Read Online Curvy Girls: Claimed By The Cowboy (The BBW and the Billionaire Rancher) by Georgette St. Clair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Georgette St. Clair
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and then did it again, a hot, teasing kiss, longer this time, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and pulling away quickly when she started to respond.
With one hand he yanked at his towel and dropped it to the floor, and then pressed against her, his cock against her soft flesh.
“Damn you!” she hissed, and then she was on him, kissing him hungrily, and blood rushed to his head and he grabbed the waistband of her skirt and yanked it off her, and then peeled her shirt off over her head.
Then they were on the bed again, in a tangle of hot flesh and hungry, probing tongues, and he was sliding between her legs. His fingers slipped in between the wet petals of her sex, and she gasped in pleasure.
“Is this what you want?” His thumb traced a slow circle on her clitoris and she cried out.
“Yes!” She whimpered. He slid his index finger inside her, curving against her inner wall and stroking until he found the right spot and she cried out.
“Yesssss….there….oh, God, don’t stop.” His finger kept stroking, slowly, and she felt embers inside her flaring and she moaned and squirmed with pleasure.
“Like that?”
“Y-yessss…” she wailed, hands clenching the bed comforter.
And then abruptly he pulled his hand out. “Ty! Please!” she begged.
“You’ve been killing me for the past week. Making me suffer. Making me want you. Say you’re sorry.”
“I- I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
“Not good enough. Roll over. I think you deserve a spanking. Would you like that, baby?’
Heat roared over her like a forest fire ignited by summer lightning. “Y-yes,” she moaned, shivering in anticipation. “I would.”
She rolled over face down on the bed.
He reached his hand around front, slid his fingers inside her, and resumed stroking her. And he bought his free hand down on the white globes of her buttocks. The flat of his hand smacked her flesh, and red hot pain and pleasure swirled together, shooting through her whole body.
“Ohhhh!” She cried out, burying her face in the pillow.
He raised his hand again, and brought it down with a resounding smack, and then did it again, and again, all the time stroking inside her until she thought she’d die from the pleasure. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to weep, to beg for release.
Oh, God, the past week had been so hard. She’d wanted him so badly. When he came in to the kitchen in the morning barefoot and tousle-haired, when he brushed up against her in the hallway and then walked by without looking back at her, when she smelled his cologne and his earthy masculine scent…
Ohhhh! He smacked her again. She could feel every handprint on her buttocks, stinging deliciously, and red hot heat roared through her body, and she shuddered, convulsed, and the juices of her arousal soaked his fingers as she came.
Then he was spreading her legs open with his rough, callused hands, and spearing her brutally with the thickness of his erection, shoving inside her while ripples of orgasm still convulsed her.
He lay on top of her, pinning her hands above her head with his hands and pumping into her, and his harsh rasps of breath in her ear were like music because it meant he wanted her.
His smooth skin and his hard muscles pressed into her.
Harder. He pumped harder, deep inside her, every thrust rocking her body, until he finally exploded and filled her with his hot sticky seed. She felt his warmth filling her and oozing out onto her inner thighs.
“Hey,” she said suddenly. “You weren’t wearing a condom?”
“So what?” He hugged her up against him, kissing her shoulder. “You’re my wife.”
“But I –that’s-“ she protested.
He kissed her shoulder again and then nipped at it. “I loved being bare inside you. It felt so good,” he said. “I know I’m clean. I had a very thorough checkup recently and haven’t been with anybody since.”
“Me too. But…We…This isn’t a real…”
“Don’t say it.”
“Well,
With one hand he yanked at his towel and dropped it to the floor, and then pressed against her, his cock against her soft flesh.
“Damn you!” she hissed, and then she was on him, kissing him hungrily, and blood rushed to his head and he grabbed the waistband of her skirt and yanked it off her, and then peeled her shirt off over her head.
Then they were on the bed again, in a tangle of hot flesh and hungry, probing tongues, and he was sliding between her legs. His fingers slipped in between the wet petals of her sex, and she gasped in pleasure.
“Is this what you want?” His thumb traced a slow circle on her clitoris and she cried out.
“Yes!” She whimpered. He slid his index finger inside her, curving against her inner wall and stroking until he found the right spot and she cried out.
“Yesssss….there….oh, God, don’t stop.” His finger kept stroking, slowly, and she felt embers inside her flaring and she moaned and squirmed with pleasure.
“Like that?”
“Y-yessss…” she wailed, hands clenching the bed comforter.
And then abruptly he pulled his hand out. “Ty! Please!” she begged.
“You’ve been killing me for the past week. Making me suffer. Making me want you. Say you’re sorry.”
“I- I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
“Not good enough. Roll over. I think you deserve a spanking. Would you like that, baby?’
Heat roared over her like a forest fire ignited by summer lightning. “Y-yes,” she moaned, shivering in anticipation. “I would.”
She rolled over face down on the bed.
He reached his hand around front, slid his fingers inside her, and resumed stroking her. And he bought his free hand down on the white globes of her buttocks. The flat of his hand smacked her flesh, and red hot pain and pleasure swirled together, shooting through her whole body.
“Ohhhh!” She cried out, burying her face in the pillow.
He raised his hand again, and brought it down with a resounding smack, and then did it again, and again, all the time stroking inside her until she thought she’d die from the pleasure. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to weep, to beg for release.
Oh, God, the past week had been so hard. She’d wanted him so badly. When he came in to the kitchen in the morning barefoot and tousle-haired, when he brushed up against her in the hallway and then walked by without looking back at her, when she smelled his cologne and his earthy masculine scent…
Ohhhh! He smacked her again. She could feel every handprint on her buttocks, stinging deliciously, and red hot heat roared through her body, and she shuddered, convulsed, and the juices of her arousal soaked his fingers as she came.
Then he was spreading her legs open with his rough, callused hands, and spearing her brutally with the thickness of his erection, shoving inside her while ripples of orgasm still convulsed her.
He lay on top of her, pinning her hands above her head with his hands and pumping into her, and his harsh rasps of breath in her ear were like music because it meant he wanted her.
His smooth skin and his hard muscles pressed into her.
Harder. He pumped harder, deep inside her, every thrust rocking her body, until he finally exploded and filled her with his hot sticky seed. She felt his warmth filling her and oozing out onto her inner thighs.
“Hey,” she said suddenly. “You weren’t wearing a condom?”
“So what?” He hugged her up against him, kissing her shoulder. “You’re my wife.”
“But I –that’s-“ she protested.
He kissed her shoulder again and then nipped at it. “I loved being bare inside you. It felt so good,” he said. “I know I’m clean. I had a very thorough checkup recently and haven’t been with anybody since.”
“Me too. But…We…This isn’t a real…”
“Don’t say it.”
“Well,
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