Breaking Her Curves Page 2

  “Not me. But let’s just say… People tend to do what I tell them to do.” I lean in over her to help her into her chair, making sure to press my lips close to her ear. “But then, you already know that, don’t you?”

  I see her cheeks flush quickly, her chest rising as she takes a deep breath. The thing is really, I just didn’t want anyone else looking at her while she’s dressed like that. Those curves, those perfectly shaped legs, they’re mine – for my eyes only, from now on, forever. Not that getting Martinez to give me the place for the night was hard. My father was the one who helped him get started in this town, and now he owns a series of small but classy, successful restaurants up and down the state.

  The waitress appears to pour our wine, and I spot my date for the evening – and every evening for the rest of my life, once I’m done with her – examining my face with a curious look. I turn to face her with my eyebrows raised, encouraging her to say what she’s thinking.

  She drops her gaze almost instantly, smoothing her hands over her lap. “No, nothing…” I hadn’t imagined her as the type to get flustered so easily, but the fact that she’s feeling this way because of me has my cock stirring again. “I was just gonna as if you’re gonna tell me your name now.”

  “I asked you first.”

  There’s that fire in her eyes again as she breaks into a disbelieving laugh, muttering a ‘fuck’ under her breath. “Casey.” She finally says, leaning forward, propping her elbow up on the table.

  I nod, mostly to myself, turning the name over in my mind. “Smith.” I extend a hand to her over the table, but when she takes it, I bring it to my lips to plant a small, polite kiss on her knuckles. “See, was that so hard?”

  She shakes her head at me again. I like seeing her like this. The smart, sassy girl I met last night quickly coming undone for me. When the waitress reappears, Casey looks at me when she realizes we don’t even have menus. “We’ll both have the 50 day aged ribeye, medium. Seasoned fries, classic mac & cheese, lobster?” I turn to Casey for a moment, who only quickly nods, before I turn back to the waitress. “Lobster. In fact, you know, bring one of every side. And we’ll be having the dessert menu brought out, too.” The waitress looks between the two of us, Casey smiling at her before she nods and rushes off towards the back.

  Casey leans in towards me over the table. “There’s no way I can eat all of that,” she whispers, holding back an excited grin. I just shrug, leaning in to meet her, bringing one of her hands into my own to examine her fingers. I want to get to know every inch of this girl until it’s burned in my memory, and I have to start somewhere.

  “Wasn’t expecting you to. I just wanted you to have the choice of the very best.” She softens then, even more so when I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, taking my time to enjoy the sight of her face up close. Suddenly I’m filled with thoughts of last night, how her mouth tasted as she parted those lips so willingly for me, and I have to stop myself from pulling her across the table to kiss her again.

  She drops her head as if the way I’m looking at her is too much to take, before her voice pipes up. “So, seriously, come on – who are you? I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and I’ve never seen you around. Are you… visiting someone?” I can see the reservation in her eyes. She doesn’t quite finish what she was saying, but I can tell what she wanted to ask.

  “No one important. No wife, girlfriend. Nothing like that.” She sits quietly, waiting, needing more of an answer from me. “I used to live here. I moved, traveled around a lot. My family still live here, I guess. Technically. It’s… I don’t know. We’re not close. I was regretting coming here at all, but...”

  I don’t like the way my voice is stumbling over my words. I can feel myself opening to her, wanting to lay myself bare and show her everything that I am, but not yet. I want everything with this girl, but I need to make sure she’s ready for it, too – because there’ll be no going back.

  “See, you’re not as tough as you seem. Some might even call you sweet.” She gives me a gentle, understanding smile that almost fucking kills me, but I can’t resist a little more of the push and pull. Somehow, somewhere deep down inside of me, I know Casey won’t be won over with sweetness and tenderness. I know that if I had just asked her on a date outright, she would have turned me down. I know she needs this fight as much as I do.

  “Oh, I’m just easing you in, princess,” I smirk, watching the fire return to her eyes. “I’m wearing you down, picking apart those walls, just like I said I would. And clearly, it’s working.”

  4

  Casey

  * * *

  Jesus.

  What is it with this guy? I can’t figure him out. One minute he’s soft and sweet, the next I feel like I’m being drawn into some big, elaborate joke at my expense. If he wants to play like this, fine. So can I.

  I rise from my seat, shaking my head in disbelief as I grab my jacket from the back of my chair. “What’s wrong with you? You’re an asshole.” I consider pulling my jacket on, but just fold it over my arm, trying so hard to keep my cool. “In fact, no, you’re worse than that. You’re a bully, you just love seeing girls bend to your will.”

  He quickly stands to meet me before I have a chance to turn away. His eyes suddenly seem dark, his face changing as he grabs hold of my bicep. “No!” He snaps. A plate shatters somewhere in the back. His voice softens, but his jaw is still clenched tight, as is his gigantic hand around my arm. I’m a big girl, so I have to admit I find it both terrifying and an incredible turn on that his fingers wrap all the way around my arm with ease. “Not ‘girls’. Not plural. But I sure wouldn’t mind seeing you bend for me.”

  Fucking hell. He’s good.

  No, Casey. No. I have to take a moment to compose myself, standing my ground. “I’m leaving,” I say firmly, trying to tug my arm free. But he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t move an inch. Doesn’t even flinch.

  “You can leave if you really want to. But I’m going to keep on chasing you. If you weren’t enjoying this too, you’d tell me to stop.” Our eyes meet. There's a chilling silence. I swear I can hear his heart rattling in his chest. Practically feel his veins pulsing as their flex in his arm. Slowly, purposefully, he repeats himself. “Tell me to stop.”

  I don’t. I can’t. As much as the voice in my head is screaming at me to do so. And he can sense it. His hand moves up over my arm to my shoulder, my neck, fingers grazing my skin gently. He brushes my hair back off my neck and lets out a quiet, rumbling moan. Is just the sight of my neck turning him on? I’ve never felt so attractive, so wanted, in my entire life.

  So I sit back down, against my better judgment, keeping my eyes on him, watching him grin at me, running his tongue over his perfect teeth. My pussy jolts, imagining him running that tongue all over me.

  “See. I told you. I bet I’m the first guy to ever dare talk to you like this, hm?”

  “And the last,” I say quickly, mostly to myself, resolving to never let myself get wrapped up in a guy like him ever again. He’s no good for you, Casey. Just get through tonight with your virginity intact, and we’ll talk.

  But I just can’t seem to talk myself out of it. He doesn’t seem to realize my true intention behind the comment, and when I notice his hand going beneath the table to adjust his cock, I can’t stop the rush of wetness between my legs.

  His eyes are locked on me too because he wants me to know the effect I'm having on him. He wants me to see. “Drink,” he orders, breaking the silence finally as he nods towards my glass of wine. And for the first time, I do so without any resistance whatsoever.

  ***

  The rest of the dinner is relatively tame by comparison. We eat mostly in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Our eyes are all over each other every chance we get, and I let him hold me at his side, his fingers digging into my hip when he walks me back to the car.

  I still don’t know what to say to him though. What is there to say? That I fucking hate him, that he’s the most arroga
nt, annoying man I’ve ever come across, but also could you please bend me over right here and rail my pussy until I’m screaming?

  So I just don’t say anything. We drive in silence, my eyes focused on the passing streets. And he doesn’t say anything either when he reaches over, so casually, one hand roughly pushing my dress up, and tugging my soaking panties to the side.

  His thick middle finger traces a line along my slit before finding my tight hole and sinking in – hard. My head rolls and my mouth falls open to let out a long, breathless moan. Because he’s pressing in deeper, deeper, and I feel like I’m being stretched by just his finger. His palm cups over my clit, forcing his hand between my legs and my pussy, prying it open for him.

  And his eyes are still focused on the road ahead, goddamnit. He’s not even looking at me as he quickly works me into a frenzy. I watch his unmoving face for a few seconds before I can’t even focus anymore. I’m feeling dizzy with desire, writhing and riding my hips against his hand as one hand clutches the car door, the other digging into his shoulder.

  When he slips a second finger in, my pussy instantly begins to clench and convulse. It’s so fucking tight, my moans are peppered with whimpers of pain. He doesn’t stop, or slow down, no – he goes in harder, digging the length of his fingers deep into my pussy as his rough palm rubs my clit, closer and closer and closer…

  “Tell me to stop,” he growls like he’s commanding me, begging me to.

  There’s no way in hell I could tell him to stop now.

  “Please, I’m so close,” I gasp out, still wriggling my cunt against his hand. “Please make me fucking come.”

  He roars out, every muscle in his body flexing and tightening. He finally turns to face me as the car comes to a stop – I hadn’t even realized where we were – glancing to his hand which is soaked in my juices, even the sleeve of his shirt is wet. “Come for me, then.”

  Whether it’s because I want to, or I need to, I don’t fucking care. He bucks the heel of his hand against my clit, grinding it as if he wants to fucking crush the most delicate part of me. Our eyes lock together as he rips the most insane, incredible, overwhelming orgasm from my shaking, shattered body.

  The air is thick with the smell of sex. It feels like I can taste it as I take in deep, hungry breaths. When he pulls his hand away from my pussy, I can see the wet patch I’ve left in the seat too. I’m so fucking ashamed, my cheeks burn a hot, fluorescent pink, but my little cunt is still aching for more.

  Not just more – more of him. Only him, all of him, filling me up, taking my virginity like he’s taken my goddamn good sense.

  I turn towards him, hoping the words will come to me, but they don’t – he steals them away when he brushes his thumb over my lips, the same thumb that is soaked with my juices, painting them in my own girly glossiness. Holy fuck. Then he kisses me, hard, violating my mouth, sucking on my liquid sex smeared across my face, biting down on my lip. Is he trying to kiss me, or eat me alive?

  Either, or, I don’t fucking care. I’m too spent to even react. It only lasts a moment though, because just a few seconds later, he pulls back, having already opened the door while he was kissing me.

  “Head on inside, little one. I know you don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

  I fucking would if you asked. No, correction. I fucking would if you told me to.

  I almost fall out of the car in a daze. I should say something. I want to say something. Did I really just come all over his hand, and now he’s making a joke that implies I’m some sort of prude?

  My mouth opens and closes. My lips are still tingling from that ferocious kiss. I touch my fingertips to them as he laughs, half expecting to feel an electric shock from them.

  “Goodnight, Casey. Go inside. I at least want to make sure you’re home safe.”

  I nod, fumbling in my bag for my keys before I turn and slowly make the few steps to my door. When I look back, he’s still there, eyes watching intently. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, and I have to physically force myself inside before I do or say something I might regret.

  But would I really regret fucking the man who has already completely possessed my body? My mind? My heart?

  5

  Smith

  * * *

  I should not have done that.

  Not because I didn’t want to, or that I regret it in any way, but because watching her walk away from me, knowing her wet cunt is screaming out for my cock, with her juices smeared up to my wrist – it’s the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do. And my cock is the hardest it’s ever been too.

  It might be a mistake. What if she comes to her senses and tries to run from me? She wouldn’t get very far, but it would still break me to see her try to turn away from me. There’s no other explanation for what this is, for how I feel right now – and how I know she’s feeling too. I’m ready to drop everything for this girl.

  Casey is the one for me. She fucking has to be. The way her cunt felt around my fingers is unlike anything else. I can still smell her, in the air, and on me. I lift my hand to my face, taking a long, much–needed inhale, as my other tears into my jeans to rip my cock free.

  I don’t know how long I spend sat outside her apartment, jerking myself stupid with her pussy juice for lube, thinking about the way she screamed as she rode my hand, begged me to make her come, and how much sweeter that would sound with my cock splitting her open and my hand wrapped around her perfect little neck.

  However long it is, it’s still not enough. There’s still a deep and primal ache in my balls. An ache that I know could only be satisfied by emptying a load deep, deep inside Casey’s sweet, tight, virgin little pussy – right where it belongs.

  I’ve always liked curvy women. I never tried to pretend any different. But Casey is in a class of her own. Her curves are packed into such a petite little package, I just want to carry her around in my pocket to make sure no one else ever hurts her. Shit, I can feel my blood boiling thinking about someone even looking at her.

  I have to claim her. Tomorrow night. Have to. My Casey. Mine.

  6

  Casey

  * * *

  Once I’m inside, I slump against the door in a daze.

  Did that really just happen?

  I’m pulled from my thoughts though when Izzy appears in the doorway to the kitchen, that suspicious grin spread across her face. I know she must recognize the flush to my cheeks.

  “Don’t. Say. Anything.” I order, pointing a stern finger at her face as I peel myself off the door.

  She follows me into the living room as I throw myself down on the nearest soft surface, draping an arm over my eyes to try and shield myself from the reality of tonight.

  “So…” She coos as she perches herself on the edge of the sofa, playfully kicking my leg. “Spill.”

  “He’s an asshole,” I begin, sitting bolt upright. “And not only that, but he’s an asshole who knows he’s an asshole, which makes it even worse. AND he’s an asshole who’s knowingly an asshole to women!”

  She’s not listening. She’s still smirking at me, biting down on the tip of her tongue. “So why have you got that look on your face?”

  I throw myself back down, groaning and kicking my legs. “I don’t know! It was so weird. Like, the whole place was empty. The whole place. It was just the two of us, and…” She interrupts me as she swoons, but I quickly shake my head, sitting back up to wave a finger at her. “No, no, it wasn’t romantic… It was like, possessive. Like he didn’t want anyone else seeing me.”

  She just shrugs, evidently more optimistic about tonight than I’m pretending to be. I have to pretend this was just a weird, bad date. If I admit to anyone other than myself how much I enjoyed it, I’d be in some serious trouble. “So? Isn’t that kind of hot? This guy wants you all to himself.”

  “It’s kind of creepy, you mean. And he’s kind of an asshole, did I mention that? You know he actually physically stopped me from leav
ing at one point, right?”

  Her face softens then, and she tilts her head to the side, eyeing me like I’m some poor, injured animal. “Oh, Case…” She sighs.

  “What?”

  “I mean, come on. This is you. If you wanted to leave, you would have left.” I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. She’s spot on. No man has ever stopped me from doing something I really wanted to do. Not one. “You two just need to have some crazy, angry sex and get it out of your system before he leaves town forever.” I fake a laugh, dismissing the idea, but suddenly there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I lay back down.

  What if Izzy’s right? Is Smith just going to leave town in a few days and I’ll never see him again? It’s what I had assumed would happen, to be honest, but now that I think about it, it physically hurts to imagine him leaving. I’ve only known him a day and it already feels like he’s a part of me.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I repeat the question over and over again in my mind. If I say it out loud, it’ll be true. Once Izzy hears, there’ll be no taking it back. “What if I don’t want him to leave?”

  “Then you need to tell him that.” Her answer is so simple, so logical, yet it hadn’t even occurred to me. It’s so crazy to ask him to stay. I don’t even know why he’s in town in the first place. And he doesn’t seem to want to stay. The way he was talking about this place last night, I got the feeling he was holding something back from me. And I’ve never had to ask a man for anything, not after my father left. To change such a core part of me for this one man – one man who I’ve known little more than a day – would be completely crazy.

  So why do I want to get down on my knees for him, and beg?