* * * *
Sam felt good. He felt better than good, actually. The last time his body had felt this wonderful....
Sam’s eyes snapped open. He looked down, and saw Tamara’s dark hair in his lap. He opened his mouth to protest, but a groan escaped him as she did something delightful with her tongue. His toes curled and he gasped again.
To his relief and disappointment she lifted her head, turning to look at him. Her hand tightly held his hardness and she beamed at him.
“Good morning, handsome. I turned off your alarm. I figured this was a better way to wake you up.” She returned her head to his crotch and elicited another moan. It took all of Sam’s effort to reach down and gently pull her head away.
“We shouldn’t,” he told her, forcing the words out. His hips actually pushed up off the bed in denial of what he was saying—where had she learned such skill?—but his conscience still balked. He’d been pleasantly surprised last night when she’d only wanted him to hold her until she fell asleep. Apparently last night had only been a lapse. This morning she was back to normal.
“We should,” she told him, squeezing him and receiving a welcoming throb in return. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses. You saved me from the warm salty ocean. Now let me savor some of your warm saltiness.”
“What about last night,” he protested. “You should talk about—“
“Nothing happened last night. I have better things to do with my mouth than talking.” She suited actions to words, and Sam’s hips jumped as she swallowed him again.
He knew she needed to talk about what happened, but who was he to tell her that? He couldn’t even talk about his own traumatic experiences. In its own twisted way, knowing she was as broken as him made her more desirable.
Her skill with her mouth was a nice little bonus as well.
He reached down intending to pull her up again, but found his fingers entwining her hair instead, encouraging her.
She wanted him. She might not be perfect, but neither was he. She was young, but she could suck start an M1 Abrams. And she was here, when others had chosen not to be.
As the final walls of his defenses crumbled, Sam used his grip to pull her head up. She frowned as she looked at him, but it turned into a cry of triumph when he pulled her face to his. This time their kiss was nothing like the one last night. This time the kiss involved their entire bodies.
Devil's Island Page 19
