Curve Contract (Big Girls Next Door Erotica)

by Christa Wick

  He was going to enter me, now, no condom, just skin on skin.

  “Blake--”

  He buried my protest beneath a ruthless kiss and then he was in me, his cock thick and stretching at my walls. He pulled back, the broadly flared head hooking him inside me. In again, deeper, my pussy knotting around him, the pleasure so exquisite it became an ache.

  “God, you feel so perfect, baby.” Another thrust, all the way in to hit against my cervix. “I love sinking into you. So soft and receptive.”

  He pulled out, breaching me, his cock sliding over my clit and back down -- into me, slowly sinking balls deep. He kissed my throat, licking and sucking as his hips took up a slow grinding rotation.

  Rocking back on his knees, Blake pulled be with him. He wrapped my legs around his hips, his gaze grazing over the folds of my labia and down to where he speared me. Taking half strokes, he kept the head of his erection pressed hard against that spongy bulb of ecstasy inside me.

  He ran his tongue over the pad of his thumb and then lowered his hand down to my pussy. He swirled around my clit, tracing its perimeter before settling atop it in a slow, penetrating massage. His thumb dipped down, gathered more of my slick cream to swipe it along the length of my clit. He tugged, pulling the dangle of flesh taut.

  The whole time, his cock concentrated on that small swelling inside me.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” His gaze hooded, his eyes roamed my body, returning at last to my clutching, rolling center. “All swollen and pink and glistening, baby. I don’t want to ever leave this room.”

  When he looked at me like, talked to me, his voice rough and breaking, I believed him. For the moment, for each pleasured second that he was in me, consuming my heat and stoking the flames higher, I believe two things: that Blake truly loved and desired me.

  He rocked forward, sinking deep into me and claiming my mouth. His thrusts lost their even measure, matching instead the wild pace of my heart as I lifted to meet him.

  “Yes, love, come with me.” He buried his face against my throat. His hands gripped my hips, yanking me hard onto his cock before pushing me away. Another tug, deep center as my sheath molded around him, squeezing and rippling along his length. “Yes, baby.”

  We tensed in unison, both of us desperately sucking in one last breath before we exploded against one another.

  *****

  Bliss surrendered at last to sleep, sleep to remorse. I woke terrified with the knowledge that it would be only a matter of months, if not weeks, before I lost every last bit of what we had shared the night before.

  Opening my eyes, I found Blake watching me. I closed them again, my face tensing.

  He brushed his thumb across my lips before stroking my cheek. “Baby, don’t turn away.”

  The phrase repeated -- in the limo, on the plane, again in the penthouse that I would call home so long as the trial loomed over Blake’s empire. Desperate to protect myself against that inevitable pain, I barely spoke to him when we were alone. I turned away each time he approached me.

  Two days after the wedding, I was back at work, staying late into the night -- taking a cab back to the penthouse because I didn’t want to drag Carson around after ten.

  On Thursday afternoon, Blake called me at my office. “When will you be home?”

  As late as I can push it was the answer that rose in my mind. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Late. There’s a lot of paperwork for the IRS.”

  “I’m paying lawyers to take care of all that paperwork for you, PJ.” He paused, his irritation evident from the sound of his fingers strumming along his desk. “We have something to discuss. Be home by eight.”

  He hung up, making it clear that that he was issuing a directive -- not a request.

  At nine-thirty, I entered the penthouse to the low rumble of two male voices. Barely prepared to face just Blake, the sound of the second voice had me trying to sneak down the hall. Blake must have heard me enter or had been waiting to catch me as I came in. He was standing in the doorway to his home office. Behind him, sitting in a chair and holding a stack of papers, was the attorney that had drafted our pre-nup. At least I had evidence of what he wanted to discuss. He was done with me -- the charade was over. I took a step toward his office, prepared to take my medicine.

  Blake waved me away. “I have a few things to finish up with Michael.”

  Confused, I nodded and went into the bedroom. For half an hour I sat on the bed, my hands twisting together. Hearing the attorney finally leave, I sat up a little straighter and forced my hands to relax. Seeing that they were red and chafed from the nervous workout I’d been giving them, I slid them under me.

  Another fifteen minutes passed with no sign of Blake and I wondered at the delay. I could have gone into his office, but I didn’t feel any more up to a scene than he apparently did. I waited another half hour before I finally gave up. I went into the bathroom, washed my make-up off and changed into my nightgown.

  Crawling into bed, I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.

  My resolve lasted all of ten minutes, my tears only ending when I heard the soft sounds of Blake turning off the lights and checking the alarm system. Feigning sleep, I forced my body to relax, to hold back my pathetic sniffles and to breathe evenly.

  He entered the room quietly, shucking all but his silk boxers before crawling into bed. The faint odor of whiskey preceded him and I tensed. It wasn’t like Blake to drink, particularly something as hard as whiskey. A single glass of wine or champagne was all I’d ever seen him take. There were no rumors to the contrary. And, while I would have welcomed a shot or ten, I had something to drink over.

  Blake was merely ending a nuisance business contract.

  Stop it, PJ -- you will not start crying again!

  Blake’s fingers brushed my shoulder. Concentrating on keeping my breathing even, I didn’t acknowledge his touch.

  He whispered, his words muffled as if his face were against the pillow. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  My stomach clenched but I otherwise remained motionless. If it took whiskey to say whatever he had to tell me, I didn’t want to hear it. He could tell me in the morning when he was sober or -- better yet -- through his attorney.

  Yes, I decided, there was no reason to have this conversation in person. I would have enough hard talks ahead of me once Blake pulled the loan. I didn’t need the pain of this one inflicted in the flesh -- in fact, I desperately needed to minimize it. What good would it do to hear him tell me that it was all an act, that I should have known it was all an act, and that it was time for him to put the act aside and seek out the woman he loved.

  A woman that looked like she belonged at the side of Blake Cross.

  I waited, still and calm, for him to fall asleep. It took another ten minutes before the rhythm of his breathing changed and his hand slipped from my shoulder. Another hour passed before I felt brave enough to leave his bed.

  I walked over to the dresser my purse was on. Easing Eliza’s ring off my finger, I placed it on the dresser and picked up my bag as gently as I could, my heart pounding the entire time. I grabbed my shoes and tiptoed down the hall and into the utility room where Abigail kept the dry cleaning between pick-ups. I stripped off my nightgown and put on my clothes from Wednesday.

  Still holding my shoes, I tiptoed to the entry way. Placing my hand over the security system’s speaker, I punched in the code.

  The alarm went off.

  I punched it in again, frantic to release the lock. Blake was sure to wake up – all the whiskey in the world wouldn’t let him sleep through the blaring noise.

  The alarm didn’t stop. I entered the code again, certain I had gotten it correct the first two times. It shouldn’t have gone off!

  Blake’s hand brushed my shoulder as he reached across me to disable the alarm. As soon as the sound stopped, a calm female voice came over the speaker.

  “Identity and confirmation code, please.”

  Blake said his n
ame and recited a long string of numbers, cutting the caller off with a curt good-bye.

  “I reset the code before coming to bed, Pippa.” He flipped the light on and then turned me until I was facing him. “I had a feeling you might try to leave before we could talk.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss, Blake.” I kept my gaze centered on his chest. If I lifted my eyes to look at him, I’d start crying. “Just give me whatever papers Michael brought you and I’ll sign them.”

  Placing a fingertip beneath my chin, he forced me to look up. “The papers were for Anna’s law suit. I settled with her this evening.”

  “Settled?” Of course, he’d settled. Now there was zero reason for him to continue the marriage. He could get on with his real life.

  “Yes, PJ. I settled a case -- a case I could have won -- for a hell of a lot more money than I needed to. And I did it because of you.”

  I blinked, shocked by his bluntness. He could have told me without emphasizing just how badly he wanted to get rid of me. I folded my arms across my chest, silently cursing myself for loving a jerk who wanted nothing to do with me.

  Screw him! I could be just as big a jerk and maybe, just maybe, if I let myself be angry, I wouldn’t feel so hurt. Lifting my chin a little, I narrowed my gaze. “Understandable, Cross. You want out, so do I--”

  Blake grabbed my left hand and lifted it, a spark of fury heating his cheeks. “Where’s your ring?”

  “I left Eliza’s ring--”

  “Your ring, Pippa.” He shook his head, not nearly hard enough to loosen the scowl stamped on his face. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he started pulling me away from the entry room. “It’s your ring and it’s going back on right now.”

  Grabbing onto the door frame, I tried to halt our progress. There was only one direction I wanted to go in and that was through the entry door and down the elevator. “You said it would stay in your family.”

  “I did.” He peeled my fingers off the molding and then quickly bent down, his arm sweeping against my knees to lift me. “And it is.”

  “Blake, what are you doing?” My voice shook, all my strength fleeing beneath his fierce gaze.

  “We are going to have our talk now -- whether or not you want to.” Blake carried me down the hallway and into the bedroom, unceremoniously dumping me on the soft mattress before he turned on the bedroom light and retrieved the ring. “Put this back on.”

  I shook my head. What the hell was he thinking?

  Blake closed his eyes and I swear I could see him counting to ten inside his head. His jaw slowly relaxed and he looked at me again. “Do you want to know why I settled?”

  Oh, I knew why. Looking away, I answered him. “You want out, you want the marriage over so you can pursue…”

  I stopped before I could say anything that made me sound like the jealous fool I was.

  “You, Pippa. I settled the law suit so I could pursue you.” He sat down next to me, his face hardening again when I tried to move away. Placing a hand on my thigh and the other on my hip, he pulled me to him. “That afternoon in your office, I came to help you out, to offer you an advance that would take care of everything and leave you free to focus on controlling the damage from Burke’s suit.”

  My head whipped up. I didn’t know why, but he was lying. There was no way he wasn’t. “You had the terms worked out already, the dress--”

  He shook his head. “I stepped into your outer office to find Kevin with his arm around your shoulder and I lost it, baby. The terms were spur of the moment on a loan I already intended to give you.”

  “But the dress -- you didn’t have time to shop, you’d already picked it out.” Feeling lightheaded, I clutched at the blankets, my body swaying closer to his.

  “Yes, I’d already visited the boutique.” Blake wrapped his arm around me and then buried his face against my neck. “I’m buying it -- also because of you.”

  “Because of me?” Now I was totally confused, his nonsense answers only increasing my suspicions.

  “Seems you and the boutique have the same accountant. They’re on the chopping block and were shopping around for a buyer.” Brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek, he kissed the side of my face. “I went into the meeting only slightly interested, particularly with Burke suing my ass. But then I saw the clothes and imagined you in them instead of all those…” pausing, he pulled his head back and wrinkled his nose at me and my old wardrobe, “suits you hide your curves under.”

  Dropping his hand to my thigh, he gave a light squeeze, his eyes flashing silver at me. “So I walked around the store, listening to what Gorman had done, how much cash they needed. Barely listening -- mostly I was thinking how hot that dress you wore to Robuchon’s would look on you or the skirt and blouse and the peignoir I never gave you a chance to wear on our wedding night. Once I touched the peignoir, traced its edges, all I could think about was getting you in it just so I could take it off.”

  Eliza’s ring dangled from his pinkie. Lifting my hand, he offered me the ring once more. “So, yeah, baby, I want to drop the charade, just not the one you think you’re in.”

  “I don’t understand, you admitted you were in love…”

  He kissed me again, a little closer to my mouth, and then gently butted his forehead against mine. “With you -- you obnoxious, clueless…” He claimed another kiss, ending it with a soft moan, “beautiful intoxicating dolt.”

  I nodded. He was right. Well, not the beautiful bit, but--

  “Yes, beautiful.” No longer waiting for me to accept the ring, he slid it back onto my finger.

  “Am I really that transparent?” I was crying, but softly laughing, too.

  “To me, you are.” He kissed me again, full on the mouth as his fingers curled around my head. His lips were tentative, as if this was our first kiss and he wasn’t Blake Cross, the world’s sexiest millionaire, but some nervous high school freshman. “Stay with me, love. I need you more than anything.”

  I swallowed nervously, still not sure I was understanding him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  He shook his head and I couldn’t decide if his smile was happy or mournful.

  “Baby, we’re already married. I’m asking -- no, that’s not right.” He slid onto the floor, his hand still holding mine. “I’m begging you not to divorce me.”

  My chest felt like it was going to explode. I still couldn’t wrap my head around Blake actually wanting me. “But the spies? You said people would be spying on us.”

  To my amazement, he blushed. “Baby, I’d just left the boutique, my balls were about to fall off and Kevin was touching you when I walked in. It was all I could do not to rip his arm off. I lied.”

  He looked away for a second, his cheeks burning redder.

  “But the elevators?”

  “I had the camera removed – I wouldn’t expose you like that, love.”

  My head bobbed as understanding slowly sank in. Each stroke and kiss had been because he wanted to touch me -- wanted it so badly that he had been willing to trick me. I looked at him. He was still on one knee, holding my hand with his fingers wrapped around the ring as if I might yet change my mind and remove it.

  I smoothed a fingertip across his worried brow, watching as it slowly relaxed. “I should be furious with you.”

  Stretching up, he brushed his lips over mine. His hands moved to my legs, lightly surfing over them to wrap around my hips. “Does that mean you’re not?”

  “No,” I whispered. “But don’t ever lie to me like that again.”

  “Never,” he agreed. “Stay with me.”

  “Yes.” I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slowly pushed me onto my back.

  His mouth found mine, the pressure of his lips and thrust of his tongue rapidly alternating between hard and soft as his hands worked the buttons on my blouse. Reaching down, I ran my palm along the front of his boxers to find him rock hard and ready.

  The last of my buttons popped, shooting across the room to s
kip across the floor like stones on a lake. His hands dropped to my slacks, fumbling as he continued to kiss me. I eased his fingers to the side and unzipped. Lifting my hips, I pushed the pants and underwear far enough down that he could strip them the rest of the way.

  Blake wrapped his arms around me, rolled onto his back and brought us to the center of the bed with me on top. His eyes lids fluttered as I spread my legs and eased part of my weight off him.

  His hands traveling along my hips, Blake groaned. “Baby, I want you to ride me.”

  I reached between us and teasingly snapped the waist band of his silk boxers. He lifted his hips and quickly shimmied out of the underwear.

  “No more impediments.” Smiling, he slid his hand down to stroke at my bare pussy. “If you’re wet enough.”

  His touch proved me drenched. The thick thrust of his fingers inside me and my accompanying moan proved me ready. Leaning back, I grabbed hold of the base of his cock, my eyes closing dreamily at its massive girth.

  “Very wet.” Holding his shaft straight, I slowly sank onto him, small whimpers of need escaping me with each inch my pussy swallowed.

  Propped on one elbow, Blake watched me descend as his hand toyed with my breast. “So beautiful, PJ.”

  “So big,” I groaned. Not me -- him. His cock was stretching me, pushing at my walls to intensify the strength of the contractions already rolling through my sheath.

  He lifted his torso high enough to kiss my breast and slowly suck one nipple in. Between his sucking and licking and kissing, he started to babble.

  “God, I love these, baby.” He licked from one nipple to the other.

  “And this.” He ran a hand over my hip, down between my legs to tease my clit as I tightened around his cock. “Definitely this.”

  Reclining on the mattress again, he kept his fingers on my clit, his pace following the deep downward strokes of my pussy on his shaft. “I love watching you come.”

  That reward was just seconds away, his fierce, adoring gaze making me squeeze him tighter until I was fighting just to breathe. I jerked and he cried out with me, lifting his hips to stay buried up inside me as my movements became erratic.