Curve Beast (Paranormal BBW Erotic Romance)

by Ann Vremont

  She loved that, loved the feel of him in her, loved his hands hard or soft on her body, loved the tugging pull of his lips drawing her nipple taut.

  She started to rock. Little waves broke across the surface of the bathwater. Cruz leaned his head back, eyes closed, his hands massaging her breasts, squeezing them with each forward bounce of her body.

  Cruz released her breasts and soaped the wash cloth up, ran it across her shoulder, down her chest. She arched back, letting her hair dip into the water as he ran the cloth over her stomach. Tamsyn leaned forward again, close enough to kiss him. Their lips met as she felt the cloth running down her back, over one butt cheek. He brought the cloth up heavy with water, rinsing the suds away. The kiss deepened, the circling of their tongues matching the hard grind of her cunt around his dick.

  He dropped the cloth and knotted his wet hands in her hair. His hips lifted, thrusting. She moaned into his mouth, her hands wrapping around his shoulders as her nails pressed into his flesh. The tub, big enough a few minutes before, was now too small. He circled her waist with his arms, almost levitated from the bath as he got them out of the water and onto the floor.

  He sat on the towels, she sat on him, her breasts pressed hard against his chest. She rode him, wild, clenching. Her thighs and ass muscles worked to keep her pussy constricted around him.

  There was nothing civilized in the way she fucked him, moaned his named or whispered in his ear, "You’re so big, baby. So big."

  "I can be bigger," he whispered back, lost in the same abandon that gripped her.

  Tamsyn shivered, her mind flashing first to the selective mutation of Cruz’s hand in the restaurant parking lot back in Ajax and then his transformation on his way to Steiger’s. It had happened so fast, but with enough time that she’d seen--

  She shivered again, rode him a little more desperately as her mind whirled around his suggestion. Tamsyn jerked, the idea hurling her against the wall of her first orgasm.

  "Yes," she panted, craving another bone rattling climax. It was why she’d downed a 45-day bottle of Testarol in three days -- not just to be safe but to be with him totally, inseparable. "Bigger, yes. I want that."

  "Slow, Tam." Cruz wrapped his hands around her hips and pressed his back against the floor. His hard grip kept her in place, except for the little circles her cunt moved in that he couldn’t -- and didn't want to -- stop.

  She whimpered a little as he started to grow inside her. Not like she was hurt, more like she was a little out of her mind. She laughed, the sound crazy, hungry for more.

  He was buried deep in her, all her upper body weight settled on his cock as he continued to expand and lengthen. Another whimper. Cruz groaned when she did it.

  Tam looked down to where their bodies met. The dark ladder of hair that ran from the base of his cock up to his navel had thickened. More hair bristled along the top of his thighs, tickling her bottom and pussy.

  She looked beyond him, to the closed bathroom door and the dressing mirror attached to its back. Just Cruz, human -- until she lifted a little off him and could see his cock. Thicker, darker, heavy veins on the surface, the center shaft swollen bigger than the head. So full inside her that he wouldn't be able to roll and thrust if she wasn't so wet.

  She was secreting a slow steady flow from her urethra. She reached down, touched a finger tip to it, trailed the moisture all they way up her stomach to her nose. Viscous, clear. She took a small lick and then trailed another line down to her cunt and smeared more onto her fingers.

  Cruz grabbed her hand, brought it to his mouth and started to suck on her fingers.

  Oh, god. His cock and that slow sucking on her fingers made her head roll back. Her eyes closed as her climax wrapped itself around her spine and squeezed. Squeezed and kept squeezing until she collapsed forward onto him, panting and shuddering at each aftershock of pleasure rolling through her.

  Cruz rolled her onto her back. Inside her, he returned to normal -- still big and as hard as the wood beneath her.

  "You know I watched over you," he confessed as he kissed her throat. "Watched you in your apartment."

  She nodded. She had known, even if she had not been aware of the knowing. The connection had been there, fueling her passion on the solitary nights and her revulsion at Lonnie’s sallow head dipping between her legs.

  So he knew -- what she liked, what she had done to preserve and satisfy herself at the same time. Cruz growled against her ear, almost like he was catching her thoughts and shaping them into intent.

  "Tam, so dirty," he murmured approval against her ear. His hands moved down to her bottom, pulled her cheeks apart as she spread her legs. "So...mine."

  He cock was slick from her cunt and the slow, steady secretion that had flowed from her urethra. The flow was still there, covering her swollen labia and pooling on the surface of his cock. He pushed the head against the opening to her ass. Her pussy tightened, quivered, and a shaky moan escaped her.

  She closed her eyes, threw her arms up over her face. She didn’t want to see him watching her as she lost all control. And she knew she would go wild. It was already building in her as she felt the muscles of her ass stretching to accommodate his heavy erection.

  And then his thumb found her clit. Little circles. Her hips found the groove, letting him work more of his cock into her.

  "Fast," she begged between short gulps of air.

  When he grabbed her hips, she worked one hand down to the hard length of her clit, and began to rub as he drove in and out of her, increasing his speed with each little plea that fell from her lips.

  Coming. Gushing. So much of it on her thighs and lower belly, on his. He came with her, in her, his fingertips digging deep into the flesh of her hips as the last of his climax brought his body to a deep paralysis.

  Cruz relaxed, gasping. His hands dropped to the floor, palms against the wood as he stared at her half covered face and closed eyes. She opened them, looked up at him to see his expression startle.

  "Tamsyn, your eyes."

  She snorted. He was trying to put one over on her, unless her brain was bleeding through her eyeballs from too much pleasure.

  Which was a distinct possibility.

  "Tam."

  She twisted -- not wanting to lose the feel of his cock slowly shrinking inside her -- until she could just see her face at the bottom of the dressing mirror. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, but certainly it wasn’t tawny gold irises slowly bleeding back to their normal hazel.

  *****

  Tamsyn was asleep on the bed, curled against Cruz’s side beneath the bedspread, when Dominic returned to the cabin. Cruz nodded at the laptop.

  "You get that working yourself?"

  Dominic gave a nod. He left the computer on the empty bed, grabbed a clean set of clothes and headed into the bathroom. He froze, stared at the towels still on the floor and prudishly kicked them to the side.

  Really, Manito.

  Cruz chuckled. Tamsyn stirred. Her eyes fluttered open.

  "Dom back?"

  She was asleep again before he could answer.

  Twenty minutes later, Dominic was out of the bathroom and on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  "She’s seriously out," he said after a few minutes.

  "Yeah." Cruz looked down at her again, stroked the side of her mouth. Her lips parted and he felt the spread of heat across his face and chest.

  "You slept a lot like that, early on in your change. Think I did, too."

  "But we were actually shifting," Cruz reminded him. "She’s...I don’t know what’s going on inside her. Her eyes changed..." Words fading, he glanced at the bathroom.

  Cruz changed topics. "You get anything out of Beemer yet?"

  "He says Sanctuary is in Nevada." Dominic looked at Cruz and gave a dry laugh. "Is that your ‘what the fuck’ face, little brother?"

  "Half the state’s under satellite surveillance. You know, Nellis, Area 51?"

  Dominic shook his head. "Or ha
lf of it is satellite and no-fly restricted. All ground surveillance, with no U.S. or foreign eyes in the sky."

  "So they’re hiding on the enemies doorstep..."

  "Or they are the enemy," Dom agreed. "He said he’d meet us in Cedar City, we give him a day and time."

  "That’s way too fucking close to where we are now."

  "You think they’ve tracked us?"

  Cruz was biting at a nail, he stopped, glanced down at the sleeping Tamsyn, and gave a small lift to his shoulders. "Not through the laptop. But if Beemer is with this black ops, they had a starting point. Hoekstra and the garage--which means they’ve got our driver’s license pictures that they can use to compare from the digital surveillance feeds of any chain gas or grocery store, not to mention traffic cameras."

  "Not many traffic cameras in the boonies, and we’ve tried to stay out of the chains, and that’s a lot of territory to cover, Manito."

  "Maximum rate of travel from the garage as a starting point...they’ve got algorithms for figuring that shit out. And the government bleeds computer processing power out its ass."

  Cruz returned to biting at his nail.

  "So we don’t agree to meet him?" There was an edge to Dominic’s voice that was like glass grinding down.

  "We meet him, but he doesn't get to pick the location -- certainly not some place like Cedar City with probably less than thirty thousand. Did you tell him what direction we are coming from?"

  Dominic snorted. "Like I’m that fucking stupid, Manito?"

  "Then tell him we are coming in from the west, and I’ll meet him in Vegas."

  Dominic sat up, put his feet on the floor and leaned across the gap between the beds. "What do you mean ‘you’ll’ meet him?"

  "We’re not taking Tam in that close and they’ll sniff me out, anyway, right?"

  Dom planted his face in his palms. "It’s not so noticeable now, but in the same building..."

  "And you could just be getting use to it, too."

  His hands still against his face, Dominic laughed. "Believe me, Manito. I’ve been living with that smell for six months. I knew the day you irrevocably fell in love with Tam, even if you didn’t. There’s no getting used to that odor."

  Dominic looked up. "So, assuming we can convince Tam to let you out of her sight again, what’s the plan?"

  Cruz eased away from Tamsyn, a deep whimper sounding in her throat, and reached across to grab the laptop. He took it to the table, carefully reattaching the air card. When it was running, he pulled up a map of the southwest.

  "We tell him night after next, only let him think it will be the three of us." He pointed to a Nevada town just outside an Indian reservation and then Googled the location. "We’ve got plenty of traffic going in this way -- too much of an interstate crowd for anyone to try something. The two of you stay here...and if you have to," he pointed to the reservation itself, "you hike into here."

  Dominic nodded. "Sovereign land, right. Harder for them to follow us. And you?"

  Cruz had pulled up a bigger map for the area. "I get a ride from one of the truckers here into Vegas."

  Dominic looked back to Tamsyn. "She’s going to be a hard sell."

  Cruz got up, walked back to the bed and stood over Tamsyn, watching her. She was still in a deep sleep, had been the entire time. He could feel it each time she neared consciousness and sleep dragged her back.

  "No, she won’t. You don’t tell her until I’m gone."

  *****

  "I can’t believe I slept so hard last night." Tamsyn handed the cabin keys back to the clerk in the rental office.

  "We’ve got great beds," the woman answered, counting their room deposit back in twenties.

  The woman had been reluctant to rent the cabin to them without a credit card or driver’s license until Tamsyn had started throwing around words like "graduate thesis," "social engineering," "feasibility study for living anonymously off the grid," and "would a five hundred dollar deposit work for you?"

  The deposit, and agreeing to twice the going rate on the cabin, had clenched the deal.

  A pebble hit the office window and the woman jumped. She rapped her knuckles on the glass and glared at two boys out in the parking lot. "Damn kids! I mean, we have a pool, playground, nature trails, and they gotta entertain themselves throwing rocks?"

  "Great beds, my ass!" Cruz said once they were out of the office and heading toward the Ranchero. He rubbed his left butt cheek. "And I mean that literally."

  "Yeah, but I didn’t want to hurt her -- ow, fuck!" Tamsyn’s left hand went flying to her face. She rubbed her cheek, her hand coming back with blood on it.

  There was the scrabble of tennis shoes over gravel. One of the boys, his blond hair dusty from their rough play, paled. "Sorry, lady. Sorry."

  Tamsyn grabbed Cruz’s collar before he could chase after them. "Chill, Medina. It’s not like they took an eye out or anything. And what did you plan, anyway? Opening a can of whoop ass on two ten-year-olds?"

  "Uhm...march them back to their parents?" He answered and then grinned. "With a palm print on each of their butts?"

  They were already at the Ranchero, Dom sitting in the passenger seat with the window rolled down.

  "That’s what I would have done." He hooked a thumb at the steering wheel. "You drive, Cruz."

  Cruz stopped Tamsyn before she could climb into the Ranchero’s cab. He reached behind the bench seat and grabbed the first aid kit. He took an alcohol swab out and wiped her cheek.

  "Shit, that stings!"

  "Don’t be a baby." He took some Neosporin out and dabbed it on the cut. "It’s a little too wide for a band-aid."

  Watching her climb into the cab, Cruz gave her bottom a proprietary pat and grinned at her when she looked back.

  "So where are we heading?" Tamsyn asked once the three of them were in the car.

  "Vegas," Cruz answered.

  "I thought we were trying to avoid big cities? Is that where Beemer wants us to meet him?"

  Cruz had already run the lie through his head enough times it felt like the truth. "No, we’ll pick up a new ride. State’s got thirty-day private party registration rules on vehicle sales."

  "And then what?"

  "On to California, where we know a guy who can get us all new IDs." That much was true. They had been living in California, Dominic studying at Occidental, when Lyrra died. Only, back then, they had been Michael and Neil Perez.

  "Wait." Tamsyn twisted to look at him. "So what is your real name?"

  "It’s Cruz. We went back to our first names."

  "And your last name?"

  When Cruz just shrugged, she looked to Dominic.

  "Don’t know it."

  Tamsyn settled back into place and stared out the front window. "Shit, and I thought I had a crappy childhood."

  Cruz and Dominic laughed in unison. "Tam, you did."

  Twenty miles on, they ran into the first road construction warning.

  "Well, at least it shouldn’t slow down to a crawl." Tamsyn turned and looked through the dusty rear window of the Ranchero’s camper shell. "We have grandma and grampa out in a station wagon older than I am." She turned back to the front windshield. "And a church van full of little kids. Not exactly hillbilly rush hour."

  The windows on the van were up, but she could see the kids bouncing happily in their seats as they sang some go-to-church song. At least they have music, she thought, looking at the radio that was useless after Cruz had stripped some wires out to make the air card work. "Can we try to get something with a working CD player? Oh, and some CDs?"

  "Sure." Cruz was driving at the construction zone's twenty-five mile an hour speed limit with white knuckles. A payloader, its bucket raised, was trying to merge onto the road ahead of them. The church van passed it, followed by the Ranchero.

  "There go the grandparents," Tam said as the payloader pulled slowly in behind the Ranchero. "Jerk could have let them go by."

  Cruz and Dominic were silent. The constructio
n zone was in the middle of a road cut through a hundred or more feet of layered rock.

  "Guys?"

  Loose gravel covered the asphalt ahead of them. A dump truck, big enough to block both directions of traffic, started backing across the road in front of them. A flagman, big and blond with short cut hair, let the church van through before he swiveled his stop sign in the Ranchero’s direction.

  Beyond the truck, half a dozen more men stood with shovels and picks. Like the flagman, they were tall, built.

  Looking at them, Tamsyn tilted her head. "I know this is Utah, but do they really have to have an all white crew?"

  Still silent, Cruz studied the road crew, too. White, built, and wearing jeans that hadn’t seen a minute’s worth of road work.

  "Go through, Manito."

  Cruz hit the gas pedal before Dominic finished his sentence. The Ranchero, with its rear wheel drive train, kicked up gravel behind them. They shot forward, sliding left. Cruz corrected, pressed the accelerator all the way down.

  The flagman hurled his sign at the front window, its metal plate shattering the windshield. Three shots sounded. The first was from a rifle and took out the Ranchero’s right rear wheel. The Ranchero spun out of control clockwise, the rear of the vehicle slamming into the rock facing in time for them to see the payloader driver fire his gun twice into the station wagon.

  Dominic shouted, "Out, now!"

  Dominic and Cruz were shifting as they moved, their clothes ripping. They weren’t the only ones. The flagman, his coat a streak of brown and blond, slammed his claws through the Ranchero’s hood. He peeled it away, flung it behind him, and jumped onto the steaming engine block.

  When a hairy, clawed hand reached through the driver’s side door to pull her out, Tamsyn screamed.

  It’s okay, baby.

  Another voice growled in her head. NO IT’S NOT, BITCH!

  Cruz launched himself at the flagman, three of his claws digging into the shifter’s chest and shredding the fur and skin. As Cruz fought the flagman, a second shifter landed on the Ranchero’s roof, crumpling it. He was tackled a heartbeat later by a shifter with the same shades of Cruz’s coat.