Curvy for Him: The Librarian and the Cop

by Winters, Annabelle

  “Is it postpartum?” I wonder aloud as I slowly close the door and leave my kids alone, checking to make sure the baby monitor is on while I head back to the stacks upstairs to dust off some of our older volumes.

  But as I enter the silent stacks of the upper library, the stillness in the air reminds me of that laundry room where Brick and I were trapped on our first day together. And then suddenly I’m taken back to the madness of that day, the urgency of our first coupling, the raw, primal needs of our bodies, the way we possessed each other with such desperation, gave ourselves to one another with such abandon.

  “That’s what’s missing—the excitement of that first meeting, the danger, the sense that we had to claim it all because we could lose it any moment,” I whisper to myself as I sigh and reach up along the metal racks for a book that doesn’t seem to belong there. I frown when I see the title, and then I gasp when I realize it’s The Bridge Across Forever!

  I almost laugh out loud at the coincidence, and I reach back up to the shelf, deciding that I’m gonna leave the book right there.

  But suddenly I head a metallic click, and I gasp when I feel the handcuffs close around my wrist, locking me to the metal frame of the bookshelf!

  “Bad librarian,” comes Brick’s voice from behind me, and I gasp again when I turn my head and see that he’s wearing nothing but his bulletproof vest and his equipment belt. “You know that it’s my job as an officer of the law to punish any government employee who breaks the rules, don’t you?”

  I’m giggling at the sight of Brick’s big cock half erect behind me, and I know immediately that he’s been feeling the same weird melancholy that’s been building up over the past year, after our wedding ceremony, the pregnancy, the twins, our promotions . . . all that normal stuff! Normal and wonderful, yes; but our relationship wasn’t born under normal conditions. Brick’s my man, and he’s sensed what I need, what we both need, what our marriage needs. Now and forever.

  “How would you know what the rules are?” I whisper as Brick pulls my business skirt up over my ass and squeezes hard as his cock fills out to full mast. “You’re just a meathead cop. A bad cop. A dirty cop.”

  “How dirty?” growls Brick, and I moan as I feel his face down near my rear, his tongue pushing my satin panties into my crack, his saliva soaking through.

  “The dirtiest,” I groan. “Filthy.”

  And then I can’t speak, because Brick has ripped my panties down the middle, pulled them off me, and stuffed them right into my mouth. Then he smacks my ass hard, two tight slaps on each buttcheek until my face goes red and I’m snorting through my nose. A moment later he’s pulled my rear globes so wide apart I can feel the air swirl around my most secret space, and when he licks my asshole tenderly while rubbing my mound from below hard, I just moan and come all over his hand.

  “Good girl,” he growls, fingering me deep as I shudder through my orgasm. I feel him coat his hand with my wetness, and I hear him greasing his cock up with my juices.

  Soon he’s fingering my rear hole, making me relax as I pull at my cuffs, whimper through my gag, smile in the darkness as I know that our lives will never be normal, that the way we met will define the rest of our lives, define us forever.

  And so when my husband, the father of my twins, my protector, my savior, my dirty, filthy cop finally takes his finger out and presses his enormous cockhead against my wet hole, pushing himself all the way into my anus and coming almost immediately, blasting his hot load into places that have never been reached, I just turn my head halfway and nod. I don’t say a word, and neither does he. We’ve never done this before, but he doesn’t need to ask.

  He doesn’t need to ask, and I don’t need to answer. That’s who we are. That’s what we are. It’s what we’ll always be. Drama and danger. Curves and muscle. Librarian and cop. Man and woman. Always and forever.

  Always and forever.

  ∞

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  OMG, over-the-top to the point of madness, I know. But fun, I hope? That’s the point of the CURVY FOR HIM series. Just ridiculously hot, insane stories that obviously would never happen anywhere except in our little world of silliness and romantic make-believe.

  Looking for something a bit deeper and more complex? Well, try my full-length series CURVES FOR SHEIKHS and CURVES FOR SHIFTERS.

  Looking for more CURVY FOR HIM?

  Here’s BOOK ONE if you haven’t read it yet.

  And BOOK THREE is next.

  Thanks for joining us on this wild ride. I understand if my stuff is too out there for you, but I do hope you stick around.

  Love,

  Anna.

  mail@annabellewinters.com

  PS: If you do decide to stick around, join my private list and you’ll get five super-hot epilogues from my SHEIKHS series.

  Oh, and for my international readers:

  Annabelle in UK

  Annabelle in CA

  Annabelle in AU

  ∞