Curves For The Lone Alpha (A Big Girl Meets Bad Wolf Romance) (5 page)

I returned to his shoulders and pressed a little firmer as I
made my way down his broad canvas of his back, this time coming to rest at the
top of his ass. His frankly quite magnificent ass. I had a moment of self
doubt. He was, for all his scars and smirks, an attractive man. He was so far
out of my league it wasn’t funny. The rational part of me was already building
walls in preparation for the inevitable rejection. And yet I still clung to the
idea that there was something, some kind of connection between us, that went
above and beyond the physical.

I stepped into him, crushing my breasts against the warm,
broad expanse of his back, his ass against my soft tummy. The water ran off him
and over my face and hair, but I ignored it, tilting my head and resting it
against his back. I wrapped my arms around him, my hands finding the thick wiry
hair that covered his chest.

My body responded to his proximity. My stubby nipples
crinkling and hardening as they pressed against him as my pulse began to race.
But I kept my needs in check. I wanted this to be about him. I wanted to let
him know he had something to live for, something to come back to. His breathing
was slow and deep, my hands shifting on his chest each time his lungs filled
with air. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t object to my presence either.

I took a deep breath, my lips tight to keep the water out,
and slowly brought my hands down his body. His broad, hairy chest giving way to
the compact muscles of a toned abdomen, before coming to rest against the top
of his thighs. I could feel ridges there, where his obliques met his thighs.

I couldn’t resist a sigh. I have a thing about obliques. I
mean beggars can’t be choosers and all that. Mitch was kind of in shape, but
not defined like this and I wasn’t really in a position to complain about that.
But James had the sort of body I had always fantasized about. It was something
I had thought would remain that way, a fantasy. That men who were in this kind
of shape preferred woman with a similar physique, that like attracted like.

I’d always found something sensual and seductive in the idea
of a strong male body, powerful and hard, against soft womanly curves. It just…
made sense to me. However, over time, I’d come to suspect this was just wishful
thinking on my part and that I was the only one who felt this way.

I nestled further into his shoulders and inched my hands
slowly inwards, brushing an unruly mass of coarse pubic hair as I found his
crotch. I grinned against him. I would have been surprised to find anything
else. One of my fingers just barely touched his member. It felt… heavy. It felt
heavy and solid and real. I parted my lips to allow a slight purr of desire to
escape.

I held my hands there for a moment, entangled in that thick
hair, before I curled the fingers on one hand and wrapped it around his shaft.

He twitched in my grip. Not fully erect, but heavy with
blood. I could feel it pulse beneath my fingers as I held him tight. I ached
for him. This mysterious stranger who might be something more than a man. I
wanted him as much as I wanted him to want me.

His body responded to my touch. A subtle roll of the hips
that I felt all the way along his back, accompanied by a growl from the back of
the throat. Deep and low I could feel the vibration against my whole body.

And then another roll of the hips as he tried to urge me
into movement. But I kept my hand still. The fat girl that feared rejection
screamed at me. Telling me that whatever he wanted I should give to him. But I
denied her as I denied him. I didn’t want to tease him, but I needed to make
him want. I needed to make him aware of my presence and want more.

He growled again as he turned to face me. My hand fell away
from his shaft as he loomed over me, a wildness in his eyes that I had caught a
glimpse of earlier. He pushed forwards, his hands on my flared hips as he
leaned into me. I gasped as my back hit the cold tiles and then again as he
lowered his head, his mouth finding mine.

Then I was silent. Breathless, as his mouth took mine. He
kissed me with a ferocity that eclipsed my tentative explorations of his body.
This wasn’t a man who feared rejection. This wasn’t a man who feared anything.
This was… this was a man who wanted me.

For what seemed like the hundredth time today I felt myself
welling up, but I ignored the tears as they were washed away by the hot spray
of the shower. I refused to give in to my fears of rejection and instead
returned his kiss. I could not match his ferocity, but I could match his
hunger.

Our tongues dance and fought with each other as I became
lost in him. His hands moved, exploring me as we explored each other’s mouths.
One slid round to my ass, fingers splayed to cup a cheek and pull me closer.
The other worked its way up from my hips, along the curve of my stomach. There
was no hesitation, no sense of disgust or revulsion at the ample flesh he found
there. If anything, the more he explored my ample body, the hungrier he and
more desperate his kiss became.

He broke the kiss and we both gasped for air as the water
streamed down our faces. There was nothing playful about his grin, somewhere
between a snarl and a smirk as he edged me towards the shower door with an
unsubtle implication of lets-move-this-to-the-bedroom. But I resisted and
instead placed a hand on his chest, and pushed
him
back against the
tiles.

“No.”

I wanted him. I wanted him on the bed. I wanted him inside
me. I wanted him to take me with all the ferocity and desire that I could see
in his eyes. But not yet. As hard as it was to deny myself, I didn’t want to be
his last meal.

I wasn’t even sure if it made sense. I wanted to be the
promise of a banquet when he returned triumphant from whatever private battle
it was that he had to face. I wanted him to know that I’d be waiting for him.
Hungry and unfulfilled. That I needed him to return. I was probably crazy. We’d
known each other for a matter of hours and for all I knew he just wanted to
have his way with me, get on with it and never see me again. But this felt
right and I hoped he understood that.

I didn’t want to be his last meal… but that didn’t mean he
had to go hungry.

I grinned back at him, my palm still pushing against his
broad chest. He could swat me aside like a bug if he wanted, but instead he
played along. Allowing me to hold him there as I turned the tables.

I stepped closer and pushed myself up on my tiptoes, forcing
my breasts against his chest, the hair scratchy against my nipples. Again I
reached down to find his shaft. He was hard now, impressively so. The warm,
firm, flesh of his member jutting uncomfortably against my stomach.

“Well aren’t you just the big, bad…”

“Don’t,” he was grinning though, teasing me, “don’t say it.
You’ll regret it if you do.”

I looked up at him and pouted, “Oh you’re no fun. Don’t you
want me to...”

I released his shaft and cupped my pale, soft breasts in my
hands, lifting them as if to offer them to him, “huff…” Then I lowered myself,
sliding my chest along his, and down his torso, my soft skin against his hard
muscles, “and puff…” Until I was on my knees, my breasts against his hardness.
I wrapped them around his impressive member, cocooning him in the ample soft
flesh of my bust. I looked up at him a sly smile as the tip of his member
peaked through my cleavage, “and
blow.
”

He groaned, a deep vibration in the back of his throat, as I
pushed my breasts together to create a warm, snug and deliciously soft home for
his manhood.

I could smell the heat. A deep, natural, masculine scent
that could not be masked by a hot shower. He was real. I still couldn’t believe
I was doing this. Not just the fact that I was kneeling in front of a man like
this. But the fact that I had been the one to initiate it. That I had come on
to him and he hadn’t resisted. I was, for now, the one in control.

There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted me. I could see
it in his eyes. I could feel it in his breath. He wanted me. He actually wanted
me!
And I planned to make sure he remembered exactly
why
he
wanted me.

I had to grin to myself as I began. This was one treat that
required some real womanly curves. I rocked back and forth, enveloping him with
my breasts with every stroke. The water on our skin helped me slide smoothly
and allowed for a slow steady rhythm.

He was hot. I mean literally hot. Far hotter than normal. I
parted my lips for a groan that he echoed as I contemplated just what he would
feel like inside me. That big cock warming me from the inside out. I squeezed
my legs together tight to try and eke out a little sensation as I resisted the
urge to abandon the whole “last meal” idea.

On the next downstroke, when his head poked out. I bent my
neck to give his tip a single lick and was met by a grunt and a thrust of the
hips that almost knocked me onto my back. I let the single drop of delicious
salty liquid I found there slide down my throat and that acted as my cue to
stop teasing and give this beast of a man what he needed.

That one taste was enough for me to know I wanted more. I
released my breasts and wrapped my arms around him to grip that amazing ass. It
felt as good as it looked, firm tight flesh with just a hint of give.

His member bobbed around in front of my face, defenseless
and desperate. I don’t know how universal it is, but I’d always gotten a
special thrill from giving a lover what they wanted and asking for nothing in
return. Even though I was on my knees before him it wasn’t a submissive act.
When I took him in my mouth, I was the one taking control.

What I may lack in skill and experience, I made up for in
enthusiasm as I pleasured him with lips, mouth, tongue and teeth. As I grew
accustomed to his size I squeezed his ass tight and pulled him deeper.

He demonstrated his appreciation with a series of growls,
grunts and groans before I felt his entire body tense. I pulled away and eased
off, trying to tease him a little and make it last a little longer, but I was
too late. He tensed again and then came. His body twitching and convulsing as
he howled with pleasure.

By the time he was done I was dripping. My face, my hair, my
breasts, blasted with his seed. It was not something I had experienced before
and I felt like I was in a cheap porn film or something. I wondered if this was
an aspect of his physiology, like the accelerated healing or, and this seemed
more likely, it had just been a while. Either way, I was glad we were already
in the shower.

Afterwards we dried but didn’t bother dressing as we made
our way to the bed. He, as I expected, made a half-hearted attempt to indicate
that he was willing to return the favor, but I made it clear that it was
neither required nor expected.

I had thought it would take a lot of willpower to resist,
but was surprised to find it did not. I wanted him. I ached for him. I was so
turned on it felt like my whole body was singing. But I needed to wait. I
needed him to come back for me when he had taken care of whatever it was he
needed to do.

- X -

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the human woman,
Carrie,  made cute little snoring sounds
beside me.

For the first time in as long as I could remember I felt
some approximation of peace. Who was she? And why did we seem to drive each
other crazy with desire? No one had ever made me feel like that before. Not
even Charlotte. This was how I imagined finding your true mate must feel, but
that couldn’t be it. She wasn’t a shifter. She was something else entirely.

Not that I was complaining. She was… incredible. Her body
was… incredible. Some wolves prefer a lean, athletic mate, a partner to hunt
with. Not me. Call me old fashioned, but I liked my bitches with enough meat on
their bones to survive the winter.
Wait
. I made  a mental note never to use the “b” word in
front of her. She wasn’t a wolf and as I’d discovered the hard way regular
women weren’t too fond of it.

But yeah, I guess I was an old fashioned kind of guy, most
alphas are. I was made to hunt, to provide for my mate, my pups, my pack. It
was what I was born to do and I had no interest in a hunting partner. When I
returned, I wanted to return to something a little more luxurious and womanly.

Since the fire I’d kind of shut down that side of my brain.
I needed release now and then and I’d never had any trouble picking up willing
partners for some mutually beneficial relief. But it was never like this. In
the shower with her… and my… that had been something new.

“Jimmy?”

Joseph? I must have fallen asleep. I could hear the old
packmaster’s voice in my head as clear as he was standing right next to me.

“Jimmy you don’t have much time. I had to do it this way. Do
you understand?”

I understood. Joseph couldn’t let me kill Travis while he
led the pack. It would shame him to let a traitor like me do his dirty work for
him. He had to make an example of me, which is why I didn’t fight back. Travis
on the other hand…

“He’ll kill you Joseph. He’ll kill you and then they’ll kill
him and your pack.”

The old wolf nodded. He looked tired. As if all the hate had
drained him, “I know Jimmy, but it’s my time. I’m ready to die. I’ll try and
buy you some time, but you need to hurry.”

“I’m sorry Joseph. I’m sorry about Charlotte. If I could
have…”

“I know Jimmy. I know you two weren’t fated, but you still
loved her. It was just easier for me to blame you, to hate you.”

“I’ll find the people who did it. I’ll make them pay.”

“You know who did it Jimmy.”

The Daughters of Diana
. A myth. Shifter folklore. A
story that Joseph used to tell me and the other pups around the campfire.