Riding Curves

by Roxie Wilde

  We broke apart, panting. “Samantha, I—”

  “Shhh. Just shut up and kiss me. I need this.”

  This time I let go completely. I pulled her into my arms again, working my hands under her top, undoing the buttons and ripping it from her. Her tits were just as mouthwatering as I’d known they would be and I bent to press my kisses along them.

  Her hands were busy as well, pulling at my shirt, tugging it up and over my head before busying themselves with my belt buckle. I felt her murmur of appreciation as she ran her hands over my chest and abs, tracing the lines of my body. I took one stiff nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. She hissed as I worked her, some of that frosty composure cracking, melting under my assault.

  I needed more.

  My hands gripped the backs of her thighs, bending deep to lift her up, shifting my grip to keep her supported by way of two big handfuls of ass. She made a noise of surprise, but then my mouth was on hers again and she was kissing me like she was dying of thirst and my mouth was water.

  We didn’t break that kiss even when I hit the edge of the bed and bundled her down onto it. Her hands moved from front to back, exploring the ridges of muscle on my back the same way she had in front. Years of PT had left me with a solid physique even years later. I felt her nails dig in as my hands unfastened her jeans, tugging at them.

  Without a word she lifted her hips, aiding me in divesting her of both jeans and panties in one smooth motion. Now she grew suddenly hesitant, thighs pressing together, hands moving to push at my chest.

  I eased back onto my knees, cocking my head at her curiously.

  She was breathtaking in this moment because her breath was taken.

  She was panting, her big chest rising and falling in a way that threatened to drag my eyes away from her face again and again. I stayed looking in her eyes through sheer force of will.

  “It’s been a long time, Jet.”

  I nodded.

  “I understand. I’ll be gentle.”

  She shook her head rapidly back and forth. “No. Don’t.”

  I grinned. “Oh, you need it rough, huh?”

  She flushed then, the first time I’d seen her embarrassed. She didn’t look away though, just held my eye, gnawing on her now swollen bottom lip again in that way that was making me lose my mind.

  “Yes. I want you to fuck me.”

  Chapter 6

  Samantha

  I had planned on sleeping with Jet.

  Ever since I first clapped eyes on the hunky owner of the Toolbox, I had wondered exactly how much fun he would be to take for a ride. I hadn’t ever seriously thought it might happen, but now that I’d been handed this gift I wasn’t about to throw it away.

  Jet was a far cry from the rough and brutish biker he looked like. I caressed the tattoos that covered his chest and arms, trailing my fingers over his biceps. He radiated masculinity without being cruel. I felt safe with him, safe for the first time in a long time. It let me find a part of myself I’d buried a long time ago, the part of me that craved what he could give me.

  I felt his big hands on my legs, spreading my thighs. He was still gentle but there was a force behind it that was inexorable. In a fit of playfulness, I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but Jet was done playing games. He pressed my legs apart easily, exposing the wet hot heat of my pussy to the open air. I saw the way his eyes darted from my face to my chest, trailing down to gaze at me now that I was completely spread before him.

  His dark eyes were full of hunger, dark with lust. I rocked my hips against him, trying to grind against the head of his cock. I needed more contact, but he was turning the tables on me now, denying me what I so clearly craved.

  “Fuck me, Jet. Please.”

  I had intended it to be demanding, but it came out needy. Pleading. No matter the tone, it worked. I felt him lined up with me, sliding across my lips. Up and down, up and down. It was achingly slow, sparks of pleasure lighting me up every time he reached the apex of my cunt.

  “Give it to me, baby. Please?” I was panting now, writhing beneath him. I needed it so much I couldn’t even think.

  “You want this cock, Sam? You want me to fuck you?”

  “God yes, please, just fucking do it before I lose my fucking mind.”

  He ceased his taunting, plunging into me in one big thrust. I arched my back, eyes slamming open. The wave of pleasure as he filled me contrasted with the sudden ache of it as I stretched to accommodate him. I relished the feeling, that mixture of pain and pleasure that was unique to being opened up like that.

  I watched his face, saw his eyes widen as he sunk himself into me fully.

  “Oh fuck you’re tight, Sam.”

  I couldn’t keep my mouth from twitching into a bit of a smirk.

  “I told you it had been a little while.”

  He shook his head as he leaned into me, beginning to slide his dick in and out.

  “No, babygirl. This is all you.”

  He pressed one hand against the top of my mound, almost possessively.

  “This pussy is just that good.”

  I slid my hands up his arms, feeling the play of muscle there as he held himself above me. I wrapped my legs around his thick waist, digging my heels into the small of his back. I pulled him in as tightly as I could, needing as much of him as I could get. I craved more even so.

  “Harder baby, please. I can take it.”

  He didn’t say anything in response, just kept the same maddeningly slow tempo. He was taking his time fucking me. It was building me up and bringing me back down, again and again, the measured pace not quite enough to push me over the edge. I stared at him, trying to will him to break down and give me the rough and deep pounding I was craving.

  I dug my nails into his back, clawing. He snarled and reached around, grabbing both my wrists and slamming them up above my head. Pinning them, holding me beneath him. I gazed up into his big, dark eyes. They were full, heavy with lust and need, barely restrained. Without anything else to goad him with, I resorted to words again.

  “Come on, Jet. Fuck me like you mean it. I know you’ve been thinking about it since you first laid eyes on me. Just like I’ve been dying to have this fat cock inside me since you walked into the Toolbox. Now give it to me.”

  I clenched myself around him as I finished, milking his cock. Taunting him in every way I could.

  Finally, he broke, his hips bucking, plunging into me. Relentlessly quick, he pistoned away at my body with a force that took my breath away. I was gasping, panting, eyes wide as I realized I’d written a check with my mouth I wasn’t sure my body could cash.

  He kissed me, and it savage.

  Primal. His teeth sunk into my bottom lip, pulling away. He moved me where he wanted me. Effortlessly bending my body to his every desire. He flipped me over, hand tangling itself in my hair to pull my back into an arch as he slammed himself back into me.

  “Fuuuuck— !”

  I had never had an orgasm from just penetration before, but apparently, all it took was the right angle, the right cock. Or maybe it was just Jet. It hit me full-force, my legs kicking, toes curling as waves of pleasure crashed through me. I felt tossed around by it, disoriented, drunk on pure undiluted lust.

  He fucked me right through it all, forcing my quivering cunt to accommodate him even as it squeezed tightly around his thick shaft. I shuddered, clawing at the sheets, the headboard. I felt a flash of pain in my pinky as I broke a nail scrabbling for any purchase, anything that would give me some leverage to brace myself with. I put a hand behind me, pressing against his chiseled abs, trying to slow him somehow. It was a pointless gesture— there was no stopping what I had set in motion.

  Then his hand was on my wrist, pinning my hand in the small of my back. I turned my head to the side as he fucked me even harder. The squeak of the rusty hotel mattress springs was loud but overtaken by the distinctive slap of flesh on flesh as he fucked me harder than I knew it was possible to be fucked.

 
The second orgasm I felt coming, building inside me. I dropped my other hand between my thighs to rub my clit, to urge it on. One of his big arms wrapped around my chest, pulling me back into him, almost upright. He held me there, fucking me with every ounce of his strength. I could feel him swelling, feel his breath coming hard and fast.

  “Come for me baby, give it to me Jet.” I pleaded.

  I heard him gasping, shuddering, and then freezing. My own orgasm peaked as I circled my clit with my fingers, my body quivering around his. He collapsed on top of me, pinning me wholly beneath him as I writhed in pleasure once more. I felt his cock pulsing, big balls emptying into me in a way that made me warm inside.

  I could get used to this.

  Chapter 7

  Jet

  There was a time you couldn’t even finish typing in a search for World’s Most Dangerous City without Google filling in all the pertinent information about Ciudad Juarez for you.

  While the city’s reputation had cleaned up quite a bit over the past few years, you’d still be hard-pressed to find this stretch of town as part of a tour group package any time soon. I’d been in and out of Juarez, Tijuana, and Chihuahua more times than I could count over the last few years. This morning, sneaking out of the motel room while Sam was still sleeping soundly, was the first time I’d ever felt afraid.

  I hated leaving her, hated the thought of her being out of my sight for even a little while. Knowing that she could wake up alone in the dark put an icy ball of tension in my gut.

  The message had come just after 4 am, the same way it always did: An unlisted number from a burner phone. A nearby address. No more information.

  I’d almost woken Sam just to tell her I’d be right back. With everything she’d already been through, the last thing I wanted was for her to wake up and think I’d abandoned her after last night.

  Images of Samantha spread out in the moonlight filled my mind before I could stop them. She’d been perfect— exactly what I’d known she would be from the moment I’d set eyes on her. The way she filled my hands, arched her back, moaned my name. I wanted to bury myself between the creamy softness of her thighs and stay lost there forever.

  Later.

  Once this was done and I knew Sam was safe, I had every intention of spending the rest of the day doing just that. Maybe even the rest of my life.

  Right now all that mattered was keeping her safe. Even if that meant making sure she didn't know where l was.

  The rattle-clack of an engine rolling up the road snapped my focus back sharply to the present. A pickup truck, not much newer than Sam’s own dinged F-150 and adorned with windows tinted darker than the purple twilight sky around me, was making its way down the alleyway.

  The skin on the back of my neck prickled at the unfamiliarity of the vehicle.

  I’d long ago learned to trust my gut— it had gotten me out of more than one miserable situation with my head firmly still attached. Right now my instincts were telling me to pack it up and turn right the fuck around.

  Unzipping the black duffle on the seat next to me, I glanced down at the neat stack of boxes packed inside.

  The other truck rolled to a stop several car lengths away before flashing their headlights at me in signal.

  I took a deep breath and stepped out into the night air.

  “Carlos! Get your ass out here, now!”

  I waited, every instinct in me screaming to get out of there. I knew a deal gone bad when I walked into it, but I needed to play bait. This had to be resolved.

  Carlos stepped out of the truck. He was my normal contact. He made sure the cartels didn’t catch on to our little pony express delivery. He had a big fake smile plastered on his face drenched in enough sweat for it be peak Summer heat instead of almost Autumn.

  “Jet, amigo, have you got the stuff?” His smile never faltered, but his eyes were wild, darting around us. I knew it was a setup, but I had walked into worse situations before and made it out alive.

  Not everyone had.

  “Yeah. It’s not here though. Back at my place. We ran into some trouble on our end, thought it might have been some of your guys.” I was still standing by the door of Sam’s truck, near enough I could dive into the open window if things popped off.

  “That’s too bad, cabron. No trouble here, as you can see.”

  I scratched one nail across my stubble, leaned against the frame of my truck. “You’re sweating an awful lot there, Carlos. Your new friends in that truck have a gun on you, huh?”

  He went pale, all of his deep tan washing away. “Mr. Jet, don’t be silly. These are just—”

  The driver side door opened, a bandito swinging out, pistol rising with a promise of death on its stub nose. I had been waiting for it though, every muscle in my body held in whipcord readiness. I ducked low as I shifted into reverse, a cacophony of shots ringing out around me, the sound of safety glass shattering as bullets spiderwebbed the windshield into a thousand cracks.

  I floored it, Sam’s nearly bald tires peeling out in a desperate attempt to gain traction. I was braced for it, but the impact still jarred and rattled. I’d anticipated them blocking off the exit, decided it was better to take my chances punching my way through.

  I did just that, literally. I kicked the broken windshield out, gripping the top edge of the frame and launching myself out of the cab. I rolled off, getting a glance of Carlos being dragged back inside the truck, his captors accelerating forward, chasing after me down the alley.

  I turned the corner and was met with two men getting back to their feet. The impact with the car they’d blocked the alley off with had sent them sprawling. One tried to get his gun up, but I slapped him in his ringing ears, dazing him enough that I get a body blow in, sinking my fist into his pudgy stomach. He doubled over, dropping. I didn’t have any time to think, just react. I tackled his friend, sending us both sprawling. I landed on top, and his head hit the pavement with a sickening crack.

  I heard shouts from the alley. I snagged the concussion victims pistol, rolling away and behind the back of their ruined SUV. I checked the little semi-auto, thumbed the safety off and racked the slide. I didn’t want to shoot anyone, but I wanted to be shot less. There had been a time that hadn’t been true, and that was when I’d put my papers in and gotten out of the business of killing for good.

  It, apparently, wasn’t done with me.

  I heard two different voices calling out in Spanish. I counted to three, using the respite to calm myself and visualize my targets. I popped up from behind the bumper and squeezed off three shots into the first Bandito I saw. He went down, red blossoms painting his chest and forehead. I ducked down and then went for the other side.

  This time I made a mistake. I sighted down the barrel and two big blue eyes looked back at me in fear. I saw in them the same look I’d seen in Lance, Pips’ brother. That haunted, haunting fear of death.

  I don’t want to die out here, Sarge.

  You won’t Lance. I promise.

  You’re a shitty liar, Sarge.

  The bullet took me in the shoulder, the pain shattering my recollection, snapping me back to awareness. Training took over, and I snapped off one more three-round burst. Muscle memory. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  I limped forward, adrenaline powering me. I’d sprained an ankle in the melee, and the pain formed a lovely duet with the blossoming heat in my right arm. I glanced around. I hadn’t gotten a good count. I knew there was at least one unaccounted for though, and I needed some answers.

  “Carlos, your buddies are dead amigo. You can come out now.”

  “Not all of them, cabron.” Carlos had his hands up, the last gang member standing behind him with his .45 pointed right to the side of Carlos’ head.

  “I still don’t know what’s going on here Carlos, but tell your friend it doesn't have to go down like this.”

  “He’s a narco, holmes. He won’t listen to reason. You killed his friends.”

  “He shot one of mine
. We’re square.”

  “No, Jet. I’m sorry. I told them where to find you. It was my fault. Maybe this will square you and me, though.”

  “Carlos, wait— !”

  He sagged, throwing his weight at the man holding him. Two shots rang out, his and mine, and they both crumpled. I rushed over, checking, but only a glassy-eyed gaze met mine. Carlos was already gone.

  “Damn it.”

  “You think...this changes anything? My familia, they find you again.” The man who’d been holding Carlos hostage rattled, his words faint and heavily accented. I gave him a once over. His gun was far out of reach, and my round had taken him in the chest. Not instantly fatal, but he was on his way out.

  “You won’t live to see it. Buenas noches, amigo.”

  One more round to the head put him to sleep forever. I glanced around. No sirens, no witnesses. Small mercies, even if it made me feel a pang for the people living here, that this violence wasn’t particularly noteworthy. I limped around, pressing hard at my bleeding shoulder as I gathered up a fresh gun and a set of keys. I limped back to Sam’s totaled truck and snagged my bag.

  Lastly, I closed Carlos’ eyes. He might have sold me out, but he’d done the right thing in the end.

  I wouldn’t forget that.

  Chapter 8

  Samantha

  It started with an ache between my thighs.

  Before I was even fully aware of myself, before I’d remembered where I was, or that I had even been asleep in the first place— the ache made itself known. It was a gentle, persistent thing. As if Jet were reaching inside of my dreams to tug me back to a reluctant reality. It felt only natural for my body to remember his, even while unconscious.

  The dull pain itself was a welcome thing.

  I fully woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming across my face through the missing slats of the window blinds. Suddenly, I sat bolt upright, my hand falling to the bare space of the sheets beside me. Nausea clawed its way into my throat at the complete lack of body heat there.