Quickly dropping my hand to my pussy, I go to rub my clit with my two favorite fingers when he grabs my hand, forcing it down to the wooden floor.
“Fucking shit,” I curse, irritated by his denial of my gratification.
“What are you doing, Candy?”
“Why are you punishing me like this?” I whimper, on the verge of tears.
“It has nothing to do with punishing you. I want to linger on the pleasure.” His breath is so warm against my aching pussy it’s intoxicating. “The more you rush me, the more I’ll tease you.” His cocky grin lets me know how much he’s enjoying my agony. “Let go and I’ll give you what you crave.” As if to make good on his promise, Max licks my clit, rubbing the peak of my node with his tongue, and I pant. “Play nice and I’ll play even nicer. Your orgasms are mine now and you come when I want you to lose it.” Uh, well, if you’re going to put it like that, I’m okay with you taking the lead. “You want to touch your pussy until you come? You know perfectly well you’ll never climax as hard as you do when I tongue-fuck you.” Lick. I shake. “You must know that by now?”
“Yes,” I agree, nodding as the words leave my trembling lips. Vince was far better than most guys I’ve been with, but he’s an inexperienced rookie compared to the guy between my legs inflicting on me the sweetest type of torture.
“Did the last guy you fucked make you come this way?”
“Not even my best sex toys make me come nearly as hard as your tongue, Max.”
He stops, frozen between my shaking legs. I can’t see his head, but I feel his hot breath against my skin but nothing else. Damn, did I say too much? Great. I’ve ruined it for myself. Way to go, Candy.
“Are you serious?” His question hits me after several long seconds of silence.
I close my eyes and I nod shyly as I cover my face with my hands. “I shouldn’t have revealed such details.”
“No. I’m flattered.”
I open my mouth to take back my confession when he wraps his lips around my clit and pulls it into his mouth. He lets go of the pressure only to circle my nub with swift, deadly strokes. “Dear God,” I cry out. Sucking hard, he growls against me and I go off like a rocket launched in space.
“You know why I love fucking a woman like you with generous curves?” Lick. Lick. Lick.
“No,” I exhale.
“The thicker the thighs, the sweeter the prize.” He’s barely had the time to utter those words before he has his hungry lips wrapped around my clit.
“Good Lord,” I yell as the first wave of orgasm hits me. Without warning, he lets go of my throbbing clit.
“Fuck, your body transforms me into an animal.” I’m still sobbing in ecstasy. I’m so far gone, it’s nearly impossible for me to make out his words.
He extends his arms and his hands mold to my breasts as I fist his hair, holding on for dear life as a second, even more powerful, wave of orgasm rips through me the moment he pinches my nipples. My eyes are glued to his arm and I marvel at the intricacies of his tattoo. Unable to hold back, I release my lip, only realizing then I’ve been biting it for the last few minutes.
“Your arm…”
“Shhh, not now,” he whispers.
My eyes are locked onto his face, his chest and his mysterious body art as he gets up to his feet and takes a step towards me before stepping over me and straddling my body. He hovers his weight over my chest, balancing himself carefully. Each time he sways, his butt caresses my breasts. The touch is so hedonic and so sensual.
“Make me come with your mouth,” he commands as he strokes his erection inches from my mouth. This close to me, he’s even bigger than I had imagined last night under dim lights.
“Yes, sir.” I smile. “I can’t wait to suck on your cock until you come gushing into the back of my throat.” Without protesting I lick my lips before parting them, ready to receive his huge cock.
“Open wide, sweetheart.” Max rubs his cock against my lips, drenching them with his juices. I hang on to his strong thighs as he plunges deep into my mouth. I need every inch of him. He possesses my mouth so completely and he’s buried himself to the point where his balls are flirting with my chin. I take him in, wrapping both hands around his hard shaft to control him. I could suck him for days.
“Have I created a monster? You dirty little girl,” he chuckles, pumping harder.
Something inexplicable takes over me as he’s thrusting in and out, fucking my mouth like he would my pussy, and I slide my hand under his dangling balls before squeezing.
“Fuck.” Max yanks his hips up in the air and he enters my mouth so deep, I gag. As a response to my daring move he squeezes my nipples harder, sending shockwaves down to my aching clit. I cry out, closing my eyes, and cup his balls tighter.
“Look at me,” Max demands, grabbing my face between his hands. He holds tight as he face-fucks me without giving any signs of slowing down. “I want you to lock eyes with me when I come, baby.”
“Hmmm,” I moan, nodding my head. Another ripple of pleasure is curling tight between my thighs and I can’t believe I already need release.
The blinding light coming from the massive window to my left allows me to read the dark, dangerous hunger in his gaze. In the sunlight, his eyes are sparkling green with lust, full of fierce desire.
“I need even more, Candy,” he hisses. Before I can react, he unfolds his right leg from underneath him and places the sole of his foot against the wooden floor before sliding deeper into my mouth. He fucked my mouth last night like no man before him, but obviously it was a mere warm-up. He must have been preparing me for this—him taking over me so completely. He thrusts into my mouth, back and forth, gently at first, but he quickly picks up his pace. Damn. His cock is rock hard. He pumps and pumps and pumps again until I’m so fucking turned on, it’s like my clit is going to erupt between the trembling walls of my dripping pussy.
“I can’t hold it anymore,” he growls, pumping once, twice, three times before jerking up. “Fuck,” he yells, yanking his cock from my mouth before grabbing it between his hands and squeezing every single last drop of his warm milk into my mouth.
Mother of God.
I clench my legs together so tight a climactic tornado rips through me. Max raises his hand and holds on to the massive window to prevent himself from collapsing on top of me.
“You’re truly going to kill me,” he chuckles while trying to catch his breath.
“Not if I die of kinky pleasure first.” I breathe fast, my heart racing like a sports car.
Max brings his hands to the side of my head and lowers his body close to mine. His voice comes low in my ear.
“We’ve got the rest of the day to see if you can survive another naughty round of toe-curling sex.”
“I’ll hold you to your promise.”
BOOK 2—CURVY GIRLS DO IT BETTER
Chapter Six
As I fasten the sash to my wrap dress in his bedroom, Max’s words are still ringing in my head and I blush at how he gushes over my body. Even after having lost some weight, I’m still all too aware of the fact that my body will never be wafer-thin as the frail supermodels I spent most of my teenage years worshiping.
I glance at myself one last time in front of the mirror. I’m trying to make sure I look good before running downstairs to join him for breakfast, but I’m too fascinated by the reflection of the room behind me.
Everything about Max’s penthouse is spectacular, including his master bedroom. It was impossible to take in any of this majestic décor in the heat of the passion we shared last night, but now with the sun high in the sky over Manhattan, I’m in awe. At first glance, the room might seem understated, but a second glance reveals intricate details—the rich furnishing, the refined bedding, the silk drapery, the modern lamp hanging right in the middle of the bed and the perfect blend of neutral colors.
I shake my head as I run down the wooden steps to meet Max in the kitchen, still unable to believe he’s made me come four times
since we got up. After keeping his promise, he insisted on taking a shower with me and washing all of my naughty bits, which of course led to a very steamy interlude under the sprinkling water of his rainforest shower head.
When I walk into his kitchen, I’m greeted by the delightful smell of fried eggs and bacon. I’m famished.
“Good morning again. I hope you’re hungry. I know I’m starved.”
“I thought I didn’t need to be intimidated by your cooking skills, but this all smells absolutely scrumptious. It seems to me you’ve been downplaying your culinary talents.”
“You don’t have to worry. I wasn’t born to be a celebrity chef. I’m treating you to the only thing I know how to make.” He laughs as he places two plates on the table nested in a nook with a great view.
“I’m relieved I don’t have to run to New York’s culinary arts school in order to freshen up on my cooking skills.”
“Nah, I can think of better ways for you to spend your time.” He flashes me a devilish smile and raises his eyebrows suggestively.
I stare a minute too long at his tattoo and we lock eyes.
“My tattoo intrigues you. Doesn’t it?”
“It’s very intricate,” I say in an attempt to make up for the fact I might have made him feel uncomfortable.
“There is a very complicated story behind my tattoo.”
“Max, I didn’t mean to stare.” Although the growling of my empty stomach is distracting, it’s still impossible for me to move my gaze away from his body art.
“You should dig in or else the food is going to get cold. You want some toast?”
“Absolutely. I would love some and if you have butter that would be even better.”
“Ah. A woman who eats real butter is a woman after my own heart. I’m glad you didn’t ask me for margarine.” He winks.
“Nah. I believe in eating real butter, full-fat cheese, velvety cream and I’m extremely partial to pork fat.”
We both laugh. Although he’s putting up a good front, something is different about his demeanor since I walked into the kitchen. What’s the big secret behind his inked arm?
He slides four slices of bread into his state-of-the-art stainless steel toaster and we both fixate on the common kitchen appliance as if it’s the most interesting thing on earth.
“This morning you were desperately trying to hide your divine body from my eyes. I’m still not sure why. I suspect there’s a part of your story you haven’t yet decided to share with me. I can’t blame you, since we haven’t known each other for very long.”
“I wasn’t…” I open my mouth to protest because his statement makes me feel so transparent, but I quickly realize he knows more about me than I thought.
He strolls back to the kitchen table with a plate of grilled toast and a sly grin on his face.
“You’re going to make me feel very self-conscious if you don’t eat the breakfast I slaved over for exactly fifteen minutes before you showed your pretty face.” He drops his eyes towards my untouched plate and I immediately blush. I grab my fork and I dig in with much gusto.
Yum. “I think you underestimate your talents. Your eggs are slightly runny and the bacon is crisp—just like I like it.” One bite is all it takes to awaken my hunger like a starved groundhog after a long winter of hibernation. I dig into my plate and I devour another bite.
“You must have noticed the unevenness and roughness of my skin.” He grabs a slice of bacon and bites into it.
“Not really.” I lower my eyes to hide the fact I’m lying.
Who am I to judge? It’s not as if I have a perfect body.
“You might be extraordinarily talented at sucking cock, but you’re a terrible liar, Candy.”
Shoot. He caught me. “I mean it didn’t bother me, Max.”
“It’s taken me years to feel comfortable with this blemished part of me. For the longest time my scar was all I could see every single time I stood in front of a mirror. It didn’t matter how many hours I spent with a trainer sculpting every single muscle on my body, my scar defined who I was.”
“What happened?”
“A terrible accident while I was away with my best friend on vacation in the Dominican Republic when I was nineteen.” He smiles, but his eyes are filled with sadness.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Instinctively I reach out to grab his hand. I’m all too familiar with the deep pain inflicted by a sudden and tragic accident.
“I don’t want to burden you with my story, but it’s impossible to understand who I am without understanding how a simple trip changed the course of my life forever.” Although, he’s only taken a few bites, he pushes his plate to the side before leaning in on the wooden table. Suddenly, my appetite disappears and I follow his cue, pushing away the other half of my breakfast.
“My best friend Jonathan Meyers and I had worked an entire summer to save up enough money to go to the Dominican Republic on a wilderness trip we had been eyeing. We were both into sports and daredevil stuff and this seemed like the perfect excursion for a trip outside the US—neither of us had traveled abroad until then. The first week was a dream—we’d hike for hours and when our bodies couldn’t take the exertion any longer, we’d find a safe place to camp for the night. We were part of a small group of adventurous travelers determined to remain unaffected by the rigorous conditions of the trip and the burning sun. By the second week, our bodies had acclimatized to the brutal conditions and we were accustomed to feeling the sun hitting the back of our necks as we trailed the countryside of this spectacular country.” Max reaches out and grabs my hands in his. His touch is so warm and inviting. It’s like a comforting blanket protecting me from the outcome of his story. “Have you ever been to the Dominican Republic?”
“No, I haven’t. My editor-in-chief had considered adding that Caribbean island to our to-do list for our exposé on Western women willing to travel to poorer parts of the world in search of love, but it seemed the trend was stronger in Jamaica and Cuba.”
“The island is rich with culture and you can’t help but fall in love with the people. I’m happy I was lucky enough to visit at least once in my life because I doubt I would ever go back.”
“Oh, God. This doesn’t sound good.”
“You don’t know the half of it yet.” He curls up his lips, but it looks more like a grimace than a smile. I can read the pain in his eyes.
I’m dying to know the outcome of his trip, but I’m too afraid to push. It’s obvious from his discomfort the story doesn’t end on a happy note.
“Jonathan, or Nate as we called him, and I decided to rent a Jeep during our last two days on the island. We wanted to spend the day at Playa Rincón after reading so many glorious reviews. Condé Nast Traveler hailed it as one of the top ten beaches in the Caribbean. As teenagers, we were hoping to hook up with a few hot babes and spend the day drinking beer.” He chuckles.
“Is this where I’m supposed to feel sympathy for you?” I mock.
He offers a half smile before continuing to speak. “It was a perfect Caribbean day. The sun was high in the sky, there wasn’t a cloud as far as the eye could see, the wind was blowing through our hair and we were carefree. The music was blasting on the radio and we were singing along like rock stars, bobbing our heads, snapping our fingers and feeding off of each other’s energy. It was a magical moment—the calm before the storm.”
“Then it happened. We didn’t even have time to react. The truck swerved to avoid us, but it was coming at us too fast. Nate turned the steering wheel sharply to try to avoid an accident, but he didn’t notice the cliff to his left. The front tire hit a rock and the Jeep tumbled down a steep cliff. I was lucky… I guess. The impact propelled my body out of the car and I landed on the side of the road before Nate plunged to his death in a ravine.”
“Oh, my God,” I cry out in horror, yanking my hands from his to cover my gaping mouth.
“Yeah. Apparently, a passing car dragged my unconscious body for miles be
fore stopping. I found out after four days in a coma that my left arm was the only part of me seriously injured. I had some pretty bad scrapes and bruises, but they would heal. My arm, on the other hand… I still remember when I came to. My mom was so broken and scared. She must have been crying for days.”
“How did they find your parents?”
“I was fortunate my guardian angel was on duty when the Jeep tumbled. My wallet was still inside the pocket of my jeans. My mom had insisted on inserting an emergency card just in case and her motherly advice allowed the hospital to contact my parents in New York and inform them of the news.”
“I can’t imagine how your mom must have reacted,” I lie. I know too well how empty you feel inside when you get an unexpected call from the police to let you know your loved ones have been involved in an accident and you need to rush to the hospital.
He closes his eyes before continuing. “When my dad told me Nate hadn’t survived, I went into shock. The ordeal changed me, as you can imagine.”
“Of course. The death of a loved one create a monumental shift in your life.” I should know.
“It does. It took me eight months to recover emotionally and physically. I couldn’t fully use my left arm for nearly a year, but after months of physical therapy, I was almost as good as new. One year after the accident, I summed up enough courage to visit Nate’s mom, Jasmine. When she opened the door, she was unrecognizable—she had aged at least three decades from the emotional toll.”
“Was Nate her only child?”
“No. He had two younger sisters, but his mom pretty much checked out after his death. She fell into a massive depression. She locked herself in her bedroom and refused to come out for seven months straight. One day she snapped out of it, but her family unit was never the same.”
“It must have been equally difficult for Nate’s sisters and his father.”
“The whole family was devastated. Our entire school was in mourning for weeks after my best friend’s death. Nate was the kind of guy everyone gravitated towards. He was a top athlete and he had a great heart. What he lacked in academic ability, he made up for with his unbounded generosity. The visit with his mom was a turning point for me when I asked her what allowed her to keep moving forward despite her tragic loss.”
Curvy Girls Do It Better Page 7
