Curvy Girls Read online

  Jack couldn’t restrain himself any longer. What’s the worst that could happen? A knee to the balls? It was worth it. He took a step toward her, taking her upper arms. “I’m really glad you like it,” he said, and covered her mouth with his.

  For the briefest moment, Victoria froze, and Jack worried he had made a mistake. But then she dropped the fork, wound her fingers through his blond hair, and started kissing him back. Jack’s left hand cupped her cheek, while his right snaked to the small of her back, pulling her to him. He tore his mouth from hers, kissing a trail to her ear.

  “Do you have any idea how sexy you are eating my food?” he said huskily in her ear, then suckled her earlobe. She shuddered in his arms. He continued down her neck, inhaling her lovely scent as he went, pausing to bury himself in her abundant décolletage. She smelled of milk and honey, and faintly of vanilla. He ran the tip of his tongue over the top of her breasts, along her silk neckline, and he heard a soft moan escape her lips.

  God, he wanted her so bad. He spun her around, pushing her back against the island. Her body was so soft against his as he pressed himself onto her. He wanted her to feel him, to feel how hard he was, and he rubbed his denim-encased dick hard against her silky skirt. Victoria gasped loudly. Almost too loudly.

  Jack stilled, wondering if he had hurt her. It was his downfall —his passion—and sometimes he got too caught up in the moment. “Are you okay?” he asked. Victoria looked confused for a moment. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  Victoria shook her head. She grabbed his collar and started pulling him back to her. “Not at all. That was a good gasp. Don’t worry about me, sweetie, I’m not going to break.” Her eyes twinkled. “Sometimes I even like it a tad rough.”

  Jack groaned as he pulled her into a crushing kiss. She met his passion head on, body moving against his, hands roaming over him. He kissed down her neck again, but this time went farther. He knelt in front of her, his hands going to her waist.

  He rested his forehead against her navel, letting the warmth of his breath seep through the material of her skirt. Slowly, he let his hands move down her hips, slightly cupping her ass, then down the back of her stockinged legs to rest at her ankles. He heard her inhale slowly as he made his way back up the outsides of her legs, up under her skirt. He paused halfway up her thighs.

  He gazed up at her, smiling. “Garters?”

  Victoria smiled back, giving a slight shrug. Jack slowly pushed her skirt to her knees, savoring the unwrapping of a delightful present. He hooked a finger through the white lace of her thong, pulling it ever so slightly to the side. He bent his head and kissed her clit.

  Jack heard Victoria’s air leave her in a rush as his mouth began to taste and tease her. He used his fingers to spread her shaved lips, his tongue swirling and sucking. Her hips started to rock against him, angling to give him more access. She dug her fingers in his blond hair, pulling his face into her, moaning deeply. But when his finger slipped into her wetness, she flung her arms wide, braced back against the countertop.

  With his left hand, Jack cupped Victoria’s ample derriere, pulling the bottom half of her body greedily to him. Her whole body moved in unison with his, undulating sexuality. He lifted her right leg over his shoulder and heard her groans as his tongue replaced his finger, delving deeply into her while his thumb worked her clit. She was sweet, tasting of mangos and her natural muskiness. Jack groaned himself as he switched again, his tongue flicking her nub and his finger penetrating deep inside of her. He felt her muscles contact around his index finger. Her hips jerked rapidly, fucking his face and hand.

  “Oh god,” she breathed.

  Jack didn’t stop, though his hard cock strained painfully at his jeans. He desperately wanted to bury his dick inside her and feel her cum around him. Almost as much as he wanted to feel and taste her cum on his face. And she was close....

  Boom!

  The loud crash of a door stopped them both. Jack heard his name shouted and realized it was his sous chef, coming in from the back. He quickly stood, pulling Victoria’s skirt down. For a moment, he thought she would panic. But her brows merely rose in question. His groin tightened even more when he realized she didn’t seem to mind they had almost been caught.

  “It’s my sous chef. I’ll get rid of him. Can you meet me across the hall in the banquet room?”

  Victoria straightened her skirt. “As long as you don’t dally,” she said, hips swinging as she walked away.

  Victoria walked through the kitchen doors and found the entrance to the banquet room almost directly across from her. Her panties were soaked, and the wet lace pulled across her tingling clit as she made her way to the carpeted room. The banquet room was large and was still set up for the canceled rehearsal dinner. The tables were adorned with white tablecloths and red roses, though they hadn’t been set with any dinnerware. Victoria made her way to the front dais, where the bridal party would have sat.

  Feeling a bit wicked, and wanting things to pick up from where they had left off, Victoria carefully unzipped her yellow skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She slipped out of her thong panties, realizing that at this point they were just getting in the way. She undid her top and took it off, feeling the air on her exposed skin. Then she reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, letting her long, chestnut hair cascade around her.

  She knew how gorgeous she looked, how the corset she wore hugged her waist, serving up her décolletage like Jack’s French silk pie. She stood proudly on the raised dais, in front of the long, white table, her legs wide, hands resting on her hips.

  When Jack entered the banquet room, he nearly stumbled when he saw her. Her eyes met his in a challenge. Then he started toward her—reaching her in three long strides—and grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. Victoria could taste herself on his lips and was even more turned on. She felt the table on the back of her legs, and on the front of her leg, she felt the length of him through his jeans. When his mouth left hers for the top of her breasts, she was panting. Alright, enough is enough, she thought. I want him now!

  His fingers fumbled along the top of her corset. It was a true corset, lacing up in the back only, without any hooks in the front or side to make it easier to get out of.

  “How do I get this damn thing open?”

  She chuckled at the frustration in his tone. “The laces are in the back.” She took advantage of his distraction to pull down his zipper. Her mouth made a satisfied sound as nine inches of hot, hard cock fell out. She took the length of him in her hand, pulling him toward her spreading legs.

  Jack sucked the air through his teeth as her warm hand wound around him. He tried to still himself and braced one hand on the table, next to her ass. He had almost just cum at her touch. Astonished, he shook his head. He hadn’t been this out of control since college. Now she was trying to take him inside of her, but he knew if he entered her, it’d be over in a matter of seconds.

  “Not yet,” he managed to say. He took her by the hips and turned her around so that her ass was facing him. Victoria seemed to like that. She wiggled her ass. “How did you know this was my favorite position?” she asked breathlessly, then pressed herself against him.

  Jack groaned. He pulled away just far enough so that he wouldn’t enter her. He needed to get control of this, or he was going to embarrass himself. He didn’t think he had ever wanted anyone more. His fingers deftly loosened the top of the corset so it stayed in place while her ample breasts fell forward into his waiting hands.

  Victoria moaned as his large hands kneaded her breasts. He was rubbing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, just the way she liked it. She stood straight, then reached over her head, and back behind her, until her fingers found his hair. She thrust her hips back against him, fucking the air, while he kissed the back of her neck, her spine, her ear—all as he teased and pulled her nipples. She was vaguely aware when one of his hands left her. Then she heard the ripping of foil and was thankful he had the for
esight and sense about him to use a condom. Frankly, at the moment, she didn’t give a damn.

  She leaned forward, elbows propped on the table, and felt Jack’s hands slide the length of her body to her hips. She still wore her wedge sandals, and they tilted her backside up in invitation. Victoria’s heart raced. She needed him to pound into her, fast and hard. Instead, as he held her hips, Jack, with agonizing slowness, slid the entire nine inches into her dripping, hot cunt.

  Victoria came. Her mouth opened, though no sound escaped. Her body arched up as it tensed. Jack held her as her body shook and her muscles convulsed around his shaft. And as her lungs began to work again, she dropped gently forward toward the table, and he began moving inside her.

  She moaned. His thrust quickened. Almost instantly, Victoria felt anther orgasm beginning to build. His hand went up the length of her spine. She pushed up from the table, palms down. Her breasts bounced back and forth as they rocked to his thrusts, her nipples brushing the white linen tablecloth.

  “Yes,” she gasped in encouragement, wanting more. His pace was still steady. Victoria pushed back, meeting his thrusts. She needed more. She needed it harder. And faster. She reached her hand around, nails digging into his hip. His body circled around hers, his rhythm a constant. His hands found her nipples again; they were ultrasensitive from her first orgasm. Victoria jerked at the contact, a line going from her nipple to her pussy yanked taut.

  Jack felt Victoria’s body contract violently, and he stilled. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “No!” Victoria said and slammed back into him, taking his cock inside her to the hilt. “Harder!” She pulled forward and slammed into him again. “Faster!”

  For the third time that night, Jack nearly came unexpectedly. He really hoped she meant what she said, because after that, he wasn’t going to be able to control himself. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips and plunged into her. Her wet, deep pussy took every bit of him as he pounded into her. Victoria grabbed the white tablecloth, apparently trying to steady herself against his hard, quick thrusts.

  “Harder,” she groaned.

  Jack’s fingers twisted into Victoria’s long hair at the base of her neck. He wrenched her back by the hair, firmly but without yanking, forcing her to arch her back. Victoria called out as another orgasm took her. Her legs shook, but Jack didn’t stop. It felt too good. Her muscles squeezed him as warm wetness flowed down the front of his balls. He turned her head to kiss her, not letting go of her hair. He pumped into her, pulling out to the tip of his dick and slamming back into her.

  “Don’t stop,” she gasped.

  “I can’t,” he said. And it was true.

  Still holding her hair, Jack wished he had more hands. He pounded her, his flat stomach slapping her ass. His palm came forward to circle her nipple and he felt her shudder deeply. He knew she was going to climax again . . . and so was he. Harder and faster, he fucked her. His hand snaked down her front till his fingers slid to her swollen clit.

  “Yes!” she screamed as another orgasm washed over her. Jack let go of her hair but caught her around the middle before she could fall forward. He pulled her back, so that she was flush with his chest, his cock ramming into her one final time. He cried out as he came with her.

  As Victoria came back down to earth, Jack held her tightly. Eventually, he slowly eased out of her, then left to dispose of the condom. She artfully reached behind her and tightened her corset. It still wasn’t perfectly in place, but it would keep the girls in till she got home. Jack came back and collapsed in a chair directly in front of the dais. Victoria watched him, her hip cocked up on the table. When their eyes met, she gave him a smile like a cat that had just got the cream.

  “I do believe that was better than your French silk pie,” she mused, then moved across the room to where she had left her clothes.

  Jack watched Victoria walk over to her pile of clothes. He loved how proud she was of her body. So sexy. He admired her curves as she bent at the waist to pull her skirt up around her, giving Jack one last look at her glorious ass. He felt himself stiffen. He realized to his surprise he wanted her again. Right now.

  She zipped up her skirt and moved to stand between his legs. She bent again at the waist, this time granting him a nice view of her front. She kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “See you Tuesday. Regular time?” she said, and dropped her wet thong onto his hard cock.

  Already anticipating next week, Jack watched her sashay from the room.

  Excuses

  BY NINA REYES

  I’m trying hard not to stare at him. He’s leaning against the granite counter, so relaxed and cool that he looks like nothing has ever bothered him. He’s not supposed to be my idea of a fantasy, this skinny poet kid who took James Dean’s careless lean. Snatched those eyes, too. I want to tell him to get the fuck out. I also want him to bend me over the counter and fuck me as hard as possible. It appears I’m at an impasse.

  “So, Maya, when you’re not housesitting, what do you do for a living?” he asks under those eyebrows of his. Only now do I realize I hadn’t said anything for a few minutes.

  “Well, I’m getting my BA in journalism right now,” I tell him in a low, husky voice. “So I’m working in retail right now.” I make the words louder this time, more clear.

  Jonathan nods and takes two steps toward the refrigerator. As he bends down to examine the contents, I take the opportunity to check out his ass. Nice. He’s thin—thinner than what I usually go for—but there’s something there. Not completely flat, thank goodness. When he straightens backup, I make a show of examining the ends of my braids.

  “Is that how you met Lily? At the boutique?” He has a carton of orange juice in his hand. His free hand begins twisting the cap. They’re philosopher hands. Long fingers with slightly knotty joints. Tidy nails, tinged slightly pink.

  I toy with the increasing pile of mail collecting on the table, trying to get the edge of each envelope to line up just a bit more. “Yeah. Just after she married Daniel. The rest is history.”

  Jonathan lifts the carton and begins to part his lips. I put an end to my fidgeting just long enough to loudly clear my throat, cross my arms, and raise my eyebrows.

  He stops before his mouth touches the carton. Understanding reaches his brown eyes a split second before that smile makes a reappearance on his face. He places the carton down on the counter and begins opening cabinet doors.

  “You’re good,” he says. “I give you that.”

  I watch him open and shut a few more doors while I blush slightly at the compliment. I want him to whisper that in my ear. I shudder thinking about his mouth so close to me. His mouth traveling down my body and tasting me everywhere. I look down at my jeans. Tight around my wide hips and thighs. I’m not wet enough to soak them through—yet.

  After a few tries, Jonathan finds where the glasses are kept. He pours the orange juice with a dramatic flourish. That half-smile reappears, and with a fast wink, he empties the glass of its contents.

  Once it’s gone, he gives a satisfied sigh and begins refilling the glass. “And that’s why Daniel trusts you to keep watch over his lovely abode. His devil-may-care brother might just kill a houseplant or commit some other terrible crime.”

  I laugh, despite myself. “I’m sure the life of the cat was also placed under consideration.”

  Both corners of his mouth go up this time before he takes a small sip from the glass. Everything is quiet, and I have no idea how to continue. I opt to put my hands into my jean pockets. What little pocket there is, anyway. Women’s jeans aren’t designed for function. They only serve to invoke the tears of hapless shoppers and to make me wonder exactly how big my hips and thighs look at this very moment.

  I have to sound casual. “So if you’re so devil-may-care, what made you stop by at nine o’clock in the evening?” Casual enough. Maybe.

  After a particularly loud gulp, he responds, “I finished a job not too far from here, and I knew t
hey’d left sometime in the last couple of days, so I decided to come by and make sure everything was all right.” He sips again while using the other hand to lean against the counter. “Unbeknownst to me, they already have someone working the case.” Lifting his eyebrows in a conspiratorial way, he finishes the glass and moves to place it in the sink.

  “Daniel said you’re a photographer.” I make myself leave the relative comfort and security of the dining table to step into the entryway. He’s either interested in me, or not. “Are you working on something in particular?”

  “Ah, you know, just this advertising thing. Some girls and some products. You know.” I couldn’t tell if he was being evasive because he didn’t want me to wonder about his evenings, or if he was really that blasé about it.

  “That sounds exciting. What, a bunch of sexy girls draped over cars or something?” I sound like I’m joking, but I’m on a fishing expedition. I wonder if he’s ever fucked anyone outside of his race. Hell, I wonder if he’s fucked anyone built like me.

  He gives a low chuckle before responding. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Fuck you, skinny, hot photographer. You probably eat models for lunch. I don’t let the sentiment show up on my face. I walk another step closer. “Sounds exciting.”

  “Really it’s not. I don’t get to pick the subject matter, and you can only shoot oiled, bikini-clad women so many times before it starts to get boring.” He pauses for a moment before lowering his head and raising his eyebrows. “Despite beliefs to the contrary.”

  I bite my lip to keep the laugh in, but my face gives me away. Busted.

  That half smile comes back. “Hey, it’s a paycheck. It affords me the ability to take the pictures I want on my own time.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like you?” His head’s low, giving him a shy, bashful look I can’t possibly buy.