Curve Effect (A BBW Box Set of Contemporary, Science Fiction and Paranormal Romances) (42 page)

At twenty, he stopped and returned the bar to its holder. He rose up and twisted until his upper body weight rested on one arm and he could watch Bryce. The muscles on his chest had swelled slightly from the workout, the veins on his biceps standing out in light relief.

He dropped his gaze to where her hand still rested against her thigh. “Twenty strokes, Brycie.”

She brought her other foot up and shifted on the ottoman until both feet were pointed in his direction. She still wore the robe, but it fell loosely around her, the front of her body exposed to him. Spreading her legs, Bryce leaned against the arm of the couch and splayed her pussy lips with the inverted “V” of her index and middle finger. She slid her middle finger to center, her ring finger keeping her lips separated as she took her first long stroke. She started at the wet mouth of her cunt, slicking the juices up over her clit. When she finished the return downward stroke, she heard Walt count it off, his voice tightly reined in.

“One, Brycie.”

She whimpered as she started the next stroke. Nineteen more and she would be coming in front of him. She finished the stroke and quickly started the next so that he was counting off the third almost before he finished the second.

The heat in his voice stroked her skin as she masturbated for him. She couldn’t keep the rest of her body still. She flexed her hips and wiggled her ass as the numbers got bigger and she came closer to the sharp edge of orgasm.

“Twenty, Brycie.”

Fingers lingering in the moist pocket of her cunt, she didn’t need to look at Walt to know he was wearing a wicked smile—she knew it from the way he shaped the words, how he said her name. When she did look at him, she felt a wave of heat and sexual tension roll over her body. From his expression, she knew he didn’t want her to stop. But it was equally clear he wanted to keep playing this little game he’d started.

Getting off the bench, he took the bar down. The effort of removing the bar provided Bryce another opportunity to ogle him, the muscles of his back, ass and thighs working together for her erotic entertainment. When the bar and its weights were safely on the floor, he loaded forty pounds onto the leg press and then laid down stomach first on the bench. Even though the position should have accommodated his erection, he stuck his arms beneath him. Palms and forearms flat against the bench, he tensed his thighs and butt and raised his cock off the cushioned surface. The edge of the bench pressed into the front of his thighs as he positioned his Achilles tendons against the underside of the leg press handles. Locked everywhere but at the knees, he pumped out twenty leg presses. As he moved, her gaze darted over his body. The bob of his cock with each press had her pussy twitching. And the way his ass tensed—it made her want to jump up and bite into one firm cheek.

It was over all too soon.

Reps finished, Walt stood up and approached the ottoman, his hips swaying like a gunslinger’s as he crossed the short distance. She smiled. He was definitely packing steel. And heat. When he stopped in front of her, she sat up and nuzzled his erection. There was a light sheen of perspiration below the cut of his abs and she licked at it, the salt making her eager to have his cock in her mouth and the taste of his cum on her tongue.

Taking his cock in one hand, she smoothed the foreskin down and sucked at the tip. Walt moaned with pleasure, but put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

“Your turn, Bryce. Twenty.”

She started to roll onto her stomach. He stopped her with another light touch to her shoulder.

“On the bench, Brycie.”

*****

Walt looked down to where Bryce lay on the bench. She was stomach down, her back and lush bottom presented to him from the way the back of her feet held the leg press bar. He had removed twenty pounds, leaving enough weight that she could make smooth presses without injuring her muscles.

She was looking to one side, her right cheek resting on the back of her hands. He knelt on the side of the bench she faced. His left hand pressed gently between her shoulder blades, while the other rested on her bottom.

“First lift doesn’t count,” he warned. He moved his right hand down to cup her shin. “First is for form, ‘kay?”

Bryce nodded and when Walt increased the pressure against her shin, she drew the weights up, then slowly let them back down as his touch lightened.

“Good.” He slid both hands along her body, his left moving down to the small of her back while his right traveled up to where her thighs gated her pussy. Slowly he worked his middle and ring fingers into the slick well of her cunt. She squeezed around him and his cock reacted with a jealous throb.

“Lift.”

She made the first press slow and tentative, and he probed her pussy in the same manner. The second lift he had to tell her to slow down. His body protested the command. He wanted to finger fuck her to a hard, fast screaming climax and then bury his cock in her tight little cunt before the wild contractions could subside.

On her fifth lift, there was a deep tremble of sound at the back of her throat and he groaned. It was the second time she’d whimpered this afternoon, the sound one of complete submission to his sexual will. He wanted to possess her now. He dipped his head until his lips rested lightly against one soft butt cheek. He draped his left bicep across the small of her back, his forearm pressed against her right hip as he hugged her to him.

He pressed his lips around the yielding flesh for a second, allowing himself a pseudo bite to keep from consuming her whole. If she whimpered again, there was no way he could manage a slow conquering of her pussy.

“Lift.” He growled the order, thrusting a third finger into her cunt. The growl kept rumbling through his throat until his lips were trembling against her bottom in a rough purr, and she obeyed.

She lifted again, without his order, finding a rhythm that kept her pushing towards the first wave of her approaching climax.

Walt’s hand unwrapped from around her hip and he reached up, tangling his fingers in the honey-blonde hair and forcing her to arch her neck. She had finished her twentieth press but he was still stroking her cunt, his fingers pistoning inside her.

“Come for me, Brycie.” His voice bordered on sexual desperation but never quite crossed over. “Come for me, baby, so I can fuck this sweet hole.”

Bryce brought the weights up one last time and held them there. Her cunt was locked down, gripping Walt’s fingers in place as the muscles rolled over them in a milking motion. Her chest was off the weight bench, her arms supporting her as she cried out her climax.

Legs trembling, she slowly returned the leg press to its resting position. Walt released her hair and she lowered her chest back down to the bench. Her eyelids fluttered from the strength of her orgasm and her lips trembled as she drew in short breaths.

Withdrawing from her, Walt planted a kiss on her shoulder. “Stay there, Brycie, I’ll be right back.”

He went into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a small tub of massage cream. He scooped some into his palm, warming it before he began massaging her tight shoulder and back muscles. When he was done with her back, he ordered her into a sitting position and sat facing her on the bench. He placed the tub of cream on the bench between them and then rubbed the front of her shoulders.

Bryce dipped into the tub and started rubbing his thighs and hips, arching into Walt’s hands as he massaged her breasts. She nuzzled his neck, her question hot against the sensitive skin of his throat.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

He was rubbing her nipples, his thumbs running along the insides in tight circles. He groaned, took more cream and kneaded her thighs. “I do.”

Bryce pressed one palm against his chest, pushing him back as she set the tub on the floor. “Will it hold…us?” she asked as she stood and straddled his body over the bench.

He nodded as his hands roamed her thighs and ass. “It’ll hold four of us.”

Bryce reached down and squeezed his erection before she guided his cock into her. Her cunt was slick from her climax, but his cock was swollen, full and throbbing with the need for release. She drew him in slowly, letting her weight push her down until her bottom pressed lightly against the front of his thighs and he was completely in her. She bent to the side to gather more massage cream and he flexed inside her.

God, not that sexy little whimper again.
Walt grabbed her hips and held her tight to him as she massaged the cream onto his chest and abdomen. She pushed down as she massaged his stomach, riding him tighter the harder she pressed.

He could see the sensation building in her. Her lips parted and she began to breathe harder. Her features contorted as if her concentration focused solely on the contours of his cock as he rotated his hips beneath her. She relaxed her knees and her weight settled more solidly against his body. She tossed her head back and placed both palms flat against his chest, gripping him with muscles he’d never discovered in any of his other lovers. He was deep inside her now, hitting against the opening to her cervix, and she moaned.

“Oh!”

Her exclamation was almost a scream and she followed it quickly with another. He watched Bryce as she turned into a wild creature. Her weight kept their bodies cinched together. The plump folds of her labia molded to his lower abdominal muscles with the lips pressed tight together. The intermittent jerks of her upper body had him imagining her clit, hard and sliding between the lips as she rode him. Each little jerk produced a sharp bounce of her firm breasts, pulling his gaze upwards to the cherry-colored tease of her erect nipples.

“Oh, Walt!” She was crying now, hyperventilating as gravity locked her tight around his cock. “I can feel all of you…feel you in me. It’s so…so much.”

Her eyelids fluttered and Walt strained, waiting for the wave to break and the first moment of rapture to wash over her. When she came, she came with a scream, her hands jumping up to grip his shoulders and pull him in with her.

Chapter Fourteen

They took the caressing and lovers’ talk into the bedroom, where the touching escalated and the sheets knotted around their hot sweaty bodies. They drifted to sleep in one another’s embrace and didn’t wake until four in the evening. In bed, still holding one another, they giggled over the way their stomachs growled from a weekend of neglect.

“We’re going out tonight,” Walt said, nibbling at Bryce’s ear. “That way, I know we won’t get distracted and abandon the food.”

She frowned, mentally sorting through the contents of her closet and its lack of dinner date clothing. “I can make us something,” she said. “And keep my hands off you.”

Walt rolled on top of her. “Are you trying to break my heart, Brycie Schoene? Besides, I make no such promise.”

When she still hesitated, he stroked her cheek. “And there’s someone I want you to meet. He runs the best Baja restaurant in L.A. We need to eat if we’re going to knot the sheets up all over again.” He finished with a wink that promised another night of complete passion.

“What’s the attire?”

Walt laughed. “You put on a tux and I’ll wear my Daisy Dukes,” he joked. “It won’t matter to Victor or anyone else in his restaurant.”

“Well, I think I can manage something more appropriate than either,” she said and gently pushed on his chest until he let her up. He had folded the outfit she wore on Saturday into a neat pile and she slipped into the clothes, not realizing until she turned back to the bed and saw the soft smile he wore that she’d changed in front of him.

Keeping her expression neutral, she hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll shower and change at home—how long do I have?”

He looked at the clock and then arched a brow. “Forty-five minutes?”

Bryce nodded, studying his face as she agreed to the time limit. She realized she’d been wrong when she’d thought she had memorized his features. All those months of seeing him on her way in or out, she had never dared to look long enough. Now that she could watch him at will, she saw little things she had never noticed before. The silky black brow he’d arched as he teased her had a small scar dipping into it. The scar mixed with his expression to create an almost devilish look, as if he’d been dehorned and that little slice of white was the only evidence left to warn her.

That and his smile.

“Forty-three minutes,” he said, and his smile widened to a grin.

“Okay, okay.” She quick-stepped from the room, ducked into the bathroom to grab the travel kit, and then snatched her keys from the hook by the front door.

She shut Walt’s door, pirouetted to her own and unlocked it. Inside her apartment, she headed for her closet, determined to pull something from it that was neither jeans nor a sweatshirt.

“Don’t worry about it, dear.”

Bryce spun around to find Erato standing in the space she had just walked through. “Oh. You.”

Erato put an indignant hand on her hip. “
Oh. You?
What kind of greeting is that?”

“It’s just that…that I’d almost forgotten about…” Bryce shrugged and looked down at the bracelet. “You know?”

“That’s human grati—” Erato started and then put her arms around Bryce’s shoulders. “There, dear. What’s the matter?”