Curvy for Him 1

by Winters, Annabelle

“You’re a good man,” I say, my words coming out with a confidence that surprises me. I know I’m right. I see it in his eyes. I feel it in his touch. I know it sounds cheesy, but I say it anyway. I say it again. “You’re a good man, Armand.”

  He flashes me a look that for the first time sparks fear in me, and I realize I’ve touched a nerve. I remind myself I know nothing about him, and I blink and gasp as I feel his body tense up against mine.

  “I’m trying,” he says after a long, shuddering breath. Then that look is gone from his eyes, like he’s just flipped a switch with the sheer power of his will. Is that the willpower it takes to be a killer, I wonder. The ability to turn off just like that, to control your emotions like you’re just a machine? “How about you?” he says with a grin. “Are you a good woman, Astrid? Been good all your life?”

  I blink, suddenly feeling the spotlight turn to me. Not that I’m uncomfortable in the spotlight—after all, I stand up in front of a class of judgmental nine-year-olds every day!

  “No,” I say softly, blushing like a schoolgirl even though it’s completely unlike me. Well, unlike the person I want to be, at least. The person I chose to be years ago. I chose to be confident even though I was ashamed of my body. I chose to be outgoing, even though a part of me wanted to curl up at home and hide from the world. I chose to be all those things. They were good choices. So why does Armand’s question make me uncomfortable? “No,” I say again.

  He snorts, his dark green eyes narrowing as he scans my face. “Liar,” he whispers. “You’ve always been a good girl, haven’t you? Volunteering at the animal shelter. Spending Christmas at the soup kitchen. Helping little old ladies cross the street.”

  I laugh, thinking back to that woman in a wheelchair who cursed me as I stood there across the street outside Armand’s door, debating on whether to cross.

  “Stop teasing me,” I say. “You make it sound like doing all those things are lame!”

  “Ah, so you did do all those things!” he says in triumph. “Little Astrid the goody-goody girl scout! Damn, I’m good at figuring out people.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I puff out my cheeks and sigh pointedly. “Wrong on all counts.”

  He frowns and closes one eye. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe what you want,” I say. “But here’s the truth: I was allergic to animals as a kid, so no pet shelter. I actually did volunteer at a soup kitchen once, but I was kicked out for stuffing my own face while serving the homeless. As for helping old ladies cross the street . . . well, there’s probably a woman in a wheelchair who will strongly disagree with that.”

  Armand’s eyes widen and he laughs out loud, pulling me close and giving me a big sloppy kiss like we’ve known each other for years. “Hah!” he roars. “You got fired from a volunteer job?! That’s ridiculous!”

  “I know!” I say, laughing along with him as I blush. I don’t think I’ve told anyone about that. “But I was hungry, and there was all this food laid out on the serving line! All I did was eat a muffin! They made it seem like I was stealing or something!”

  “Bastards,” Armand says, tightening his jaw and pretending to be angry. “I’ll kill them all!”

  I almost spit in his face as I burst out laughing. “You’ll kill the hungry homeless and the people who volunteer to feed them? All for me? That’s so romantic, Armand!”

  He shrugs and grunts. “Yeah, well, you did say I was a good man. A good man takes care of his woman.”

  A warmth rolls through me as I feel Armand cradle me like I’m his, and I feel the truth of his words even though it doesn’t make sense. “Oh, I’m your woman now?” I say, trying to make it sound lighthearted as my heart feels like it’s about to pop out from between my boobs and do a little dance on the blue floormats!

  “You are,” he says without hesitation. His tone isn’t lighthearted at all. He’s serious. Dead serious. “You have a problem with that, Astrid?”

  I blink, trying to fight my instinct to just submit to him, to give in, to whisper, Yes, of course I’m yours! It’s too soon, I tell myself in my stern, teacher-voice. How can you be a role model for young girls if you just give yourself to a man after spending an hour with him!

  “Society might have a problem with that,” I say.

  “Fuck society,” he growls against my hair, pulling me closer, his hands rubbing my naked ass, his cock thickening against my soft thighs.

  “Language,” I mutter, feeling my own heat rise again as Armand runs his big hand along my rear crack, pulling my buttcheeks apart and then letting go. “Oh, Armand. That feels good. That feels . . . oh, oh . . .”

  “Say it,” he whispers as he spreads my rear cheeks again, this time holding them wide apart and running the thick fingers of one hand lengthwise along my rear crack. “Say it, good little Astrid. Let that bad girl come out. Come out just for me. Only for me.”

  “For you,” I gurgle as my heat ratchets up and my wetness flows afresh. I can still feel Armand’s seed inside me, and the thought of him putting more inside me makes me so hot I almost come! What’s happening to me?! What is he doing to me?! What is he bringing out in me?!

  “Astrid’s been a bad girl, hasn’t she?” Armand whispers as he kisses my lips and fingers my rear hole in a way that’s so filthy I choke and shudder with arousal.

  “Yes,” I whisper, my tongue curling up over my lip on its own as Armand kisses my neck, my boobs, sucking each nipple until my nubs are hard and pointy again. I close my eyes and let his words sink in. I think about how I crossed that street, walked through this door, spread my legs for a man I barely know. A man who now says I’m his. His woman. His girl. His bad girl.

  Feelings I didn’t know I had rise up in me as Armand moves down along my curves, firmly caressing my sides and then gripping my hips tight and flipping me over. I can sense his need, the needs of a man, a hard man, a rough man, a man who’s done things that society would shake its head at and say, “Tsk. Tsk.”

  Fuck society, I think as Armand pulls my ass up and spreads my thighs, groaning from behind me as I feel his cock spring to full hardness, its massive shaft slapping up against my mound from beneath. Slowly he spreads my rear cheeks, and I can feel his eyes taking in the view of the dark space of my crack. I want to be embarrassed. I want to feel ashamed. But I’m not. This man is bringing out a different side of me, a side I don’t want to admit I have, a side that society doesn’t want to admit women have.

  The need to be claimed by a man.

  The need to be taken by a man.

  The need to be dominated by a man.

  I gasp as Armand brings his right palm down firmly on my asscheek, making my body seize up from the shock. He holds his hand against my buttcheek for a moment, slowly rubbing my ass as the stinging subsides. Then he spanks the other cheek, making my ass shudder as I gasp again. The slaps were firm but not hard. Not yet.

  “What are you doing?” I gurgle, feeling the blood rush to my face as he massages my ass.

  He doesn’t reply, and when I turn my head halfway and catch sight of his expression, I almost choke at the sight of how goddamn aroused he is! In that moment I understand who Armand is, what he needs, what he wants. And I know I want to give it to him. Give him what he needs. Give him everything he needs. Every part of me.

  He blinks as he sees me looking at him, and then suddenly he lets go of my ass, his jaw tightening as if he’s struggling to gain control of himself . . . gain control before he loses control.

  “I’m sorry,” he growls, shaking his head and going back on his knees. “You aren’t ready for this. Did I hurt you?”

  I turn on my side and glance at him. He’s sitting back on his knees, his cock standing straight up in the air like a post, thick with the blood of his arousal, heavy with the force of his need. Yet he’s holding himself back. The power of his will
overruling the need of his body.

  I feel a tingling between my legs, and I imagine his thick shaft entering me from behind. I’ve never even come close to being taken that way. Hell, I’d have slapped any guy who even suggested it! But the few guys I’ve been with haven’t made me feel the way Armand makes me feel. They haven’t brought out the woman in me like he has. They haven’t made me want to . . . to submit.

  “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” I say softly even as my ass stings from the way he spanked me. The words sound ridiculous as I take in the sight of Armand’s massive body, muscles glistening with sweat under the yellow overhead lights. That cock is still standing upright, and I gulp as I imagine myself being stretched wide and entered from behind! Um, yeah, that would probably hurt. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not ready for this. Not ready for him.

  Armand smiles gently, reaching out and touching my face. He pulls me against his hard body, smothering me with a protective hug. I feel small next to him. I’ve never felt small in my life. Never felt protected like this. Never felt safe like this.

  “You’re clueless, aren’t you?” he says softly. “You think I’m a good man? That I couldn’t hurt you if I tried? Oh, Astrid. I should walk away before . . . before I . . . before we . . .”

  “Fine,” I say, nuzzling up against his massive chest. I don’t believe him for a moment. He’s not walking away. I just know he’s not. I’m his woman. He said so. “Walk away then. Goodbye.”

  He snorts with laughter, leaning down and kissing me on the head. His big hand moves down to my rump and he cups my ass and squeezes. “Actually, this is my gym. It would be kinda dumb for me to walk away.”

  “Oh, so you’re kicking me out?” I whisper, looking up at him and raising an eyebrow. “Wham, bam, thank you Ma’am?”

  “I don’t recall saying thank you,” he growls down at me, a cocky smile breaking on his dark red lips, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “And what exactly do you mean by wham-bam? Are you implying that I have a quick trigger?”

  I laugh against his chest. “Quick is an understatement. Do you remember what happened when you opened the door for me the first time?”

  His tanned face goes red and he snorts again. “Shit, you noticed that?” He squeezes my ass again. “It’s your fault for showing up on my doorstep, boobs jiggling, ass bouncing, those painted lips whispering Fuck Me with every breath!”

  I squeal with surprise, pushing against him to break away. “Ohmygod!” I shout, trying to control my laughter. “You are such a pig! I was wearing the most non-flattering clothes I own—and I own a lot of nonflattering clothes! As for lipstick—that was Vaseline!”

  “Hmmm, Vaseline,” Armand growls, yanking me back towards him, his big hands spreading my buttcheeks, his finger shamelessly circling my rear pucker in a way that makes me gasp.

  “You are sick!” I whisper as the arousal whips through me again. Armand is still hard against me, his cock pressed between our bodies, his length reaching all the way up past my belly-button! “That is not happening. It’s just not physically possible.”

  “I’ll decide what’s physically possible,” he mutters, still circling my rear hole.

  “Is that what Body by Armand means on the sign outside?” I say.

  “Actually, I’m gonna change it to Body for Armand,” he retorts. “And now you’re going to be my only client.”

  “I’m flattered,” I say. “Though LuAnn will be disappointed that she’ll have to find another butt-doctor to help keep her marriage alive.”

  “LuAnn . . .” he says. “Oh, right. Older lady. You guys friends?”

  “LuAnn’s my principal. She gave me a gift certificate for this place.”

  “Principal? Like a school principal?”

  “Yes,” I say, remembering that we’ve only just met and we still don’t know anything about each other even though it feels like we know everything!

  “You still in school?” he says, patting my butt gently. “Do I need your parents’ permission before I make you mine?”

  I laugh. “Little late for that, isn’t it?” I laugh again. “No, I’m a teacher, silly! Fourth grade.”

  “So your school principal gave you a gift certificate to a gym? That’s a bit unusual.”

  I shrug. “I guess she thought my ass was too flabby.”

  Armand squeezes my ass again. “It’s perfect,” he whispers, his cock throbbing against me like it agrees. “Perfect for me. Your principal doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’m going to ban her from my gym for body-shaming.”

  “She means well,” I say. “She wants her teachers to be happy in their personal lives. She thinks it makes them better teachers.” I pause and nod. “I agree with her. Being a teacher is more than a job. Those girls look up to me. They’re influenced by my mood, by how I conduct myself, by the person I am. The woman I am.”

  “What would they say if they saw Ms. Astrid now?” Armand whispers.

  I giggle. “They’d say I was being bad.”

  Armand grunts. “And what happens to bad girls, Astrid?” he whispers, massaging my ass with increasing force.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” I stammer as my arousal takes my breath away, leaving me gasping against him. “What happens to bad girls?”

  “They get disciplined,” he whispers. “They get tied up and spanked by teacher.”

  I snort, my eyes going wide. “Um, what world are you living in? Besides, I’m the teacher here!”

  “Not in my house, you aren’t. In here, I’m the teacher. I’m the trainer. I’m in charge. You understand?”

  “Oh, really? So you’re going to teach me to be a good girl?”

  “No,” he whispers, smacking my butt tight and then grabbing my arms and turning me around so I’m facing away from him, staring directly at the floor-to-ceiling mirror that covers one wall of the gym. I stare at myself, the arousal whipping through me like a snake as I see myself naked, my boobs hanging off to either side, my dark triangle wet and matted, Armand’s thick semen all over my pubic curls.

  “No,” Armand whispers against my neck, and I gasp as I see his big hands reach around me and press my boobs so hard it hurts. “I’m going to teach you to be bad. I’m going to teach you to be mine. All mine. Now look at yourself, Astrid. Look at yourself.”

  8

  ARMAND

  “Look at yourself, Astrid,” I whisper as I press my cock against her lower back. My arousal is back with a vengeance, and I know this time I’m not going to be able to stop myself. I need to possess her completely. Make her mine in a way I’ve never done with any woman. Own her from the inside out. She’s mine, and she needs to know it. The fucking world needs to know it.

  Astrid blinks as she looks at her own reflection and then at my reflection. I pinch her nipples hard, plucking at her dark red nubs until they are erect and pointy. Then I cup her tits from beneath and hold them up so she can see herself.

  “Look at yourself,” I say again, reaching up with one hand and gently rubbing her neck. Slowly I grip her chin and turn her head so she’s forced to look straight ahead. “Look at us.”

  Astrid looks at our reflection, blinking with self-consciousness as she sees my gaze move all along her curves, taking in the sight of her beautiful breasts, her wide hips, her thick thighs. I can tell Astrid is a woman who’s accepted her own body for what it is, but like many larger women she’s still not sure if a man will accept her body as it is, as it’s meant to be, as his.

  “Every body has its own natural shape, and that natural shape is perfection. It’s the very definition of perfection,” I say softly, running my free hand along her hourglass curves. “Just like every flower has its own shape, its own pattern, its own beauty. A flower doesn’t fight its shape. It understands that it’s been designed that way by nature, designed just right.”

  “Designed for what?�
�� she whispers, blinking as she meets my gaze.

  Slowly I move out from behind her, kneeling beside her and sliding my arm around her sturdy waist until we’re side by side like in a portrait. A portrait of love.

  I glance down at my cock, which is ramrod straight, thick as a goddamn redwood, its heavy tip swollen and oozing with fresh precum. I can see Astrid’s slit peeking out through her dark feminine curls. She really does look like a flower in full bloom, opened up for the rain. Opened up for me. Just me. Always me.

  “Designed for each other,” I whisper as my arousal soars to a level that feels beyond just the physical. And then suddenly everything snaps into focus, like I know what has to happen, what needs to happen, what’s designed to happen!

  I’m already on my knees, and so I just turn to her, grasping her by the hips and turning her to face me. From the corner of my vision I can see the two of us in profile, and I can feel the universe looking down on us like it approves of what I’m about to do. Maybe I’ve lost my fucking mind, I tell myself as I feel the words forming on my lips. Hell, of course I’ve lost my mind! Lost it in her.

  “Will you marry me?” I say, the words almost making me choke as my heart hammers inside my chest. “Astrid, will you marry me?”

  She stares into my eyes, her mouth hanging open, her breath catching. “Armand . . .” she begins to say. “Armand, I . . . I . . .”

  But she can’t finish the sentence, because suddenly the front door crashes open, tinted glass shattering, splinters of wood shooting all over as Gustav’s goons swarm into my gym!

  “No!” I roar, my instincts taking over as I immediately realize I’m outnumbered, that I can’t get to my gun in time, that trying to fight these men will just get me shot down. And so I just spread my arms out wide and shield Astrid, backing up against the mirror and pushing her flat against it to preserve her modesty.

  “Relax, Armand,” says Number One even though from the way he’s pointing his gun at me he’s anything but relaxed. “Gustav just wants to talk.”