Crazy About Curves: 10 Luscious Reads

by Adriana Hunter

  Still holding my shoes, I tiptoed to the entryway. Placing my hand over the security system’s speaker, I punched in the code.

  The alarm went off.

  I punched it in again, frantic to release the lock. Blake was sure to wake up – all the whiskey in the world wouldn’t let him sleep through the blaring noise.

  The alarm didn’t stop. I entered the code again, certain I had gotten it correct the first two times. It shouldn’t have gone off!

  Blake’s hand brushed my shoulder as he reached across me to disable the alarm. As soon as the sound stopped, a calm female voice came over the speaker.

  “Identity and confirmation code, please.”

  Blake said his name and recited a long string of numbers, cutting the caller off with a curt good-bye.

  “I reset the code before coming to bed, Pippa.” He flipped the light on then turned me until I faced him. “I had a feeling you might leave before we could talk.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss, Blake.” I kept my gaze centered on his chest. If I lifted my eyes to look at him, I would start crying. “Just give me whatever papers Michael brought you and I’ll sign.”

  Placing a fingertip beneath my chin, he forced me to look up. “The papers were for Anna’s law suit. I settled with her this evening.”

  “Settled?” Of course, he had settled. Now there was zero reason for him to continue the marriage. He could get on with his real life.

  “Yes, PJ. I settled a case—a case I could have won—for a hell of a lot more money than I needed to. And I did it because of you.”

  I blinked, shocked by his bluntness. He could have told me without emphasizing just how badly he wanted to get rid of me. I folded my arms across my chest, silently cursing myself for loving a phony jerk who wanted nothing to do with me.

  Screw him! I could be just as big a jerk and maybe, just maybe, if I let myself be angry, I wouldn’t feel so hurt. Lifting my chin a little, I narrowed my gaze. “Understandable, Cross. You want out, so do I—”

  Blake grabbed my left hand and lifted it, a spark of fury heating his cheeks. “Where’s your ring?”

  “I left Eliza’s ring—”

  “Your ring, Pippa.” He shook his head, not nearly hard enough to loosen the scowl stamped on his face. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he started pulling me from the entry room. “It’s your ring and it’s going back on right now.”

  Grabbing onto the doorframe, I tried to halt our progress. There was only one direction I wanted to go in and that was through the entry door and down the elevator. “You said it would stay in your family.”

  “I did.” He peeled my fingers off the molding and then quickly bent down, his arm sweeping against my knees to lift me. “And it is.”

  “Blake, what are you doing?” My voice shook, all my strength fleeing beneath his fierce gaze.

  “We are going to have our talk now—whether or not you want to.” Blake carried me down the hallway and into the bedroom, unceremoniously dumping me on the soft mattress before he turned on the bedroom light and retrieved the ring. “Put this back on.”

  I shook my head. What the hell was he thinking?

  Blake closed his eyes and I swear I could see him counting to ten inside his head. His jaw slowly relaxed and he looked at me again. “Do you want to know why I settled?”

  Oh, I knew why. Looking away, I answered him. “You want out, you want the marriage over so you can pursue...”

  I stopped before I could say anything that made me sound like the jealous fool I was.

  “You, Pippa. I settled the law suit so I could pursue you.” He sat down next to me, his face hardening again when I tried to move away. Placing a hand on my thigh and the other on my hip, he pulled me to him. “That afternoon in your office, I came to help you out, to offer you an advance that would take care of everything and leave you free to focus on controlling the damage from Burke’s suit.”

  My head whipped up. I didn’t know why, but he was lying. There was no way he wasn’t. “You had the terms worked out already, the dress—”

  He shook his head. “I stepped into your outer office to find Kevin with his arm around your shoulder and I lost it, baby. The terms were spur of the moment on a loan I already intended to give you.”

  “But the dress—you didn’t have time to shop, you’d already picked it out.” Feeling lightheaded, I clutched at the blankets, my body swaying closer to his.

  “Yes, I had already visited the boutique.” Blake wrapped his arm around me then buried his face against my neck. “I’m buying it—also because of you.”

  “Because of me?” Now I was totally confused, his nonsense answers only increasing my suspicions.

  “Seems you and the boutique have the same accountant. Gorman screwed them over just as badly. They’re on the chopping block and were shopping around for a buyer.” Brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek, he kissed the side of my face. “I went into the meeting only slightly interested, particularly with Burke suing my ass. But then I saw the clothes and imagined you in them instead of all those...” pausing, he pulled his head back and wrinkled his nose at me and my old wardrobe, “suits you hide your curves under.”

  Dropping his hand to my thigh, he gave a light squeeze, his eyes flashing silver at me. “So I walked around the store, listening to what Gorman had done, how much cash they needed. Barely listening—mostly I was thinking how hot that dress you wore to Robuchon’s would look on you or the skirt and blouse or the peignoir I never gave you a chance to wear on our wedding night. Once I touched the peignoir, traced its edges, all I could think about was getting you in it just so I could take it off.”

  Eliza’s ring dangled from his pinkie. Lifting my hand, he offered me the ring once more. “So, yeah, baby, I want to drop the charade, just not the one you think you’re in.”

  “I don’t understand, you admitted you were in love...”

  He kissed me again, a little closer to my mouth, and then gently butted his forehead against mine. “With you—you obnoxious, clueless...” He claimed another kiss, ending it with a soft moan, “beautiful intoxicating dolt.”

  I nodded. He was right. Well, not the beautiful bit.

  “Yes, beautiful.” No longer waiting for me to accept the ring, he slid it onto my finger.

  “Am I really that transparent?” I was crying, but softly laughing, too.

  “To me, you are.” He kissed me again, full on the mouth as his fingers curled around my head. His lips were tentative, as if the kiss was our first kiss and he wasn’t Blake Cross, the world’s sexiest billionaire, but some nervous high school freshman. “Stay with me, love. I need you more than anything.”

  I swallowed nervously, still uncertain I understood him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  He shook his head and I couldn’t decide if his smile was happy or mournful.

  “Baby, we’re already married. I’m asking—no, that’s not right.” He slid onto the floor, his hand still holding mine. “I’m begging you not to divorce me.”

  My chest felt ready to explode. I still couldn’t wrap my head around Blake actually wanting me. “But the spies? You said people would be spying on us.”

  To my amazement, he blushed. “Baby, I’d just left the boutique, my balls were about to fall off and Kevin was touching you when I walked in. It was all I could do not to rip his arm off. I lied so I could touch you.”

  He looked away for a second, his cheeks burning redder.

  “But the elevators?”

  “I had the camera removed – I wouldn’t expose you like that, love.”

  My head bobbed as understanding slowly sank in. Each stroke and kiss had been because he wanted to touch me—wanted it so badly that he had been willing to trick me. I looked at him. He was still on one knee, holding my hand with his fingers wrapped around the ring as if I might yet change my mind and remove it.

  I smoothed a fingertip across his worried brow, watching as his expression slowly relaxed. “I sh
ould be furious with you.”

  Stretching up, he brushed his lips over mine. His hands moved to my legs, lightly surfing over them to wrap around my hips. “Does that mean you’re not?”

  “No,” I whispered. “But don’t ever lie to me like that again.”

  “Never,” he agreed. “Stay with me.”

  “Yes.” I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slowly pushed me onto my back.

  His mouth found mine, the pressure of his lips and thrust of his tongue rapidly alternating between hard and soft as his hands worked the buttons on my blouse. Reaching down, I ran my palm along the front of his boxers to find him rock hard and ready.

  The last of my buttons popped, shooting across the room to skip across the floor like stones on a lake. His hands dropped to my slacks, fumbling as he continued to kiss me. I eased his fingers to the side and unzipped. Lifting my hips, I pushed the pants and underwear far enough down that he could strip them the rest of the way.

  Blake wrapped his arms around me, rolled onto his back and brought us to the center of the bed with me on top. His eyelids fluttered as I spread my legs and eased part of my weight off him.

  His hands traveling along my hips, Blake groaned. “Baby, I want you to ride me.”

  I reached between us and teasingly snapped the waistband of his silk boxers. He lifted his hips and quickly shimmied out of the underwear.

  “No more impediments.” Smiling, he slid his hand down to stroke at my bare pussy. “If you’re wet enough.”

  His touch proved me drenched. The thick thrust of his fingers inside me and my accompanying moan proved me ready. Leaning back, I grabbed hold of the base of his cock, my eyes closing dreamily at its massive girth.

  “Very wet.” Holding his shaft straight, I slowly sank onto him, small whimpers of need escaping me with each inch my pussy swallowed.

  Propped on one elbow, Blake watched me descend as his hand toyed with my breast. “So beautiful, PJ.”

  “So big,” I groaned. Not me—him. His cock was stretching me, pushing at my walls to intensify the strength of the contractions already rolling through my sheath.

  He lifted his torso high enough to kiss my breast and slowly suck one nipple in. Between his sucking and licking and kissing, he started to babble.

  “God, I love these, baby.” He licked from one nipple to the other.

  “And this.” He ran a hand over my hip, down between my legs to tease my clit as I tightened around his cock. “Definitely this.”

  Reclining on the mattress again, he kept his fingers on my clit, his pace following the deep downward strokes of my pussy on his shaft. “I love watching you come.”

  That reward was just seconds away, his fierce, adoring gaze making me squeeze him tighter until I was fighting just to breathe. I jerked and he cried out with me, lifting his hips to stay buried inside me as my movements became erratic.

  Grabbing my hips, he held me tightly to him, his lips parted in a silent cry as I knotted around him, my pussy grinding tight circles as another orgasm slammed into me.

  When I started to collapse forward, the last of my climax wrung from me, he rolled me onto my back, his thick cock still buried in my clenching sheathe. Taking deep after strokes, he kissed my neck and then he cupped my face.

  “I love you, PJ.” His thrusts slowing, he caressed my cheek. “From the very beginning, I think.”

  I nodded, happy tears flowing from me now that I could finally speak the words.

  “I love you, Blake.”

  About the Author: Christa Wick

  Sign up at http://www.loveatanysize.com/wickednews for new release, sale, contest and the occasional free content notice! And you can still hang out with me on twitter/wickedchrista and facebook/christa.wick.1

  If you liked this story, you might also enjoy:

  Texas Curves

  Virginia Kelly is a real girl, with real curves and real problems. The last thing she needs is New Yorker Hawk McKinley pulling every trick in his billionaire playbook to get her into his bed. Certain Hawk wants nothing more than to make her a one-night stand or the double-wide butt of a cruel joke, Ginny is about to teach him no one messes with this West Texas girl.

  From the moment Ginny rescues him on the side of the road on a hot day, Hawk can't get the woman out of his mind. With her southern sass and lush body perfect for sin, she's everything he wants and everything he intends to have.

  In a game of North versus South, can two hearts win?

  Alpha Marked #1: Scarlet by Celia Kyle

  Chapter One

  The damned thing wouldn’t burn. Scarlet had tried. Twice.

  The invitation had appeared bright and early, popping onto her counter the moment the clock had struck 8:01 A.M. and she’d officially hit thirty.

  Unmated and thirty.

  Fuuuccckkk.

  She glared at the pristine page, at the cream linen that boasted the handwritten words requesting her attendance at the coming Gathering.

  Request. Right.

  She glanced at her scorched sink, frowned and wondered if steel polish would remove the marks. That thought brought her back to the idea of burning the invite and she wondered if the local witch could help her out. Maybe...

  The shrill ring of her phone busted in on her illegal wonderings. If she were honest, which she didn’t want to be, she had already broken the law by attempting to burn the stupid paper. Having a Mark meant she had to adhere to the same rules that governed the furballs. So, no circumventing a wolfy summons. Even if she wasn’t a wolf.

  With a sigh, she abandoned her spot at the counter and snatched up the phone. Holding the handset between her cheek and shoulder she greeted her caller. “Heya.”

  The caller screamed. Scarlet took a peek at the microwave clock. 8:14 A.M.

  “So, you got your invite.” She smirked, kind of glad she wouldn’t be the only one forcefully attending the upcoming annual Gathering.

  Scarlet was one of three, the first-born of the Wickham fraternal triplets. Each of them as different from the other as the stars in the sky. Thankfully, it’d only be her and Gabriella attending. The third, Whitney, had been born sans the necessary birthmark, so she wouldn’t be receiving the mandatory summons. Lucky bitch.

  “They can’t do this!”

  Scarlet eased her ear from the handset. “Apparently, they can.”

  She wanted to say “duh”, but refrained. They should have been prepared for this, should have had some sort of plan. Like, Operation: What the Fuck to do When Forced to Parade Ourselves in Front of Mate Hunting Wolves When We Hit Thirty. Instead, Scarlet had pushed the eventuality from her mind, conveniently forgetting that particular law. Apparently, Gabby had done the same.

  She fingered the unmarred invitation. “I’m pretty sure Mom covered all this during the whole ‘What to Expect When You’re Marked’ lessons.”

  “Quit being rational and logical,” her sister snapped. “I’m too busy for this, Scarlet. You need to do something. Go...do what you do.” She imagined Gabby waving her hands around, fingers fluttering, and she smiled. Her sister in a tizzy was something to watch.

  Her mongrel cat Burger came sneaking over and twined around her ankles. While listening to her sister rant and rave at the injustice of their summoning, she fed her sweet boy. Scraping out the rest of his organic, homemade cat food, she stood and placed the empty container in the sink. She’d have to make him more food for the pet sitter before she flew out to the Gathering. Mentally, she ticked through the contents of her freezer. He tended to like the shrimp and salmon more than—

  “Are you even listening to me?” Gabby’s screech nearly blew her eardrum.

  “Not really.” She stared down at Burger. “Do you think I’ll have to get rid of my cat?”

  The thought poked at her heart and deflated it. She’d rescued him when she first graduated from college. It’d been her and Burger against the world.

  “Scarlet!” She heard her sister panting and gasping with rage.
<
br />   “What? I mean, Burger’s a cat, they’re wolves. I don’t want them eating him.” Silence met her. “Just sayin’.”

  Scarlet understood Gabby’s feelings, sensed her sister near the edge of sanity, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about the situation. She was as freaked-the-fuck-out over the slip of paper as her sister, but she dealt with things with humor. Humor few people appreciated.

  They’d both been born with a Mark, a symbol of their inevitable mating to Alpha wolves.

  And it’d be Alphas. Plural. Not because they’d meet more than one wolf. No, because they’d be mating more than one wolf. Alphas ruled in pairs, the men sometimes related, generally not. But there were always two.

  Women in the Wickham line had been partnering with the furballs for as long as they could remember, though not necessarily every generation. Their mother hadn’t been Marked and had happily settled with a lovely human man. But two out of the three triplets had been born with the three-pointed, spiraling symbol. Looking more like a scar than anything else, the Mark was slightly raised and a hint darker than her natural skin tone.

  So she and Gabby would be mating a pair of wolves. Subconsciously, she’d been waiting for the invite. Once a Marked woman hit thirty and was still unmated, the Ruling Alphas summoned the ladies to the annual Gathering to meet Alphas from outside the female’s hometown.

  Basically, werewolf speed dating.

  Sniff-sniff. Am I your mate? No? Next!

  The Alpha pairing could form at any time. Once one wolf recognized a power that matched his own in another wolf, they bonded. From there they either formed a new pack or took over another. She was sure there was more secret furball mumbo jumbo involved, but that was the extent of her non-mated knowledge. Oh, she’d asked, and her mother had said: “You’ll find out when you’re mated, dear.”

  Great.

  The problems with Alpha pairs arose from the fact that both were controlling and dominant as hell. Which is where the Marked came in. The ladies acted as the balance, the one who kept the two calm. Sure, the guys could rule without one; the world was just better if they had a mate at their side. Less bloody, too.