Must Love Curves (Six Wicked Shorts) (16 page)

The tip of his tongue touched the glans, swirling in a tight circle. My body's vibrations intensified and he pushed deeper -- all the way up to his base knuckles. His palm started flexing, stretching me in opposition to the contractions already bearing down on my cunt.

I exploded in climax, my body curling in on its center, my hips grinding the air as fluid squirted from me. His mouth covered my pussy, hungry groans vibrating against my flesh as I kept squirting. The suction increased and his tongue started a crazy, twisting crawl up and down my sex. My body went wild, my hips whipping left and right before finally subsiding in small jerks.

Noah surged up my body, his kisses wet and deep as he stripped his clothes off. My camisole disappeared in a shriek of fabric and then his cock filled me.

"Baby, how can you be so--" Growling, he thrust until he was balls deep. "Tight -- so fucking tight, baby."

He scooped my torso up, his hands curling around my shoulders from behind as he cinched me tightly against him and started grinding. He kissed my throat, his words coming dirty, hot and fast.

"Fuck me, yes." I threw my arms around his neck, my hips bouncing sharply in the small measure he allowed. I could feel the fat head of his cock hooking against my cervix, each tug setting off a new wave of contractions that ran from the exterior rim of my cunt to deep up inside my uterus.

I wrapped my legs around his hips. He stood, impaling me on his broad staff. All my weight bore down on that one point, my cunt clutching at him. So strong, he held me, slamming, grinding, his cock starting to unleash inside me. My head rolled back, every other muscle locked in orgasm.

We came together, each moaning the other's name as the tremors took over and we collapsed onto the bed. Noah bounced lightly against me then transferred his weight to his arms. Gazing down at me, he took a few luxurious strokes, pushing deep, lifting up as he tensed his hips and slowly dragged the head through my interior. Another deep push set off a wave of after shocks inside me.

He closed his eyes, gave a slow shake of his head that made my chest clench.

I rubbed his arms, trying to soothe him. "What's wrong?"

When he opened his eyes again, they shimmered with a new wetness. "I love you, baby. I'm so sorry I waited to tell you how I felt."

"I love you, too." Relieved, I placed my hands against his strong shoulders and lightly squeezed. "We both waited."

He nodded, and then he slowly descended until his lips brushed against my cheek and he whispered, "But now we have forever."

Sunny with a Chance of Curves

I was planting catmint along the front of my house, the early June sun beating down, when my neighbor Jack finished his Sunday run. He does three miles on the weekend, clearly demonstrating that he is a masochist. He's also the world's biggest flirt. If we're outside at the same time, I can pretty much count on his coming over and chatting me up. He's asked me out -- far too many times for me to take him seriously. An earnest man gets rejected once, maybe twice, and then he moves on. Only if he doesn't care about the answer does he keep asking.

To top it off, Jack's a player. I've seen three different women in and out of his place in the six months he's lived next door to me. Overnight bags, early morning departures -- all the signs are there. He even carried one into his house and then asked me out the next day. Certainly he isn't the kind of man I'd trust my heart to even if I thought he was serious. But I know he's just flirting. Judging by the women taking a trip through his revolving bedroom door, I'm not really his type. Not a one of them is over a size ten. Me? I could probably fit two of those women in my clothes at the same time with enough fabric left over for matching bandanas.

Jack plopped down on the ground next to me, his sweaty back pressed against my house. He'd stripped his t-shirt off and was wiping down his arms and chest. He nodded at the plants I was putting in. "Nice day for it."

I rolled my eyes at him. I knew what was coming next.

"Not at all like yesterday."

I jabbed at the dirt with my hand spade before pulling one of the catmints from its pot and dropping it in the new hole. "Freak storm, Jack. You can't blame me for the weather."

"I can when you're a meteorologist and you tell me it's going to be sunny. I would have reserved an inside field if I'd thought it was going to drop hail on us."

Stabbing another hole in the ground, I gave him a side glare. We were four weeks into Jack teasing me about my failings as the Channel 7 weather girl -- the soft jabs always landing one side or the other of his asking me out. So what if I'd been off the last four weekends? That was NOAA's data, not mine.

"It's not like I'm the one sending weather balloons up or running the satellites. Stop jerking my chain."

"Can't stop. I like how your cheeks go all pink and your eyes glitter when you get annoyed."

A little gurgle sounded in his throat and I made the mistake of looking directly at him. His shirt was still off, leaving him in just running shorts and his socks and shoes. His tanned skin glistened with moisture. A very light dusting of dark hair covered his arms and chest muscles before thickening at the center of his chest and drawing a line all the way down his tight stomach to disappear into his shorts. His whole body flexed and rippled beneath my gaze. A faint mix of cologne and aftershave radiated from him to curl around my senses.

Damn he smelled good, even covered in sweat and competing with the catmint. Blinking once, I forced my attention back to the hole I'd been digging.

"They're very pink right now." Jack rubbed the back of his finger along my forearm. "You must be really mad with me."

The tone of his voice, low and vibrating, told me he knew it wasn't annoyance coloring my cheeks. Resting his weight on one arm, he leaned close to me, his head hovering over my shoulder and his mouth only a few inches from my ear. "Let me make it up to you. Dinner at--"

"You shouldn't irritate a woman with a hand spade." I waved the tool in his direction. "If you're not careful, I'll accept just to teach you a lesson. Maybe then you'd stop flirting."

"I'm not flirting." His free hand ran up my spine, sending a shiver racing across my flesh despite the June heat. "I mean...I am. But I'm serious, too. Have dinner with me tonight."

Shaking my head, I turned away, fully prepared to ignore him and continue planting the catmint. Only, I was out of plants. Letting out an exasperated puff of air, I tossed the spade on the empty tray and leaned forward to stand up.

Jack put his hand against my stomach, stopping me. "Come on, Ursula. Teach me my lesson -- you won't find a more willing pupil."

"I was no more serious about accepting than you were in asking." I tried to brush his hand away, but he wouldn't yield. "I need to go to the nursery, Jack. I want to finish this today."

Surging onto his knees, he braced his other hand against the small of my back. "First, tell me what the weather is next Saturday."

I glared at him, trying not to think how good his hands felt on me. They were big, strong but dexterous. Just one would cover a breast with the fingers free to tease and twist at the nipple. His gently forcing me to stay there was doing strange things to my body. The spot between my legs grew hotter and wetter, the flesh beginning to tingle as if I needed to take a long, hard pee.

"Tell me, Ursula." His thumb stroked my back. His torso pushed against me. I could feel the sculpted muscles of his stomach and chest along the length of my arm. "Will it be sunny so I can book an outside field or will it rain?"

"Sunny." At least that's what NOAA was predicting, but they'd been wrong most of the month.

"Is that a guess or are you staking your professional reputation on it?"

I turned, ready to recite a long list of factors and a process that was part science, part intuition. He was too close -- kissing close -- and the words froze on my tongue. A quiver rolled through my body, the muscles of my thighs starting to flex. Contractions started to build in my cunt, each flutter harder than the last. I needed to get inside before I did something embarrassing -- like climaxing next to him with half the neighborhood looking on.

"I'm certain. You can quote me on it."

His eyes fluttered shut, a devilish smile playing along his lips. "Good. Here's the deal, if it's sunny, like you say, I'll not only stop teasing you about the weather, but I'll also never flirt with you again -- not ever."

"Deal, now let go of me."

He shook his head. "I'm not finished. If it rains--"

"Wait a minute, you didn't--"

The hand on my stomach trailed up, stopping between my breasts, instantly shutting my mouth before a moan escaped. He'd never been so bold before. Jack putting his hands on me at all was an entirely new development.

"If it rains," he continued, "you're spending Sunday in my house, with me, sunrise to sunset."

"Don't be ridiculous." I tried to slide to my right, but his hand moved with me, cupping my breast and giving a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going to wager something like that."

"You already have." He thumbed the nipple and then pinched it. "You can't back out now, not without welshing."

Changing tactics, I went on the offensive. Leaning against him, I whispered in his ear. "You need someone to clean your kitchen, Jack, get a housekeeper."

He pulled away far enough that he could look down at me through half shut eyes. "Ursula, you come to my house on Sunday -- it's not the silverware that's getting polished."

Damn, if I didn't know better, I'd actually think he wanted me. He looked that convincing. All I had to do to call his bluff was reach out my hand and run it along his crotch. That would prove he was nothing more than a big tease. My fingers twitched. One stroke against a limp cock and the charade was through.

"So what's it going to be?" he asked.

A car pulled up in the drive next door. Mrs. Duncan got out, waved at me, my whole plan dissolving. I would have to find another way to call his bluff -- like say "yes" and leave him fretting the whole week long that it would rain. If it was sunny on Saturday, I wouldn't have to worry about him flirting ever again -- at least not with me.

I cut a glance in his direction. "Fine. It's a deal. You won't tease or flirt with me after Saturday--"

"If you win." He nodded. "Otherwise, you're mine Sunday, for whatever I want."

********************

Five days of glorious sunshine unabated by a single cloud came to a thundering halt Saturday afternoon. Clouds and wind rolled into the city, whipping debris around the streets. Rain followed, backing up the sewers downtown.

I started pacing in my living room at the first fat drops against the window pane. I drew the curtains shut, paced some more and tried to convince myself that Jack wouldn't show up tomorrow to collect on the bet.

At nine in the evening, his truck still absent from his drive, I poured myself into the tub for a long soak to ease the tension. He wasn't home, hadn't knocked on my door to gloat and remind me to set an alarm for sunrise. That had to be good -- proof that he'd had the same, sinking "oh shit" feeling at the first sign of rain. I kept reassuring myself of his reaction all the way up to one in the morning when I finally fell asleep.

Four and a half hours later, my doorbell rang. Groaning, I looked at the clock and then at my bedroom window with its faint glow of light around the curtains' edges. I put my pillow over my head, damned if I was going to answer the door. He'd give up in a few minutes.

That's when my phone rang. Recognizing the number for the Channel 7 news desk, I answered to hear our summer intern's nervous stammer telling me the station had a caller with a breaking weather story, but he would only talk to me.

"Let me guess, his name is Jack Santos?"

"Uhm, yes, Miss Cain, how--"

"Janie..." I stopped before I called her a tool. It wasn't her fault I'd made a stupid bet or that NOAA was wrong -- again. I stood up, wrapped my robe around me and headed for the front door. "Hang up. I know how to contact Santos directly."

I clicked the phone off before she could reply, tossed it on the entry table and yanked the door open to glare at the sexiest pain in the ass that ever lived. "You've got to be kidding me, Jack."

Resting one thick, muscled arm against my door frame, his gaze raked my body. "Not kidding, now haul that sweet ass next door, you're ten minutes late."

I folded my arms over my chest. I could feel the blood drain from my face. When I spoke again, I couldn't manage more than a whisper. "Jack, this isn't funny anymore."

He swallowed, his gaze softening for an instant before he shook his head. He stepped closer. His hand curled around the back of my neck and he pressed his lips to my forehead. "Ursula, baby, you've made me chase you for almost six months. You lost the bet and I'm not going to just smile and shrug it off so you can back out."

His fingers plucked at the robe's sash. "So, are you going to come next door, let me flirt with you all day and make me insanely happy? Or are you going to go back on your word?"

The sash was one tug away from coming undone. I grabbed hold of its ends and cinched it tight, my gaze unable to meet his. "Just until sunset and I don't care what you think you're going to do--"