Page 115 of Craving Carla

“Amari—” she starts to protest, but I silence her with my mouth, crashing my lips against hers.

The kiss is savage, desperate—all teeth and tongue and need. I pour everything into it—centuries of loneliness, decades of emptiness, and the depth she’s brought to my existence. Her lips yield beneath mine, soft and pliant, tasting of wine and desire. Her tongue slides against mine, tentative at first, then bolder as she matches my intensity.

I lift her, my hands gripping her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist instinctively. I carry her to the sofa, setting her down on her feet when we reach it. Pulling back, I shrug out of my suit jacket, loosening my tie.

Carla watches me undress, her eyes darkening as I remove my tie and unbutton my shirt. Her tongue slips out to wet her lips, and the simple gesture nearly undoes me.

“Turn around,” I command, my voice rough with need. “Bend over. Knees on the sofa. I want to see your ass.”

Her lips part, but she complies, turning away from me. She bends at the waist, placing her knees on the sofa cushions. Her dress rides up, revealing the black thong that disappears between the curves of her ass.

“A thong, Carla?” I smirk, appreciating the view.

She looks back over her shoulder, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “You can’t wear regular panties with a dress this tight.”

I kick the coffee table back, giving myself room as I slide off my shoes. I remove my cufflinks, setting them on the side table before unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it off. The cool air hits my skin as I drop to my knees behind her.

My hand connects with her ass in a sharp slap, and she yelps, the sound shooting straight to my groin. I smooth my palm over the reddening mark, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my touch.

I grip the edges of her thong and rip it away, tossing the scrap of fabric to the floor. Spreading her ass cheeks wide, I dive in, my tongue exploring every inch of her. I start at her ass before moving lower to her pussy.

She’s already wet for me, her arousal coating my tongue as I lap at her. The taste of her—sweet and intoxicating—makes me groan against her flesh. I suck her clit between my lips, flicking it with my tongue until her thighs begin to tremble.

“Amari, fuck,” she moans, her hands fisting in the sofa cushions.

I double my efforts, adding a finger, then two, curling them inside her to hit that spot that makes her see stars. Her walls clench around my fingers as she comes, her cries spilling out as she shakes against my mouth.

I stand, unbuckling my belt and pushing my pants and boxer briefs down in one smooth motion. I step out of them, now wearing nothing but my tank top and socks. My dick stands proudly, aching for her.

“Keep your ass up,” I tell her, gripping her hips and positioning myself at her entrance.

I slide in slowly, savoring the tight heat of her. I’ve had centuries of women, but none of them—none—have felt like this. Like coming home. Like finding the missing piece of myself.

My movements are deliberate at first, long and deep, wanting to make this last. But then Carla surprises me. She starts pushing back against me, meeting each thrust with a backward roll of her hips. Her ass jiggles with each impact, the visual combined with the sensation of being buried to the hilt inside her nearly making me lose control.

I grip her hips, stilling her movements. “Hold on, baby. I want to give this pussy a proper beating before I let you wear me down.”

I reposition, gripping the top of the sofa with one hand while keeping my other firmly on her hip. Then I start moving in earnest, sliding in and out of her with increasing force. Carla buries her face in the sofa cushions, her moans muffled by the fabric.

Soon she’s matching me thrust for thrust, the sound of skin slapping around us. The sight of her—ass raised, back arched, taking me so perfectly—has my eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Yes,” I groan, feeling the pressure building. “Fuck, yes.”

Carla whimpers beneath me, her body tensing as another orgasm approaches. I move my hand from her hip, reaching under to wrap my fingers around her chin, pulling her head up and making her arch her back even more.

I thrust harder, faster, chasing our release. When I feel her come, her walls pulsing around my dick, I’m done for. I slam into her one final time, practically roaring as I empty myself inside her.

Carla doesn’t stop moving, continuing to rock back against me, milking every last drop. The sensation becomes too much, and I pull out abruptly, my legs wobbling as I struggle to stay upright.

She turns over, looking up at me with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her breathing is rapid, her eyes glazed and unfocused.

I reach for her, lifting her into my arms. She wraps herself around me, clinging to me as I carry her up the stairs to our bedroom. Once inside, I set her down and peel the tight dress over her head. I pull off my tank top and socks, then remove her bra, tossing it aside.

I push her down onto the bed, following her down, my body covering hers as I claim her mouth again. I kick her legs open and slide back inside her, groaning at how slick she is, filled with my come.

“Already?” she gasps, her eyes widening. “Don’t you want a break?”

“I have a high sex drive,” I tell her, starting to move again. “It takes at least four orgasms before I’m really tired.”

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