Sexting Curves (BBW Erotic Romance) (5 page)

"That's Lily's job!" He started to fold his arms over his chest in a perfect mirror of his dad but winced and lowered them back to the sheet.

Logan and I spoke at the same time. "I'm so sorry, little man," intersected with "It's not Lily's fault you were sunburnt."

I started to move into the room. Logan caught the fabric of my sleeve and offered another terse shake of his head. Stevie looked up just in time to witness the exchange. His gaze went from petulant to a few blinks away from crying.

"Why can't she come in, dad?"

Logan didn't answer, just let go of my sleeve. I walked to the edge of his bed and stopped. "I've got your homework. Do you want me to go over it with you?"

He didn't answer. Lifting his arm, his hand landed on the built-in bookshelf next to his bed. He fingered the spine of one book, refusing to look at me.

"Yeah," I conceded and put the folder on the nightstand. "You've got all weekend to do homework. Do you want me to read to you?"

I reached across him, looking for one of his favorites. "This one?"

He remained silent and my finger kept drifting until he finally nodded.

Where Dolphins Play

Looking at the title, I took a hard swallow. The book had unofficially been off limits since his mother abandoned him. Now he wanted me to read it to him. Taking it off the shelf, I carefully sat down next to him on the bed. He snuggled closer, wincing until he found a position where the pain from his sunburn apparently subsided.

Opening to the first page, I cast a nervous side glance at Logan. He had stayed out in the hall. His back rested against the wall, but his attention was focused on his son. Something like confusion softened his hard features.

Kissing the top of Stevie's head, I started to read.

I spend my day where dolphins play.

Outside my door, along the shore.

Yawning, Stevie slid a little further down his pillow.

They jump for me, they jump so high.

Another yawn, twice as long as the first. I felt his body relax in quick increments as I continued reading. As I read, my attention jumped between sentences to the hall where Logan had moved mostly out of my field of vision. I could only see his left arm and part of his left hip and leg.

From deep green sea to pale blue sky.

They jump for me, they jump for me.

Outside my door, along the shore.

I kept going until a soft snore from Stevie punctuated the last sentence. Careful not to wake him or brush against his injured skin, I rose from the bed and replaced the book. Stepping into the hall, I whispered to Logan.

"Maybe I can stay until he wakes up." Expecting him to kick me out, I tried to keep my tone neutral and make my words a statement rather than a request.

He inhaled, held it for one long minute then crooked a finger at me. I followed him to the threshold of the laundry room, where he started shuffling the bins stacked across the far wall. Before Mrs. Logan left, there had been one blue storage bin. Since her departure, green bins had started piling up as her things disappeared one-by-one from the rest of the house.

I had a very clear memory of Mrs. Jones putting the blue bin out by the trash about a week before she left. Logan had rescued it. Marching into the house that distant trash day, bin in hand, Logan had asked me to take Stevie to the park and ice cream parlor. When we returned, the house was eerily quiet and the bin was back in the laundry room. A week later, Mrs. Jones booked me for a Friday evening while Logan had special duty, patted Stevie once on the head as she left for a supposed nail appointment and never came back.

Aside from a call that night to Logan and one to her parents to let them know she was alive and enjoying a little alone time, no one had heard from her since. Logan had waited as long as the law required then filed for divorce claiming abandonment. He published the notice in the classifieds, locally and in her parents' community, but she stayed away.

Getting down to the blue bin, he motioned me away from the door and into the living room. From there, he directed me through the kitchen and into the garage. A side door on the garage opened onto a small patch of the front lawn and the trash bin. He opened the trash bin, then the blue one.

A white silk and lace pillow rested on top of the bin's other contents. It looked like a ring pillow -- the kind used at weddings. He tossed it in the trash then scooped out a long, white gauzy piece of fabric that ended in a silk and rhinestone studded headband.

A wedding veil.

"She threw the dress out a month after the wedding, but I managed to salvage those. Had them cleaned. She's thrown them out a couple more times since then." He didn't look at me when he spoke, just reached into the bin, grabbed a pencil box from it and let the larger container fall to the ground.

Opening the pencil box, he plucked a white garter from it and shot it into the trash. My brain did a double take at the size of the garter. It couldn't have belonged to Mrs. Jones. At least that's what I thought until he handed me the top photo from the stack the box held.

The major, then a second lieutenant, was instantly recognizable. The woman next to him -- not so much. Her eyes were the same color as those of Mrs. Jones and Stevie. Her hair matched Stevie's in coloring, too, but the Mrs. Jones I knew was a bleached blonde. The discrepancy I really couldn't wrap my head around was the size of the woman.

"She lost thirty pounds before the wedding." Taking the picture from me, he tossed it in the trash. "Didn't stop dieting after that, not even when she got pregnant with Stevie and I had to beg her to eat."

He flashed another picture at me, even older than the first judging by how much bigger Mrs. Jones appeared. Logan shuffled a few pictures in which Mrs. Jones did not appear to the bottom of the stack then handed me one of her with a small bundle in her arms and three sizes smaller than her wedding photo.

"Stevie has never seen this picture because she thought she was still too heavy. Or this one or this one…" He shuffled through several more pictures, letting me catch a glimpse of the ever shrinking Mrs. Jones before he tossed each one into the trash. The photos that didn't have her in them, he kept.

Finished, he closed the lid on the trash, tossed the empty blue bin into the garage then ushered me back into the kitchen. Closing the door to the garage, he tossed the pencil box with its remaining photos on the counter and gently pushed me against the wall. His arms came up and he planted a palm on each side of me, his body forming an inescapable barrier.

"You have something to say, Lily."

It was an order, not a question. He wanted me to explain myself. I didn't want to. How could I admit that I had run out after the best sex of my life with a man I'd been crushing on for five years because I didn't trust him to find me attractive the morning after?

Releasing a heavy breath, Logan leaned close. His lips ghosted along my cheek and he repeated the order. "You have something to say."

Fighting the urge to touch him, I pressed my palms flat against the wall and inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry!"

That was it. Three syllables of absolute ineptitude after I had rejected him and walked away.

He stepped closer, only stopping when our bodies touched. "That wasn't what I meant."

Feeling the hard swell of an erection against my lower stomach, I went a little weak in the knees. His hands moved from the wall to my hips. Angling his head, he lowered it. His mouth moved against my throat and then he took a small nip before growling softly. "One more time, baby. You have something to say."

My words came out fast and broken. "I left because I was afraid you wouldn't find me attractive after the initial rush."

His right hand surfed up my side as his growl turned into a purr. "Baby, I think you’re the sexiest thing on two legs."

Hearing my own description of Logan thrown back at me, I offered a short laugh. His grip growing more possessive and sensual, he cinched me against his hard body. He kissed up to my ear, then took another small bite. "You're staying the night, Lily."

It wasn't my night to retrieve Rhea from ballet.

"Okay," I whispered softly.

"The weekend, too." Another kiss, another bite and then his hand gripped my mound and squeezed.

With no chance in hell I would disagree, I offered another meek acquiescence. "Sure."

"Baby, are you trying to completely kill my ego?" He laughed grimly, his free hand palming my breast. "No enthusiasm, just
okay
and
sure
?"

I met his gaze then blushed madly. "I'm enthusiastic. Believe me."

"I'll check for myself." The grim expression evaporated as one side of his face lifted in a mischievous grin. The hand at my mound slid up. He unbuttoned and unzipped me then his fingers smoothed over my hairless flesh to part my labia. When my juices instantly soaked his fingers, he groaned.

Taking firm, curling strokes against my clit, he kissed me hard, biting hungrily at the edges of my mouth until I opened to him. His tongue licked up under my top lip as I pumped my pussy against his hand.

Gasping, groaning from his expert manipulation, I hovered right at the edge of climax -- just one stroke or bite away.

"Lily! Are you here?"

"Gaah…" Exhaling, I collapsed against the door as Stevie's voice shattered my concentration.

"Lily!"

"Just a second, little man." I choked the answer out then punched Logan's steel-plated chest when he chuckled at my frustration. "Just trying to figure out what we should have for dinner."

As if he had been saving the dish's name for three weeks, Stevie responded immediately with a joyful, evil trill. "Baba ganoush!"

Logan lifted his mouth from where he sucked at my throat. "That's eggplant, champ. How about pizza and wings?"

A triumphant
yessss!!!
snaked its way from Stevie's bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen.

"You know that was his master plan in asking for baba ganoush, right?" I whispered, my neck turning to putty as Logan's mouth returned to its sensitive flesh.

"Mm-hmm…" He licked and sucked a line up to my ear as his fingers restarted their dance. "But if he goes to bed happy, then I can eat what I want all…night…long."

**********

After dinner, a little homework and one ambiguous call to my mom, we finally put Stevie down for the night then sat on the couch in the living room. Logan curled one arm around my shoulder, his neck bent and angled to kiss along my throat.

The man has amazing lips -- and hands. His mouth working my neck, he cupped my breast with his free hand. Through the fabric, he manipulated the nipple, quickly bringing it to a swollen peak.

"So thick, baby." Licking at my throat, he unfastened two buttons on my blouse to slide his hand inside. He pushed his fingers under the lacy fabric of my bra to directly touch the nipple. I moaned and he chuckled. "Mmm…sensitive."

I wanted him to kiss my mouth. I turned my head, seeking his lips, but he evaded me. Another button fell to his deft fingers and he lifted my breast from the material cupping it. His mouth descended and he slowly sucked the nipple inside.

He hadn't even touched me below the belly button, but I was in full squirm mode. My ample bottom digging into the cushion, I softly moaned my need. He released the nipple with a pop then kissed the underside of my chin.

"Such an eager little pussy, baby. Is it wet?"

"Very," I confessed, my hips lifting to grind at the air. Trying to go on the attack, I angled my body toward him and ran my palm across the front of his jeans. The thick, hard bulge made my mouth as wet as my pussy. I gave his cock a little squeeze. "Something wants sucked."

His fingers skipped down to my thighs, where he stroked a firm line. "Something definitely wants sucked," he agreed.

Trembling, I moaned my agreement to whichever order he wanted to take. I'd had three weeks of Logan's body running through my thoughts on overdrive. Images had flashed through my mind at the most inappropriate times until I was consumed by his mouth feasting on my clit while he pushed four fingers into me, his thick cock filling both holes, those smacks on my pussy with more on my ass, or that glorious dick buried down my throat.

With tender care, Logan folded my breast back into the bra and re-did the buttons before he drew me up from the couch. My legs shook as we walked to the bedroom, his arm cinching me close. Inside the room, he locked us in then had me lean against the dresser, my back to the mirror.

His gaze soaking in the contours of my chest, he completely unbuttoned me and stripped the blouse away as I tugged at his t-shirt. He wiggled, resisting until I pouted.

"Don't be stingy, Logan."

A sweet grin broke across his handsome face and he let me pull the fabric from him. I ran my hands over his muscled torso. While my fingers explored his back, he reached behind me to unfasten the bra then lightly pushed me away.

He slowly unveiled my breasts, the lace slipping lower and lower to reveal more pale flesh and finally the faint pink blush of my erect nipples. Groaning, he bent down and sucked one into his mouth as his hands worked his jeans open and off. Still mouthing the nipple, his teeth gently indenting the flesh, he removed his underwear. He straightened to quickly strip away the rest of my clothing then eased me back until I sat halfway on the dresser.

Spreading my thighs, he ran his cock across my mound as his mouth secured mine in a penetrating kiss. I started to moan, my juices seeping from between my labia to wet his shaft. A shiver ran over his body, stopping only when he reached between us, angled his unsheathed cock and unexpectedly drove all the way into me.

My head whipped back, a soft, pleasured cry escaping my lips as my cunt knotted around his shaft. I should have been worried that no condom separated us, but, knowing he would never abandon his child, I felt a deeper thrill having Logan enter me bare.

He hugged me tight, biting gently at my shoulders and neck as his ass moved in snug circles to fuck his cock deeper into me.