Private 02 - Private Paradise

fingers continued their slick thrusts.
    Tension pulled her body tight and she could feel her orgasm building, beyond anything she'd ever felt on her own. He held her there, stroking, thrusting, swallowing her whimpers of pleasure into his mouth as she teetered on the edge of pleasure like nothing she'd ever known.
    And then she broke, falling into the abyss, her body clenching around his fingers as her heartbeat pulsed through her entire body.
    Carla jerked awake, her body covered in sweat as the last tremor of the orgasm shook through her. She was breathing hard. Her nipples were pulled tight, chafing against the fabric of her tank top. Between her legs she could feel her tender, swollen flesh, pulsing as the last vestiges of the dream faded away.
    She stared sightlessly into the dark as the reality of what had just happened sank in.
    She'd had the female equivalent of a wet dream.
    About the first time Sam made her come.
    What was it she'd said to him earlier? You're going to do exactly what I did and forget anything ever happened.
    Right. Too bad her subconscious and her traitorous body hadn't received the memo.
    Her heart pounded in the aftermath of her dream, her skin hot and tingly despite her release. Between her legs, she felt achy and damp.
    She threw back the covers and went out the French doors that opened up onto the veranda overlooking the bay. It was early―just after 5 a.m. she saw when she looked at her watch, and pink was just tingeing the sky and giving the water on the horizon a spectacular orange glow.
    One of the perks of the GM job―even on a provisional basis―was that when Chris moved over to Coral Cay, Carla got to move into his pad, which was pretty sweet if she did say so herself. This deck, with its amazing view of the turquoise blue sea and the islands dotting the horizon never failed to bring her a sense of calm after even the most hectic days.
    But not now. Now the cool breeze was like a rasp against her too sensitive skin. The whisper of the palm trees rippling in the wind like buzzsaws in ears suddenly as keen as a German shepherd's. She found herself, not looking out at the water, but scanning the other buildings of the resort, her stare locking on the whitewashed building that included apartments for the staff who lived on site.
    Sam was in there. Just down the hall from her old place. In keeping with his senior management position, his apartment was one of the larger ones, a full one bedroom as opposed to a studio unit, and also had a small deck off the main room.
    It came fully furnished with padded teak furniture in the main room and a king size bed in the bedroom.
    She closed her eyes, imagining him there, white sheets tangled around him, contrasting with his richly bronzed skin. His bare, muscled chest rising and falling in sleep. Then another, stomach curdling thought intruded.
    What if he wasn't alone?
    Knowing Sam, he'd already caught the eye of one of the cute young cocktail waitresses, or even one of the guests. There were at least half a dozen young – and not so young – single women here this week. All wealthy and on the prowl, and Carla hadn't missed the way every female eye had tracked Sam's progress as she gave him a full tour of the resort earlier this afternoon.
    It had been like that even when Sam was a teenager, and by the time he'd hit his early twenties it was radiating full force. And in the years Carla had known him, from what she'd heard from Chris and the whispers in the hallways of Spring Valley High School, Sam hadn't hesitated in using it to his advantage.
    Carla had already known Sam for five years when she found out they would be working together at a resort on the shores of Lake Mead, outside of Las Vegas. Though she knew him only casually, she knew well enough to give him a wide berth.
    Not that she thought she'd have to worry. Carla was a straight A student, and any time she didn't spend studying was spent working to make up the difference in tuition and living expenses that the scholarship the University of Arizona had offered her wouldn't cover. She wasn't a partier and went out only occasionally, and even then it was because Chris showed up and dragged her out of the house.
    He'd been a senior to her freshman, and usually the other kids at the party had looked at her, then at Chris, as if to ask why he'd brought this alien from planet geek in to contaminate their party? When Chris had graduated and gone off to UC Berkeley, he'd still made a