by Jami Alden
Sam let out a tortured sound that was half groan, half laugh. “A guy can dream, right?”
It turned her on even more to know that Sam was dreaming about having sex with her. But as much as her body craved it, Carla knew she wasn't ready for it. Especially with a guy like Sam. She knew his reputation and didn't want to be just another in the long line of girls he'd nailed and forgotten.
Though part of her was dying to give him everything he wanted, some small core of common sense cautioned her to keep this one part of herself guarded.
But that didn't mean she couldn't have a damn good time as Sam showed her a thing or two he'd learned over the years.
She slid her hands up the back of his t-shirt, moaning into his mouth as her fingers encountered hot, smooth skin shifting over hard muscle. She loved the feel of him under her hands, so huge―topping her measly five foot two by at least a foot. And every inch packed with lean muscles that bulged and shifted as he rocked himself against her.
He groaned back and reached back one hand to tug his shirt over his head. He slid his hand up her stomach, catching the hem of her own shirt to tug it up her chest. She was glad the darkness hid her blush as she lay there in just her bra and her shorts. She wasn't completely inexperienced, but there was something in the way Sam looked down at her, like he could see every secret coiled in her heart.
He settled back down over her, and she gave a little gasp at the feel of his skin against hers. He was so hot, chasing away the cold of the desert night. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, feel the dusting of hair on his chest rasp against her stomach as he kissed his way down her chest and between her breasts.
His hand covered her breast, his thumb circling the hard peak through her bra, making her squirm and rock her hips against his. She felt the tightness between her legs, the urgency zipping through every nerve, her skin stretched too tight over her body.
He peeled back one cup and she bit her lip. She should stop him before this went too far, but it felt so good, the way his callused thumb rasped against her bare, tight nipple. And oh, God, his hot tongue circling as the cool night breeze made her skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Sam, I don't―” her words stuck in her throat as he sucked her into his mouth. She'd never let a boy do this before and knew she should stop him, but the firm pulls of his lips, his circling tongue, the way he closed his teeth over the peak...
She tangled her hand in his hair with the thought of pulling his head away, but instead found herself pulling him closer, luxuriating in the silky waves. She dug her shoulders into the ground, so mindless with pleasure she didn't feel the hard ground or the rocks digging into her shoulders as she arched her back, urging him to suck her deeper, harder.
She felt his hand slide down her stomach, down the front of her shorts to cup her between her legs. He circled the heel of his palm against her through the stiff cotton fabric. She rocked herself against him, trying to get closer contact but it wasn't enough.
Then his hand was gone and she gave a frustrated moan, only to freeze when she felt his fingers tugging at the button at her waistband. She caught his wrist. “Sam, I don't want to.. I'm not ready to...” she hoped he wouldn't get mad, call her a prude and storm off like Nick Greene who'd taken her to prom.
Sam kept his hand where it was. He leaned up and kissed her, deep, drugging kisses that made her blood run like thick, sweet honey in her veins. “I know, you don't have to worry. We won't do it until you're ready. But tonight I'd really love to make you come.”
Carla felt like her whole body was blushing at his frank words. Her pulse pounded between her thighs with renewed urgency. She shifted her knees wider and gave him a little nod.
He flicked open the button of her shorts and the buzz of her zipper lowering seemed to echo in the quiet stillness. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her breath came in nervous pants as he slid his hand down the front of her panties.
His fingers stroked through her curls and slid down farther, parted her. Another wave of self-consciousness at the sound her own wetness made against his probing fingers. She was drenched down there, her panties drenched, her flesh slick and slippery against Sam's long, strong fingers.
Did other girls get so wet? Obviously that was what was supposed to happen, but was she maybe a little excessive? Was he disgusted?
All of her fears dissolved as Sam groaned, “You feel so good. You're so fucking hot,” against her neck as his fingers parted her. She let out a surprised cry as his fingers stroked and circled the tight knot of her clit. He slid his hand down farther, and she let out a gasp as he slid a finger inside her.
At first the invasion felt strange, almost uncomfortable, but as he moved his finger in and out in slow, slick thrusts she could feel her body tighten around him. He slipped in a second finger to join the first, and she could feel her body stretch to fit him.
This would be what it would be like to have sex with him, she thought. Then all thought became impossible as his thumb burrowed into her slick folds to circle her clit in a firm rhythm as his 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 point of pulling her away from the books a couple times a year or so, when he came back over school breaks.
On those infrequent occasions, she always saw Sam. It was impossible not to notice him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, larger than life. With his thick dark hair and striking blue eyes glittering with humor and a little something extra as he held court, surrounded by the crowd of popular kids, the guys all laughing at his jokes and the girls practically panting at his feet, each one hoping she would be the one offered a ride home only to have him take a long detour on the way.
Each time, she'd felt that nervous tightening in her lower belly the second she laid eyes on him. He'd never spared her more than a grin and a nod over the heads of his adoring throngs, and Carla wasn't convinced he knew her as anyone other than Chris's cousin.
So when she'd seen him that first day at new employee orientation―Carla had been hired as a waitress in the main dining room while Sam worked at the resort's marina―even though she'd felt that same tight flutter in her core, she knew that with all of the leggy blonds and brunettes with the bright smiles and easy going attitudes would capture his attention far before she did.
Why go for dark, dumpy, and studious when you could have cocktail waitress Barbie over here?
Besides, Carla had told herself sternly at the time, on the snowball's chance in hell that Sam did give her a second look, with what she knew about Sam and the way he operated, there was no way she'd ever fall for his charm.
She'd never be stupid enough to go for a player like him.
God had she been wrong. He'd singled her out the night after their first shift. Even though all of the seasonal employees―especially those under twenty-one like her―were supposed to be in their respective same sex rooms, doors locked with absolutely no intermingling of the sexes later than eleven, no one really followed the rules.
Carla had tried. Afraid of getting caught and fired when she really needed the tips from this job to cover her first semester expenses, she'd told her roommate she was going to turn in early. Her roommate, a leggy blonde who was going into her sophomore year at ASU had shrugged and rolled her eyes as she left, giggling with another girl from down the hall.
Not ten minutes had passed and there was a knock on her door. She opened the door, startled when she saw Sam O'Connell on the other side.
Leaning against the door jamb, he towered a good foot over her. His tanned, muscled arms were exposed by a t-shirt grown soft from too many washings. His blue eyes glittered against his tan skin and his teeth flashed white as his full lips pulled into a grin. “Aren't you coming out to play?”
Even now Carla's face got hot with embarrassment at the way she'd stammered something incomprehensible, unable to articulate a single thought under the force of that blue-eyed gaze.
With a knowing smile he pushed past her, grabbed her room key off the table and the sweater she'd tossed on the foot of the bed. “Grab your shoes.”
It was like an alien force had taken over her body and she had no choice but to obey. She'd shoved her feet into flip flops, unable to focus on anything but the heat and feel of his hand that had grabbed hers. Big, so big it swallowed hers up, with long, thick fingers whose calluses rasped against her skin and started up a tight, tickling sensation low in her belly.
As they darted down the stairs that led to the lake shore Carla could see the glow of a small bonfire and hear a group of people a few hundred yards down the shore. Carla started toward them but Sam tugged her hand in the opposite direction.
“Aren't we going to the party?” Carla said, breathless both from trying to keep up and from the feel of his firm grip and the scent of him carried to her on the cool night air. It was indescribable, the scent of soap on leather, a warm, masculine smell that made her want to bury her face in the place where his neck met his shoulder and take a deep inhale.
“I want to show you something,” Sam said, tugging her further up the rocky bluff.
Carla scrambled to keep her feet on the loose gravel that covered the rocks as they climbed. Finally, Sam stopped on a plateau that sat above the resort and in the daytime would offer a gorgeous view of the lake. There was an outcropping of boulders in the center and Sam tugged her around to the far side, away from the lake.
He let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. “Check it out.”
Carla let out an involuntary gasp. At the gorgeous view of the night dark sky, glittering with stars and so clear she could easily make out the Milky Way, extending out into the distance until it met the glittering neon lights of the strip.
At the feel of Sam's fingers, curling around the curve of her hip, his thumb finding the bare strip of flesh between her shorts and tank top and brushing back and forth, back and forth, making her mouth go dry and her nipples tighten almost painfully against the cups of her bra.
One handed, he flicked the blanket out and pulled her down to it. He tucked her against his side as though it was the most natural thing in the world, his arm around her back, his hand now resting on the bare skin of her thigh below her shorts. A cool breeze drifted over her skin, but Carla didn't feel the cold. Not with Sam so solid against her, his body throwing of waves of heat so fierce she half expected her skin to start sizzling where he touched her.
In the distance she could hear the muffled conversation and laughs from the others. She wondered if he could feel the way her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in the tips of her fingers, in her stomach.
Between her legs.
She struggled to control her breath, embarrassed that she was panting like a dog when he'd done nothing more than touch her leg.
“I love how you can see all the stars up here,” he said in a low voice. “I bet if you knew what to look for, you could find every constellation in the sky.”
Carla slanted him a look. She could make out his profile, shadowed in the moonlight. It was impossible to read his expression, but there was no way he’d brought her up here just to look at the stars.
When was he going to kiss her? There was a nervous twist in her stomach. Carla tried to cover it up with a snappy retort. “Right, and I bet you're going to try to show me the Big Dipper.”
A laugh exploded from his chest. “Not unless you want me to.”
“It's right up there,” Carla said, pointing at the constellation, so distinct in the clear night sky.
“Where... oh, wait, I can see it. Cool.”
“If you follow the handle, that points you to the North Star.” She felt him shift next to her, pressing even closer to her side. She hoped he didn't notice her f
inger shaking as she pointed to another group of stars. “And there's the Little Dipper―”
“I wouldn't know anything about that,” Sam interrupted.
Carla felt her face heat, glad he couldn't see her blush in the dark. “And there,” she continued, trailing her finger across the sky, “If you connect that star with those two, that's Ursa Major, the big bear, and Ursa Minor, the little bear.”
She turned and saw that he was staring not at the sky but at her. Oh, great, there she went, spouting off like a know it all, reminding him of what a nerd she was, totally not worth his time.
As though he read her mind he said, “It's cool how smart you are. I wish I was smart like that.”
Carla was taken aback. She couldn't imagine a guy like Sam, who skated through life and averted punishment on the strength of his charm, ever wanting to be anything like her. Besides, she had a strong suspicion that his performance in school―or lack thereof―was due more to disinterest than lack of intelligence. She told him so.
She felt him stiffen against her. “Nah. Like my dad says, it's lucky I'm good with my hands since I've pretty much got shit for brains.” The sheer cruelty of the remark, coupled with the unmistakable bitterness in his voice told Carla she'd inadvertently uncovered a wound.
“That's a crappy thing for a parent to say about his kid,” Carla said.
“Yeah, my dad's a real charmer.” His fingers tightened against her leg, then relaxed. “I don't want to talk about him though. Tell me more about the stars.”
Carla searched the sky, but it was hard to remember the names when he started running his palm up and down the outside of her thigh, from the hem of her shorts to the top of her knee. And then when he moved his hand so his fingers just brushed the inside of her thigh in gentle hypnotic rhythm that had her so entranced she didn't even think to protest as he slowly guided her to her back to lie on the blanket.
He propped himself on his elbow next to her, his dark head blocking out the view of the stars. Her heart beat so fast she thought it was going to break through her chest and her breath shuddered in her lungs as he bent close enough for her to feel his warm breath against her cheek.