changing and added it to the order,” he explains.

  I giggle. “Excellent call,” I tell him.

  He pours us each a glass of champagne and removes his pants and shirt and settles into the hot tub across from me, grabbing a slice of pizza as he does so.

  “Question six,” he starts. “Favorite vacation.”

  I ponder for a moment and then smile. “The first time I went to Paris. Grant took me there to thank me for playing decoy at a Christmas party with his family when we were in college. He went all out. We stayed at the nicest hotels, drank champagne like water, had a limo the whole time. It was…magical. He showed me everything that I always dreamed of seeing in the city of lights. Well, except for the romance part, but it was the very best platonic friend trip ever. Other than that, probably when my parents took my brother and me to Disney World when I was going through a princess phase in the third grade. That was also pretty damned magical,” I say with a laugh.

  Zach chuckles. “That sounds magical,” he says.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  He runs a finger along his jaw, and my eyes watch it. It might as well be a form of hypnotizing because I almost miss what he says.

  “Costa Rica with my friends in college,” he says. “It was the first time I traveled internationally without my parents, and it was a blast.”

  I smile. “First kiss,” I say.

  He grins. “Heidi Beakman, eighth grade end of school dance,” he says.

  “Dan Klasowski, tenth grade, after a football game,” I reply.

  “Let’s see, that’s seven. Eight, favorite food,” Zach asks.

  I laugh and hold up the quesadilla. Zach laughs and holds up the pizza.

  “We are a junk food match made in heaven,” I say. Zach grins at me.

  “Nine, cats or dogs?” I ask him.

  “Dogs,” he says.

  “Me too,” I agree.

  “Ten, ice cream or candy?” he asks.

  I smile. “Ice cream,” I say.

  “Ditto,” he concurs.

  “Eleven, most embarrassing moment,” I say.

  He taps his jaw again, and I lose track of time. It’s like everything slows down, like a slow motion of a drop of water coming out of a tap. All I see is his finger, touching his jaw, not touching his jaw, touching his jaw, not touching his jaw.

  “Reagan,” I hear my name as Zach waves a hand in front of my face.

  “Sorry, what was that? I think my meds made me a little loopy,” I ask him.

  He laughs. “You look almost back to normal though, so that’s good. I said mine was when I got sick in third period English class in seventh grade. They called me Zachary Upchuck Adams for the rest of the year,” he repeats.

  “Mine was when…the shower incident,” I groan as I turn pink and look away. I feel his hand on my jaw and it’s like he’s branding me with that digit. I look up, and he’s moved closer to me, crouching in the hot tub so his face is at the same level as mine.

  “I’m glad that happened,” he says softly, brushing my cheek with his thumb. I shiver even though the temperature of the water is warm. “We should get you inside. The temperature is
dropping,” he says.

  “But we haven’t finished the twenty questions yet,” I say.

  “I have something else we can do,” he says as he stands, grabs two towels, and hands me one. We dry off and go back down to the bedroom. He flips on the TV.

  “I’m going to find us a good movie,” he says.

  I sigh internally. Had I been so off base thinking we’d…well, finally have sex?

  “Why don’t you go warm up in the shower?” he suggests.

  I nod and walk into the bathroom. I turn on the shower water and then making sure I’m standing where he can see me, I take off my bikini top and drop it to the floor with a loud thwack.

  His head swivels and looks at me, his eyes darkening when he sees my breasts. I see his tongue dart out and lick his lower lip. I give him my best sexy smile and turn to open the shower door, only suddenly I’m falling and then “thwack.” Only this time, it’s my wet butt hitting the ground.

  “Ouch,” I groan as I place a hand down on the ground to steady myself. Well, shit, that was embarrassing.

  Before I can even get up, Zach is standing in front of me.

  “Are you OK?” he asks, looking me over for injury.

  I start laughing, I can’t help it. I shake my head because I’m such a klutz.

  “What hurts?” he asks.

  “My pride for one,” I say with a huff as I accept his offered hand.

  He pulls me up, still looking at me with concern. His hand touches my arm.

  “Are you sure you’re OK?” he asks again. “You’ve had quite a night, an allergy attack and now this.”

  I sort of want to laugh because his erection is now pressing into my belly, and here he’s worried about my bruised butt, my itchy throat, and pride.

  “What?” he asks, as his eyes follow mine down. I look back up, and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

  The laughter I’ve been holding in spills over, as I double over in a fit of hysterics. And not the sweet, pretty, ladylike laughter that I try to maintain normally, this is snorting, falling down laughter.

  At some point during my hysterical laughing fit, he begins laughing too. We sink on the floor laughing, his hands still clutching my arms.

  “You’re a real mess,” he finally says, wiping tears from his eyes.

  I grin at him. “I suppose I am,” I say in agreement.

  He stands and helps me up. The hot water is steaming up the bathroom. It’s sort of like being in a dream, with a fog machine.

  Zach opens the door to the shower, and I step in, still in my bikini bottoms. He removes his underwear and steps in with me. I start to take off my bottoms, but his hands stop mine.

  “Let me,” he whispers in a gravelly voice.

  I drop my hands as he unties one side and then the other, and the small scrap of fabric falls to the floor with another thwack.

  I stand before him, naked…and if I’m being honest, not just physically.

  He pauses, giving himself time to study each inch of my body. I feel my face flushing under his dark, intense gaze.

  “Don’t…,” he starts, “you are beautiful, Reagan, absolutely beautiful, inside and out.” His eyes find mine, and I swear he’s looking into my soul.

  “I want to kiss you right now, and then I want to bathe every inch of your body before I take you to bed,” he says.

  He searches my eyes for a minute, wanting my consent, my acknowledgment that we both want this.

  “Yes,” I breathe, and I barely have the word out before his lips are on mine.

  Chapter 14

  I feel myself getting lifted and pressed against warm shower tiles. I wrap my legs around Zach’s waist, my arms tightening their hold around his neck. He moves one hand to my ass, supporting my weight, and the other fists my hair and tilts my head.

  Our kiss goes from open-mouthed and needy to flat-out passionate possession. His tongue strokes mine, as we each allow the other to explore. All my focus is on this kiss, a kiss that’s been building over this week. I can feel it now, we both needed this kiss, we both wanted this kiss.

  His erection hardens again against me. I rub myself up and down over him. I’m getting frenzied in my desire. I need a release, but he presses against me, essentially pinning me to the wall.

  He pulls back, and we both breathe heavy. The sound echoing in the small confines of the shower.

  “Not yet,” he says, and he slowly lowers me to the ground. He grabs my soap and lathers his hands before running them down the outside of my arms and back up the inside. He caresses my breasts, circling the nipples with his thumbs. His hands move down my belly, and I find I’m holding my breath.

  He doesn’t go where I want him to, instead, he glides his hands down one leg and then the other.

  “Turn around,” he says as he crouches down at my feet. I comply.

  He glides his hands back up my legs, palming my ass before rubbing strong circles on my lower and upper back.

  I press against him and moan. “That feels so good,” I say to him as he massages my shoulders and neck.

  “You’re tense,” he says before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of my head.

  I want to point out that he’s missed a spot, but before I can say anything, his right hand comes back around me and skates down my belly and between my legs. I whimper as he slides his fingers between my folds. The soap intensives the slippery wetness at the apex of my thighs.

  I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck, leaning my head back against his chest. His left hand comes up and fondles my breast, taking my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching it ever so slightly. I feel it elongate as his fingers glide over it.

  His finger finds my entrance, while his thumb continues to rub over my clit. I feel myself at that tipping point again. It’s like he knows exactly what to do. His finger presses deep inside me so that his palm is pressed firmly against my sensitive bud. He moves just the tip of his finger so fast, over a spot inside me that I lose all my senses. I only have the sense of touch; I only feel this movement. I know his other hand is still on my breast, but all my focus is on that one movement his finger is making.

  “Zach,” I whisper as my body overloads and I feel my muscles quaking just before I come like a freight train. He doesn’t stop until I still in his hands.

  I feel him nuzzle my neck and gently bite my earlobe. “I think you’re sufficiently clean now,” he says. “Oh, wait, your hair.” I’m too mentally drained from my orgasm to protest as he grabs my shampoo and begins massaging my scalp.

  “I think I died when I fell,” I say as his strong fingers work their magic.

  “Why is that?” he says with a chuckle.

  “Because I feel so good right now. I can’t possibly be alive,” I say. He laughs before turning me and rinsing my hair and then turning me again to repeat the process with the conditioner. I shimmy my ass against his hardness, and he growls.

  “Reagan,” he scolds. “I’m not finished here.”

  “Me either,” I say just loud enough for him to hear me.

  He whips me around and rinses out my hair before pulling my head up to meet his. He kisses me hard this time. “Out,” he commands.

  “But you didn’t—” I start.

  He holds up a hand, puts a little soap on himself, rinses off and turns off the shower. We dry off. I’m almost dry when the towel is pulled from my hand.

  “Let me,” he says, motioning to my hair. He takes my hand and brings me to the bed. I sit, and he crawls on behind me. He towel dries my hair before grabbing my brush. His hands expertly remove the tangles from my hair. There’s something so intimate about having someone brush your hair. I literally moan my pleasure.

  “If I’d known brushing your hair was this big of a turn-on, we’d have started here,” he says with a laugh.

  “It feels so good. You have no idea,” I say to him. I feel his lips press against my shoulder, and then he pushes my hair to the side, so he can kiss my neck. I seize the brush fro
m his hand and toss it on the floor before spinning around on all fours to face him. He’s on his knees, sitting back on his legs. He moves up so he’s on his knees, and I mirror his action. I pull him down to me and show him with my mouth just how much I like getting my hair brushed.

  I don’t know how many minutes we kneel like this, worshipping each other’s lips and tongues, but eventually, Zach lies back on the bed, pulling me with him. I’m flat on his body, and I squirm so that my legs fall to either side of his hips. I grind myself against his hard-on.

  He leans over to the nightstand. Apparently, this Scout came prepared because there is a whole pack of condoms there. He rips one off and pulls it out. I take it from him and gently roll it down over him, leaning down to lick his skin before doing so. He bucks against my tongue and groans. I grin and finish applying the condom.

  I’m about to impale myself on him when he stops me. I pause looking up, wondering if I did something wrong.

  He flips us over and smiles at me. “I believe you said ‘missionary,’ am I correct?” he says.

  I nod. “Yes, you are,” I murmur and pull him back down to kiss him some more. He pushes my legs wider apart and runs his fingers over my sex again before I feel his erection nudge at my opening. He slides just barely inside and then pulls out before pushing back in again. He does this three more times until he is seated to the hilt inside me.

  Our eyes lock on one another as he begins to thrust in and out of me. My legs fall open farther, as my hips push up to give him more access. He grinds his pelvic bone against me and begins working me in short strokes, mimicking what he did with his fingers. Damn, give this man a gold medal because he figured me out in one night.

  I feel like he’s a locksmith and just opened my door because I’m back in the zone and all I feel is his cock as it moves inside me, touching that spot that I need it to.

  “Yes,” I cry out.

  He doesn’t say anything, just keeps moving and looking into my eyes. I’m trying to keep them open but I’m quickly losing the battle. He’s moving so rapidly now, I don’t know how he’s doing it. I scrunch my eyes shut, and fall into the abyss, a silent cry on my lips that he captures with a kiss before he stills deep inside me. He gives me a moment as my muscles undulate around him before he thrusts harder, several more times and then grunts. I feel his cock pulsing inside me as he spills his seed into the condom.

 

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