Curve Effect (A BBW Box Set of Contemporary, Science Fiction and Paranormal Romances) (41 page)

“Are you coming for me, Brycie?” he asked. “Can you feel it building, taking everything away but just you and me?”

“Yes.”

Delirious, her whole body was an inferno, the flames licking at his skin and threatening to singe his hair.

“You don’t want me to stop?” He didn’t stop, he kept grinding inside her pussy, each thrust and hip roll crushing to powder more of her resistance.

“No, please don’t.”

“You don’t want me to stop now.”

“No, I said ‘no’.”

“And tomorrow, is this sweet body mine?”

“Yes, please—” The pre-orgasmic tremor that ran through her body cut off the rest of her plea.

He made his thrusts tighter, more powerful, his cock swelling from his own looming climax.

“And the day after that,” he pushed. “You do want to be with me the day after that, don’t you, Brycie?”

Everything was shutting down to short, intense twitches and gripping contractions. When he thought he couldn’t swell any thicker, that her cunt couldn’t hold him any tighter, the pressure built higher until he almost didn’t hear her answer.

“Yes!” she screamed, her control disintegrating in the explosion of her climax. “The day after that—I want you every day, Walt Diaz.”

Chapter Thirteen

Sitting in the passenger seat of Walt’s Suburban, Bryce fiddled with the charm bracelet.
Yeah, so what?
she thought. She had finally admitted the truth. Did he have to gloat about it?

Apparently, he did.

She twisted in her seat, trying not to make eye contact with him. At least he wasn’t gloating out loud—not yet, anyway.

I want you every day, Walt Diaz!
How fucking corny was that? Her, being all schmaltzy over a man. Okay, a sweet man, intelligent, caring and sensitive. A man whose tremendously large cock came with its own slide belt. Still,
I want you every day?
That had to come from Erato’s book of phrases because it sure as hell didn’t come from her own.

Walt finally broke the silence. “Do you want dinner in, or out?”

Bryce gave a definitive “In”. It had been hard enough when they’d stopped for gas and the women had visibly ogled Walt as he lounged against the Suburban’s side. Then their gazes had invariably skipped up to the front of the vehicle to see what lucky girl was in the passenger seat. For the most part, it was only the strength of the reactions that were mixed, from the curled lip and mouthed “what the fuck?” to the politely arched, but incredulous brow. Only one woman had given Bryce a thumbs up accompanied by a silent “woot” of approval.

An hour or more of sitting in a restaurant, people watching them, watching her eat, glossing over their own imperfections as they smugly counted Bryce’s calories for her—well, she wouldn’t exactly wilt, but it wasn’t the best use of her remaining time with him.

He had his cell phone with him and he pulled it out. “Chinese?”

“Uhm, maybe Korean?”

“Korean it is,” he said, dialing from touch and memory while he drove. Once the last number was punched in, he handed the phone to Bryce to place the order.

With at least another half hour’s wait for the food once they were back at his apartment, they settled in on the couch. She was exhausted—emotionally and physically. When Walt wrapped his arms around her and just held her, she felt a quiet exaltation. She slipped one arm behind his back and rested the other across his lap. She’d never snuggled before, and it was far from overrated.

Once the food arrived and she picked self-consciously at it, Walt decided to feed her. But even that was nice. The way he followed up each small bite taken with a kiss or a stroke made her stop worrying about her body. Bryce was amazed they weren’t naked and rolling on the floor by the time dinner was done. But they weren’t. And after he cleared the containers away, he put music on and returned with a sweet wine to chase away the burn of the spicy Korean food.

Stroking Bryce’s hair, he sipped his wine, occasionally humming part of the song. His voice was a rich baritone, its undertones vibrating with a tangible sensuality. She put her glass down and rubbed at her eyes. She wanted to curl up in a tight ball on his lap so that he could keep stroking her while he enjoyed the music and his wine. “I think I need a nap.”

“A nap sounds perfect,” he agreed.

Standing, he took Bryce by the hand and led her into the bedroom. Despite her groggy protests that she could do it herself and that it wasn’t necessary, he undressed her. His hands lingered momentarily on the symbols he had covered her body with. He pressed his fingertips to his mouth, just once, as if remembering the taste of her body, and then he covered her with a light satin quilt. When she was tucked in, he bent down and kissed her, his hand stroking her honey-blonde hair until she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

*****

Bryce slept through until early morning. She woke to find Walt curled up next to her and the air conditioner going full blast. She eased up onto an elbow and saw that he had left a robe hanging on each of the bed’s end posts. The kimono she had worn Friday night was on his side and a dark russet satin robe hung from her post. She eased from the bed and slipped the robe on. It was roomy, with a soft brushed cotton lining. The thought that Erato had left it hanging on the post tempted Bryce, but the hem touched the floor and she could smell traces of the warm, masculine scents she had come to associate with Walt.

Knowing she could spend the morning watching him sleep, Bryce didn’t risk a backwards glance as she left the bedroom. At the bathroom door, she hesitated, her muscles tensing in anticipation of finding that Erato had popped back in. She opened the door and flipped the light on. No muse, just the travel kit.

No new clothes, either.

Hanging the robe on the door hook, Bryce sighed. Cinderella only received one dress—it was time to pull out the credit cards if she wanted to keep seeing Walt’s eyes pop the way they had with the two outfits Erato had given her already. Turning the shower on, she ran a hand over one breast and firmly thumbed its nipple. His eyes didn’t pop when she was naked. They grew all smoky and intense. Just thinking about the way he looked at her during those moments made her hot.

She reached over, turned the warm water down and grabbed the body wash. She smiled, careful not to let her hands linger too long on any one body part. There was no point in wasting the caresses when there was a perfectly gorgeous male naked in bed and ready to fulfill her fantasies. Still, she couldn’t help but pause and trace the signs he’d drawn on her with the body markers. He’d done it in an almost cabalistic manner, the symbols and sex working together to create an invisible bond to hold them together beyond the weekend.

Why not?
she thought as she left the shower and dried off. If Erato could perform magic, why couldn’t she and Walt have worked some of their own?

Her hands touched the two artist’s marks he’d left on her, one at the heart, one in the crease of her thigh. The memory rose up in perfect detail—his body gloriously naked and cock-proud, his expression tender yet filled with dark sorceries. He’d meant to do it, too, she realized. In some superstitious, subconscious way, he was giving the universe warning that she was his and his alone.

Hands still touching his marks, Bryce felt twin contractions. Heart and womb were telling her it was time to wake the man that had mastered them.

Upon leaving the bathroom, she found that the gorgeous male in question was no longer naked or in bed. He was one the living room floor, the kimono loose around him as he stretched.

“I was going to wake you.” She could feel a pout pushing her lips out, and she folded her hands behind her back. The urge to put them on her hips and give her foot a little stamp worthy of a two-year-old was strong. But then he smiled and something warm and fuzzy replaced her petulance.

She went to the couch and positioned herself so that she could watch him do his stretching exercises. Underneath the robe, he was wearing semi-loose cotton boxer briefs. She had left him naked in bed and she wasn’t sure she liked the change. She giggled and instantly clapped a hand over her mouth. His gorgeous uncut cock probably would look silly in all those stretching positions. At least, if it were soft.

At the moment, he was doing a butterfly stretch, sitting with his knees out and his heels pulled close to his bottom. Every few seconds, he bent at the waist and held the position.

Bryce glanced at his lap. She could feel a slow blush creep across her cheeks. The fabric had a perceptible bulge. He wasn’t soft. Nor was he hard—not yet.

“Stop that.” His voice was quiet and held the barest tinge of embarrassment.

“Stop what?” She tried to make her question sound innocent, as if she wasn’t staring at his cock and willing it to grow bigger and bolder.

“Looking at me…there.” His protest ended with a little groan. “It’s having an effect.”

“My looking at it?” Less innocence, more of a pleased squeal. It was having an effect. He was growing harder by the second.

“Yes.”

Ah, he sounded almost desperate now. She could practically hear him thinking what he wanted to do with her, what would be a proper punishment for her being deliberately naughty and getting him all hard like that. She giggled again, brought both hands up to her mouth and rolled onto her back, eyes closed.

When she was sure the giggles were gone, she slowly removed her hands. She glanced in the direction of his lap, her neck straining to keep the cock check as discreet as possible. Rock hard. She smiled and somehow managed an exaggerated sigh.

“You do need to stretch,” she admitted. “And get a workout in—you lift weights every day, don’t you?” She didn’t need to ask, she listened to it every day. Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday were heavy workouts—lots of weights, lots of repetitions. The other three days were light.

“Every day,” he agreed.

“And you didn’t get to yesterday,” she pointed out. “And it’s making you…uhm…stiff.”

Walt growled at her, pushed onto his knees and crawled slowly to the couch. He nipped her ear before tracing the curve of her jaw. “You know what’s making me stiff, Brycie.”

Biting her lip, she resisted the impulse to invite him up onto the couch. “Finish your stretches,” she ordered.

“They’re done.”

His hand crept under her robe and she grabbed his wrist. “Well, if you’re done with your stretches, you should shower and then work out.”

An intense lust pulled at his features and she had to close her eyes or give in immediately. Only, closing her eyes filled her mind with images of Walt on the weight bench while she straddled his thick cock.

“You want to watch me work out.” Not a question. He knew.

“Yes,” she answered in a whisper.

Breaking her light hold on his wrist, he slid his hand down to where her legs were pressed tightly together. His lips caressed her ear as he teased her pussy. “I think you were already watching me work out.”

He ran his nails lightly over her mons, raising the trace of hair that had already grown back. He brushed his own morning stubble against her cheek, kissing her on the mouth as her thighs started to flutter from the tension of keeping him out.

“A quick shower.”

She nodded, trembling.

“A long work out.”

She licked her lips, nodded again.

Only when she heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on did Bryce dare open her eyes. She got up and dragged the leather ottoman until it was against the side of the couch in a spot where she could sit facing him while he lifted weights at the bench.

She had just finished positioning the ottoman when the water cut off. She sat down, one arm curling over the couch’s overstuffed arm. Resting her cheek on her hand, she waited for the bathroom door to open. Walt didn’t make her wait long. He exited the bathroom two minutes later, the robe’s sash loosely tied around his waist so that the kimono was only partially closed. His hair was still wet and slicked back.

Grinning at her, he straddled the weight bench. He grabbed the sash’s simple knot, his gaze playing over the robe she was wearing. He sucked his bottom lip in, the arch of his brow suggesting to Bryce a quid pro quo.

She undid her sash and pulled at the edges of the robe until her shoulders and the top swell of her breasts were exposed. Walt’s sash came off and his erection pressed forward to push the robe open. Bryce’s mouth opened in an appreciative “O”. He ran his fingertips down the length of his cock and back up to smooth the foreskin away from the succulent red tip.

Bryce smoothed her fingers along the edge of the robe until they were even with her cunt. She bent her leg, planting a foot flat on the ottoman. The fold of the robe slid behind her, exposing her pussy as she dipped her fingers into its heat. She ran her other hand through her still damp hair, arching, her excited moan unfaked.

Walt stripped away the rest of his robe and lay back on the weight bench. Spacing his hands about a foot apart, he gripped the weight bar. He had some eighty pounds stacked on the bar and the bar itself weighed another forty-five pounds. He lifted and brought the bar down to about an inch above his chest. He extended his arms, bringing the weights back up and then repeated the press. She watched the way the different parts of his body worked together to lift the weights. The chest and arms had the heaviest job, but she could see the rippled muscles of his abs tense, and the pull on his ass and thighs made his erect cock bob on each upward push of the bar.