by S. C. Adams
“Nothing,” I say as I gently kiss her lips. She looks down at my jerking cock and licks her lips. She pulls down my pants and slithers to the end of the bed. I know exactly what’s on her mind. She teases me by kissing the head of my penis; the girl knows how badly I want her to slide it into her moist mouth. She licks it, still teasing me with a grin on her face. “Please,” I beg.
“Anything for you,” she says. I grit my teeth as she wraps her soft, plump lips around my cock. My toes curls as she sucks my shaft, allowing it to slide down her throat. I move her hair out of the way so that I can admire her beautiful face. The glowing girl is absolutely gorgeous, and she knows how to please her man.
“Shit,” I say as she deep throats my entire penis. I hold onto the back of her head as I thrust myself into her mouth. She handles it like a champ, never once gagging. “Lie down,” I say, ready to penetrate her.
She lies on her back with her legs up in the air. I want to shove my cock deep inside of her, but I have to keep the baby in mind. I slowly push her legs back and gaze at her glistening pussy. My penis jerks at the sight of it. I gradually slide a few inches of my rock hard tool inside of her. I gently stroke her drenched cunt, trying my best to not go too deep.
“Deeper,” she begs.
“I don’t want to hurt the baby,” I say.
“She’ll be fine,” she tries to reassure me. I hesitantly thrust all of my manhood inside of her, causing her to bite her lip.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes. Don’t stop,” she utters. I pump harder, enjoying the sensation but also worrying about our baby. She digs her nails into my skin as I hit her G-spot. She’s loving every stroke, and I finally give in and give it to her rough. I grunt as I splash in her wet sea; she’s so wet and tight.
“Turn around,” I command. With haste, she’s on all fours with her back arched in the air.
“Not that one,” she says as the tip of my cock touches her sopping hole. I know where she wants me to put it; she loves hot, rough sex, and I love giving her what she wants. I spread her juicy cheeks and ease my way into her back door. She gasps as I slowly slide my wood into her ass. I take my time so that I don’t hurt her.
“Is this what you want?” I ask.
“Yes,” she moans as I stroke deeper and deeper. I hold on tightly to her meaty cheeks as I thrust harder. The tight, tiny hole brings me closer to coming.
“You feel so good,” I grunt. I can’t hold it in anymore; my body is ready to erupt. “Tessa,” I moan, clenching her ass cheeks as a stream of hot milky come squirts inside of her derriere. I collapse on top of her with my cock still inside of her round bottom. We try to catch our breath, both of our chests heaving in the moonlight. I lie beside her and trace her curves with my fingertips.
“You’re going to be a great daddy,” she says with sincerity. Man, I hope she’s right.
“And you’re going to be the best mother in the world,” I say, meaning every word. I couldn’t have chosen a better woman to start a family with. Her heart is bigger than anyone else’s I know, and she knows how to take care of a home. “Our daughter is really lucky to have you as a mom.”
“She’s lucky to have both of us,” she says with a soft grin.
“This is all I ever wanted, Tessa. I waited so long for you and a baby, and then everything happened so fast, but I’m glad it did. You changed my life,” I profess.
“I know. It’s crazy how everything happened, but I’ve never been happier. My life is so much better with you in it,” she says. Those warm pools of honey have me stuck like I’m on a sticky trap. I’m hers for life.
Her parents might be against it, and the Sunnyside residents may think our relationship is inappropriate, but none of that matters when I’m holding her in my arms and staring into those big brown puppy dog eyes. In moments like this, the only thing that matters is us, and now our baby. Nothing in the world can come between what we share. Our bond is unbreakable, and our love is indestructible. I’ll never leave her, no matter what. She’s about to be the mother of my child, and soon enough my wife, whether anyone else likes it or not.
She nestles her body up against mine, and I wrap my arms around her, keeping her and our baby safe and warm. Life has changed drastically, but it has all been for the best. I finally have the woman that I love, and we’re starting a brand new life together and bringing a child into this world. Even with the whispers around town, I don’t regret falling in love with her for one second. The feeling I get when I’m with Tessa makes everything right. The love I have for her and our unborn child is indescribable. I feel invincible when I’m with her, and I know our love will prevail and get us through anything.
THE END
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Sneak Peek: Size Queen
Noelle
Noelle’s a plus-size model with a taste for dark, dangerous men.
The sun is always bright in Florida, when it’s out. Fortunately, as the weekend begins, the clouds and the showers are steering clear of Miami and heading up the coast. It’s hot and bright, and I’m hopeful that I might be able to give my somewhat pale body a bit of a tan.
I’m a model. I don’t look like what one pictures typically when they hear the word “model”—I’m big, beautiful, proud, smart, and confident, which goes against most norms in the modeling industry. I’m a plus-size model, and I usually model swimsuits. I love doing it. It’s basically my passion.
My best friend/roommate, Sabrina Darby, shares the same passion I do. She, too, is a plus-size model. I’ve known her since we were juniors in high school, and we’ve been nearly inseparable ever since. I love her to death, but we’re definitely different people: I date guys; she takes guys home. I’m practically fearless, while she gets so anxious at times it makes me worry. She’s animated where I’m chill. We balance each other out fairly well.
Our modeling agency decided to pick a biker shop called Raw Wheels to host an annual photo shoot over the weekend. The models are all slightly wary about going there due to Raw Wheels having a history of hosting gangs.
I know very little about the activity going on at Raw Wheels before I get in the car. While Sabrina drives, she fills me in on some things on the way there. As I’m finishing up my makeup, I look over and notice her looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror for what seems like the hundredth time.
“Why do you seem so nervous?” I ask Sabrina.
“Probably because I am,” she admits. “I haven’t been to Raw Wheels in ages. And every time I go there, it’s the same story: I say I’m just going to flirt with a few guys, then a cute guy pours tequila down my throat, then he shoves his tongue down my throat, and I end up bringing him over to our place.”
“Is that the only thing they shove down your throat?” I wonder impishly.
“Ha-ha,” she says. “Those guys over there are actually dangerous. I really have to watch myself when I’m there.”
“You realize you didn’t answer my question, right?” I prod.
“And I’m not going to,” she says dismissively. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”
“Looking for a new apartment?” I ask, attempting to recall our conversation.
“No, we were talking about Raw Wheels,” says Sabrina. “But for real, though, the rent at our place is too damn high.”
“We’re in Miami, baby,” I remind her. “We live two miles from the beach. Of course it’s going to be expensive as hell here.”
“We might want to move a bit farther from the coast, that’s all I’m saying,” she persists. “But anyway—I believe I was going to tell you about some of the… shall we say, ‘meat’ to choose from at this infamous biker bar. There are a lot of hot guys there, and your swimsuit is going to get wet.”
“That’s a bold claim,” I laugh. “What makes you so sure?”
“Do you want me to go through my list, or do you want to know about someone who actually knows about you?” she
says cryptically.
“Who ‘knows about me’?”
“The owner of the shop,” she answers. “His name is Damon Abrams—he’s fit, sexy as all hell, and you’ll want to ride his face within three minutes of meeting him.”
“Oh my,” I say facetiously. “Have you had him?”
“Not me, no,” she replies. “I wish. He doesn’t really strike me as the ‘notch on your bedpost’ type. But I’ve seen him with girls before, and they always look like they’re in heaven.”
“I’m sold already,” I say, continuing to humor her. “But if this Damon Abrams isn’t into just getting laid, why is he adamant about having a swimsuit photo shoot at his shop?”
“Beats me.” She shrugs. “I assume the agency’s paying them to use his space.”
“Yeah, I don’t suppose there’ll be too many bikers hanging around to watch us bright and early on a Saturday morning,” I muse. “It should be a pretty vacant house.”
“You never know,” says Sabrina. “What I wanted to tell you, though, while we’re alone, is to be careful if Damon goes after you. He knows who you are, because he saw pictures of us together online and asked me about you.”
“Really?” I ask. “Come on, I don’t buy that.”
“Okay, don’t believe me!” she says. “He did ask me, though.”
“Why have I not heard about it until now, then?” I retort.
“Because you tend to go for more ‘relationship-y’ stuff,” she responds. “Which is fine—I hold nothing against your lifestyle, just as you don’t hold anything against mine.”
“Right.”
“Damon isn’t a player, but he’s a man,” says Sabrina. “If he likes you, he’s going to pursue you until he gets you. I just think you should be careful… his shop has a bit of reputation here in Miami.”
“What’s the name of the gang that goes there a lot?” I ask.
“The Rolling Heads,” she answers. “I really can’t believe you knew nothing about them before today. They’re not vicious miscreants, but they can be dangerous if they’re pissed off… That’s why you need to be careful if Damon comes your way. Play hard to get.”
“I can handle a few horny bikers,” I say as we pull into Raw Wheels’ parking lot. “Even if one of those bikers happens to own the bike shop. And besides, what makes you so sure that the owner is going to want me anyway? So, he saw a picture of me—”
“Trust me,” says Sabrina. “I’ll be your wingman whenever I can, but he might wait until you’re alone to talk to you, so…”
Since it appears we’re one of the only ones here, Sabrina and I take a few extra minutes to make sure we’re good and ready to go. We finally step out after a hoard of cars start pulling in and join us in the parking lot.
In the shop, the set is there waiting for us. Several varieties of motorcycles, and a few other miscellaneous vehicles, are parked against a variety of backdrops and decorations, glistening in the Kino light. Thankfully there are dressing rooms in the back of the shop, so I am relieved there. I’m excited about the day ahead.
My assumption that there wouldn’t be many bikers in the place so early in the morning is wrong. There are nearly a dozen bikers scattered around the place—some drinking coffee, some drinking beer. Some of the bikers are quite handsome, but none of them keep my attention long enough to warrant breaking my focus. I’m not here to flirt and get phone numbers. I don’t care how hot the guys are; I’m here to work.
Unfortunately, the guys here didn’t get the memo. Even before the director or our coordinator can start the shoot, most of the guys here are hitting on me.
Then, just seconds before the photographers are ready to go, the front doors burst open to reveal a man among boys, who walks in and grabs the attention of nearly every model, myself included. He isn’t simply handsome or attractive—he is straight hot.
Once I can tell for sure he is practically staring at me, I begin avoiding his gaze. I am instantly nervous, and something tells me right away that this must be the owner.
“That’s Damon,” Sabrina whispers in my ear, confirming my guess. “And he keeps looking at you…!”
“Yeah, what’s the deal?” I chuckle.
It’s obvious to Damon that he already has the full attention of the room, so he barely has to raise his voice to talk.
“Morning, all,” he says.
The room responds with a variety of morning greetings.
“Welcome to Raw Wheels,” he continues. “I’m Damon Abrams, and I’m the owner of the place. I’m glad your agency chose us to host your shoot, and I can answer any questions you may have. Don’t be shy to say hi.”
It is then that I choose to meet his gaze and risk the possibility of getting lost in his piercing eyes.
He has some facial hair but not enough to hide the sexy grin that’s forming the longer I look at him. His hair is black, and his skin is tan. His mesmerizing eyes are blue like glistening water, and his nose and mouth look delicious enough to nibble on.
Among many other qualities, he is also tall, muscular, and fit. He also has a number of tattoos I can see on his arms and back that his leather jacket doesn’t conceal.
Sabrina and I dish about Damon and the other guys while we change swimsuits in between sequences. I can’t get over what a perfect specimen he seems to be.
“I wonder how many tattoos he has,” I ponder. “He looks like he’s got a lot—more than a lot compared to those other bikers. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me he’s in a gang.”
Sabrina snorts. “Honey, he is the gang. Damon is the president of the Rolling Heads.”
“Huh. I probably shouldn’t give him the wrong impression, then.”
I often receive a lot of male attention, both off and on set. Today is no exception, and the flirting continues throughout the entire shoot. I let them get away with a half-witted quip or two, and sometimes I give it back, but I don’t let any of them go past a certain point.
The only person that I want to come and talk to me is the sexy owner. I’m not sure if it’s the repeated attempts from lesser men that’s provoking me, but eventually my eyes begin to actively seek out Damon, hoping he might join the competition.
Sabrina is constantly reminding me how Damon is the president of a dangerous biker club, and how that could either be really good or bad, depending on your outlook. I can’t stop thinking about him whenever I’m posing for the camera, and by extension the room. I try my best not to seem “inviting,” but whenever I know Damon is nearby, I can’t help myself.
Sabrina claims that whenever I’m being shot, Damon has eyes only for me. I don’t get to witness much of Damon’s gazing at my body through the sea of camera flashes and horny bikers, but I believe her.
Our shoot wraps for the day. I catch Sabrina near the bar after I am through changing back into my clothes, flirting with an attractive biker in his early thirties,. There are a few other handsome gentlemen poised nearby waiting to strike. I am really flattered, but I only want to find the president of the Rolling Heads.
Then, with odd timing, Sabrina’s guy goes away and is replaced with the man I seek. Sabrina makes sure to get my ear before Damon had a chance to.
“He might not be your type, but I think you should go for it,” she mutters to me. “His pursuit will be relentless. He’s been staring at you all day. It would be a lot of fun… live a little! Do it!”
“Got it,” I say. “Who is the guy you’re talking to? Looked like you wanted to jump his bones.”
“I want to do more than jump him,” she remarks. “And you should go have fun with Damon. He’s a business owner—make him buy you an expensive dinner.”
“I’ll do it if you do that with your guy,” I say. “Who’s your biker?”
“His name is Kace. He’s the club VP.”
“Nice,” I say. “You think you two are going to hook up?”
“Not sure,” she replies. “He’ll be here again tomorrow, so I’m taking the night to think abo
ut it. He sleeps around a lot from what I can tell, so… maybe I shouldn’t, you think?”
“You can always wear a condom,” I say dryly.
“True,” she agrees. “I’m going outside to smoke. You want to ride back with me, or are you going to go riding off on the back of Damon’s bike? I’ve got some condoms in my bag if you need some.”
Before she can actually step outside or I can adequately respond, Damon advances forward, offering me his hand and his smile.
“I just wanted to say that I thought you were terrific,” he says. “We’ve not been formally introduced, the two of us—Damon Abrams.”
I shake his hand, feeling his soft palm and firm grip.
“Noelle Foster.”
“You’ll be modeling again tomorrow, I hope?”
“Indeed, I will,” I confirm. “And you’ll be here too, I assume? I mean, you own the place, so… you can come and go whenever you want, of course.”
“Right,” he laughs.
I feel like such a fool for babbling, and rather than simply bite my tongue, I slowly retreat from the building and pull Sabrina out the exit with me.
“It’s nice meeting you,” Damon says with a wave as we leave.
“It’s nice meeting you, too!” I assure him. “See you tomorrow!”
To be continued …
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About the Author
S.C. Adams is a romance author who likes her stories hot and unprotected. She grew up a Jersey girl but considers herself a global citizen now. She gives thanks to the gods of Paypal, Amazon, and Microsoft for allowing her to work anywhere in the world, including on the beaches of Bali and the mountains of Peru. Oh, and she also hates chocolate, but loves dogs. Currently toting her mutt Minnie to a new location every three months.
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