Let It Burn (A BBW Paranormal Erotic Romance) (11 page)

His
fingers dug deep into her hips as he pushed deeper, still, swiveling his hips and screwing himself so far into her that he no longer knew or even cared where he ended and she began. She laid her forehead on the floor and, with a reverberating cry pounded the polished wood with her fist.

If there’d been any hesitation left, her reaction would have sent it up in smoke.  He slid his hands up her ribcage, filling his palms with her breasts, and surged into her.  Her spine bowed sharply, she gave a little scream, and he pounded harder, hunching over her to lick at the nape of her neck, sucking the slick, sweet skin there until a rosy mark bloomed under his mouth.  She whimpered, gasped, and flung her hips back at him, always demanding more. 

He let his mouth slide over her damp skin until her found the vulnerable spot where her neck met her shoulder.  Almost as if she sensed his intention her pussy clenched around him and she pushed back into his hold.  With a feral grunt he sank his teeth into the delicate muscle.  She screamed and jerked in his hold. He pistoned harder, the force of his thrusts nearly sending her skidding across the floor.

“
Is this what you wanted?”  He groaned the words against her skin, lost in the sensation of her around him, of her somehow inside of him. 

“Yes,” she sobbed, smacking her palm flat on the floor, trying to gain resistance to push back into his thrusts.  “More,” she gasped, and “Harder,” and “Dammit, Kevin, give me more!”

“
Fuck!
” Her cries turned him inside out, her desperation fueled his own. Roughly, he grabbed her upper arms, pulling them back, arching her body off the floor and using them for leverage.  The view was spectacular, the hint of bondage intoxicating as he remembered the helpless ecstasy of being bound to her bed.

“Is this how you want it, baby?’
Kevin asked, teeth clenched.  She wailed wordlessly, and he pounded his cock into her, harder and faster with every stroke. The soft, warm flesh fit him like a glove, his balls slapped against her fine ass with every frantic, forward motion.

“Deeper
,” she moaned, twisting wildly in his hands. Sweat slicked both of their bodies. Kevin released her arms, one arm banding across her collarbones, dragging her back against his chest, his other hand sliding around to her stomach.

He pointed his fingers downward, and slid them down to her swollen pussy.  He let his fingers separate, spreading to fork around his cock.  Pressing in with his palm he compressed the tender skin of her opening around his throbbing dick.

Her arms, now freed, wrapped back around his neck, drawing him even tighter against her.  The heel of his hand grazed her clit and she shimmied at the contact.  He buried his face in her neck, shivering in response, his thrusts jerking, losing rhythm as pure sensation took over.

“Come for me
, Joanna. Give me your fire,” he panted against her ear before drawing her lobe between his teeth.  “Let it burn all fucking over me.”

Joanna’s hands knotted in his hair, and he ground his palm over her clit.  Her hands slipped down, her nails digging into the back of his neck, and he went wild, scoring his teeth over her neck, her shoulders, as much of her back as he could reach without letting go. 

He pumped into her, and his groans of pleasure echoed hers.  They ceased to be Joanna and Kevin, they were two bodies doing a frenzied dance, trying to crawl inside each other with every movement.  Then they were one, one heart, one soul.  She glowed in his arms, and it was as if he could feel every emotion she’d ever had.  The fear when her mom didn’t come home for her.  The loneliness and confusion when the kids her age made fun of her, when no family wanted to even foster her, let alone adopt her.  The euphoric joy at discovering her art. The bitter disappointment of her first lover. The tremulous happiness found in his arms.

Was this what she felt every day?  It was agony.  It was fucking ecstasy.  It was the deepest fucking intimacy he’d ever felt.  It was as if he knew her clear down to her soul, and her soul was so fucking beautiful.  And she was feeling him just as deeply.

Fuck.
  “Fuck, baby, I want you to come for me.”  He needed her to come.  He couldn’t hold out more than a couple thrusts more, and he needed her to burn all over him first.  She moaned, cried out, and he felt her whole body go taut.  He ground his hand once more over her clit and she exploded, screaming harshly as her pussy contracted strongly on his dick. 

The hand holding her upper body to his slid up, a ghost touch over her neck before his palm wrapped around her jaw.  She bit down, sinking sharp teeth into the tough skin, and his balls drew painfully tight.  But it was the scalding heat of her tears dripping down the back of his hand that lit his own orgasm.

He arched hard into her, nearly bucking her off his body, and shouted his own climax as she wrung every drop of cum from his convulsing balls.

She collapsed forward, and he followed her, having just enough sanity left to shift to the side so he didn’t crush her against the hard-wood floor.

They were both panting, their breath coming in shallow gulps.  Kevin wanted to say something, give her pretty words, but the elemental, carnal flame between them had scoured away every thought but one fundamental truth.  The truth was that Kevin Krysenski had fallen in love with Joanna Balentine

*

Jo sat cross-legged on the floor, focused intently on the large canvas propped up in front of her. Her white t-shirt was streaked with yellows of every hue as the brush moved with a will of its own in her hand. The stereo pounded, blasting the music of Hinder, an aching song for a woman who deserved much better than the singer.  The song reminded her of Kevin, his lingering guilt and grief for his father and sister.  His lingering fear that he’d somehow let her down, too.

She was chipping away at that, though.  He’d spent his entire three days off with her, making love, sleeping, eating and making love some more.  They’d both needed the rest and recovery time.  He’d pressed a tender, wondering kiss to her lips before he’d left for the station this morning.  She burst into
surprised laughter when she’d finally stumbled into the bathroom and found he’d left her a note on the mirror promising to be back at the end of his forty-eight hour shift with pizza, beer and a really… big… sausage.

She’d stepped out of the shower filled with inspiration.  The wonderful man had started a fresh pot of coffee before leaving, and she’d grabbed a mug of liquid bliss and headed down to her studio, practically rubbing her hands together in glee at the thought of getting to work.  She’d intended to work on the mural, but a stack of fresh stacked canvases had distracted her.

She spent the morning sketching, recreating the sharp angles and rounded muscles of Kevin’s body.  Loving him on canvas.  Another cup of coffee and an apple later she began to bring him to life.

Now she
had been painting for seven hours straight, stopping only to stretch before returning back to the canvas. She painted Kevin as she saw him, a strong yet vulnerable man. His half smile and smoldering eyes looked back at her, warming all the parts of her body that the man did.

She painted from memory, the warm bronze tones of his skin, and the ripples beneath his velvety skin. He was sitting back in a chair, a lazy smile on his face, one leg thrown over the arm of the winged back leather.  She painted him in a pair of faded denims with a hole in the knee. The fly was undone and she stroked in the light dusting of hair from his navel down to the where the denim covered him with exquisite detail.

She painted him with love. Laughing to herself she let the thought tumble over and over in her mind. She
loved
this man for better or worse, and it was a beautiful thing. Kevin touched her with magic hands; he understood her, accepted her and the passion hidden in his soul had brought Jo to her knees.

Jo dropped her brush in a small jar of turpentine when her stomach grumbled loudly. 
She looked around herself, startled at the long passage of time, but not really surprised.  She often lost herself in her art; especially when she was so inspired by her subject.

She had just turned down the stereo and headed for the stairs to her loft when she was surprised by a knocking at her door.  Damn, she was really losing her edge.  Just a few days ago she would have known she had company long before they actually made it to her door.

When she opened the door she was surprised to find Chief Caldwell there.

“Good afternoon, Joanna.”  The older man gave her a friendly smile, but he looked tired.  And he
felt
distraught.

“Chief Caldwell,” she stepped back and gestured him in.  “Kevin’s at the station.”  She laughed a little self-consciously.  She had no reason to expect the Chief to come looking for Kevin with her, but he really couldn’t imagine why else the man would arrive at her door.

“Yes, I know.  He’s on duty for another thirty-six. I actually wanted to talk with you about the fires.” He heaved a sigh, casting his eyes absently around her studio.  “You’ve got quite a work space set up here,” he commented.  “Care to give an old man a tour?”

Jo smiled, though her uneasiness in his presence was growing.

“Oh, you’re hardly an old man,” she poked him lightly in the arm.  “I’d say you’re just in your prime.  And of course I’ll show you around.”  She led him quickly through the work stations she had set up, pointing out where she did her gridding, and where she mixed custom pigments for her larger projects.

He paused, drawing her to a stop when they reached the portrait of Kevin.

“You really care for the boy, don’t you?”  Surprise and something that felt like sadness swirled around him as he spoke.

“I do,” she agreed.

“Does he feel the same?  Or is it too soon to know?”

She frowned a bit at the rather intrusive question, but reminded herself that Butch Caldwell had been a mentor and father figure to Kevin for years, and probably felt perfectly justified in sussing out her intentions.

“I hope he does.”  She smiled a bit and corrected herself.  “I know he does.”

“It’s beautiful,” he finally said.

“I know.  It’s the best work I’ve ever done.”  She spoke without pride, filled with a calm, quiet certainty.

That odd sense of sadness returned, redoubled.  Thinking to distract him, Jo led him to the storyboard for the mural.

“I thought you’d have to give up on this commission,” he said in surprise.  “You’ve lost so much in the way of supplies.”

“Thousands of dollars worth of supplies,” she agreed.  “The finished pieces were the greater loss, though.  Those can’t be replaced.”  She sighed, resigned to the loss.  “But I was lucky, as far as the mural goes.  Everything I need to work on it I keep here.”

Caldwell turned his attention to the storyboard, his eyes widening as he took in the detail in the drawing.  Her uneasiness turned to cold, clammy discomfort, though she couldn’t have said why.  She had no reason to be afraid of the man…

“Kevin said you told him that both fires were arson.”  He turned a piercing look on her, and Jo felt her insides begin to quiver.  “And the arsonist was there the night your storage unit went up.”

“Yes,” she agreed slowly.  “Whoever set the fire was there.”
You were there!
The thought popped into her head, and Jo abruptly couldn’t deny what her senses had been trying to tell her all along.  Chief Caldwell was the arsonist.

She’d never been good at hiding her reactions, one of the reasons for her reputation for being odd, and this was no exception.  By the time she got her expression under control and feeling of sick rage filled the room and Chief Caldwell’s face had transformed from tired to maliciously regretful.

“It’s such a waste,” he murmured stepping toward her.

Jo whirled and dashed for the stairs, thinking to lock him out of her loft and call for help.  But the Fire Chief was, indeed, in his prime and was amazingly fit.  He caught her easily, then continued up the stairs, dragging her along behind him now.

“You realize this all could have been avoided if you’d only given up that damned mural,” he said conversationally. “I’m really sorry it had to come to this.  Kevin will be devastated, of course.”

Confusion battled with fear and anger.  What did Chief Caldwell have against the mural?  What possible problem could the man have with a memorial to the lives lost in a fire that had happened when he was just a chil
d…

Jo remembered the look on his face as he’d taken in the details of her sketch.  The boy.  The cigarette. 
Realization dawned.

“You…you…”

“It’s not so much my reputation, you see,” Caldwell explained.  The calm, friendly tone of his voice was directly at odds with the sick anger rolling off him.  “But I can’t let you ruin my father’s legacy.  He covered it up for me, you realize.” He’d pulled her, protesting, up the narrow staircase and into the living room.

“I’m really sorry, dear,” he said, looking straight into her eyes.  Then his arm cocked back and the world exploded in black and silver stars.

****

She w
asn’t sure how long she was out. It couldn’t have been more than a few moments, but already the smoke was filling the room. Jo crawled across the floor, head pounding and lungs burning, and grabbed the phone.  After two fumbling tries she managed to dial nine-one-one.