by Amanda Gray
After some timе hаd gоnе bу, hе had nо idеа hоw muсh, ѕhе rоllеd over оntо thе bеd аnd tоld him ѕhе wаntеd him behind hеr. Hе wаѕtеd nо timе jumрing uр аnd kneeling аt the foot оf thе bed аѕ she роѕitiоnеd hеrѕеlf. With a grоwl аnd a tоuсh of rage hе forcefully thruѕt inѕidе оf her аgаin. Hе grаbbеd еасh оf her hips and bеgаn tо роund himѕеlf inside оf her, grinding himѕеlf intо hеr wet soaking pussy. He knеw that the hеаd of his сосk would rub аt the bасkѕidе of her сlit in this роѕitiоn; it was thе rеаѕоn it was оnе of hеr fаvоritеѕ. Hе аbѕоlutеlу loved the fееl оf hеr рuѕѕу, grаbbing hiѕ сосk and milking it as ѕhе еxреriеnсеd wаvе аftеr wave оf оrgаѕm. After a fеw mоrе thrusts, he groaned,
“I’m there, I’m cumming, I;m cumming I’m about to fucking explode inside you.”
Suddеnlу, withоut warning, she рuѕhеd hеrѕеlf оff оf hiѕ turgid сосk. With аn еvil аnd tоtаllу luѕtful lооk in her еуе she lооkеd bасk, аnd tоld him tо fuсk hеr in the аѕѕ.
In tоtаl shock and still nоt believing her hе аѕkеd if ѕhе wаѕ ѕurе. Shе lооkеd аt him аnd commanded thаt he fuсk her in her аѕѕ hard.
With thаt ѕаid hе positioned himѕеlf аt her рuсkеrеd hole, his cock stiff and smeared with her juices аnd with a ѕmооth motion hе ѕlid inѕidе her tight rear. With a ѕоund that wаѕ half yell and half mоаn, she told him tо take it еаѕу and givе hеr time tо аdjuѕt. Aftеr a fеw mоmеntѕ ѕhе bеgаn tо rock hеrѕеlf bасk аnd fоrth оn hiѕ cock. Hе ѕtrugglеd with all his might nоt tо ѕсrеаm like a jibbеring idiot аѕ hе felt hiѕ оwn оrgаѕm bеginning tо build inѕidе of him. No words can describe whаt hе felt аt that mоmеnt. No beauty in thе wоrld соuld tеаr him аwау from thiѕ mоmеnt in time. Aѕ hе fеlt himѕеlf раѕѕ the роint оf no return, hе grаbbеd a hоld оf her hiрѕ, and with аn аngrу уеll bеgаn tо thruѕt fоrсеfullу into her. Hе felt his own lоinѕ smacking against hеr butt сhееkѕ, аnd соuld аlmоѕt hеаr her screams оf рlеаѕurе аѕ she shook with hеr own оrgаѕm. With a уеll thаt hе was going tо cum dеер inѕidе of ass, he finаllу ѕurrеndеrеd himѕеlf, аnd fеlt his ѕееd spill into hеr соrе. A blinding whitе light seared hiѕ brаin, аnd for a timе hе knеw nоthing but thе ѕhееr bliѕѕ of lоvе with hеr.
After a few mоmеntѕ, thеу lау ѕidе by ѕidе оn thе bed, bоth spent frоm their еxеrсiѕеѕ, bоth wаiting fоr their energy tо return for аnоthеr gо rоund. She lay with hеr hеаd on hiѕ ѕhоuldеr, her аrm dropреd casually оvеr his chest. His arm lау under hеr, сrаdling hеr tо hiѕ ѕidе. After a time, when thеir breathing had returned tо a ѕtаtе of nоrmаl, hе whispered into her еаr, fееling the tiсklе of hеr hair on hiѕ fасе.
"I lоvе you", hе ѕаid.
THE PRICK - DICK CHALMERS
(Bad Boy Older Man BBW Contemporary Romance Novel)
LUCY BLAKE
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EXCERPT - THE PRICK - DICK CHALMERS
“You’re not the least bit ashamed of yourself, are you?” Frank asked.
Dick sat across his desk from the accountant, glancing at him sideways. “For what?” He filed away product catalogs and ledger books in an attempt to clear his desktop.
“You’d take candy from the mouth of babes?”
“It’s USGA rules and ratings, Frank. She’ll have a handicap, plus extra strokes since we play from the same tee.”
“You’re outfitting her to gain advertising for your business, and now you go up against her for the prize money, too? I knew you were a player, Dick, but not a “dick” player. Don’t do this; find another way to get the scratch.”
“Frank,” Dick said, leveling his gaze at him. “Think about this. Do you suppose Forrester would take it easy on her? Maybe duff a few shots to make her look good?”
Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you plan to let her win? Make a good show of it? How does that help you?”
“Marketing is everything, Frank. You know that. Just sit back and watch the fun, okay?” He left his accountant sitting there and walked out. Candy from babes, he repeated to himself. Sitting next to Kat during the interview rankled his nerves more than he let on. He’d been in the media spotlight enough to be able to hide any emotions he might feel. He didn’t particularly like or pay attention to women golfers. But he couldn’t deny they were making headway into the golf world, with the full support of golf schools and equipment manufacturers around the world. Likewise he couldn’t deny that Katelyn, seen close-up, showing off those voluptuous thighs and with waves of blond hair caressing her shoulders, she wasn’t a knockout. A twenty-one-year old knockout, he reminded himself. She was literally a baby. As for candy…would it be sweet or sour after he stole the prize from her?. . . Download this story and continue reading now . . . FREE for Kindle Unlimited Users and Prime Members
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2016 Hardcore Erotica Stories
Published by Hardcore Erotica Stories
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 ebook 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 Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
First HARDCORE EROTICA STORIES Printing March 2016
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure inventions of fiction.
Table of Content
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
Chapter One
Dick.
His name was Dick, and Katelyn Halliday could certainly see why. He swaggered around the store in his own wildly-overpriced golf apparel, swinging his gifted ass along with his designer clubs in the direction of anyone and everyone in proximity.
No over-the-hill, has-been’s backside should look that good, she decided. It only gave them hopeless ideas of recapturing past glories and even more hopeless dreams of new conquests. Hadn’t she read somewhere that wife #2 was now history and suiting up for divorce court? Dick “wet-wick” Chalmers, former golf legend and all-around jackass. It would take more than good looks, new clothes and old trophies to catch spouse #3, Katelyn scoffed.
“Kat,” Percy said. “Have a look at these new soft-sole cleats while I get Chalmers over here to fit you up with clubs and clothes. I’m sure he’ll want to show off his best gear for the tournament.”
Kat turned to face her trainer, Percy Gould, as they stood between the shoe racks inside Dick Chalmers 24/7 Superstar Sports. “Okay, Perc,” she sighed. “I’m in your hands.”
Percy nodded his blond, balding head and moved toward where Chalmers stood schmoozing with other customers on the far side of the store. “Better mine than his,” he said, thumbing in Chalmer’s direction. “I’m responsible for your success, Golden Girl.”
As he weaved his way across the high-ceilinged megastore, Katelyn brushed her blond bangs off her forehead with one hand as she browsed the selection of brand-name footwear. The only thing golden about her right now was her hair. Percy might be responsible for her golf swing, but some no-good accountant was responsible for her lost scholarship money. Her natural ability and success in the junior ranks had earned her a spot at Keiser University’s College of Golf in West Palm Beach, Florida—home of the #1 ran
ked women’s team in the country; but because of a mismanaged trust fund, Katelyn had landed on the University steps to discover she was flat broke with no way to pay next year’s tuition.
This media-sponsored tournament was a stroke of luck, and her only hope. She’d beat out a dozen other girls to snag this spot, pitting her against the top-ranked men’s college player, Brad Forrester, in a kind of Billie-Jean vs Bobby Riggs kind of event. The $100,000 prize money would go a long, long way in supporting her education as well as her career.
Golf was her life, and wasn’t about to let finances stop her, nor let down her Dad, who’d loved the game more than anything and took Kat to the links every Sunday, rain or shine, since the day she was big enough to swing a club. She’d grown up tall, reaching 5’-10” by the time she was sixteen. When her curves began to fill in, so did the numbers on the scale. Muscle weighed more than fat, she knew; so the numbers never bothered her. Athletes didn’t count calories, they made their calories count.
“Katelyn,” she heard Percy call. Her long braid swished across her back as she turned to look in his direction. Holy hell. Wet-wick Chalmers sauntered alongside her trainer looking nothing like any of his photos she’d ever seen. They hardly did him justice. Tall and broad-shouldered, his personal label shirt and khakis draped magnificently over a muscled chest and the already-noted tight ass as he walked toward her.
His smartly-groomed reddish-brown hair—a lot of it for a guy his age, she realized—framed his chiseled cheekbones and strong chin. As he came closer, she could see a touch of gray at the temples. His tanned skin didn’t quite mask his ginger-freckled complexion.
“Katelyn ‘Kat’ Halliday,” Percy continued, “meet Dick Chalmers.”
“Mr. Chalmers,” Kat said, expecting a handshake.
None was offered. Instead, the man looked her up and down then broke into a grin. Deep dimple lines creased his cheek as he did so, giving him a distinct Sam Elliot resemblance, minus the moustache. “Well hello Kit-Kat,” he said, placing one hand on his hip as he continued to assess her appearance. “Maybe one too many KitKat candy bars in the diet, huh? How much do you weigh, sweetheart?”
Kat kept her jaw closed in spite of it wanting to drop to the floor. He did not just ask me that. No way.
Percy spoke up. “Ah, don’t you worry, Dick. Every pound is pure power.”
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Dick replied with a wave of his hand. “Just need to know what sizes to bring out for the gear. I’m thinking a 14 for the skorts. Maybe 10 for the tops. Sound about right, Kit-Kat?” He winked at her.
What incredible gall! Even more incredible was the color of his eyes that she found herself staring at in silent indignation. They sparkled green, like a brilliant crystal aggie from a kid’s prized marble collection. She blinked to break the uncomfortable spell.
“Hmmm. Kat’s got no tongue?” he commented, smirking at what he probably thought was a clever turn of phrase.
Katelyn tilted her head as she stared him down. “Not for you. Dick.” Accentuating his name gave her some satisfaction. Rhymes with prick. “How old are you?” she asked, seeing as he was in the mood for blunt questions.
Percy shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, appearing desperate to break the tension and change the subject. “Uh, let’s have a look at those new Callaway clubs, shall we?”
Dick smiled at her, unfazed. “I’m forty-nine in October. And I’ve heard every Dick joke there is, Kit-Kat. Whatever you’re thinking won’t be new to me, so don’t waste your time.” He gestured to the ladies wear section. “Congratulations on being selected for this tournament, by the way. 100 large is a lot of money. Don’t envy your chances against Forrester, though. Got some new clothing lines that will look great on camera. Got to impress the golf fashionista as well as the media. TV crews will be following you everywhere. This way, please.”
Percy flashed her a look that said, “just go with it,” and motioned her to follow Chalmers. Katelyn rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She fell in line behind Chalmers, purposely avoiding the view of his wiggling butt as he strode ahead into the apparel department. What was the point of a sports store open 24 hours a day anyway, she wondered.
After leading her to the racks of new merchandise, the men thankfully left her alone for a few minutes to try on outfits. Katelyn grabbed a selection of bottoms, tops and jackets and stepped into the change rooms, which were so tiny they didn’t even have mirrors inside. With each outfit, she had to step outside of the room to use the mirrors placed among the clothing displays. As she modeled a pair of his Chalmers-label shorts with a pastel plaid pattern and a sleeveless shirt, her lips formed a frown. She wasn’t big-busted, so there were no issues with any of the shirts, but the view of her rear-end in the mirror was disappointing. Her hands slid down over the material that stretched tightly across her round buttocks. So what if her hips were a bit wide? Or her thighs a little more meaty than supermodels in magazines? She could beat anybody on the course, even Brad Forrester. She was willing to bet no-one commented on his thighs, or any other body parts.
“I’d stick with skorts, if I were you.”
Kat dropped her hands to her sides and whirled to face the man who’d spoken. Dick the Prick was back again, ogling her reflection and providing his unsolicited opinions. “If you were me, I think you’d tell me to mind my own damn business,” she replied evenly, despite her rising anger.
“You’re right,” he said, leaning a set of clubs against the wall of change rooms. “I would. But since this is my business, I am minding it.” He folded his arms and looked at straight at her, seemingly unbothered by her harsh retort. “Which is why you’re here, sweetheart. There’ll be thousands of viewers watching this tournament, and what better way to display my wares than having them draped over your, shall we say noticeable, ass? And that ass looks better in a skort. Trust me, this isn’t about flattery or charity. It’s about advertising.”
Kat threw a panicked glance around for Percy. She spotted him approaching with his arms full of shoeboxes. Thank goodness she wasn’t alone, otherwise she’d probably have given Dick the Prick a whack between his gorgeous green eyes with a pitching wedge. But she had a better idea. “I see.” She undid the zipper on her shorts and slipped them off her hips and onto the floor, uncaring that she had nothing but her panties on underneath. “How about I take my ‘noticeable’ ass right out the door?” She snatched up the plaid shorts and tossed them at Chalmers. “You can keep your ‘wares.’ I wouldn’t be caught dead in them.”
Percy dropped his shoeboxes to the floor. Sorry Perc, she said silently.
Dick caught the shorts out of the air. “Have it your way, Kit-Kat. But I think you’re missing the point. That ass and those thunder thighs are where you get your power from, and like it or not, are going to be your signature. So own it. Ever seen a skinny woman shoot more than 250 yards? Not a chance. You can drive that ball a mile, I’ve seen it. So be thankful for your “ass-ets” and the opportunities life gives you. Including this one.” He tossed the garment back at her and walked away.
Katelyn scowled after him, then stalked into the tiny change room and closed the door.
“Kat,” Percy said, his strained but measured voice filtering through the wooden door. “Get dressed and go back to campus. I’ll handle Chalmers.”
“I-I’m sorry, Percy. He’s just such a jerk.”
“That jerk is going out on a limb for you,” Percy answered. “You don’t have to like him, just wear his stuff and go win that tournament. Golf is more than a sport, it’s a business. You’ll have to get used to that if you expect to make a career of it.”
Katelyn knew Percy was right. But it didn’t make the situation any better, her legs any smaller, nor clear the vision of Chalmer’s beautiful green stare and hard, mature physique from her mind. What was wrong with her? The man was almost the same age as her dad, and a first-rate asshole to boot. So what made him attractive? The fact he was a celebrity? Kat shook her head.
<
br /> “I don’t dislike him,” she called out from her small enclosure. “I think I hate him.”
*
Dick marched into his office and slammed the door. “Ungrateful little….” His voice broke off as he spotted someone sitting in his desk chair. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Frank Jordan swiveled back and forth in the chair, hands folded across his midsection. “What else? Going over your books—again. What a shocker, there’s no change. Still in the red, my friend. By a lot.”
“Is that so? Tell me something I don’t know, Frank. Get the hell out of my chair.”
Frank raised his hands in a placating gesture and stood up. “It’s all yours,” he said, moving aside. “I woudn’t want to be in it anyway, given your financial situation.”
“Are you here to help me, or just fuck with me?”
“Hey, I’m your accountant, not your ex-wife,” Frank chuckled. “All I can tell you is that her settlement will cost you a pile. On top of that, if you don’t get up to date with your mortgage payments and back taxes you’ll lose the store. End of story.”
“I’m working on it, Frank. When I’ve got the money, you’ll be the first to know. So stop lurking around like the grim fucking reaper, will you?”