Curvy(18)
“No one sees you like this anymore. Only me.” He prowls up my body, and in one thrust is fully seated inside me as if proving his point. My hips rise to meet him, welcoming him home. “This is mine, only mine.” He growls the words as he starts to move. His thrusts are hard but slow. Making me feel every stroke inside my *. Him claiming it. Every inch.
I’d asked Ryan to come over and help me set up the bedroom to look like the Curved Intimates set the day I met my Flynn. I wanted to reenact the photoshoot, only this time he could do all those things he’d wanted to do to me that day. But first I thought it would be cute to do a few sexy pictures for my husband.
It’s hard to get a man who has everything a good ten-year anniversary gift, and I thought this would do the trick. I was wrong. It didn’t matter that Ryan is gay and happily married. Flynn was still pissed, having grabbed a laughing Ryan by his shirt collar and shoved him out the front door.
“You’ve done it now. You know how I am with you.” He buries his face in my neck as he continues to rut inside me.
If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s Flynn’s driving need to have me. That has never cooled. In fact, I sometimes think it has grown stronger.
“Say it,” he grunts with his next hard thrust, making the headboard hit the wall.
“I’m yours. I only belong to you. I’ll never leave you.”
His body jerks, and I feel him cum deep inside me. His cum coats the walls of my *.
He licks my throat, all the way up to my ear.
“You better hope the kids don’t call wanting to come home from camp because you’re staying tied to this bed where you’ll be screaming that over and over again all weekend.”
I have a feeling I’ll be screaming that for a lot longer than this weekend. More like forever.
The End
The Virgin Duet
A gorgeous, obsessive, billionaire alpha.
A curvy, sassy bombshell from the wrong side of the tracks.
Both virgins...
When Becs and Bray make an arrangement, they have no idea what it will lead to - sexual desires and lust that cannot be contained.
Will Bray let chaos rule his perfect world?
Will Becs let love into her cold heart?
Will Kindles ignite from the sexual heat? There's only one way to find out...
Warning: Flaming Kindles may cause serious injuries. Please read responsibly.
Chapter 1
Becs
Rage bubbles inside me as I look at the imposing double doors of his office. They reach all the way to the high ceiling, and look like you’d have to use all your weight to push them open. On the other side is an arrogant *. If you push the doors open he is probably sitting behind a giant desk, or maybe on a throne like a king. I guess he’s king of this building. Mr. Vanilla, as I like to call him just to piss him off, owns the place. I work in the coffee shop downstairs in the building’s lobby. Well, I did until about fifteen minutes ago. I know he’s the reason for my quick termination today, and I’m here to give him a piece of my mind.
No way am I going back to the shelter. The coffee shop job barely afforded me enough money for the pay-by-the-week motel my older brother and I are staying at. We've been there for the past few months, but anything beat staying at the shelter. One week without a job, and it will force us back there. That’s not something I can handle.
“Is that * boss of yours in there?” I snap at the woman sitting at the desk in front of the double doors.
Jerking her head up, she looks at me in shock, but her face quickly turns to disgust. Of course he has a perfect-looking assistant sitting outside his office. Sun-streaked blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, crystal-blue eyes with thin black-framed glasses, and a low-cut top. Very low cut. She looks like she could do the whole sexy librarian turned seductress thing at any moment. Maybe that’s what she does.
I can tell from the scrunch of her nose she finds me repulsive. I’m her polar opposite in every way. We might both have blonde hair but it clearly ends there. My blonde is a brighter shade than hers, but mine is also streaked with pink and purple. The dye makes my eyes appear more purple than they really are. I can see her long legs under the desk, and shoes that probably cost what I make in three months. If she stands up, I’m sure she’ll tower over my five three height. My black military-style lace-up boots give me no extra help in that department. She’s thin and I can tell she puts time into maintaining herself. Total opposites.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she squeaks at me in a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. She reaches for her desk phone, I’m sure to call security, because I am after all half naked. I’m dressed only in a bra, black pants and my boots. No way was I letting that dipshit downstairs take fifty dollars out of my last check for my uniform, and I have no plans of ever seeing his face again. He had the balls, after firing me, to suggest I drop to my knees and he’d pay for other services if I needed the money so bad. When I started to unbutton my top the little f*cker thought he was getting what he wanted. All he got was my shirt and apron thrown at him. Well, and a black eye. I can still feel the sting on my knuckles from the punch. Oh, yeah, his eye is going to be a nice black and purple come morning. Growing up in foster care, I learned how to throw a mean punch.