Curves For Him: 10 Delicious Tales

by Aubrey Rose

  Then her hips began squirming against him with heat and fire and he tugged her wet jeans off her rounded hips. Fucking A, her panties were a tiny swatch of sexy white lace between her creamy thighs. He turned her to the side to better drag her jeans off and the sight of her bare ass made him grow two inches on his cock, hardening it to “gotta fuck now.”

  But he bit it back. He fucking had to taste her. She was voluptuous and ripe. He had to have his mouth on her and he threw her legs up over his shoulders, spreading her hot, sweet pussy.

  Tess squealed passionately at Vincent’s mouth covering her slit. She arched upward. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  She’d never had a man’s mouth on her before. She squealed again, digging her heels into Vincent’s back. He growled over her sex and she came so hard she blacked out for seconds.

  Then she came back with a prod of heat between her legs. She grabbed Vincent’s sinewy shoulder with one hand and she dug the other into his thick hair as she felt him fill her up with a thrust.

  “Vincent,” she hissed.

  He looked down at her and his black eyes were filled with being deep inside her. Intensity sizzled from them, then he moved and she moaned, a high sound, lifting with him.

  She’d never been bedded like Vincent Whitehorse bedded her. He didn’t just do one position ... he did five.

  An undetermined time later, that had to be hours, she lay nude on the bed, on her tummy, with her hand out in front of her. She had her chin to the bed as she again tried to count the positions she’d just been fucked in on her blurry fingers. But seconds later, she passed out.

  TWO / ONE HOT GUY, ONE STAB IN THE HEART. COLLIDE.

  When Tess woke it was barely light out and her head was hammering inside her skull. Yet even that pounding did not dissuade her first thought. I had three freaking orgasms! She grabbed her head, realizing she was naked under a sheet, lying on a pillow, in a bed. Undetermined place. All she could remember was three freaking orgasms. Oh ... and a mouth on her ... between her ...

  “Nailed the fucker’s wife last night.”

  Tess hissed a breath, coming straight upright to sit on the bed, her head thumped hard ... not liking it, but she ignored it. Gritting her teeth.

  She heard Vincent’s gravelly voice again, around the room divide—must be in the bathroom. “She was hot for it.”

  Her mouth opened and her eyes bugged out, pain unlike a cheating-husband pain blossomed across her chest. She wanted to scream like a banshee. He’d used her. She just caught back a sob, then she heard the bathroom door click shut, making her unable to hear the rest of the tragic, just downright low and mean conversation.

  Two seconds later, she jumped out of bed and grabbed her jeans. Fuzzy from too much drinking and with her head pounding, she found her bra, top, and purse. Her panties were nowhere to be seen. She’d never dressed as fast ... without a sound. She lugged up her boots between her fingers and scooted to the motel room door. Just then, the tears came free that she’d been fighting.

  He thought she was a slut. She opened the door and closed it behind her. Damn it, she’d acted like a slut. A married fucking slut. On her bare feet she ran across the driveway, while pulling her cell out of her purse, then she called the only person she could think of in the situation.

  “Rusty? I know it’s early. Can you come pick me up? I’ll pay.” Tess ran on her bare feet toward Lulu’s while talking on her cell.

  “It's seven!” Rusty moaned. “I was out until three.”

  “I know, babe, I am so sorry. But I ... well I, just need you.”

  “Be there in ten.”

  “Love you,” Tess whispered. She gave Rusty her whereabouts, and then closed the call off her phone, looking back toward the front of the motel. He’d never come out looking for her. He was probably glad to be rid of her, and he probably hated that she’d spent all early morning there.

  She sniffled, hitting the front of Lulu’s and slowing down. How could she feel worse after finding out her husband was cheating on her? Oh, but she did ... oh God, she did. She looked back again, then saw Vincent barreling out of the motel room. She barely kept from screaming a startled cry as she plastered herself to the side of Lulu’s.

  Tess couldn’t help the curiosity that made her peek. He was looking away from her with his hand tunneling through his straight, jet-black hair, then she heard the distinct cuss word: “Fuck.”

  He started to turn her way and she hit the building; when she looked again he’d stalked with a long, loose stride to the motel office. Oh my God, he was the most beautiful man. To think she’d had that giving her orgasms. It made it all worse. She scooted along the front of Lulu’s, to the far side, afraid he might look out the motel office window and see her slinking away.

  Whatever made her think doing Vincent Whitehorse would show she was worth it?

  A minute later, Rusty’s taxi pulled to halt on the side of Lulu’s. Rusty leaned her freckled nose out the open window, looking Tess up and down. “My God, girl. You didn’t. Did you?” Rusty Jean Harper’s pretty violet eyes widened. “You’ve been fucked good. I can see it. And I know your ball and chain can’t do that!”

  Tess hurried to the back driver’s-side door, knowing Rusty wouldn’t let her sit up front as that would not look professional for her taxi service.

  “We need to drive around back to get out of here,” Tess explained, tossing her boots in, then following them.

  “Tess!”

  Tess looked over her shoulder at Vincent Whitehorse glaring at her over the hood of his truck out front of Lulu’s, and it looked as if he was just getting into it when he spotted her.

  Tess slammed the door shut. “Move,” she ordered Rusty as she watched Vincent come around the front of his truck.

  “You did that! Oh God, girl, I’m having a heart attack just looking at all his fineness. A. Heart. Attack.”

  Then, bless Rusty, she peeled out on the tires of her Chevy four-door, and Tess fell back in the seat with her eyes clenched, trying not to cry more.

  Tess knew she wouldn’t get off without spilling everything to her best friend Rusty. They’d been friends since junior high, stayed friends through junior high, lost a bit of friendship time due to boys through high school. Later, Rusty had moved away for a while, then Tess had, but in the last couple years they’d both found themselves back, and then back to being best friends. Although ...

  “Heck, that’s why you haven’t called me in a month,” Rusty said, sipping coffee out of Styrofoam as they sat out back of the truck stop on the highway.

  Tess had just told Rusty most of her story, the weeks of knowing Steven was cheating, but not being able to catch him, then catching him last night, and Vincent showing up. She’d gotten quiet after that, not going into what happened next.

  “Do you have any aspirin?” Tess asked.

  “Yeah, in the glove compartment.” Rusty pointed.

  “You’re an angel,” Tess informed her.

  “You should've called, you need support,” Rusty stated. Her words didn’t have a sting, but concern.

  Tess rummaged in the glove compartment. How could she tell her how embarrassed she was over it all? A woman that couldn’t keep her own husband.

  “That scum, I’ve always known he was scum since he took Karen to the prom, but ditched her to do May Princeton. That rich bitch,” Rusty muttered.

  She and Rusty had always stuck together against the more affluent and popular kids. Those kids could be so mean to those that didn’t have “it.” “It” could be anything from a dad (Rusty’s disappeared before she was born) or a cheerleader figure (Tess never had one).

  Tess didn’t agree or disagree, taking two aspirin with her coffee. How could she? She’d married him. He’d turned out to be scum.

  “Vincent Whitehorse was on the phone with someone when I woke up this morning telling them he’d ‘nailed the fucker’s wife,’” Tess blurted.

  Rusty gasped, tossing her coffee out the window, cu
ssing, “That bastard.” She turned to Tess, rubbing her shoulder. “Babe, how did you end up in bed with him?”

  “I don’t know,” Tess said, trying to fight her tears. “You saw him, he’s just so ...”

  “Yeah, hot,” Rusty added for her.

  “I was drunk, and I’d just seen Steven... you know.”

  “That’d do it. One hot guy, one stab in the heart. Collide.”

  ***

  Vincent sat in his truck after the taxi carrying Tess had squealed its tires and drove off.

  “What the fuck?” he asked himself for the fiftieth time.

  Problem was, he still tasted Tess on him and he knew that wasn’t going away anytime soon. She’d completely blindsided him. She was soft and responsive ... passionate as hell, and was in it with him through it all, never lagging, always right there wanting as much as he did. So ...

  “What the fuck?”

  He grabbed his cell, pushed speed dial, and at the answer he said, “Cabe, you’re up early.”

  “As ever, brother,” Cabe responded.

  “Trouble?” Vincent asked, before he got to what he really called for.

  “Did you just ask for days off or was I hallucinating?” Cabe replied. Of course there was trouble; there was always damn trouble with women. Especially the young ones that trained at WTSF. He let it go; sure if it was big enough Cabe would get with him.

  “Need a lookup on a Tess Navarro. Full file.”

  Cabe cleared his throat. “Since when are we looking up the wife of the guy fucking yours?”

  “Just do it,” Vincent growled, then he snapped the connection. Yeah, Cabe was right ... since when.

  Then he looked at the white panties in his other hand. Maybe since he had something to return.

  THREE / WHAT YOU THOUGHT YOU HEARD

  Tess worked in her flower shop the entire day with little sleep and a hangover. Luckily, the dregs of alcohol and sex-induced aches and pains lessened by afternoon, so it wasn't the first time was she glad she’d built a small bathroom in back of her shop. Complete with shower, plus she had a few extra clothes in her office so ... yippy her—she didn’t have to go home and look at her cheating husband.

  She was too confused to deal with him, not sure she ever wanted to see him again, and she knew even though she’d seen him in the act that he’d deny it. The only hope she had to get past the unbelievable denial mechanism he had would have been to confront him during the deed. But Vincent Whitehorse had kept her from doing that.

  At the end of her workday Tess sat in her office behind her desk and moaned. “Can my life get any more messed up?”

  She hung her head on her hands, elbows propped to the desktop. She couldn’t go home ... she wouldn’t. This time, she was going to call a lawyer and file right away so Steven wouldn’t have a chance to work on her until she caved.

  How pathetic was it that she caved? But she didn’t think she’d cave this time. She’d only caved once to reconcile, because of the hopes his smarmy mouth had told her. “Work things out,” he’d said. “We love each other ... we just got lost,” crap.

  She moaned again, dragging her face out of her hands. Maybe she’d rent a room at Rowdie’s. Call Steven, tell him she ... what?

  “Umm, have to work on that one,” she muttered, grabbing her purse, ruined pink boots, and the clothes she had on yesterday. She should be able to scoot home and pack some things quickly, then get out of there before Steven even graced the door ... if he did at all. After she was gone, she’d text him so she wouldn’t have to talk to him.

  Tess wandered through the darkened shop. It was after seven, because she’d stayed late finishing up some corsages for pickup in the morning. When she hit the back door she pushed it open with her keys out, ready to turn back and lock it. However, the second her gaze hit the back alley she froze with the back door banging into her.

  Her first thought. He looks even better in daylight. Then an inarticulate sound escaped her as she looked up and took to glaring at Vincent Whitehorse, standing beside his chromed-out big black pickup truck. A truck that was blocking her car in. He wore faded black jeans that fit him in ways they should put into their commercials, over heavy boots, with a long-sleeved brown tee hugging his impressive chest. His cowboy hat was gone, but his thick black hair looked sexily mussed, as if he’d just had it on, and his inky eyes looked expressive, as in pissed off.

  Damn it. Traitorous tingles began in places on her body they shouldn’t! His gaze swept her, her gaze swept him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked him tightly. “Did you not ‘nail the fucker’s wife’ enough already.”

  Tess could barely believe this. How had he found her? When she’d thrown out her scathing comments, he’d actually flinched slightly and the intense scrutiny of his gaze turned to something else, then seconds later it vanished back into determined intensity.

  “You always park back here?” His voice made it sound as though it were an accusation.

  She moved, letting the door swing shut behind her, then she cocked her hip because her hands were full and she couldn’t smack her hands on her hips with the gesture showing just how pissed off she was.

  “Yes,” she stated, then she used an even snottier voice asking, while turning just her upper body to lock the door, “Why?”

  She’d looked back, noticing Vincent had some hangers with clothes in plastic dry-cleaning bags slung over his shoulder. The way he held them was bunching his upper arm into a hard and prominent show of muscle. Reluctantly, she switched to watching his mouth, knowing it was the most expressive part of his face.

  His mouth was grim, then tight, as he looked up and down the alley slowly, finally landing on a big industrial dumpster against the back of her store. His frown pulled lower, then he looked up. Was he looking up in the freaking sky?

  She couldn’t help it, she looked up too, saw nothing and felt stupid as she heard his low, measured voice, “Woman alone. Comes out into an empty alley. At night. No security cameras. No fucking overhead lights. Did I mention a woman alone comes out? At. Night.”

  Tess’ head dropped; she barely caught her mouth from flying open. “My car’s right there!” she exclaimed, pointing with her boot-heavy hand. “If you weren’t blocking it, which I find threatening by the way, I’d be gone.” She didn’t exactly find it threatening, but she so wanted to crack his hardass demeanor.

  Whatever was in the dry-cleaning bag hit the top of his pickup, where he threw it, and then he began to stalk toward her. His firm lips shaped into determination and frustration, while his black eyes sparked with a look that shivered through her from her nipples to her toes, zinging back up through her legs to her ...

  She backed up as he uttered, “You look behind that dumpster?”

  He stopped close enough she could have pressed her hand to his chest ... flat. Heat, energy, and intensity just swept over her from his closeness. The remembrance of his mouth between her legs flashed through her mind. A little gasp escaped her.

  His eyes narrowed on her.

  To escape the inappropriate and totally errant thought, she blurted, “Why the heck would I look back there?”

  He leaned from his position, closing the distance of their faces with his voice a tight growl. “Fucking transient back there right now.”

  Tess’ eyes widened; almost nose to nose with Vincent. He’d had to bend down to accomplish this. She fought not to turn and look, then she lied, whispering, “I knew that.”

  His gaze moved across her face as though he was assessing, then he said in his low, toe-curling voice, “Bad liar. But cute.”

  It was as if receiving the best news and the worse news all in one swallow. “Um ...” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then she jerked it back to his eyes, which got deeper with something she’d definitely seen before. Arising interest.

  No, no, no, she silently fumed in her mind. He. Was. Using. Her.

  His hand lifted and cupped her elbow. “Come on.”

&
nbsp; She was so surprised, he pulled her halfway to his truck before she thought to protest. Then she tugged her elbow from his hand, stopping.

  “Come on, where?” she demanded. When she should have said, “No! Not going anywhere with you. Got to go!”

  “To talk.” That was it ... all he said, grabbing her arm this time and pulling her to the passenger side of his truck.

  By then, brilliantly, she finally thought to ask, “How did you find me? Why did you find me?” God he was just so ... hot. He had her mesmerized. Surely.

  His striking gaze cut to her, even as he lifted her up into his truck by her waist. Of course she couldn’t stop him, because her hands were full.

  “I get you are pissed at what you thought you heard, baby. But we have to talk.”

  Tess wanted to protest him calling her “baby,” but she didn’t know how to go about it with his rumble of words sending signals to all the right places on her body, his intimate deep gaze so close into hers, and his hands still holding her waist.

  She gulped, saying the most intelligent thing she could come up with: “Okay.”

  Then he smiled slightly, just a small, barely there slide of his lips, and she felt the flutters inside her go straight toward completely turned on. She was in trouble. Big trouble.

  He released her waist, backed up, and slammed the truck door shut. His gaze never left her wide eyes as he rounded the truck, snagged the dry cleaning, and went to open the driver’s-side door. He’d said talk, and she was curious, but there was no way she was going anywhere with him, even though a taunting and tantalizing thought kept nagging her.

  What you thought you heard.

  As soon as Vincent hit the seat, throwing the dry cleaning between them, she blurted, “Not going anywhere with you.”

  Vincent stalled with his hand pointing his key toward the ignition. He lifted his hand slowly, then turned his gaze to her. Oh boy, he looked badass and determined.