Private 02 - Private Paradise

of his knee. Never letting up on the light, almost teasing strokes of his cock, she licked and sucked her way up the inside of his thigh.
    She traced her way to the tendon where his leg and pelvis met and delivered her own bite, thrilling at the way he shuddered and cried out. “Baby, please, you're killing me.”
    Carla felt a surge of feminine power as she ignored him, moving her mouth instead to his other knee and making her slow, torturous way up the inside of his other thigh.
    By the time she made it he was panting hard, his cock throbbing insistently in her hand as his fingers dug into the couch cushion like he was holding on for dear life.
    She flicked her tongue against his sack, soft, kitten-like laps. His groan was harsh, almost pained. She rose higher on her knees and pulled his cock closer to her mouth, close enough that he could feel her puff of breath against the head.
    “ Jesus, Carla, put me out of my fucking misery already.”
    She angled her gaze up at him, loving the way his eyes glittered with an unholy need, his face all sharp planes and angles, pulled tight with desire that bordered on desperation.
    A sly smile pulled at her lips as she leaned a hairsbreadth closer, but still not close for the swollen head to meet her lips. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” she said, though the way his cock strained, seeming to yearn toward her mouth of its own volition left her with little doubt. “Seeing as how I'm so lousy at it.” She licked her lips, barely suppressing an evil laugh.
    “ Please.” His voice was tortured. “I told you I was lying, it was all bullshit. I loved every second of being with you, you were so damned good at making me come, still so good―”
    His words stuck in his throat as Carla finally had mercy on him and took him in her mouth. She moaned her own satisfaction as she opened her mouth wide, her lips stretching over the thick head of his cock, her tongue circling the smooth slick head.
    The taste of him, all salt and musk, and something, uniquely, deeply Sam, went straight to her core. It brought with it a rush of memories of pleasures shared over cool desert nights that were too short to satisfy the desires blazing hot and wild through their young, needy bodies.
    As she sucked him deep into her throat she was brought back to that place, where nothing existed but the two of them together, her sole purpose in that moment to give the man she loved pleasure. Where nothing mattered but Sam.

Chapter Ten

    Sam had to close his eyes against the mindblowing sight of Carla's plump, pink mouth sliding up and down his cock before it hurled him over the edge. But the image was seared into his brain. Her dark hair pushed to one side to spill down her back so he could see her face, her dark lashes resting against her smooth cheek. The thick column of his cock disappearing into her mouth only to reappear, slick and wet from her loving.
    And closing his eyes only made him more aware of how fucking good it felt, the hot suction of her mouth, firm pumps of her small but strong fist around his shaft, the wet lash of her tongue circling the head.
    Sam wanted to come so bad his balls ached from restraint and he felt another spurt of come erupt from the tip. Still he held back, clenching his teeth as he struggled for his fast fading control. He never wanted this to end, the feel of Carla's mouth sucking him, her sweet hands caressing him, her own little sounds of pleasure humming in her throat as she drove him insane.
    Christ, she was so good. Despite the horrible things he'd said to her, Carla DeLuca had given him hands down the best head he'd ever had. Sam hadn't forgotten that. But his fevered memories couldn't do justice to the real thing.
    It wasn't just the way she used her lips, tongue, and hands to pleasure him. Though Carla had been an eager student, had paid close attention to the way Sam liked to be licked, sucked, stroked.
    And, Jesus, he thought as she took him deep in her throat and fluttered her tongue against the underside of his cock, she hadn't forgotten a damn thing.
    But what got him, then as well as now, was her passion, the unconscious sounds of pleasure that came from her throat while she went down on him. Like she was taking almost as much pleasure from the act as he was. Like she wasn't just pleasuring him.
    She was loving him.
    That had been true once, and God what he wouldn't give, he realized as a flash of clarity pierced through his sexual haze, for it to