Carla’s lips curved in a smile as she sat up in front of him. She shrugged out of her already open blouse and bra, then lay back down. She undid the buttons on her jeans and lifted her hips, sliding them down.
“These, too?” she asked coyly, thumbs hooked in the top of her panties.
Jackson nodded, his gaze glued to her.
She scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped off. He shifted himself on his knees so he could look at her as he continued fisting his cock.
She slowly turned around, hips swaying like a vixen until she stood with her back to him. With tortuous languor she slid down her panties, bending forward so Jackson could fill his gaze with her exposed ass and pussy. Once she stepped out of her panties, she stood before him. Placing her spread hands against her hips, she traced upward to the curve of her waist, and then over her belly and up to her breasts. She played with them, pinching her nipples as Jackson kept stroking himself. His mouth dropped open. She smiled as let out a long, low groan, loving the powerful feeling he gave her.
Fully undressed, she walked back to the bed and sat, knees folded beneath her. “Now,” she said, “let me relieve you of your agony.” She leaned forward and took his cock between her lips, relaxing her throat so she could draw him in deeply, tasting his saltiness on her tongue as she sucked. Then she pulled back until he was nearly out of her mouth, teasing just the head of his cock with long, slow licks.
“Fuck, Carla,” he hissed. He wove his fingers through her hair, guiding her. She swirled her tongue along his length as he swelled in her mouth, and she savored the salty drop of pre-cum that beaded at his slit. With one hand she cupped his balls, and his groan filled the room. His free hand played with her breast, light teasing pinches that had her crying out even as she took him deep once more. Suddenly he pulled his cock from her lips.
“Not yet,” he said, in response to her questioning gaze. He lay down on the bed then curled his index finger back and forth, gesturing for her. “Let me make you come first, Carla. Move over here.”
She crawled toward him, thinking he wanted her on top, but as she began positioning herself Jackson shook his head.
“Not there.” He pointed to his mouth. “Here.”
A spear of lust shot straight to her pussy. She moved forward until she straddled his face, her hands braced against the headboard. Jackson placed his hands on either side of her hips and lowered her. The hot wet swipe of his tongue circled right on her clit.
“Ah!” Her eyes squeezed shut, hips swaying against his mouth.
The tip of his tongue circled her clit with agonizing torture before he swiped her slick folds and dove deep into her entrance. The pleasure was intense, her legs trembling as Jackson licked and teased.
She grabbed the headboard for support, the first flutters of orgasm building. Her thighs gripped his face as her hips swayed against his probing tongue. She cupped her breasts as her fingers pinched the swollen nipples. Jackson gave her just what she needed, his magical tongue flicking hard and fast across her clit. Seconds later she found release, keening long and loud as the climax consumed her.
Once the spasms slowed, she positioned herself over Jackson’s jutting cock.
“Your turn,” she whispered with a smile. She grabbed a condom from the dresser drawer and rolled it on him. Then, resting her hands atop his chest, she slowly impaled herself, her pussy sizzling from the tantalizing stretch of his thick cock.
She writhed atop him, her hips mimicking the sensual sway of a belly dancer. She wanted to torture him, to draw out his climax so he could savor the ride, but Jackson was having none of it. He grasped her hips with his large hands and set the brutal pace.
“Need you fast and hard,” he panted. She smiled at his agony. “Say no more.”
Gripping her thighs against him for support, she rode him hard, plunging up and down in a frenzied pace. She felt behind her for his balls, fingering them as he raised his hips to meet her thrusts. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his breaths were quick and shallow. He reached up so he could tease her nipples and she arched her back in response, filling his hands with her breasts. She loved his generosity as a lover, never forgetting about her needs even as he teetered on the edge of release.
Knowing he was close, she contracted her pelvis muscles and milked his cock as he thrust, wanting to increase his pleasure. They kissed, tongues mingling as she drove down, again and again. Seconds later Jackson exploded, his body going still as the climax pulsed deep inside her pussy.
She collapsed atop his chest, the thumping of his heartbeat echoing in her ears. They stayed that way, swirling back to Earth, until Jackson shifted out from under her and made a quick trip to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. He came back to bed and lay on his back, cradling her beside him.
They were good together, no doubt about it. Sexually, at least. But again, Carla found herself just where she’d been only minutes ago, filled with doubt and wonder. Two more weeks of really great sex and that was it. Wham bam, thank you, ma’am, and both went on their way. She should be happy about the lack of complication. No strings, no messy feelings to deal with. He was setting her free, he said so himself. That hollow feeling, the one pressing against her chest and growing bigger every day, would just have to be ignored.
She shifted to prop her elbow on the bed and her head against her palm. She peered over at Jackson. His eyes held a mixture of satiety and confusion. Perhaps her doubts reflected in her gaze?
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
His earlier words echoed in her mind. She knows I don’t want a relationship and neither do you. It was true. It had to be. So why did those words feel so wrong?
She swallowed back the golf ball-sized lump in her throat and gave him a shaky smile. “Of course.”
She needed to leave — now — before the maddening threat of tears began welling in her eyes.
“I’m just going to get some fresh air,” she said, rolling off the bed and pulling on her clothes. “You work me up into such a sweat, I need to cool off.”
She tried to grin, even felt the corner of her mouth tugging upward. But from the tightness of his furrowed brows, she knew her acting skills needed work. Still, he held up a hand to wave as she left.
“Okay, but don’t be long,” he said. “The bed will get cold.”
Somehow she managed to get out of Jackson’s room and make her way downstairs and outside before she had to brush away the tears. Once she stepped into the sultry bayou night, grateful for the cover of darkness and lack of passersby, she gulped in air and tried her best to settle her pounding heart. Damn, damn, damn. She’d vowed not to fall for Jackson and look how that had turned out. Like an idiot, she’d not only fallen but fallen hard.
Good going, Carla, she scolded herself. You couldn’t have screwed up your Paris dreams any better if you’d planned everything out ahead of time. Falling for a herpetologist who lives a thousand miles away. How convenient!
Of course, in the end, it really all meant nothing. Jackson had no intention of asking her to stay. He’d made that abundantly clear. They’d have a good time for a month and that was that. He’d continue his research and she’d go to Paris. Except a tiny part of her questioned if she even wanted to go anymore. Another much larger part of her wanted to know how exactly she was going to do it with the piercing pain of a broken heart.
She brushed aside more tears and decided to walk around the perimeter of the research facility when she heard Jackson calling her name from the house.
She turned back and saw him standing on the porch, holding her cell.
“You left your phone on my nightstand,” he explained as she approached his outstretched hand, “and someone named Bryce called.”
Carla cringed as she took the phone. “You talked to him?”
“No. But I saw the display on your phone when it rang. It said Bryce Betts.” He cocked his thumb toward the front door where he was headed. “I’ll give you some privacy to call him back.”
She took a deep breath, readying herself for the upcoming conversation with Bryce, when her phone rang again and she saw it was him. What was going on? A shiver of dread skittered down her spine. Had something happened at home?
Her hands shook as she held the phone to her ear. “Bryce? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing, I—no, I don’t think this is the road.” His voice became muffled as he held the phone away and spoke to someone. Then, “Carla?”
“What’s going on? Bryce, who are you talking to?”
“The driver. I think he’s lost.”
She didn’t bother softening her tone as she shifted gears into annoyance mode. “What driver? What are you talking about?”
“Listen Carla, I’m in the middle of the backwater bayou here and there’s not a damn thing in sight. No streetlights, no houses. Oh, and this hick of a driver says his GPS doesn’t work out here.” He expelled a huff of frustration. “There’s absolutely nothing to guide our way.”
Her heart sank as she realized what must be happening. Please, dear Lord, let it not be true. But even as she uttered the prayer, she knew it was too late for help from above.
“Are you in Louisiana?”