Page 56 of Craving Carla

Before I can respond, he swipes his tongue against my pussy, and my head falls back as I gasp, arching my back at the unexpected sensation. The feeling is so intense, so new that I can barely process it. His tongue moves again, circling my clit before flattening against me, and stars explode behind my eyes.

I try to scoot back, overwhelmed by the intensity, but his hands grip my thighs, pulling me firmly back against his mouth. He devours me like a man possessed, licking, sucking, thrusting his tongue in and out. He makes obscene noises as he feasts on me, smooching and humming against my most sensitive flesh.

The pleasure builds and builds, a mounting tension that I’ve never experienced before. My hands fist in the sheets, my back arching off the bed as he continues his relentless assault. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, when I’m sure I’ll shatter from the sheer pleasure of it, he sucks my clit into his mouth, and I explode.

I scream, my whole body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crash over me. My hands fly to my hair, then my face, as I pant like I’ve run a marathon. My legs shake uncontrollably, but Amari doesn’t stop. He keeps eating my pussy through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until it borders on pain.

Finally, he pulls his head back, his eyes closed, a serene smile on his face. His fangs flash as he grins, his beard glistening with my juices.

“You even taste like peaches,” he moans, “so sweet, so good.”

“Amari,” I gasp, barely able to form his name.

He pushes my legs open wider; his mouth and beard covered in my wetness. “More,” he growls, his eyes dark with hunger. “I want more.”

Then he dives back into my pussy, and I scream as the pleasure begins to build again, even more intense than before.

20

Amari

This is the sweetest torture I’ve ever known.

I slide a finger inside Carla’s warmth, keeping my tongue working against her clit, and she bucks against me, her thighs trembling. Her peachy scent overwhelms me—stronger, richer, more intoxicating than ever before. I could stay here forever, between her thighs, making her come undone over and over again.

“Amari,” she gasps, her voice breaking on my name. “I can’t—it’s too much.”

I look up at her from between her legs, watching each desperate breath, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. Those freckles across her nose and cheeks seem to darken with her arousal, and her wild curls are splayed across the pillow. The sight of her like this—undone, vulnerable, mine—sends a primal surge of possession through me that’s almost painful in its intensity.

“You can, baby girl. One more for me.”

I add a second finger, stretching her, preparing her for what’s to come. Her walls clench around me as I curl my fingers upward, finding that spot that makes her arch off the bed. Every reaction, every gasp, every whimper feeds something primal in me. I’m completely feral for this woman.

Her essence coats my fingers, my tongue, my beard. I’ve tasted the blood of thousands over the centuries, but nothing—nothing—compares to the sweetness of Carla’s arousal. It’s like consuming light itself, bright and pure and life-giving after a millennium of darkness.

“You taste so fucking good,” I growl against her, “sweet and perfect. I could live in this pussy. This beautiful, virgin pussy that’s all mine.”

Her fingers grip my short curls, pulling almost painfully as I work her toward another peak. She’s so responsive, so perfect. When she comes again, crying out my name, I feel like I’ve conquered the world. Her juices coat my fingers, and I pull them out slowly, bringing them to my mouth and sucking them clean while she watches through half-lidded eyes.

“I need you,” she whispers, reaching for me.

I shake my head, grinning at her. “Not yet, baby. I want to taste more of you first.”

I dive back between her legs, licking and sucking, thrusting my tongue inside her. The sounds she makes—half pleasure, half protest—drive me to the edge of madness. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Never needed anyone like this. In over a thousand years of existence, countless women in my bed, and none of them made me feel what Carla does.

Her thighs tremble against my shoulders, her hands alternating between pushing me away and pulling me closer. The heady mixture of her pleasure and helplessness is intoxicating. I want to devour her, consume her, make her a part of me so thoroughly that she’ll never belong to anyone else.

“Mine,” I growl against her flesh. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine, Carla.”

She whimpers, her hips rocking against my face. “Amari, please...”

“I don’t give a damn if I’m fated to someone else,” I tell her, the words spilling out of me like blood from a wound. “I’d kill them just to keep you. If it turns out you’re fated to another man, I’ll tear his heart out just like I did Ackley’s.”

I’m unhinged, consumed by a possessiveness I’ve never felt before. The thought of another man touching her, tasting her, having her—it makes me want to burn the world to ashes. In the back of my mind, I know it’s wrong. Fate’s plan is sacred among our kind. But in this moment, with her scent filling my lungs and her taste on my tongue, I don’t care.

“No one else will ever touch you,” I promise her, placing a kiss against her inner thigh. “No one.”

I flick my tongue against her clit, sucking it between my lips, and she jolts violently, her whole body shaking as another orgasm tears through her. She’s beautiful like this—completely wrecked, her hair wild around her face, her lips swollen from our kisses, her eyes glazed with pleasure.

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