Troll-y Yours BBW Erotic Curvy Fantasy Romance (The Centaurs)

by Fredricks, Sheri

  Raw male abdominal muscles flexed and relaxed with every indrawn breath. His long black tail swayed lazily behind.

  Her eyes drifted across his male perfection while she admired this Centaur from Elysium.

  A silver armband wound itself around his arm above the bicep with two interlocking scythes etched into the design. His gold neck chain looked beautiful lying flat against his smooth, tan skin. Hot and all consuming, his gaze traveled her length.

  He seemed to take all of her in, from her pink toenail polish, up her mummy-wrapped form, to what Ella figured was a god-awful tangle of curly red hair. Scrutinized as if she were a cream-filled pastry instead of the ugly Troll she was, her face heated and she fought the urge to hide inside the shower stall.

  Self-conscious of each brightly-lit nose freckle, Ella asked, “What are you looking at?”

  “Wet temptation.”

  Inwardly, she groaned. His pheromones are mixing with the steam, and now I’m inhaling it. The logical side of her brain—the part not yet infused with Al’s visual and chemical presence—reminded her of what she already knew…He was a player to the Nth degree.

  A few dates with those of her kind, hardly compensated for the worldly experience this half-naked Centaur proposed.

  Though he held the position of Head Palace Guard, and was the best-looking Centaur she’d ever laid eyes on, Al didn’t fit into her long-term plans. Right now, it was more important to earn money and take a fast trail out of town. There wasn’t time to play patty-cake—even while she stood wrapped only in his towel. Better to keep him at arm’s length with her heart intact.

  A slow spreading grin and smoky brown eyes caressed her figure with blatant sexual desire.

  Oh ,hell. Ella had to put a stop to this before she became another faceless name in his memory, or worse—she caved in.

  “Give it a rest, Al.” To add emphasis, she rolled her eyes and added what she hoped was a disgusted look to her face. “I’m not buying your pickup lines.”

  The smile slipped and his brows lowered a notch. “What makes you think I’m trying to pick up on you? I’ve already got you naked and in my room.”

  “Believe me,” she mumbled, “I’d rather be anywhere except here. But you’re the lesser of two evils, so I have no choice.” Ella hugged the towel closer. Fat, dumb Trolls were not attractive, and now she was surely both. It was hard to argue and keep her body hidden beneath the bath sheet. Her composure and state of mind would benefit from some clothes.

  Staring at the floor and taking a deep breath, she tucked her long damp bangs behind her hideously pointed ears and decided to get the hell out of Al’s Den of Desire.

  She glanced up and met his eyes. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

  Al’s replying wink set off a tingle from her straining nipples to the warmth flooding between her thighs.

  Oh, double damn hell.

  He reached for something on the floor, outside the bathroom door and came up with a canvas tote, which he held out to her. “Put your dress and muddy shoes in this. I’ll find something for you to wear home.”

  Switching places, Ella moved out of the bathroom past Al, careful to not touch a single hair on his hide.

  He disappeared inside the stall and started the shower for himself.

  For a moment, Ella considered putting the bag over her head. Why did she snipe at him?

  Because I don’t trust him.

  That didn’t give her a right to be rude to the person who was helping her.

  If I’m mean, he won’t hit on me.

  Since when did being polite and nice become flirting?

  When the hottest male Centaur in all of Boronda walked into the Neigh Café.

  Ella picked her soiled clothes off the floor and stuffed them into the bag. The outside of the beige tote was stamped with the same two inverted half circles as the silver band on Al’s arm—Her Majesty, Queen Savella’s insignia.

  Holy hooves of Pan. What in the hell had she gotten herself into? Eli was right; she was way out of her league.

  Tote bag fisted in one hand, towel held in place with the other, Ella gathered her muddy shoes from the front entry and took a little time to wander his living space. Having made a loop around the couch twice, which included snooping into a few end table drawers, she returned to Al’s neat-as-an-OCD-Satyr’s bedroom.

  The white bathroom door stood open. Steam poured out, leeching a bank of drifting fog. Only the shower was off and he wasn’t there…and neither were the clothes for her to borrow.

  “Al?”

  “Coming.” He chuckled from a room across the hall and returned crunching an apple, invading the bedroom with his physical space. “We’re not exactly the same size, but…” He crossed to the combination dresser-armoire, and slid open a drawer. “You can tighten these, so they won’t slip off.”

  Ella placed the tote on the floor and reached for the navy sweatpants. When she held the waistband above her breasts, the elastic hem hit the floor. She lifted her gaze to his laughing brown eyes.

  “They’ll work in a pinch.”

  His grin was infectious, and she gave a little smile back. “Thank you. How about a shirt?”

  Again, with the ogling.

  Heat from his pinpointed stare on her barely covered breasts, brushed warmth in areas best left alone. Ella swallowed her jumpy nerves with a dry tongue and hiked the towel higher.

  “I have something you can wear.” Al bit the apple and held it in his mouth as he opened another drawer and dug to the bottom. He removed a folded shirt and handed it to her. The grey tee would be large on her, but much too small for him. It was no doubt a trophy keepsake from some previous lover.

  An irrational burn flared to life before she could tamp it out. With the pinch of two fingers, she held the garment as if it would infect her. “What’s this? Leftovers?”

  Lines of laughter slowly faded from Al’s eyes.

  Then, she realized she’d done it again—stuck her big flat foot in her big fat mouth. Crap. Maybe she could fix this. She let out a soft laugh and forced a wider smile. “When’s the last time you fit into this shirt, scooter?”

  The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when the ends of his lips turned up. “It’s not mine. I bought it for a friend’s son.”

  Al tossed the apple into a corner wastebasket with a thud and took the shirt from her. He held it to his muscular chest. In bright blue lettering it read, Hoof Arted?

  Ella burst out laughing, relief swamping her in waves. “Why didn’t you give it to him?”

  Al lowered the shirt and lined up the shoulder corners precisely in a fold, his smile fading fast. “He was arrested last fall, during a raid on a rebel nest.”

  “I’m sorry.” Talk about taking the mythic wind out of a person.

  “Yeah, me too.” Al handed the t-shirt back.

  When Ella reached for it—her damn towel dropped to the floor.

  Seven

  Kempor Aleksander thought he’d seen all the sexiest females within a hundred mile radius. Voted Most Eligible Bachelor in Boronda fifteen years in a row by Mythic Magazine, the woods crawled with hungry babes. Nothing in his vast experience prepared him for the sight that literally blossomed in front of him.

  Lush creamy breasts with raspberry nipples his lips quivered to taste. When she turned away, the round curves of her smooth backside presented themselves. Such a delightfully naughty expanse of flesh, it called him to take strokes with strong passes of his hand.

  Kolasi! Dammit, he was in his true form. Oh Pan, why do you taunt me so?

  Ella squealed and turned a bright shade of pink. She made a grab for her fallen towel.

  Alek didn’t even think, he reached out and grasped her by the arm. He splayed his front hooves and drew her wriggling body closer.

  “Al, stop it. I’m naked.”

  “Yes, Kalos. You are.” He called her beautiful in the old language, because she was—and more. Satin divine slid beneath his palm as his free hand moved acros
s her back. The way she twisted to gain the damned towel made him smile.

  “What are you doing? Let me cover up.” Ella’s face flamed. She stared at him in disbelief.

  Alek ignored her protests. She didn’t come across as if her life depended on it. In fact, if he read the smoky haze in her pale blue eyes correctly, she was every bit turned on as him—perhaps more.

  The very thought swished his tail.

  To test his expert theory, deduced from twenty decades of hands-on experience, Alek lifted Ella’s arm to curl about his neck and gathered her nude body to his. Instant gratification exploded when her soft belly pressed to his. Slowly swaying, he caressed her with the fur between his forelegs.

  Meat Wrench, his below-the-flanks buddy, leapt in excitement and threatened to swell.

  With her every twist and mewling squirm, his arousal grew harder to fight. Frustrated, Alek stomped a rear hoof. It was the wrong time to be in his equine body. “You’ve driven me crazy all night.”

  At his words, she stilled in his arms, her eyes reflected surprise.

  The soft flesh of her curvaceous bottom felt like velvet to his eager touch as he massaged little circles on the plump cheek.

  “Why me? You could have had any female there.” Tentative and insecure, her small hand slid over his ribs and covered his pounding heart.

  I could get lost in her eyes. Her wide, innocent eyes blinked, slightly frightened and uncertain.

  “I didn’t want them, Sweet-thing. I want you.” He dipped his head, bringing his lips closer to hers. “They don’t have what you have.”

  Ella’s tongue snuck out and wet her bottom lip.

  When it appeared she might question him further, Alek swooped in and crushed her mouth to his.

  Her chin tipped up, tumbling a mane of long red tresses down her back.

  The wet strands caught in his fingers as he reached for more caresses to her smooth bottom.

  She tried to separate, but he held tight, slanting a kiss that began soft and searching, then soon escalated into hard and hungry.

  The time for talk was over.

  A sigh of pleasure escaped her parted lips.

  He drove his tongue into her warm wet mouth again and again.

  Bloody toes of Bacchus!

  Ella tasted sweeter than dandelion wine, spiced with hints of untold delight. His yearning lodged between his hind legs, where it threatened to swell. The pulse grew until spiraling sensations overtook him. Feelings, he had no business experiencing, given his current physical state.

  Just a little taste… a little touch. What could it hurt?

  Trained to keep his opponents off balance, Aleksander employed military strategy in overcoming Ella’s resistance to his charms. While his tongue plunged in and out of her mouth, his fingers played with the points of her nipple...and his other hand stole south to dip into the hot wetness, he found.

  Ella gasped at the invasion of his hand.

  He quickly caught the sound in his mouth. Her hips bucked outward, but he snaked his arm around her waist, holding her in place.

  Prized warm wetness coated his fingers and she whimpered, her shapely hips undulated against his hand. He matched the rhythm to his thrusting tongue.“Relax, angel.”

  “It’s too much,” she whimpered.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “And it’s not enough.” Her eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth slack with lust.

  Holy horns of Pan. The little Troll was one hot number.

  Shivers raced through her delicious body. Her inner muscles clenched around his fingers that worked magic between her legs.

  Ella was close, so close to her peak.

  Alek never wished for his human body as badly as he wished for it now. He wanted Ella in his bed, on her back, with him planted firmly between her golden thighs.

  Shit, it could never be while he remained in his true form. He slid his wet fingers from her body and dipped to pick her up. Two strides with his four legs, and he tossed her on his floorbed.

  Millions of air beads inside the mattress crackled softly in adjustment to her weight. A conventional bed would never hold his equine body. Even a frame made of iron would buckle as if it were made of aluminum.

  In a smooth move, Alek folded his hocks beneath him and joined her, his wide shoulders nestled between her legs.

  “Oh no! No, no, no,” she squealed, shoving at his head, trying to rise.

  Alek put his palm on Ella’s belly and held her still.

  She squirmed in return.

  “What’s wrong with a little taste?” He waggled his brows at her, then dipped down for a lick.

  “You’re a complete sicko. People don’t do this—do they?

  “They do, Kalos, and more.”Alek used his thumbs to rub her clit, and watched Ella’s eyes rolled back and close. Then he separated her folds, laid the flat of his tongue against her, and lapped. With each pass over her tight bud of nerves, he stoked her fire hotter. Luscious sighs and tangy musk filled his senses, drawing him back with a greed for more.

  He sucked her clit mercilessly—and tongue-fucked her. When her knees drew up and she clutched the sides of his head, he inserted two fingers into her wet warmth.

  Ella’s moan was light at first, a whisper of sound that floated from her parted lips.

  He pumped his fingers faster. Her cries became louder. When his lips fastened to her swollen little nub and he reached to fondle her breast, all kolasi broke loose. Her hips bucked off the bed, and he took the ride with his face squeezed between her lovely thighs. Around his fingers, the muscles of her channel pulsed with her orgasm.

  The explosion rocked her body in a long keening that had Meat Wrench growling to be inside.

  Alek hastily shoved his need away. Mating would not happen while their bodies remained in opposite states, no matter how much he wanted it.

  But this will keep you dreaming of me for next time, Sweet Ella. Then, you won’t be inclined to say no.

  One orgasm ended, another began. Over and over, he worked to gain every drop she offered, and then some.

  “One day I’ll be inside you, Ella.”

  “I need you inside me, Al.”

  “Do me a favor . . . .” He levered his upper body over hers and cupped the side of her face with one hand, all the while the fingers of his other, massaged her damp slit. “Call me Aleksa—”

  Creak.

  The door to the outer passageway squeaked. Ever vigilant, even in his stallroom, he’d nearly missed the sound. He clamped his palm over Ella’s mouth and whispered next to her ear, “Be quiet and don’t move. Someone’s out there.”

  Raising himself to stand on four hooves, Alek had only a moment to note two things: Ella’s confused wide eyes, and how pretty she looked, lying in his bed. He grabbed his gun out of the nightstand and walked soundlessly to the bedroom door.

  His hide flush to the wall, he lifted the revolver and pointed the barrel upward, toward Elysium. Aleksander held his breath, straining to hear past the silence beyond the bedroom door. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Ella lay as still as a fallen Wood Nymph, worry reflected in her eyes.

  She hadn’t moved a single red hair on her beautiful head, or those found between her legs—the latter edging closed in micrometers.

  Good little Troll.

  Alek returned his focus to the possible intruder. These were military quarters; he lived in the officers’ section. While it was hard to slip past the guard on watch, it wasn’t impossible. This, he knew from experience.

  On the count of three, Alek took a quick check down the hall, and then rounded the corner. He held the nine-millimeter Beretta straight out with both hands, arms extended, and scanned the empty living room. As if pushed by a breeze, the front door creaked.

  Whoever had been in his quarters, just left in a hurry.

  He pushed the door wider and glanced down both directions of the empty corridor. One route led to a dead-end. The other, was the way he’d come with Ella, and that
’s the direction he took in a flat-out gallop.

  At the first intersection, he quickly skimmed the unoccupied cross-corridors. Turf divots sprayed out from behind as he raced down the bluegrass strip to the next crossing. To his right, he spotted black booted heels disappear around the far corner.

  Alek poured on his Centaur speed.

  At the end of the hall, his hooves slid to a stop, and he ducked his head for a quick look.

  Zotico, the Centaur assigned to night watch, walked the center isle toward him. Lightweight body armor covered the guard’s equine body, the dapple of his grey hide shimmered from the mineral rock’s glow. Upon seeing Aleksander, Zotico snapped out of his hoof-dragging walk.

  “Sir!”

  “Did anyone just pass you?”

  “No, sir.”

  Alek glanced up and down the corridor, then walked to the balcony railing to search the lower levels. After satisfying himself that whoever had snuck into his stallroom was long gone, he lowered his weapon.

  “Sir?”

  Cool air from an overhead shaft caressed his bare shoulders, and Meat Wrench pulled in tight. Suddenly, he realized how ridiculous he must look, running around naked with a sniper’s demeanor and a pistol as company.

  To give Zotico credit, the Centaur might have a thousand questions that burned his tongue, but he kept them to himself.

  “I had an intruder in my quarters. Keep a sharp lookout for anything out of place. The rebels grow bolder by the day,” warned Alek, disgust lacing his words.

  “Yes, sir. Do you want me to send IT over?”

  An image of the beautiful Troll with flaming hair, who waited for him with parted thighs, took center stage in his mind. No, he didn’t need the horny Investigation Team getting an eyeful of Ella. That pleasure was reserved for him alone.

  “Negative, Corporal. I’ll handle it. Get word to Colonel Petros to meet at my office at…” He glanced at his watch. “…Zero one-hundred.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Return to your patrol.”

  “Yes, sir.” Zotico saluted fist to chest and gave a short bow. He moved past Alek, keeping his eyes forward, lips pressed, and continued his rounds on the wide balcony.