She couldn't help putting a little extra swing in her hips as she headed out the door.
"Lush buns, indeed," he growled playfully. Magda couldn't help but smile.
* * * *
His last name was Anderson, he liked darts, micro brew beers, grilling and good books. Preferably espionage. He had one sister, his parents were still married and his dog, growing up, had been named Dasher.
"And you?" He pressed his knee to hers under the table.
Magda swallowed hard. All night sex seemed to be radiating off him in waves. She felt it on her skin, in her belly, her cheeks were hot with it. Even her throat felt tight.
"My last name is Brennan. My parents are divorced. I had a rabbit named Killer when I was in Kindergarten. I bake and I sew and I used to be a plus-size model."
Why had she said that? She never told anyone that.
"You gave it all up to make the world a happier place with bread and buns and a killer smile?" His fingers, thick fingers she noted, trailed down her knuckles.
"Sort of. I actually hated modeling. But I loved clothes. So I learned to sew. I made this skirt. And I've made a bunch of rockabilly dresses. I love to dance."
She was spewing words, words, words! Too many. Something about him made her open up. She laughed at herself.
"Will you let me take you dancing one day?" He laced his fingers with hers and the sensation of his skin touching hers wound through her flesh and bones like smoke. It pooled in her pussy and she shifted in her seat.
"I will."
"I'd like to see you dance."
She felt her blush rush to her collarbone and chest. "Who says I'm good?"
"Just a feeling."
"I can't sleep with you," she said again. She was reminding herself more than him.
"So you said. I hope you don't mind that I can't keep myself from touching you." He stroked her fingers again. "I can behave myself but the urge to have some contact with you is overwhelming. Did you put a spell on me with your magic bread?"
"Nope. It's just regular bread made by a regular girl."
"Nothing regular about you," he said and his face was dead serious.
She blinked. "You don't seem to regular yourself," she blurted. "At least not to me.
* * * *
He was supposed to just drop her off. She wasn't ready to see him go. Her last date had been awkward and brutally bad. This one was easy and flowing, time seemed to be racing by. They'd discussed how sad food had become in fast food joints, how bad the reality dance shows were and how a day by the lake with a good book and a cooler of cold beer beat just about anything on earth.
She found herself wanting to kiss him. And touch him. And yes, get him into her bed.
"Night cap?" she asked, wanting to prolong the closeness.
"I'd love one." He put an arm around her as they walked to her front door. "But I have to tell you up front—"
Uh oh. This was it. He was going to tell her he was an alien from a far off planet. Or that he could fly. Or that he had sixteen children he'd forgotten to mention. "What?"
Her fingers shook as she unlocked the door.
"I can't sleep with you," he said with a straight face.
She laughed wildly. "Good to know."
He kicked his shoes off by the front door when she did. She found that endearing. "Wine? Coffee? Beer? Vodka?" Nerves made her talk.
"Whatever you're having." He found a small framed photo from her modeling days on the mantel. "Gorgeous."
"You're just saying that," she said, hurrying past to get their drinks.
"I say it because it's true."
"I was young then!" she called.
Stop it. Just say thank you. Stop beating on yourself in the name of modesty…
One of her worst character flaws. Inability to take a compliment. Unless it was about her baked goods.
"You're young now," he called back. "And still gorgeous."
"Thank you," she said, even though it sounded forced.
He was looking at some collages of family photos on the wall when she came in. Light hit his hair, his jaw, the cut of his torso. Butterflies filled her stomach and she sighed before she could stop herself.
He looked up and smiled. "Your family looks nice."
"They are." She thrust the drink at him and their fingers touched. Instead of letting him take it from her, she rerouted her movements and put it on the mantel, then set hers right next to his.
Magda pushed away rational thought and went with her gut instinct. She stepped up close and pressed her breasts to her chest. "Kiss me," she said, the plea in her tone.
He put his hands in her hair and kissed her. His lips were soft and seeking. His tongue touched hers and she ran a hand up his belly, over his chest. He kissed her harder, tilting her head back a little to take her mouth more deeply.
"I can't slee—" he started. She could tell he was smiling.
But she cut him off. "Will you come upstairs with me?"
"Ah, but you said you couldn't sleep with me today," he said. But his eyes were serious. "Honestly, Magda, no rush. I can behave. I can wait. You don't have—"
She shook her head and ran a finger along his fly. His cock was semi hard and grew harder under her touch. "It's not about have," she whispered. "It's about want. Plus..." She nodded to the oversized clock above her sofa. "I said that yesterday. It's today."
It was 12:15 by the clock.
Kyle wrapped her long hair around his hand and ever so gently tugged her head back to kiss her throat. Magda wished on a star he'd tugged it a bit harder, but they could get to that later.
"So it is. Is this like Cinderella? Once the clock strikes midnight we turn—"
"Naked," she finished, grabbing his hand.
He released her hair and followed. Up the steps, around the curve of the rounded wall, down the hall. She liked how big his hand felt compared to hers. Magda stopped still in her room, hovering near the bed, heart pounding. She turned on the bedside lamp that gave light to the room but didn't flood it like they were being interrogated.
He was already yanking his tee off over his head and she saw, in that split second, the hard flex and release of his muscles. She even noticed the slight jump and tremor on his chest where his heart was beating. She pressed her hand to it and he watched her.
"Hard," she said, meaning the tempo of his heart.
"I know," he said, guiding her free hand to the hardness still hidden in his shorts.
Magda laughed and curled her fingers to the erection there. She squeezed and he groaned, then it was a matter of the two of them nearly battling each other to get his shorts and boxers off.
"I'm naked," Kyle said, skating his hands up her sides. Tracing the flare of her hips and the dip of her waist and the swell of her breasts.
"I know that." Magda gave him a friendly squeeze and then cupped his balls in her hand. Her body responded with a warm rush of wetness between her legs and that feeling one gets on a roller coaster.
Kyle had been worth the wait. Something about him made her feel daring and safe in the same heartbeat.
"And you're not."
He pulled the drawstring of her skirt and muttered as she stroked him, "Must do something about that."
He let out a slow groan as she continued to touch him and he tried—valiantly—to undress her. When her skirt dropped to her feet, she stepped free of it. She put her arms up when his fingers skimmed the bottom of her tank. Kyle peeled it off, then went about finding the clasp of her bra. When it fell free of her, Magda paused to inhale as his hands and tongue explored her breasts. He hefted them up together, licking and kissing and finally biting each nipple in turn so that her knees turned to jelly.
"If we could just get these out of the way," he chuckled. His large hand cupped her pussy through her lace panties. They were pale lavender and barely there but they felt intrusive and bulky considering she wanted for him to touch her.
Kyle fingered her clit through the fabric and pressed
his finger to the split of her sex, driving the fabric against her damp flesh. Magda gripped his shoulders, sighed, tried to go along with it and then finally just: "Please."
It was all he needed. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and dragged the fabric down. Kyle dropped to his knees. He kissed the tops of her thighs, the swell of her belly, her shaved mound. His tongue parted her nether lips and lapped at her clit. Magda steadied herself with her hands on his broad shoulders.
She was very glad she'd broken her own rule. And she really hadn't. When she said those words to herself it had been a whole different day. Today was a new day. Full of good things, including sex.
He licked at her lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. His no-hurry, and yes—thorough, approach had her panting in minutes and Magda found herself coming with a long lusty sigh. Her cunt gripping up eagerly, waiting for penetration, stimulation—friction.
"Kyle," she said and he read her. That was all she needed to say because he stood up and kissed her. His lips wet and scented with the smell of her. Sweet and spicy, almost but not quite overriding the smell of sex that seemed to have filled the room.
He moved toward the bed and pulled her along with him. She went, dropping to the paisley bedspread easily. He arranged her like he was going to paint her and then sat back to view his work. "Pretty, pretty," he whispered.
His hand worked his cock and she pushed it away, replacing it with hers. "If you're trying to tease me, it's working," she said.
"Not trying to tease. Just taking my time, enjoying myself." He circled one nipple with the tip of his finger, moved to the other and then dragged his finger down to press it to the divot of her navel. "I just like touching you."
She liked being touched. The admission had made her throat tight so she just nodded, content to watch him watch her.
When she'd had enough waiting, Magda craned her head up and pulled his hips to bring him closer. She stretched nearer to him, closed her lips over his cockhead, sucked greedily and gathered the tiny salty bit of pre-cum there. Then she slid her lips lower, tasting his skin, relishing the sounds he made.
"Now who's teasing who? Whom?" he laughed.
"Whom cares," Magda whispered, smiling. "I think I'm done with foreplay."
He grinned at her in the low light. "Thank God." Then: "I don't have—"
"Top drawer," she said nodding to the nightstand.
The snap of latex sounded, the scent of it filled her nose and then he was between her thighs, spreading them wide. "I want us to be face-to-face at first," he said. He kissed her and her tongue sought his out. Twirled with it. "I want to see your face when I slide into you."
The at first sent a thrill through her.
Kyle pushed into her slowly. Magda felt every place he touched come alive. When he was fully seated and her legs curled around his waist they paused, breathing. Eye-to-eye.
"You have to move now," she whispered, touching his jaw. "Or I'm going to die—"
"Don't die." He chuckled.
"Or go insane."
"Don't do that either." He started to move, pushing her thighs wide, bracing himself, fucking her. He levered back enough to watch them together. Watch where their bodies blended.
Magda held onto his forearms. She let her head fall back and her eyes shut just so she could feel him driving deep. With her eyes shut, the only sensation in the world was his body entering hers.
He pushed deep and ground his body against hers, the base of his cock pounded her clit. Magda came, scraping her nails over his skin.
He hung his head as her cunt worked around him. "Jesus. Almost got me," he teased. "But not quite." He settled onto her, his body warming her skin. "Turn over," he said. He pressed his lips to her ear, kissed her until she shivered.
Magda turned and noticed his hands were always on her. Skimming her skin, touching her softly. He palmed her ass cheeks and groaned. "Lush buns," he growled.
"I believe in truth in advertising," she giggled.
He gave her a playful swat and she squealed. He teased her damp opening with the head of his cock and sighed, "I can tell. You sure did tell the truth."
He pushed into her slowly but forcefully. Taking his good sweet time.
"I like that," she said aloud without thinking. Her face flooded with heat but he couldn't see her.
"I'm glad. I like it too." His voice had gone gruff and his hands stroked her bottom. He pressed a damp fingertip to her back hole and she didn't shy away.
Magda balanced on her shoulders, head pressed to the bed, she found her clit and swirled slick patterns over it. Her fingers were shaking but she managed as he thrust into her, his cock filling her and brushing every tender place that pushed her closer to coming again.
"I'm glad my terrible job sent me to you, Magda," he whispered. She could hear his impending release in the tone of his voice.
"Me, too." The use of her name had pushed her closer to orgasm.
"I'm glad you agreed to go out with me," he growled, his movements growing faster.
"Me, too," she sighed. The pressure and pleasure in her cunt swelled and threatened to sweep her away.
His fingers dug into the meat of her hips, held her still. "And I'm sure as hell glad that yesterday turned into today while we were together."
He'd grown utterly still and Magda could feel the pound of her heart in her pussy. She knew the minute he moved they were both done for.
"Me, too, Kyle," she whispered. "I stuck to my own rule and yet...here we are."
He smoothed a hand along her lower back and said, "Yes, we are. A very pleasant surprise."
He finally broke the spell and moved, pulling back and thrusting deep. She pinched her swollen clit and came with a muffled cry just as he drove into her while yanking her hips back. His movements chaos, his breath choppy, he came with a single word.
"Magda."
It warmed her heart. It warmed the rest of her, too. When she dropped to her soft bed and he collapsed beside her she didn't even second guess herself.
"Stay the night," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," he said. She could hear that he was smiling.
The Big Reveal
© Giselle Renarde
Tariq held his water glass suspended mid-air. His jaw, too. "I can't believe you don't remember how we met."
"Sorry, babe." Marisa chuckled, clinking her glass against his. "I don't remember any of this. Are you sure it was me?"
"Of course it was you."
Darien chuckled from across the restaurant table. "I'm sorry man--didn't mean to put you in the doghouse."
"Oh, no, no, no," Tariq replied. The butterflies in his stomach only let him pick at his steak and roasted potatoes. "I'm not sleeping in the doghouse tonight. Your sister's the one who doesn't remember how she met her husband."
Flicking his earlobe, Marisa said, "I do so remember. I just remember differently."
"It seemed like innocuous dinner conversation." Darien chuckled, loosening his tie. "This is the last time I ask anyone, was it love at first sight?"
Marisa shook her head. "You've always been an instigator." With a mocking glint in her eye, she told Tariq, "He always did this to me when we were kids. Darien was the goody-two-shoes of the family."
"I was not."
She raised her eyebrows at her brother, but didn't stop talking. "When he was just three years old…"
"Not this again!" Darien groaned, digging into his baked potato.
Ignoring his objection, Marisa went on with the story Tariq had heard at least five times already—but he knew how dangerous it was to interrupt his wife. Damn, but he loved her smile. He watched her as she taunted her baby brother and laughed. Her big breasts jiggled, and that just about did him in. Those full tits, those luscious curves… Tariq could barely restrain himself.
All he could think about was the honeymoon, when they'd spent every waking hour making love and then eating to build up their strength. Sex and food in alternation, sex an
d food together. Tracing chocolate-covered strawberries the length of his wife's skin, then licking along the path of that melted sweetness.
Tariq had realized then that, when a man is in love, even hardcore fucking is sweet.
They'd been wild, that whole week. He'd straddled Marisa's naked body, pressed those gorgeous tits together, and thrust his hard cock in her cleavage until he came all over her neck.
And even that had been sweet.
He'd flipped her onto her belly with her ass up in the air, and he'd fucked her doggy-style while she hollered and swore and rubbed her fat clit so hard he came with her. She'd leaned over the side of the bed while he fucked her standing up, and she'd come when he slapped her ass and called her a raunchy ho.
Even that had been sweet, in its own strange way.
And she'd ridden him, too, when he was exhausted and couldn't move anymore. In the middle of the night, blinds half-closed, their hotel room lit only by the gleam of a loving moon, Marisa had climbed on top of him and milked his cock with her hot pussy. The motion was slow that time, a steady rocking, her big tits swaying, nipples soft. She'd strummed her clit, but it seemed like an afterthought, like she had something else on her mind, something greater.
They'd decide, after the fact, that had been the special one. They'd expressed their love so simply, so silently yet fully, that they'd beckoned another being into their hearts and into their lives. And now, oh God, they had to tell Darien about it.
Marisa was giggling, amused by her own story. Tariq could feel her shaking as she squeezed his hand. She laughed so hard her eyes watered and she had to dab at them with a clean napkin. "That was Darien," she said. "Mommy's little tattletale-always telling on his big sis."
"Yeah, my big sis who just keeps getting bigger," Darien taunted, eyeing her belly even though he couldn't possibly have a good view of it from where he was sitting. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he could tell just by looking at her.
Reaching across the table, Marisa gave Darien's cheek a playful smack before leaning back in the booth. She ran her palm across her belly, gazing pleadingly at Tariq as the laughter subsided. It was tough, working up the nerve for their big reveal.
Coming Together With Curves Page 11