I groaned. An intoxicating mixture of emotions and desires flowed through me.
The old fears of a young woman, heavier and curvier than the other girls led the way. But I was a woman now, somewhat at peace, even proud of what I thought of as my flaws. My long denied desires for a long, lost lover pushed those thoughts out of my head. It had been way too long since I’d allowed myself this kind of release.
Brent’s mouth was hot, his big hands caressing me expertly, causing me to whimper and moan. I ran my fingers through his dark hair and thrust my nipple deeper into his mouth. On the move again, he licked his way over to my other mound and that was when I felt the steely hardness in the front of his pants. Pressed against my inner thigh, it felt impossibly large and hot and throbbing.
God help me, I had to have it.
His lips were moving downward now. He slid his hands up under me, squeezing my hips. And at long last, he soaked crotch of my panties with his mouth. Thrills beyond belief raced through me causing me to arch my back and reach for him. With a low sound of pleasure, he pulled my body against his face. Using his strong tongue, he pushed the wet fabric of my panties between my swollen lips and then sucked it back out again, causing me to writhe against the table.
Finally, he peeled my panties downward. I spread my legs, offering myself to him freely. He stood there for a while, just gazing hungrily at my most intimate places lewdly exposed. I probably should have been embarrassed at my reaction to him. My lips were swollen, my clit erect and throbbing and my clear juices bubbled out of me in a continuous stream. Unable to stop myself, I reached down with my fingers and spread myself even wider, showing him just how ready I was.
“Jesus,” he hissed and then his mouth was on me again, tongue leading the way.
“Brent,” I called out as his tongue slithered deep inside of me.
My pussy pulsed and fluttered around it, my body ached for more and I found I had no control over the situation. My thighs were spread wide apart, heels on the edge of the table. Hands tangled in his hair, I pulled his face tight against me and ground myself against his face, so close to orgasm I could almost taste it.
He withdrew his tongue slowly and centered his attention on my clit, which took me to even greater heights of ecstasy. Two fingers sliding into me brought me a step closer to release. I barely recognized the guttural sounds coming from my mouth that filled the room and mingled with the wet sound of my lover’s fingers sliding in and out of me.
“Oh, God, Brent,” I howled.
He pressed the tip of a single, teasing finger against the tiny puckered hole between my cheeks. Promises of what was more to come? Seeking permission? At that point I didn’t care. I was teetering on the brink of orgasm, had been for what seemed like hours.
One more second and I would lose control. One more thrust of his fingers and I would…
Brent pulled out of my grasp, leaving me gasping, moaning, and humping the air in frustration.
“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, his voice thick, coarse
“I want to come,” I whispered.
“On my tongue?” he asked, unbuckling his belt.
“Yes,” I hissed, struggling to keep my hands off of myself.
“My fingers?” He slowly lowered his zipper.
“Oh, God!” I cried out one hand covering my mound.
“No!” Brent snapped just as the tip of my finger slipped inside of me. “No!”
I jerked my hand away in surprise, quivering from head to toe. If he kept this up, I was going to climax without him even touching me.
Finally, he pushed his clothing off and out of the way and stood between my legs, stroking himself slowly. All I could do was lie there on the table and gaze at him. He was huge! The heavily veined shaft was thick and long and his swollen knob was already glistening with excitement. I moaned and licked my lips when a pearly drop of pre-cum oozed up out of the slit on the end.
“Think you’d like to taste that?” he asked, taking a step closer.
“Yes, oh, yes,” I whimpered.
My hand was already halfway to my pussy again but he caught my wrist and stopped me. “This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me like this.”
I shook my head and swallowed hard. My thoughts raced back in time.
Our first time together came back to me with breathtaking clarity.
***
At eighteen I was still a virgin but Brent had already had plenty of experience by then. I was terrified but so in lust with him that there was no way I was going to stop what seemed inevitable. Besides, when the sexiest bad boy at school takes an interest in the shy fat girl who spends her time drawing and writing poetry…
During the months we’d dated, we had played around in the back seat of his car and once or twice in his bedroom. But on this night my parents were out of town and we were alone in my house.
He took his time bringing me to peaks of excitement I’d never even imagined before. He was rough and gentle, loving and demanding at the same time. And when he took me, I was totally lost.
If it had been lust before, it turned to love that night.
He proposed to me before dawn the next morning and that very day, we picked out a ring.
I was in heaven until I discovered that the bad boy was going to continue to be bad whether he was engaged or not. So I gave him his ring back and within a month I’d settled for sweet, studious Michael who professed to love me and only me till death do us part.
We were married almost immediately and eight months later, the twins were born.
You do the math.
CHAPTER FOUR
“So, tell me, do you remember the first time I made love to you?” Brent asked, his question bringing me back to the present with a jolt.
“Yes,” I hissed. Fresh heat, a fresh flood of juices oozed out of me as I remembered my reaction to that day. “I’ll never forget.”
“I’ve relived it hundreds of times,” he confessed. “Sometimes, when I was married, I’d see your face when I was with her. Toward the end I had to pretend it was you to even get interested.”
“Oh, God, Brent,” I breathed. “I never stopped wanting you.”
“Like now,” he teased, glancing down at my pink parts still exposed to his hot gaze.
“Like now.”
Brent stepped closer and brushed the head of his cock against my swollen lips. I gasped and shuddered, my whole body on fire. My legs spread wider and I reached for him with both hands. Finally, he worked the swollen tip up and down my slit, spreading my juices around, causing me to groan. At last, he thrust forward gently, stretching my tender lips wide.
“Brent, please,” I groaned. Shaking all over, my body clutched hungrily at this welcome intruder.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, that teasing look in his eyes again.
“Fuck me, please,” I all but shouted.
He gave me a few more inches, withdrew slightly and plunged in further. God, it felt like a hot steel pipe searing my insides, stretching me, filling me just enough to make me want more. It took only a few more thrusts before he was buried to the hilt. He ground his body against mine. I took everything he had and begged for more and more.
“You remember the time I took you on your mother’s kitchen table?” Brent asked, each word punctuated by a savage thrust.
“Yes,” I hissed, grinding my pelvis against him, mashing my clit between us. The beginning of my orgasm was already threatening to overtake me and, at that moment, I would have let him take me on the front porch.
“Do I make you feel as good as I did twenty years ago?” he grunted. Beads of sweat glittered on his upper lip. His face was a mask of lust.
“More. Better,” I whimpered, barely able to talk.
He held my legs high and wide and watched his himself slide in and out of me a few times. I didn’t have to look to know that his thick shaft was glistening with my oils and stretching me wide. Finally, he grinned, wet his fingertips and began pinching my cli
t to match his steady thrusting.
“Oh! Oh, my God!” I was so close to orgasm I could almost taste it. Any minute now I was going to come and I prayed he would come right along with me. All I could think about was feeling him jerk and swell inside of me, filling me to overflowing….
Then, suddenly, he withdrew, caught both my hands in his and pulled me to a sitting position. He kissed me, hard, thrusting his tongue deep. And then he maneuvered me onto my knees on the floor.
“Lick it,” he commanded, gently smacking my cheek with his wet cock.
For some reason, that thrilled me as much as having him inside of me. Whimpering, trembling from head to toe, I eagerly swallowed as much of him as I could. I swirled my tongue around him, loving the taste of my own excitement, loving the way he throbbed against the roof of my mouth.
“Look at me,” he growled.
When I didn’t respond immediately, he caught my hair in one hand and pulled it roughly, forcing my head backward. He worked himself in and out of my mouth with abandon, his face a mask of concentration.
Brent had been the only lover I’d known until Michael. And Michael had been a slow, tender lover, never this demanding.
Never this exciting. God, how I’d missed him.
Juices oozed onto my thighs and then onto the floor. Brent was overwhelming, everywhere at once, and I was willing to be overwhelmed.
Brent pulled out of my mouth with a wet slurp and yanked me to my feet. Before I could respond, he turned me around and bent me forward over the table. Now my sweaty, tingling breasts were smashed against that cool wood and Brent moved into place behind me.
“Do you know why I love taking you from behind?” he asked.
I didn’t know. Didn’t care. As long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.
“So I can keep an eye on that beautiful ass of yours,” he said in answer to his own question.
I responded to this rough treatment by pushing back, reaching for him, hungry to be full of him again.
He entered me with one smooth, long thrust that sent him to the hilt. “God, I never get tired of looking at that ass.”
And then he slapped my upturned bottom hard enough to make me yelp in surprise. He smacked it again and again until the skin there was burning. At last, he settled into a steady thrusting rhythm that sent my senses reeling. My body pulsed around him, sucking on him hungrily and I shuddered through a mini-orgasm.
“Been a while since you’ve had a spanking,” he muttered, his mouth right at my ear. “I can tell.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“And you always liked being taken from behind, didn’t you?” He didn’t need an answer nor could I give one.
I was totally lost.
“Rough, down and dirty fucking.” Again he was thrusting steadily, going deeper and deeper with each word.
I was going to explode any minute. My body was already beginning to move out of control.
Brent seemed to be tired of talking. He simply held onto my hips with both hands and slammed the full length of his cock deep inside of me over and over. Then he reached underneath me, caught my clit in one hand and began pinching it to match his fucking rhythm.
That was all it took.
One of the most intense orgasms of my life overtook me, taking my breath away. And as my pussy pulsed and fluttered around him, Brent drove himself to the hilt one last time, groaned in release and exploded deep inside of me. That sent me flying apart again. I ground my body against his, eager to milk every ounce of pleasure from this moment and he stayed right with me, seemingly happy to do the same.
Afterward, he turned me around, pulled me into his arms and kissed me tenderly.
“Sorry, I may have gotten a little out of control,” he said, his voice soft. “Was I too rough?”
“No,” I answered truthfully and thought of all the times I’d longed for Michael to take me like that. “No, you were exactly what I needed.”
The radio on his belt crackled to life and I realized it was the first time I’d heard it.
“I have to get back to work,” he said with a sheepish grin and kissed me again, so tender, so loving.
“Me, too,” I said.
“Can I come back tonight?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair. “I’ll bring dinner.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, feeling as if I’d just stepped off a cliff.
This might be a mistake but I was either going to land hard or learn how to fly. Greeting card thinking again?
CHAPTER FIVE
The next few days are hard to describe. Brent and I gave in to every fantasy, every desire we’d denied ourselves over the years. I loved the way he took me, rough and demanding, the way he took what he wanted and left me gasping for breath and almost begging for more.
When he wasn’t at work, he was with me and I could hardly wait to see him again. We made love in every room in the house. In the shower, in my bed and, yes, even on the front porch. We walked, hand in hand on the beach and made love in the moonlight. It was paradise. I was unable to work, unable to think, unable to do anything except submit to what seemed to be bigger than the both of us. I lost track of time, forgot to eat and barely even wore clothes inside the house.
And we talked.
He’d been married briefly and divorced, no children. He confessed that once or twice he’d actually called my home just to hear my voice. He had hung up when I answered. And once when he was in town visiting his mother, he drove by my home hoping to see me outside. When he saw my daughters playing in the yard, he had realized he had no right to interrupt our lives.
“You saw my daughters,” I quizzed, trying not to let him know how nervous I was about that little piece of information.
“Yeah, they looked just like you,” he said with a sad little smile. “That was the day I realized what I had lost. I never dreamed we’d find each other again.”
I didn’t dare look at him. How was I going to be able to keep the secret I’d harbored from everyone all these years?
“That was also the day I realized I’d never love anyone the way I love you,” he continued, oblivious to the turmoil that was churning inside of me. “No one has ever thrilled me the way you do.”
“My life wasn’t so perfect,” I said, finally looking up at him. “Michael and I were discussing divorce. We’d grown apart. The only thing holding us together were the girls and were both getting ready to go to college. Thankfully, they never knew how bad things were between us.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding me close. “I always hoped you were happy.”
***
It was the phone call from my daughters that brought me back to reality like a slap in the face. I had to get myself together. I wanted to prepare their rooms for their visit to try to make them feel like this was their home, too.
And now I had yet another secret to keep. Knowing the way they felt about their father, there was no way I could tell them about my relationship with Brent. And there was absolutely no way I was going to let him meet my daughters.
The morning before their arrival, after a particularly long and languid love making session, I followed Brent into the bathroom to talk to him while he showered.
“Um, there’s something we have to talk about,” I said, glad that a shower curtain separated us so he could not see how nervous I was.
He poked his head around the shower curtain, squinting against the soap running down his face. “You’re pregnant?”
“Shut up!” I said, laughing. And then I grew serious. “This is about children, though.”
“Okay,” he said ducking back into the spray of water.
“My daughters are coming to visit,” I blurted out, not knowing another way to say it.
“Great! I can’t wait to finally meet them.”
“No,” I said as gently as I could. “You’re not going to meet them.”
His perfect male silhouette behind the curtain grew still and then began moving again. “Why
?”
“Because…” I took a deep breath. How to explain? “They are—were—very much daddy’s girls. When the three of them were together, I might as well not have existed. They really had a hard time with his death. I think they may have even blamed me for it.”
I took a deep breath and put that heartache aside. “Anyway, I stayed where I was as long as it took to get them back on their feet. They’re both in college now. And then I did what I had to do which was move on. They’re not happy about that, especially my move out here to the beach. That’s really the reason for the visit; so they can see how much I love it here.”
“And?” Brent pushed the curtain aside and reached for a towel. It was hard to keep my eyes off of his gleaming wet skin.
“And I know they wouldn’t be happy to know about you.”
“Do I make you happy?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I answered, meeting his steady gaze. “Very much so.”
“Then they should know about me.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Explain.” He pushed the curtain aside, reached for a towel and began drying off.
“If they thought another man had taken their father’s place, I would never hear the end of it. Or I would never see them again.” I had to make him understand the dynamics of the situation.
And I had to keep him away from my daughters.
“I’m not taking his place,” he cut in.
“In their eyes you will be.
“For God’s sake, Billie. He’s been gone almost a year. Do they expect you to live alone for the rest of your life.”
“I don’t know what they expect of the future. I just know what they expect now.” God, I could see that I had hurt him but I couldn’t stop the words. “And right now, they expect me to still be mourning their father just like they are.”
“When are they going to be here?” he questioned.
Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set Page 23