Please Me (Hart of Stone Family 4)

“Let me help you,” Decker tells me as he walks through the room, wearing a pair of board shorts, these ones black like normal, only there are big colorful flowers on them—pink, purples, blues, all in a subtle manner.

“Thanks. I’m going to have to tell Marlie this shit was too hard, and you’ll need help, then she’ll tell me my brother is just the right man for that, I’ll get grossed out, and Marlie will laugh,” I grouse.

“Remind me to thank her. While you complain, the fact that my hands are on you, you’re not going to hear me bitch.” Decker makes quick work of the tie, then he’s standing in front of me, and his eyes roam the length of my body, that lip of his gliding along his lower lip, telling me with more than his eyes or words that he definitely approves of the dark red bathing suit. I’ll give Marlie one thing: the way the top hugs your breast, pushing them up, almost cupping them in the palms of your hands with the underwire, but you don’t even feel like it’s digging into your sides like most tops. The bottoms are more daring than I’d usually wear, especially in front of family, but on vacation, the cheeky style definitely works.

“Are you saying you want to meet my family?” Through our talking, we realized we both live in Florida, within thirty minutes of one another. It’s probably what’s held me together the most every time I think about Decker leaving.

“Leena, baby, look at me.” He comes closer, his hands cupping my cheeks. My hands move to Decker’s wrists, holding on to them. “This is not just a vacation romp. It’s so much more. It’s the beginning, so get any thoughts out of your head that I may lose your number or ever forget about you. You’ll be home four days after me, and I’ll be the one picking you up at the airport,” Decker states.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

“Okay, good. When we get back, we’ll meet each other’s family, get a feel for how we’ll handle things, but until then, breathe for me, baby.” Apparently, Decker can tell by the way my shoulders are probably touching my ears that I’m worried.

“I’m breathing.” I blow out a deep breath, inhale and then exhale, finally feeling calmer.

“Yeah, I see that. It’s doing hot-as-fuck things to your tits. Now, you ready to snorkel?” Decker’s lips graze my forehead as I nod my head, then his hand is in mine, and I’m trailing behind him as he pulls me through the open and airy house, nothing but water views out of every available window.

It’s not until we’re out the back door close to the stairs that lead to a small-like-deck that I realize the whole time we’ve been at his place, I had no idea that this was here. Had I known, we for sure would have never left.

“Holy shit, Decker. This is incredible.” Our fins, goggles, and snorkels are to the side, along with sunscreen and towels.

“Yeah, kind of ashamed to say I didn’t realize what all this place had to offer. Need help getting your stuff together?”

“Sunscreen, lots and lots of sunscreen on my back and thighs. I’ll do yours if you do mine,” I make the cheesy remark. The chuckle Decker lets out, it helps shut my worries down. He’s right. We totally have this. And once we’re home, we’ll definitely be together then, too.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

decker

We’re at the bar the resort offers, a pool with a swim-up bar, another tiki-like hut in the corner and closer to the ocean, which is where the two of us are right now. Yesterday, we finally took to the water to snorkel, and no matter how much sunscreen we applied in between taking breaks and eating, the sun still got to the both of us. It’s part of the reason we’re here; the other is if we stayed holed up in my place any longer, Leena would be walking around bowlegged, and my cock would be rubbed raw.

“You okay, baby?” I ask her as she spins the straw in her drink, a rum punch. Clearly, Leena isn’t digging it by the way it’s melting rapidly after only taking a few sips.

“I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” The sigh that leaves her tells me otherwise, but instead of poking and prodding, I leave it be.

“Francisco, can we get a margarita on the rocks, extra salt, and another bourbon and Coke?” Leena’s eyes that drifted away from me come crashing back to mine.

“Sure thing. Anything else?” he replies.

“You want anything to eat? Chips and salsa or dessert?” That gets her attention. Before landing here at the bar, we ate breakfast hours ago, walked along the beach, and then hung out under the cabana.

“Yes to chips and salsa, no to dessert. Not yet at least. And maybe a quesadilla.” She wasn’t lying when she said she and Montana, her best friend, are addicted to all things Tex-Mex. Francisco nods. I hold my fingers up letting him know to make that two.