Riding Curves

by Christa Wick

  RIDING CURVES

  by Christa Wick

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Wicked Christa on Smashwords

  Copyright © 2012 by Christa Wick (extended content © 2013)

  Cover art licensed from and © WallyStemberger@dreamstime

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  General License Notes

  Not for sale to libraries. No lending outside distributor (e.g. Kindle/Nook) terms of service. Otherwise, re-distributing, lending, or reading this e-book without first purchasing a license to do so is illegal and subject to heavy fines. Use of licensed images is for illustrative purposes only and does not imply the model's endorsement of or participation in any or similar activities contained in this work of fiction. All persons and entities are fictional.

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  RIDING CURVES

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  Saturday morning, the sun already melting my brain, I stuck my head out the driver side window of my ancient sedan and tried to start the engine. The car responded with the same anemic click-whirr-click as the last dozen attempts. As annoying as I found the sound, I would have happily tried a hundred more times if the man working on the engine promised to stay bent over the motor with his gorgeous, muscled ass canted in my direction.

  Stretching, Aiden Perry made another adjustment, his hips and shirtless torso flexing. My hand dropped from the steering wheel to my lap, my fingers tingling with the intense urge to press against my mound before riding my clit.

  Drawing a slow breath in, I licked my lips and continued to devour his body.

  Only a decade older than my twenty-four years, Aiden is a total wet dream. Every inch of his body is sculpted perfection molded from the long hours spent building custom hot rods and motorcycles in the shop he owns with my dad. Looking at Aiden as he worked on my sedan that morning, my tongue and gums swelled with the desire to start licking his firm chest and finish with a bite.

  He turned just the slightest bit to make another adjustment and the bulge at the front of his jeans swung into view. My nipples puckered more tightly than the hard points I had been sporting for the last hour and I added sucking to the mental inventory of things I wanted to do to his body.

  "Once more, Cece."

  Pulling his head from under the hood, Aiden cast his gaze in my direction. Hooked by those dark brown eyes with their thick fringe of black lashes, my stomach clenched. The response was automatic, familiar from frequent repetition. It's not as if I'm some sort of obsessive stalker chick. It's just that he has this way of focusing his attention on me that is like some moment in a film during which he gazes into my soul, forever branding it with his recognition.

  The moment always ends the same way, too. So I waited, holding my breath until he offered that unnaturally slow, sensual blink that severed the psychic connection. On cue, my heart started thumping like an orangutan beating on a big metal drum.

  THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

  "Baby girl?" He lifted one brow and I realized that I had completely zoned out looking at him.

  I redirected my attention to the dashboard and tried desperately to ignore the fountain of fuck-me-now arousal that had built behind the seal of my thick labia. I reached for the ignition, my big butt shifting far enough forward that it triggered a deeper ache in my pussy.

  "Earth to Cece." Aiden stuck his big, gorgeous face an inch into my space and pointed to the other side of the steering column. "Turn that."

  Blushing, I tried to start the car again. The clicks came faster and more robustly but still petered out after a few seconds. Letting go of the keys, I looked from the dashboard to Aiden.

  I could only see the profile of his face, but his mouth moved from side to side as he studied the engine. My gaze stuck on his generous, mobile lips, and I wondered what it would feel like to kiss them or have them trailing down my neck. Then his tongue snaked out to rest flat against the center of his top lip.

  The dark red tip did a little dance before disappearing again, the display triggering a spasm that squeezed at my gut and pussy. A whimper wiggled in my throat and I swallowed it down, biting at my bottom lip to conquer the mutinous sound.

  Things were getting desperate -- I was getting desperate. I knew I couldn't last much longer without dipping into the house and relieving the tension. But I was half afraid to leave the vehicle. Aiden had me so wet I expected to squelch when I walked away, as surely as if I had on a pair of wet sneakers.

  Scowling, I pulled the key from the ignition. I needed to rub one out before I came on the spot then died a few seconds later from absolute embarrassment. Normally, I could have handled it without taking such a desperate measure, but the car only added to my frustration until the earlier fleeting urge had warped into a compulsion.

  "Cece--"

  I shook my head at him. "Screw it. I'll stay home and ..."

  I stopped, realizing I had no idea what I was going to do. My parents were already at the lake house, leaving the night before as I drove home from grad school. I had arrived at our home in the city around midnight, slept until seven then stepped outside an hour later to an engine that wouldn't turn over. My immediate thought had been to call Aiden before he left the shop and joined my parents at the lake.

  "Hold on, flutterby." Aiden captured my wrist as I passed him. "I have a solution -- the only solution today."

  I stilled immediately. He hadn't called me flutterby in over two years. I hold the word more dear than any other pet name he or anyone else calls me because Aiden only uses it when we are alone, starting when I was six and my parents finally let me on the garage floor more or less unattended. Naturally, I chose to follow Aiden everywhere he went, but shyly so -- dancing around the periphery of his vision until I was nine and could actually be of some help in fetching tools or a glass of water for him.

  After a two-year absence, his use of the word turned me temporarily docile in a heartbeat and I gave him a hopeful look. "What is it?"

  "You ride with me to the lake." He secured my opposite elbow then tugged me toward his big, hard body until my stomach and breasts pushed against his torso.

  I inhaled deeply, pulling my stomach as tight as possible and arching my shoulders until only my breasts pressed against him. My brain melted from the hot riot of sensations and need the contact created. All of me melted, really, until I was one giant marshmallow, gooey and yielding at the animal heat of his flesh.

  It took all of two seconds before the sensation faded and I started to panic. I knew I couldn't press against him like that and not embarrass myself badly. My nipples already stabbed at his chest and I was close to squirming from the heavy contractions thrumming inside my pussy. Possessed, I wanted to rub against him -- both of us naked -- and mark him with the thick, heavy river of arousal he had undammed inside me.

  Pushing at Aiden, I looked away. My glance landed first on the motorcycle he custom built then on my car's engine. "You're supposed to be able to fix it!"

  "That sound it's making probably means the part is cracked on the underside. Even if I get it to start, I'm not letting you drive it." Half a foot taller and at least thirty pounds heavier than me, he wrapped one thick arm around my waist and lifted me onto the back of his bike. "Now stop being a scaredy cat."

  Stu
nned, I let my bulk settle onto the bike while I glared at him. It wasn't the first time he had lifted me off my feet, but it stole my breath each time. I'm no little girl, my body an hourglass of over-generous breasts and hips with plump thighs and rounded arms. But all my weight disappeared beneath Aiden's raw power, transforming me into something almost dainty. For all of five seconds, that is. Then reality rushed in and I remembered I am not dainty by any stretch of the imagination.

  "You should be used to bikes by now." His big hands landed on my shoulders, preventing me from scampering off the bike. His grip moved cautiously upward until he cupped the sides of my face. He bent until only a few inches separated us and then his head tilted and he lightly kissed my forehead. ""I know flutterbys are delicate things, but I promise, baby girl, I'll go slow."

  I wanted to come on the spot. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest and scowled at him.

  I am not delicate and it wasn't the bike that frightened me. I didn't want to be pressed up tight against him for the hour plus drive to the lake house, the bike's vibrations teasing my pussy while my brain fixated on Aiden's cock. Hell, as horny as he made me, there was a good chance I would be dry humping him by the time we cleared the city limits.

  Only it wouldn't be dry. My pussy was one long contraction of need and my panties were all but soaked through. I wasn't flutterby at that moment, I was Miss Squelchy Pants!

  I wrinkled my nose at him. "I don't want to."

  Totally oblivious to the effect he had on my body, Aiden raised an imperious brow in an attempt to make me submit without further argument. Typical! He still thought of me as his business partner's daughter, the little tag-along at the shop who had dogged his footsteps until she hit high school and then college.

  I looked down at the bike's seat, my frustration so wrenching I wanted to cry. He eased a finger under my chin and lifted until I looked at him, unshed tears swimming in my eyes.

  "You're not saying no."

  He walked over to my car and pulled my bag from it. He was so sure I would do as he commanded it turned me mad enough to forget every other emotion running through me. My hands slid down to my full hips and I cocked an eyebrow at him as he returned to the bike. He might be all muscles, but I am loaded with my own special brand of attitude.

  I call it Fattitude and it means that no one gets away with pushing Cecelia Harper around.

  Not anymore, at least. And certainly never a bossy teddy bear like Aiden Perry who is all growl and no bite when it comes to me. The way he acts, I might as well be his kid sister.

  "Seriously?" I pushed at the bag. "I'm not riding with you and that bag won't fit on the back anyway. You need to buy a car like normal people."

  His mouth curved in a smile, dooming me all over again. On anyone else, I would have called the shape of his lips a smirk, but smirks piss me off and that curve made my pussy twitch with a fresh, emphatic need. His lips are absolute perfection -- generous but not too thick and mobile as hell. Looking at them at that moment, I just knew he was a great kisser and the thought of being kissed by him down there, his lips sliding over my mound, his tongue pushing between my labia...

  A shiver rolled over me, its progress stopped only by the sound of him unzipping my bag.

  "Who said I was taking the bag? You pack too much shit, little girl." Reaching inside, he pulled a couple of t-shirts out and stuffed them into his saddle bag. Rooting deeper, he came up with as many of my plus-size panties. "And you are going because you don't want to disappoint your mom and dad."

  Seeing my panties, I squirmed. I didn't hold any illusion about having Aiden in my bed -- not only did he have perfect tens throwing themselves at his feet, but he viewed me as the family friend he was. Still, seeing my underwear in his hand, I wished for the first time in a long time that they were smaller.

  My underwear, not his hands. Like his lips, his hands are perfect. Strong, thick, the fingers deft at manipulating small things, like nuts and bolts. Or nipples and a clit, one that was very swollen and achy at the time with the idea of being touched by him.

  I ran my hands over my bare arms, trying to smooth away the thought of Aiden's calloused fingers toying with any part of my body.

  Unfolding the fabric, his brow shot up at the sight of so much silk trimmed with lace. "I hope you're not flashing these at all the frat boys, Cece."

  My voice dropped an octave, my retort only a few decibels louder than a groan. "So what if I am?"

  His mouth puckered, reminding me and my pussy all over again why I couldn't ride on the back of his bike. I moved to slide off the seat. Supremely confident and bossy, he placed his palm against the rounded swell of my belly, holding me in place long enough to give me another stay command like I was a Golden Retriever or something.

  He dove back into the bag and came up with my toothbrush and one-piece bathing suit. He stuffed them into the bike's pouch then re-zipped my bag.

  "No make-up? My ereader?"

  He was seriously fucking with my expectations for a relaxing weekend. Not only did he have me in a worked up state that could only lead to my eventual embarrassment if the situation didn't change quickly, but I had downloaded a few good books of the oh-so-naughty variety before leaving campus. I fully intended to get discreetly hot and bothered reading them at the lake while sneaking glances at Aiden in his swimming trunks.

  He grinned and, for a second, I wanted to punch him. Instead, I just snarled. "You're a freaking Barbarian Aiden Perry!"

  From the side flap of my bag, he fished out just my wallet and shoved it into his front jeans pocket.

  "You can't leave my cell phone!"

  His gaze lifted slowly, freezing any further protest I might have thought to offer. Color flared across his cheeks. "Why, afraid you'll miss one of those frat boys' calls?"

  I offered up another narrow stare hoping it would wilt him. No such luck. His serious gaze broke from another broad grin.

  I changed tactics. "Mom will be worried sick if she tries to call and I don't answer."

  "Gale doesn't have any reception out at the lake house. You know that." He opened the flap back up, turned on my phone and navigated through my messages. "Neither does Pete."

  He paused, his mouth puckering for an instant. "Who's Joe?"

  "Those are private!" That time I really did punch him. It didn't matter if the only thing embarrassing about my texts was that they were so dry. He didn't need to know that Joe was "Josephine" or that I was the most boring girl at my university.

  It was all his fault, too! I was too busy having detailed, lurid sex fantasies about Aiden to even search for the one guy out of a thousand at school who would look at me and not curl his lip in disgust because I am not a size two.

  "Chill, baby girl, I'm not reading any of your sexting." He pulled up the last text from my mother and hit reply. "I'm just sending Gale a message so, if she actually manages to get a signal, she knows you're with me and that your car broke down."

  With the message sent, he hooked my house keys and grabbed my bag .

  "Wait! I have to pee."

  That earned me a skeptical side glance. He shouldered the bag and studied me for a few seconds. "Didn't you do that half an hour ago?"

  Guilty as charged, but I didn't really have to pee. I had a different urge to deal with before I spent an hour pressed against him. I rolled my lips, further evidencing my lie.

  "That's what I thought." He threw me a wink and turned toward the house, talking over his shoulder as he walked away. "You just want more time to figure a way out of this. You're not getting any."

  He disappeared into the house for no more than a minute. Emerging without my bag, he locked the front door and returned to the bike. Taking the white t-shirt he showed up in from the handle bars, he slowly pulled it over his head and rolled it down his body.

  I gathered enough willpower to look away right before the fabric cleared his face and he could bust me for ogling his chest. Instead, he finished to find me staring down at the bike
seat and misinterpreted the thoughts running through my head.

  He cupped my cheek while his thumb caressed my lip. "Baby girl, you better not be pouting."

  I snorted. He may be a genius when it comes to designing bikes, but he was clueless about my feelings. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have been doing something so dangerous as running his thumb anywhere near my mouth. As innocent as his intentions were, the gesture was too intimate when I have such a mad crush on the idiot.

  I wanted to snare that thumb and draw it into my mouth, suggestively sucking on it until his cock was so hard he forgot my size and that my dad was his best friend.

  He leaned in. His chin butted gently against my forehead before he lightly growled. "Look at me, Cece."

  I couldn't ignore the growl. It did funny things to me, twisting my insides until my gaze lifted and I was looking into his warm brown eyes. For one pure second, it felt like he understood, that he knew how badly I wanted him. Then he blinked and the acknowledgment was gone.

  His head dropping lower, his fingers pushed my hair back so he could growl at me again, his mouth almost pressing against my ear. "You sure now how to try a man's patience, little girl."

  With that, the argument was over. I might have embarrassed myself before we arrived at the lake house, but I was certain to do so if I so much as tried to speak right then.

  Choking down some ridiculous declaration of love, I watched as Aiden grabbed the old leather jacket hanging off the bike's handlebars and handed it to me. While I slipped it on, he unhooked the spare helmet from the back bar. He fitted it on my head, delicately tucking my hair to the side and making sure not to pinch the underside of my rounded chin when he secured the strap.

  Finished, he climbed on the bike and put his helmet on. Reaching back, he grabbed my arms and pulled me forward until I was cinched against his muscular back. Then he folded my hands over his taut stomach.

  His fingers trailed down the side of my legs, nudging me to properly position my feet on the foot pegs. Pressed against him, surrounded by the smell of Old Spice and engine grease, a fresh twinge squeezed my pussy. Cream pulsed from me, dampening the seat of my jeans.