One hand released its grip on her hip to rest low on her stomach. He burrowed his thumb in her curls until it found her clit. “Come with me this time,” he panted, his thumb stroking firmly in rhythm with his thrusts as he cock seemed to grow even bigger, as his orgasm loomed.
She felt him throb and pulse heavily inside her. That, combined with the steady pressure of his thumb sent her hurtling over the edge a second time, crying and moaning, thrashing against the restraints as she came even harder than she had the first time.
He collapsed, half on top of her, his head buried against her breasts as his breath came hot and fast. Instinctively Carla tried to move her hand down to stroke his hair. The feel of the binding jerked her from her postcoital haze. “I think you've proven your point,” she said irritably. “You can untie me now.”
Sam pushed up on his elbows and gave her a heavy lidded smile that made her toes curl. “Oh, I haven't proven anything yet, not by a long shot.”
Carla wasn't sure what he meant by that, but since she was still tied up and he seemed disinclined to let her go, she was afraid it was going to be bad.
Which meant it was going to be really, really, good.
“Tonight I'm going to make you feel so good, you'll wonder how you ever lived without me. And you're going to see why you owe it to yourself to take this thing between us where it was always supposed to go.”
Before her brain could wrap around what he meant by that, all thought fled as Sam's mouth closed hotly over one nipple, drawing hard enough to make her feel the deep pull in the sated flesh between her thighs.
All throughout that night, Sam made good on his words, making her come countless times with his hands, lips, cock.
He whispered to her in the dark about how beautiful she was, how much he loved touching her, fucking her, the feel of her skin against hers. How he'd never felt like this with anyone else and he didn't want to be with anyone else ever again.
Carla fought back tears, the deep satisfaction wearing her down, crumbling her defenses until she wanted desperately to believe him. Finally he took the restraints off, and she whimpered at the sound of foil ripping once again.
Her body tightened in anticipation even though she was so well used she knew she'd have trouble walking for the next few days.
But she couldn't resist him as he slid inside her, gentle now, slow, as his own urgency had faded in the course of their earlier, wild couplings.
This time he sank in slow, held himself there as he urged her to wrap her arms and legs around him. “This is how I love it best,” he whispered with soft pecks of his lips on her mouth, cheeks, neck. “You wrapped around me, holding me tight. So deep inside you I feel like I could crawl up inside your skin and become a part of you.”
Carla felt a twisting sensation in her chest, like she was falling over a cliff, helpless to make it stop. Even knowing he was a master of manipulation, it was so hard to resist, impossible not to fall for him all over again.
“This is how I always wanted it to be, Carla.” He kissed her again, then propped his elbows on either side of her head and held her gaze with his. “I love you.”
Carla felt a laugh rip through her chest. It was either that or burst into tears.
Sam froze, every muscle in his body stiffening against her. “What?”
Her laughter rose to a hysterical pitch, overwhelming her until she could barely get the words out. “S-sam,” she sputtered helplessly, “isn't it obvious by now that you don't have to feed me a line to get me in bed? I'm here already!” She flung her arms up on the pillow to demonstrate.
She didn't know what she expected Sam to do, but it wasn't for him to slip from her body and move from the bed without saying a word.
Her body felt chilled at his sudden absence and she pulled the sheet up to her neck, a sense of dread settling over her as she watched him yank his shorts up his legs.
“What's wrong?”
He didn't answer, but it was clear from the way he dressed in quick, jerky moves that he was upset.
He stormed out without a word, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the villa's windows.
She fought the urge to go after him, ask him if it was really true, if it was possible.
But no. She already knew the answer. She didn't need to suffer the humiliation of having him confirm it once again to her face.
Sam O'Connell didn't fall in love with women. Certainly not with her.
He was just pissed, she reasoned, because no one else had ever called him on his bluff. Every woman before willingly played his game, listened to his pretty words, believed in the moment but knew it wasn't really true.
But here came Carla calling his bullshit, ruining the charade he was so determined to keep up.
Carla continued to tell herself that through the rest of her sleepless night, while her heart ached with the wish that his words had been true.