Rock Hard And Wet (BBW Paranormal Romance) (Nymphs Of New York)

by James, Jennifer

  The tight muscles in her chest loosened when he walked them into his bedroom and went to his knees next to the mattress. The bare white walls and single plain dresser spoke of a man who didn’t plan on staying—or had just moved in.

  She didn’t have long to ruminate on his décor, before he kissed his way from her jaw to her lips and didn’t stop working his way in and out of her mouth with his tongue until she broke away to breathe. The chilled air in the room raised goose bumps on her body when it collided with the wet line he left behind as he made his way to her nipples.

  She gripped him by the back of the head. The soft strands of his hair slid through her fingers. Callie arched her back to shove her breasts closer to his mouth. He stayed there, working first one, then the other, until she thrummed her feet on the floor in frustration.

  A swirl of his tongue in her belly button, then a lick across the top of her mons, and he sat on his heels. “Callie.” One callused finger dipped into her pussy, and then smeared her cream around her clit. “Do you like oral sex?”

  “Oh, god, yes.” She picked her ass up off the bed, chasing the finger he withdrew.

  “Good. Because I’m going to eat you until you beg for mercy. Until you can’t move your legs and you can’t remember your name.” He teased her once more with the roving digit. “Until I’m imprinted in your flesh and bones. Until long years from now, in the night, you think of me and no other lover.”

  “When?” She peered down her body at him, rose to her elbows, and writhed. Gods, the words this man used. The expression of absolute seriousness on his face. “Please say now.”

  A wicked smile stretched his lips into a grin and he licked his upper lip. Two fingers sank into her tight channel and a third teased her ass. He curled his fingers forward and rocked them in and out, hard, while gradually working his other finger inside to the middle knuckle. A hot puff of air blew over her clit in a long stream, and he licked first one lip, then the other.

  “Fuck. I hate you.”

  “Aww, that’s not very nice.” The silken glide of his tongue circled her nub, flicked it once, twice, and then danced away as he continued to finger-fuck her.

  “Theo—”

  He closed his lips over her clit and sucked, nibbled, and released her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to taste a female’s cream. I want to savor it.”

  Her back arched, and she bucked her hips, helpless to control the movement as he tormented her with his fingers, plundering every hole while his mouth consumed her folds. The pleasure coalesced and spread through her, sparking points of light behind her eyelids.

  The orgasm burst from her, and she yelled, banging the back of her ankle on the bed rail and digging her nails into the sheets.

  Theo lapped at her clit a few more times, chuckling when she jerked away and rolled onto her side to escape. Sweat prickled the backs of her knees and in her elbow joints.

  “I’m not done with you yet.” The gruff timbre of his voice crept through the haze clouding her thoughts. The sheets gathered beneath her lower back as he towed her across the bed.

  The flat of his tongue slid over her again in a slow glide. He skirted her clit and returned to the bottom. She gasped and fisted the covers. Strong fingers burrowed into her waist. His hands curled around her lower back to hold her in place.

  The torment continued as he thrust his tongue inside her, and then licked up to her hood. She held her breath, almost afraid. He touched her with only the tip, a light brush of flesh before skirting away again.

  Over and over, he flicked her pleasure center until she rocked her hips from side to side and cursed him. In response, he pinched her nipples and sucked hard on her clit. She dug her heels in and raised her groin closer to him, offered her body with mindless abandon, the drive to orgasm encompassing her.

  “Please Theo. Please, please, please…”

  He kissed each thigh and spread her lips with his thumbs. Their gazes connected down the line of her body, and he lapped at her. The low purr she’d heard before thrummed through her clit and she came, hard and fast, the roar of her blood rushing through her ears. When he released her, her thighs plopped together in a boneless heap.

  The edge of the mattress dipped, and he coaxed her thighs apart. “Come here, Callie.” The roughness to his voice sent tingles racing through her veins. His face swam into view, and she smiled, lazy, stupid, relaxed but for the over sensitized throb of her clit.

  She twined her arms around his neck and hauled him in close for a kiss, tasted herself on his lips. He’d made good on his promise and made her come so hard she couldn’t move. But any nymph worth her salt water recovered from orgasm in a jiff. No way a male would be fucking some rag doll of a female, unable to participate in the fun.

  The steel-hard head of his cock probed her pussy and she grasped him, pumped him from base to tip. A drop of pre-cum oozed from the slit, and she smeared it over the head with her thumb. The muscles in his arms trembled on either side of her face.

  “Hang on. I don’t want to come yet.” Deep lines creased his forehead as he held himself poised at her entrance.

  “Are you that close?” She cupped his balls and rolled them in her palm.

  He stilled her hand. “Yes.”

  “Lie down.” She shoved at his shoulder until he dropped to the bed. “Do you want me to suck your cock, or should I just ride you?”

  He groaned. “Ride me.”

  The words weren’t even out of his mouth before she straddled him and poised herself above his dick. As she lowered herself onto him, they both gasped, the friction almost too much. Callie started slow, enjoying the stretch and tug as her muscles accommodated him and the half broken words he uttered. She cupped her breasts, squeezing and rolling her nipples while he watched. The shock of pain and pleasure spread. Her inner walls rippled around his thick cock, and she reveled in the torture of altering the pace. She wanted to ride him forever.

  He dug his fingers into her hips, raising and lowering her over his shaft, bucking his hips into her as she came down.

  “God, you feel good.” She slipped her fingers into his mouth and he bit them, laving them with his tongue. He released the digits and she used them on her clit.

  The thrusts hit her harder, faster, until he rolled them over in one quick move that tangled her legs in the sheets and he slid out of her pussy.

  “Damn it. Stupid useless things.” Theo ripped the covers, removing them from her legs, and she did her best to suppress her laughter. He chuckled too, and gathered her close for a kiss. She skimmed her hands over his lower back and he held her left breast in one massive palm. The heat of his mouth and tongue on her aching flesh sent flares of pleasure through her to pool in her belly. He retreated and propped her legs over his arms. When he thrust into her, she closed her eyes. The angle changed with the new position, and her muscles clamped around his dick as he shoved his way inside.

  “Ah…damn.” Sheathed all the way, he stopped and held still for a moment.

  She’d die if he didn’t move. “Please fuck me. Don’t make me wait.”

  “Callie—” He licked his lips, opened his mouth to speak, and stopped.

  “What?” The pressure of his cock filling her burned, fed a hunger she didn’t think would ever be sated. A hunger for him.

  Oh crap.

  He stared at her, their bodies joined together, grey streaks swirling across his irises, and a bone deep grief evident in the lines of his face. “Nothing.”

  He canted back and plunged in and out with a roll to his hips that stimulated her clit with his pelvic bone.

  This time when orgasm took her, she thought she’d surely pass out. Nymph or not.

  He paused, hips molded to her body, and his cum shot into her.

  Their heaving chests collided, the hard planes of his muscles and her soft breasts a counterpoint to each other. She ran her fingers through his hair. He turned his face to kiss her palm. The low light caught on the shiny, white scar tissu
e dotting his features. Instead of detracting from the bold, masculine beauty, the imperfections enhanced them.

  He rolled to the side and gathered her to his chest. She allowed herself the luxury of snuggling into his warmth and dipped her nose to the blanket he tugged up and over them.

  “You ripped the crap out of them.” She nuzzled into his pectoral muscle and licked his nipple out of sheer naughtiness.

  He shied away. “They pissed me off.” He did a half sit up and rummaged around until she was mostly covered, then lay back down.

  “I guess so.” A yawn stretched her mouth. “Did my skirt piss you off too?”

  “Absolutely.” The beat of his heart in her ear soothed Callie. “I think you should stay naked for the next few days so I don’t rip anything else.”

  “Okay.” Sleep beckoned and she closed her eyes. The rumbling purr she’d heard earlier that he’d tried to suppress came back again, and she smiled. “I like that sound.”

  Theo didn’t reply. He squeezed her in his arms once more, brushed a kiss onto the top of her head, and tangled her legs in his before she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  When Callie eased into deep sleep, he slipped away from the soft curve of her body and tucked the destroyed bedding in tight to her. No reason for her to get cold while he dealt with Booker. The air conditioning might give her a chill without him there to warm her.

  He gave himself a mental shake. Worry for a female of another species who shouldn’t even be here? Stupid.

  Some members of the aerie would tell him he’d always been ruled by his cock when it came to females. But none of them mattered anymore. They’d shunned him. Only his brother dared speak to him in public. The ones who didn’t believe he deserved the punishment he’d received were too afraid of being outcast themselves to approach.

  Once upon a time, he’d thought them cowards—before the long years of being trapped and frozen in his hunting form, transported from one building to the next, unable to do nothing but watch and listen.

  Now he understood their fear. How much loneliness and living outside the lines cost.

  A satisfied Callie slept soundly, he checked the deadbolt on the door and the window locks in the other rooms. No human could enter the apartment from a window unless they rappelled down from the roof. The reinforced door and frame were strong enough to protect her from all but a small battering ram.

  A supernatural being could gain entry, but with Booker on the roof, only the boldest would dare try to enter his apartment.

  Nothing left to do but change and start the long climb up. Once he would have flown, but that option had been torn from him centuries ago. Still, he felt his missing wings when he transformed. He still flexed and folded the phantom limbs, could still beat them in the breeze.

  The roots in his back muscles twitched and spasmed under the specialized cement bandaging. It blended in with his skin, part of the natural camouflage of a grotesque in their human form. The rents in his flesh only showed when he changed.

  However, the sensation that part of his body was missing never left him. It had taken weeks after he awoke from being frozen to adjust his balance and learn to walk without the weight of his wings on his back.

  He strode to the sliding glass doors, slid them open, and stepped outside. Once assured no one would spot him, he changed into his hunting form. Tingles continued to spark over his skin as the magic faded and he shook his head, the living stone of his mane swishing. He flicked his tail to the side a few times and stretched, digging his claws into the metal grating beneath his feet.

  His back legs accepted his body weight, and he hooked his claws into the stone wall of the building well above the top of the doors, climbed a few feet to get his back legs into the stone, and then shuffled to the side to clear the bottom of the balcony above. In this form, Theo was much larger than a typical male lion—fifteen feet long from his fore legs to his rump, with a five foot tail whose tuft hid a sharp spine he’d used in more than one battle as a deadly weapon.

  When he’d still had his wings, he’d been a truly fearsome creature.

  It took a few minutes to crest the top of the building and hop to the roof in silence. He weighed in at several tons, but his magic allowed for absolute silence, even while engaged in battle.

  Booker crouched on the far wall, crushing stone between his palms. The sound of the rocks grinding into dust reached Theo’s ears. He laid them back against his head and growled.

  The other male rose to his full nine foot height and snapped his wings out, then furled them tight to his back. He turned, his irises hazed over with red, a sure sign of fury.

  “You dare endanger us again over a female, Theo?”

  His hunting form made human speech impossible, so he responded on the common telepathic link Booker used. He knew the male meant for all the aerie to hear their conversation.

  “I endanger no one. My life means nothing to the aerie. I am shunned.”

  Booker snarled, splayed his hands so that his claw tipped hands glinted in the moonlight.

  “Trouble follows when you mate with those outside our species. You know that. A nymph? One of Poseidon’s whores? Even I did not believe you had fallen so far.”

  “She is no whore.” The deep well of anger in his gut churned and boiled. All the feelings he kept stuffed down and contained threatened to explode. “And I am nothing to you and yours. You have all made that clear. I have no wings. No people. You have no right to address me as though I am still under the aerie’s rule.”

  He’d told Callie and Petra he was the guardian of this neighborhood…and he was. But only because the members of the aerie—some of them old friends and relatives—tolerated his presence. The Elders regarded him with a sort of disgusted amusement.

  Even after his long centuries of confinement, Theo still wanted to be near the others of his kind. Close to his twin. To leave would break something inside him even the loss of his wings and shunning hadn’t been able to touch.

  The other male moved faster than he could track, and Theo cursed himself for failing to train harder since he’d awoken. The speed of the attack surprised him. Booker’s long, hooked nose collided with his, the enormity of his wing span blotting out the few stars bright enough to break through the light pollution above the city. Four inch talons swiped down Theo’s abdomen, gouged their way into his flesh.

  Few things could harm a grotesque—the magic that brought stone to life protected them from fire, projectiles, even bullets rarely did more than cause shallow wounds that healed in minutes. They experienced pain, but it faded quickly. However, when attacked by a member of their own race, their magic did little to protect them.

  Theo lashed out with his hind legs, fire jetting from his mouth into Booker’s face. The flame didn’t harm him, but it provided a distraction and allowed Theo to grasp the male’s arms with the claws in his fore paws and throw him aside.

  The wound on Theo’s gut seeped blood, but was shallow and ended in his muscle tissue. He ignored the pain, rolled to his feet, and charged, knocking Booker off balance and to his knees. The tried to stab him in the eye with the spine in his tail, but the smaller male wrapped Theo’s tail in one fist. Instead of protecting his throat and face from Theo’s jaws, he angled his free hand into position and speared his claws into Theo’s back.

  A blaze of pain erupted and burned through him when Booker’s razor sharp talons broke through the cement covering the wound where his wing had been. He screamed and dropped to the side.

  The smaller male pressed his advantage, released Theo’s tail, and straddled his back, plunging his claws into both rents in his back.

  “This is what you are. Weak. Pathetic. Ruled by emotion.”

  Theo convulsed, overcome by pain. He tried to crawl forward, but Booker twisted his hands around the nubs still encased in his back muscles. Theo flopped to the rooftop.

  “Get rid of the girl, or even the tenuous hold we allow you on the aerie—this apartmen
t, your brother, all of it—will be gone. You’ll be at the bottom of the Hudson until you finally turn to solid stone.”

  The weight on his back disappeared. Moments later, the grit of new crushed stone being mixed with his blood began to tattoo through him—Booker, closing his wounds. The threat of being dumped at the bottom of the river was a real one. Booker made it on the common path used by all members of the aerie. He could feel them, out there, the other grotesques in the city as they listened in.

  They kept their emotions clamped down tight, betraying nothing of what they thought of Booker’s statements.

  “It surprises me still that you learned nothing from your Censure. That human girl you were so enamored of died not long after you were punished. Do you know why?”

  Old memories flooded him. He’d never asked what happened to her, the sweet peasant girl whose love he’d valued above everything else. One night he’d heard her screams and struggled against the magic that contained and trapped him on the church roof. For all his frantic despair, he’d been unable to go to her.

  “It was your fault, Theo. You made the choices that led to her death. Your lack of vigilance on patrol led to your punishment. You followed your cock and neglected your duties. She was left unprotected.”

  Booker hauled him up by the scruff of the neck and shook him. His hind legs dangled on the ground.

  “Someone else should have been patrolling that part of the city, regardless of my punishment.”

  “Someone? Your brother.”

  Theo shook his head in denial. No, Logan would not allow an innocent to die. Not on purpose.

  “He let her die because I ordered it so. He bore witness to the elimination of your transgression. All you had to do was stay away from her. But you were selfish. Enamored. She could have had babies and gotten fat. Grown old with a husband. Instead, she was raped and dumped in a sewer.”

  He swiped his paw at Booker’s face and knew the movement was impotent and useless before he was halfway through the arc of the swing.