Back then, she'd been so nervous and inexperienced, had no idea how to touch him and give him pleasure. But she'd been an eager student, paid close attention the way he liked to be touched, and had learned quickly how to stroke and pet him, how to use her hands and later her mouth to push him over the edge until he exploded with the force of his need.
To test her memory, she slid her fist down and squeezed him hard at the base, keeping firm pressure as she moved up the shaft, pausing at the top to swirl her thumb around the broad, swollen head. She was rewarded by Sam's groan and the way his hips thrust heavily into her hand, by the thick drop of precome that beaded on the tip.
Carla spread it all over him, using it to smooth her way for the slow, steady pump of her fist.
Sam's throat arched back, his face tight with pleasure as he shifted his position to give her better access. “Let me go get a condom,” he said, his voice so tight the words seemed ripped from his chest. “I'm not going to last.”
Carla ignored him, her gaze locked on the way his cock looked, so long and thick gripped in her small hand. She could feel his pulse throb in the vein that traced along the side, and he seemed to swell even bigger as another drop of pearly fluid appeared on the tip.
Her mouth watered with the need to taste him, and without thinking, she bent her head down and captured it with the tip of her tongue.
They both jerked at once, he in pleasure, she in shock. She hadn't wanted to go down on a lover in years. Not since Sam had devastated her with his cruel assessment of her oral sex skills. From then on she'd made it clear to the men that followed that blow jobs were not in her repertoire. They could beg and plead and call her a prude, but she'd stood firm, claiming it was something she hated doing.
But the truth was, she'd loved doing it to Sam. Loved the salty, musky taste of his skin, loved the way his cock stretched her lips and pressed against the back of her throat. Loved the way he swelled and throbbed against her tongue, the way his body went perfectly still the second before he came, shooting his come into her mouth as she sucked down every last drop.
Loved knowing that even though he was older and so much more experienced than she was, she could still make him crazy with need, make him come so hard he would roar at the night sky as the pleasure shuddered through him.
With one cruel blow, he'd taken that primal, wholly female satisfaction away.
And, she realized now, as she lay next to him on the cramped couch, his cock throbbing in her hand as her mouth hovered just inches away, she'd never really gotten it back.
Until now. As he arched and shifted helplessly against her, Carla knew that no matter what happened after, she would leave this villa knowing that she had the power to rock Sam's world.
He could make her insane with need, tease and torment her until she was crazed and desperate, begging for release.
Now Carla was going to do the same. She shifted, sliding to her knees in front of the couch as she urged him to sit back against the cushions. She caressed him in soft, lazy strokes, thrilling at the way his thigh muscles bunched under his hair-roughened skin as she urged them to part so she could kneel in between.
From her position she could see everything, the seam that ran up the underside of his cock to the ridge of flesh that rimmed the head, the blue veins that bulged against his skin. His balls were pulled high and tight against his body as he struggled to keep control.
Her mouth watered, craving his taste. But instead of taking the head of his cock between her lips, she needed to deliver a little payback. She bent and landed an open mouth kiss on the inside his 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.