Curve Effect (A BBW Box Set of Contemporary, Science Fiction and Paranormal Romances) (46 page)

Perfection.
Walt sighed. She had given herself over completely, her trust unconditional. He watched her breast jiggle lightly as she sucked him. The marks were still there, where he had claimed her not only for himself but for their children, too. Her strokes and contractions came faster and he locked his gaze on the reflection of her pussy. His mark was there, too, in the exposed fold of her thigh.

Bryce was moaning now, sucking and humming him to the edge of climax as her labia began to flutter and jump. Her exposed nipple was hard, drawn tight so that thick ridges lined the areola. She flexed her ass and thighs now, too, her whole body participating as she breached the threshold of her climax. Fresh cream trickled from her, sliding from her tight pussy and down her perineum to make the bright pucker of her ass glisten with lust.

Walt jerked, coming down her throat. She took him in greedy gulps as she continued to roll the muscles of her ass and perineum. She had him worked up with the beautiful splay of her cunt. He jerked again and knew there was another burst waiting behind the second. Something that had grown hollow without his realizing it filled with each pump of cum into her sweet, accepting mouth.

Spent, he released his grip on the belt and guided her down onto the bed. He took the strap off her wrists and rubbed away the light red band marking her skin.

“You’re not afraid I’ll run away?” she asked.

“Not when you’re so eager to stay tied up.” He could feel confidence shape his smile. “And, as deranged as I’m afraid it might sound—I would have to stalk you if you ran away.”

She raked her fingers through his hair and tugged at the roots. He followed the pull, rolling on top of her.

“Like a gorgeous black panther stalking his mate?” she asked.

She was breathing hard and a playful glimmer in her eyes told him she would welcome the chase. He slid down the bed to where her knees were still bent over the edge, her legs loosely closed. He parted them, his knees touching the ground at the same time his lips passed over her naked pussy.

He blew once against the exposed clit in warning. “Or his meal.”

*****

Sweet Jesus,
he was going down on her again. Bryce felt his tongue spooning and licking the cream from her slick cunt. She was drunk from the pleasure of it, wondering how she could have spent the first eleven years of sexual maturity without the sweet torture of a man’s mouth locked to her pussy. But then she’d never met a man like her Walt.

He amplified his assault, sliding into her two fingers wide. He inserted a third finger, flexing them inside her as he stroked deep and laved her clit. She knotted her fingers in the silky black strands of his hair, her thumbs pressed against his temples as she controlled the position of his head.
There was nothing so good,
she thought, moaning and wriggling against his mouth,
as having a man three fingers deep inside you while he sucked and licked at your clit.

Bryce locked her ankles behind him, felt the firm resistance of his muscled thighs against the heel of her pumps. She moved to kick the shoes off but he caught her leg with his free hand and put her foot back in position. She teased him with the threat of more pressure from the heels. Drawing her legs tighter, she cinched his mouth to her pussy.

Releasing his hair, she massaged her breasts and hips before she rose into a sitting position. She flung one arm behind her for support, arching her back and pressing the palm of her other hand against the back of Walt’s head. His fingers were buried to the knuckles inside her and he kept flexing them, stretching the ring of her cunt wider.

She looked at their locked bodies in the mirror. His was hard, chiseled, the heel of her pumps cupping just below his tight, muscled ass. His shoulders were broad, forcing her legs wide and making her perineum contract so that she was clamped down on the thick triangle of his thrusting fingers. She was soft, lush, her body rolling as she rode his mouth and hand. It was the first time she had ever become aroused from looking at her naked reflection. The sight pushed her over the edge and she curled around him, begging him to keep fucking her while she came.

The force of her climax had Bryce squeezing her eyes shut. She felt the spread of fire leaving her cunt, simultaneously traveling down her thighs and up over her stomach. Her toes and face went numb as he wrenched another climax from her. She was filling his hand with cream, her pussy slurping his fingers back into her. And then it was more than just three fingers in her cunt. He had worked his pinkie in and was halfway down his palm. He rotated his hand until his thumb was pressed against the quiver of her ass.

“Yes,” she moaned, thinking of the thick tip of his thumb invading her netherhole. It would be a delicious prelude to his cock possessing her there. She wiggled against his thumb, trying to relax her muscles enough that they would allow it in. “Yes,” she panted again.

Walt pushed into her, his fingers stilling in her cunt while the tip of his thumb pressured the tense ring of her ass into admitting him. Another firestorm spread across her flesh and Bryce tossed her head back. His thumb was completely in her, the rest of his hand stretching her cunt as he was forced to pull out to the wide base of his knuckles. She wanted to grind her way to oblivion, but knew she could easily injure herself in her eagerness.

It’s just so damn good,
she thought as she collapsed onto the mattress, vision graying as she jerked in climax.

Chapter Seventeen

“Brycie, love, are you okay?”

Walt’s voice was tender, concerned, and she could feel him brushing the hair away from her face.

“Brycie, baby, answer me.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. “I’m fine—great,” she corrected. “I think maybe I passed out.”

“Passed out?” More concern, his tone bordering on incredulous. “From what?”

“From you,” she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him to her in a kiss, tasting her own juices. She deepened the kiss, tasting more of herself as she ran her tongue along Walt’s and sucked at his lips. “Don’t tell me you never made a girl pass out before?” she asked.

“No—another first.” He kissed her mouth, nose and forehead before pushing away. “I’ll be right back.”

Bryce closed her eyes and quickly fell into a light sleep while he was out of the room. She woke to him gently caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

Seeing her eyes open, he moved down and unhooked her hose from the garter belt. He rolled the silk hose down her leg, stopping to take the pumps off before continuing. Then he unfastened the garter belt, coaxing her to raise her hips so that he could remove it completely.

“Now,” he said. “Up under the covers with you.”

“Are you coming with me?” She mumbled the question as she slowly rolled onto her stomach and crawled up the bed. She was bone tired again, the exhaustion claiming her body absolute.

“Just a few heart beats away from joining you,” Walt assured her as he pulled the quilt across her.

Blinking, trying to keep awake, she saw him gather their clothes from the floor and fold them into neat piles that he placed on top of his dresser. He left the room and she could hear him double checking that the front door and sliding glass patio door were locked. He turned off the lights in the rest of the apartment, then came back to the bedroom, turned that light off, and joined her in bed. She snuggled with her back to him, his arm around her waist and his lips pressed against her shoulder.

Now all she had to do was write a damn short story and turn it in to Professor Hardy and the world would be perfect.

*****

The paper!
Bryce’s eyelids flew open and she eased herself far enough off the mattress that she could see the alarm clock. It was already a quarter past midnight, and she had a minimum of six thousand words to write and turn in by two p.m.

She rolled over and lightly shook Walt. He compressed at her touch and tried to nestle deeper between the soft cushion of her body and the mattress. His hand cupped her bottom, drawing them closer together.

“I’ve got to go for a bit,” she said, stroking the edge of his mouth. “My paper, remember?”

His face turned into her touch, his mumble sounding something like “s’not Muhnday”.

“But it is Monday.” She didn’t want to shake him too hard. “I’ll call around seven—let you know how far along I am, okay?”

His “kay” was just as mumbled, and she gently slid from his embrace and tucked the covers around him. She slipped her top and skirt on, hugging the shoes and the rest of the clothing against her chest. At the door, she grabbed her keys and then debated whether she should take his to lock his deadbolt. It was after midnight, so the gated entry to the courtyard would be locked. She wouldn’t finish the paper before he woke—would be lucky to crank out the minimum six thousand words in time and proof it. No, she wouldn’t need them. Locking the bottom lock and pulling the door shut behind her, she left his keys on the hook.

Standing in front of her door, she saw light seeping underneath. She opened the door, expecting to see only Erato, but finding Percy with her as well. Percy pounced forward and pulled Bryce to the center of the room.

“You’re going back, yes?” she asked, her words even more rapid-fire than at the start of this whole adventure.

“Yes.” Bryce answered. She felt waspish—clothes wrinkled, her hair and makeup undoubtedly a mess; she looked nothing at all like the junior muse with all her haute couture splendor. Of course, Percy probably hadn’t spent the night being thoroughly loved, either. “Not that it’s any of your business, Percy.”

“But it is!” Percy clapped and spun to face Erato. “So?”

“Fine,” Erato sighed. “Your transfer is approved pending the results on the final paper.” She pointed at the monitor, and the computer and screen blipped to life.

“I don’t get this,” Bryce said. She looked to Erato for answers. They’d exchanged enough intimate moments over the weekend, so surely the woman would provide an explanation.

“I told you,” Erato said. “Percy wants to work for me—immediately after I learned she’d stuck you with an old sheet and a charm bracelet, I tracked her down.”

Bryce moved to the couch and sank into its overstuffed cushions. “Go on.”

“Since I wouldn’t give her a chance to prove herself, she created her own—you.”

“My short story?” Bryce asked. “It’s not even started yet.”

Erato shook her head. Percy bounced in the desk chair.

“Walt’s painting?”

Percy giggled. “Noooooooooo. You are so cold.” Another clap. “Try again!”

“Enough,” Erato told her new assistant. She looked back at Bryce. “A metadrama.”

“Drama within drama, drama about drama…words feeding images and so on?” Bryce asked.

“Ooooh, she’s got a brain,” Percy chirped, her bouncing only intensifying.

“Drop the sarcasm, Percy,” Erato warned.

More than just a little confused, Bryce tilted her head and studied Erato’s sincerity. “But then whose metadrama am I?”

“Yours, dear.”

“And the toga and bracelet?” Those had to have been real, right?

“Stage props,” Percy chimed in.

Bryce’s gut felt hollowed out and her mouth began to tremble. “And Walt?”

“Great improvisation!” Percy collapsed against the back of the office chair in a fake swoon. “Holy Zeus, he’s hot.”

Bryce looked at Erato, her expression demanding a better explanation.

“All yours, darling.” Erato answered. With her first three fingers splayed, pinkie and thumb joined in a circle, she placed her hand over her heart. “Muse’s honor, and all.”

“I still don’t get all of it—metadramas don’t really work like that,” Bryce said, most of the tension leaving her body at the realization that the only magic worked on Walt had originated solely with her.

Erato pointed to where Percy was sitting. “Plant your ass in that chair for the next twelve hours, honey. You’ll have it all figured out by then.”

With that, both muses were gone.

*****

Leaving the pumps and undergarments on the couch, Bryce sat down in the office chair. The screen was just as blank as she had left it on Friday. She flipped through her syllabus to the sample cover sheet and began typing in the class details and her student information. There was a sharp rap at the door.

Bryce turned her head and stared at the door for a second. It was nearing one, too late for real visitors and she wouldn’t expect Walt to knock like that. If Percy was back for another round, why the formality? Bryce went to the door and opened it, her expression neutral in case it was Walt and not the renegade muse.

Artemesia Diaz was sliding the antenna down on her cell phone and dropping it back into her purse. Taking advantage of Bryce’s shock, she pushed into the room, pivoted and locked the door. Bryce suppressed a growl, half irritated with herself for letting two much smaller women force their way into her apartment over the course of just a few days. Although Artemesia shouldn’t have made it past the gate securing the courtyard.