Too hot to handle: A curvy girl romance

by River Laurent

  I’m almost transfixed by it.

  “Okay. Here goes nothing.” She starts the drone and keeps it hovering just inches from the table surface.

  We both study the readouts from the internal systems as the minutes pass—minutes which seem to stretch out into eternity. So much hangs in the balance I don’t even want to think about it.

  “It’s already better at three minutes than it’s ever been,” she whispers, a thread of excitement evident as she jabs a finger at the screen. “See?”

  “I see,” I whisper, willing myself not to allow excitement to enter into this. I can’t get ahead of myself. I can’t allow that. Even so, I can’t help but feel hopeful when four, then five, then six minutes pass with little change in the temperature of the processor.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathes, chewing her thumbnail, barely blinking as she continues to monitor the numbers.

  I don’t say anything, just stare at the monitor. The temperature holds steady.

  “Seven minutes. I think we’ve done it. I really do. This is it! I know it.”

  “Let’s wait and see,” I caution, though I feel anything but cautious myself. Seven minutes. Eight. Nine. By the time we hit ten and the temperature still hangs well within the acceptable range, my heart is nearly pounding out of my chest.

  “We did it,” she cries, clasping her hands together and jumping up and down like a child.

  “I think you’re right,” I’m finally ready to admit. I turn my eyes to her with a big grin on my face. “Fucking hell, Sam. I think you’re right, I think we did it.”

  She flaps her hands in front of her face like she’s trying to hold back her emotion, and I see now just how much this has meant to her. She’s spent so many hours devoting all of her skill and intelligence to this single project, and to see it come to fruition is too much for her to handle. I’ve been there. I’m there right now, myself.

  I do the only thing that feels good and right, and that’s pulling her to me for a tight hug. She throws her arms around my neck, trembling with delirious relief and probably more than a little exhaustion, seeing as how it’s now after three in the morning and we’re both half-dead—but elated. Elated in the way people are who haven’t worked together on something for a long, long time and have finally achieved success will never understand. The taste of victory is like heady wine. So potent it wipes out everything but that moment. Nothing else exists. Just that moment in time.

  It gets the better of me.

  Or maybe I can blame the way her neck moves and the intoxicating smell of her perfume floods my nostrils, seducing me, making me press my lips against her warm, inviting mouth at this late hour. And she can blame the way she kisses me back—hard, desperately hard, breathless and crushing her lips to mine—on her … elation.

  Samantha

  Wait. What are we doing?

  I jerk my head back. “But I don’t even like you,” I gasp.

  “No, I don’t like you much either, but what the hell,” he mutters, and his mouth crashes down on mine again.

  Yup, I don’t like him, but I sure do like the way his lips move over mine, the way he holds me tight enough to take my breath away. His arms are as strong as they look and firm with bulging muscle. The sort of arms I could lose myself in and never come up for air and be perfectly fine with it because oh, my God, he’s the best kisser I’ve ever known.

  My toes curl and my arms break out in goosebumps as the sensations from his probing, demanding tongue race through my body, leaving me trembling—eager for more.

  But this is wrong. It’s so wrong.

  He’s my boss, for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this, much less doing it. But here we are, and I want this. I want it so much. I can’t think about it, or else the magic will dissolve.

  Anyway, it feels right, my body pressed against his, my hands running up and down his arms, shoulders and back. God, he’s perfect, the most perfect body I’ve ever touched. I can’t get enough of him. He pushes me against the wall and I have no choice, but to succumb. Not that I want to do anything else.

  I pull my mouth from his for a split second, though, remembering the little one. She’s hidden from view, only the edges of her blankets visible from behind the file cabinets. Even so, when I cut my eyes in that direction, he nods.

  “Shh…” Then his mouth is plundering mine again, and the kiss is deeper, more passionate this time. Actually, all-consuming. I feel myself melting, turning to nothing but a puddle of sheer ecstatic pleasure as he kisses away every last inhibition I harbor.

  We sink to the floor, wrapped up in each other. He stretches his tall frame out over mine while one hand slides up my leg from ankle to thigh. Only the knowledge of the sleeping child on the other side of the lab keeps me from crying out my pleasure. From begging him for more. His fingers dance at the hem of my panties, teasing both of us, while his mouth kisses a trail from my lips to my chin, down my throat, to the bit of skin revealed above the buttons of my blouse. I work at them with trembling fingers, ready to burst with need.

  He chuckles against my skin, sending pleasurable little vibrations through me as he moves lower and lower with each new open button. He works my shirt out of my skirt, opening it fully, one of his hands cupping my breast through my bra and squeezing gently, his tongue sliding beneath the lace. I hold his head close, my fingers tangling in his hair, arching my back in an attempt to give myself to him, to present myself for him to feast on. He rolls his hips in response, driving his bulge against my thigh, and we both groan softly.

  “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  I sit up halfway, shedding the blouse and unhooking my bra. “I do.” I reach up to the tabletop and pull my purse down. I extract a flat packet out and tear the silver wrapper away.

  He’s on me in an instant, sucking at my nipples until the ache between my legs is almost painful. He works my skirt up to my hips and slides my panties off, tossing them aside and spreading my thighs wide to reveal my wet, tender slit.

  The growl, low and deep in his throat, precedes the dipping of his fingers into my folds.

  I grip his shoulders tight, wishing I could scream as my hips buck against his hand. He works my clit, breathing hard against my neck, both of us struggling to give into our passion while staying as quiet as possible.

  If anything, that only makes this even more forbidden. And hotter, so much hotter.

  It’s inappropriate. Actually, it’s not inappropriate—it’s wrong for me to have sex with the boss! It’s against every rule. Everything about this is just downright wrong. The way he strokes my clit, the way his fingers slide inside me. The way my muscles clench around the thick digits. The way he pumps them in and out until I’m unable to stop myself as my mouth opens in a cry of pleasure. His hand clamps down over my mouth, and my eyes go wide with surprise, but I don’t pull away. In fact, I jerk my hips toward him, thrusting right back. Until I dissolve in a frenzy of furious spasms, biting on the side of his fist to quiet my scream of ecstasy.

  I’m still panting when I hear his zipper. He sheaths himself and I feel the heavy weight of his erect dick against my thigh. I glance down. My eyes open with surprise and lustful hunger as I note the length and girth. I want to draw him into me, hold him fast, take every last bit of pleasure I can.

  He spreads my legs wider. Grabbing one of my tits, he takes it into his mouth. He bites down on it as he thrusts the massive head of his cock into me. “You’re so hot and wet,” he grunts, as my nipple pops out of his mouth.

  I close my eyes and bite my lip as I adjust to his size.

  “And so fucking tight,” he hisses between clenched teeth.

  My pussy clenches. He withdraws only to drive forward again. And again. He takes my other nipple and bites down hard. I open my mouth and his hand clamps down just as he rams into me. It’s a rough fuck. His cock enormous and angry inside me, his eyes watching my pussy, open wide for him to use; and his hands…they r
oam where they please.

  With a dark glint in his eyes, he possess me, claims me, and brands me.

  I pull him down until he’s on his forearms. Opening his shirt, I let my hands revel in the feel of his bare skin under my hands. All the while, he takes me. Hard. Fast. Furious. Without the slightest hint of a second thought or a moment of hesitation. He slams in and out, grinding against me, grunting softly from the effort.

  I hold him with arms, legs, pulling him deeper, raking my nails down his back and taking wicked pleasure in the way he hisses. His thrusts pick up speed, grow stronger, until our bodies crash together in a strange pain/pleasure mix I’ve never experienced before now and won’t be able to live without after tonight.

  He takes me.

  I take him.

  We both know what we want and we ride each other, using each other for our pleasure, delighting in the pleasure of the other. I want it to last forever but it can’t, since we’re both already tensing with the onslaught of climax. I clutch him tight, our bodies crushed together as my muscles clamp around his length like a vice. He groans, losing himself in me, trembling as he comes.

  My head’s in a whirl, my thoughts circling around so fast it’s enough to make my brain ache.

  Oh, my God. What did we just do? The only sounds in the room are that of us catching our breath. I’ve never let myself go like that before, and the stakes have never been so high. My boss. No, not just my boss—the CEO of the company. Damn…the owner of the company.

  Whom I hate.

  I hate him, right?

  I did. At least, I thought I did. There’s a thin line. I’ve never truly understood the truth of that statement until now. The line between love and hate is indeed, thin. Not that I love him. Nowhere near it. But there’s been an insane undercurrent of attraction running through my resentment of him since the night we had our fight. And he clearly feels the same, or else we wouldn’t have just gone at it like a pair of horny rabbits, right here in the middle of the lab.

  He’s still on top of me, still breathing like a wild animal, and I can’t bring myself to let him go. But I have to. I need to. I can’t forget why I’m here or what it means for me to be part of this project. It was the frenzy of the moment, is all. The tension we’ve both been dealing with for so long, the relief, and finally that rush at our success. It all came out like this and that’s that.

  And that is all there is to it.

  A simple explanation for a terrible mistake.

  So…why can’t I let him go?

  Lincoln

  Why the hell can’t I let her go?

  I can’t control anything about myself where she is concerned, evidently. But I don’t want to move. I don’t want anything to destroy this moment, because I know nothing will be the same after this. People say all the time that sex doesn’t have to change anything, but that’s horseshit. Sex on an office floor changes everything.

  A floor might make an exciting alternative to a big comfortable bed when it comes to sex, but it’s damn well nowhere to linger afterward, when there’s a sexy body crushed underneath you. I roll over to give her air.

  Her face is flushed, her eyes bright as she stares up at the ceiling with a look of—what? Amazement? I’d like to think so, but it’s probably more like disbelief that she landed underneath me, or acute embarrassment. I can imagine the thoughts running through her head. What happens now that the heat of the moment has passed? Has she fucked up her career? And the famous female preoccupation…will he still respect me professionally.

  Bottom line, deep down—I don’t give a damn about any of it.

  She got under my skin from the moment Ryland moved to one side and she came into view. Hell, I already want her again. She’s a tempting devil, and everything I’ve been missing—beauty, brilliance, passion. I knew there was a volcano under all that snow, just waiting to erupt. I’m just glad I was here when it did.

  Her body is a thing to be worshipped, just as I had imagined when I jacked off to a fantasy about her in shower. Her breasts are full and heavy, the sort a boy dreams about when he’s young and just figuring out the differences between himself and the girl next door. Her stomach is slim, with that lovely soft swell. A man wants a little softness—at least, I do. And curvy hips, perfect to hold onto as I drive myself into her unbelievably tight pussy. My cock starts to stir again, just thinking about it.

  She sits up, still flushed. “Your mother would be ashamed of you.”

  I laugh softly. And there I was worried about her being embarrassed. I know I want more of her.

  Much more.

  I open my mouth to answer her, but it’s not the sound of my voice that floats into the room, but Maddie’s.

  “Daddy?” my daughter cries out.

  I freeze as her voice is followed by the sound of soft weeping. “Oh, shit,” I mutter under my breath. “Hey, honey. Be right there. Just wait for me.” I button my shirt as fast as I can.

  “Do you think we woke her?” Sam whispers, horrified, as she hooks her bra and holds her blouse closed.

  “I doubt it. She would’ve woken up during, if we had,” I point out, hoping to God I’m right. I lift my hips to fasten my pants. Talk about scarring a kid for life. Waking up to find her father pile driving one of his employees. Fuck, my mother would be ashamed of me. I scramble to my feet and once I’m certain I’m presentable, I hurry over to her.

  She’s just sitting up, rubbing her eyes. I let out a sigh of relief when I note the position of her blankets and pillow. She hasn’t moved out of her makeshift bed. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Where am I?” she mumbles.

  “You’re at my lab.”

  “Oh. I thought Mommy had come and taken me to Juan’s house.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” I sit cross-legged, close to her. “You were asleep, and I wanted to come down to the lab so I brought you with me.”

  “It’s okay, Daddy. I got scared when I woke up and I couldn’t see you,” she mutters. Her eyes are still a little bleary from sleep and crying.

  I feel like the world’s worst father. Something tells me I’m going to make big changes in my life. I don’t want to feel guilty again. “I’m sorry,” I repeat gently, wishing there was something else to say. “I think it’s about time for us to get home, anyway. You can sleep in your bed now.”

  “That’s nice,” she says, then yawns wide to enough to split open her head. It’s enough to make me yawn, too, and we both chuckle.

  Sam clears her throat behind us.

  Maddie cranes her neck to get a look at the newcomer.

  “Hi,” Sam whispers.

  I look at her over my shoulder and find that she’s wiggling her fingers in a little wave.

  “Hi,” Maddie whispers back, waving and looking a little awed. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Sam. I work with your dad.” By now, she has put herself back together and is clearly better at things like this than I am. She’s being warm and sweet.

  Maddie seems to quickly pick up on this. “You work with my daddy?” she asks, her eyes curious.

  “I do.”

  “Are you a whore?”

  Both Sam and I jerk back in surprise. “Maddie, why did you say that?” I ask with a frown.

  Maddie looks at me innocently. “Mommy said all the women who work with you are whores.”

  My blood starts to boil, but when I glance at Sam, she trying her best not to laugh. I turn back to Maddie and smile tightly. “I think your mother was joking when she said that. To start with I don’t work with … whores and I don’t think you should be using that word either.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s rude.”

  “Oh.” She nods then turns to Sam. “What do you do?”

  “I’m an engineer.” Sam walks forward and sinks to her knees on the blankets, hands clasped in her lap. “See, we’re working on this new piece of equipment—”

  “The pro…to…type,” Maddie interjects, enunciating carefu
lly.

  “That’s right.” Sam beams. “And it’s my job to make sure it works right. There are so many little pieces and it’s so important for every little piece to work well together, because if just one little thing isn’t working the way it’s supposed to…”

  “Kablooey,” Maddie shouts, spreading her hands in an explosive gesture.

  “Maybe not quite so dramatic.” Sam grins. “But I think you get the picture. We made a lot of progress tonight, and things are going to go much more smoothly for your daddy and you from now on.”

  My daughter looks to me, hopeful. “Isn’t that good, Daddy?”

  “Yes, that’s very good,” I agree. There’s so much more to it than this—Sam doesn’t know about the leaks in the company, the fact that Weissman is using our technology to further his little empire—but for now, it’s enough. That reminds me. “I wouldn’t write up any reports about what just happened yet,” I muse, trying to sound casual.

  “Why not?” she asks, frowning, immediately forgetting Maddie’s presence.

  “Let’s just keep it between ourselves,” I advise. “We want to be sure we can replicate the test’s success, and then test how long the prototype can stay airborne on the same battery. We want to run altitude tests, too. We’re not quite out of the woods yet.” It’s all a ruse, of course. I’m more certain than ever that we hit on the right combination of tweaks, but if there’s still an active leak in the company… Weissman should never find out.

  She doesn’t understand. A cloud drifts over her face. Maybe she thinks I don’t want to give her credit or something. Still, she nods. “All right. I’ll keep it confidential.”

  “You’ll get the credit you deserve, of course.”

  She frowns, and the cloud thickens. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

  “Well. Just in case you were.”

  “I wasn’t. Is that all you think I care about?” she lashes out.

  I’m about to open my mouth and let a lot of stupid things pour out, but thank God for the presence of my daughter. She doesn’t need to hear such things. She’s my saving grace right now. I manage to maintain my cool, flashing a tight smile. How did things shift so quickly? “No. It isn’t. I only wanted to ease your mind. Of course, I won’t forget what an important contribution you’ve made here. Your work has been more than appreciated.”