At Full Sprint (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters) (11 page)

“Circe,” he said. “I’m falling in love with you.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. He dipped down, pressed his tongue against her clit, and Circe stretched out, like a cat in the sun, as he lapped at her hungrily. He was definitely trying to make her come now, different from the teasing touch of his fingers before, and she let it happen, rolling the word ‘love’ over and over in her mind while simultaneously focusing on her own intimate pleasure.

Shivers ran down her spine as she sensed his desire to pleasure, his urgency. He pushed a finger, and then two inside her entrance, and he groaned onto her, “God, I love the way you taste.”

The rise and fall of her chest, of her heavy bosom now lying toward opposite sides, quickened.

“It’s what you’re doing to me,” she whispered back at him, reaching down and touching the top of his head, running her fingers through his unkempt hair before pushing downward and bucking her hips up at the same time, driving her center into him.

“You’re mine,” he growled in between a flick of his tongue.

“I’m yours,” she echoed, pushing him back down onto her aching, throbbing bundle of nerves.

His rapid flicks turned to slow, agonizingly teasing strokes that swept across her clit, before returning back to his quick rhythm. She leaned up, propping herself on an elbow, and could see from his narrowed eyes that he was grinning.

“No more of that,” she begged, panting. She didn’t want to be teased anymore. She sought her release. “Just make me come.”

He obliged. He settled into a quick metronomic rhythm, angled his fingers right where he needed to, and he just went. And went. And went.

“Yesssss,” Circe hissed, her elbow beginning to shake. She let herself back down onto the bed, held the back of his head with one of her hands, and pulled at her nipples with the other. “Don’t stop, Miles.”

She rocked her hips to the rhythm of his licking, pursued her orgasm, that river of bliss down which she would raft.

“Oh, fuck. I’m… I’m…”

Her body tightened, pleasure pinpointing right in her center. A storm of sensation gathered in her nervous system. She clutched at his hair, pulled at her nipple, and he drove her off the precipice, and for that split second, for that brief moment, she was caught in between two worlds, before she was swallowed up by the oblivion of ecstasy.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she cried before letting out a long, undulating groan, arching her neck forward, crunching up tight as an orgasm like no other exploded in her center, spread outward first to her nipples before streaking downward toward her curled, trembling toes.

Her climax at first seemed unending, but then began to wane, began to ebb, and he lapped up her slickness, her cream, before she settled into hypersensitivity, her body jolting with each touch of his tongue.

“No,” she laughed, and then let out a loud sigh. “No, too sensitive.”

He lifted off her, got onto his knees, his tight body stirring, his thick cock jutting out, leaking pre-cum copiously.

She sat up, and grabbing his cock, she began to jerk him slowly, before taking him into her mouth, tasting his salty-sweet pre-cum, smelling his musk, so close, so intimate.

She took him as far as she could, but he was positively enormous, and it dawned on her in a moment of rising realization that she had never had anything so big inside her before. He would definitely stretch her, and Circe worried in the background of her mind if it would hurt or not.

But as she focused on pleasuring him, on sucking him off as best she knew how, that worry faded, only to replaced by her own new wick which had been reignited. No longer feeling too sensitive to be touched down there, she let him out of her mouth with a smack, buried her nose in his pubic buzz like she’d wanted to the first time she saw it, and inhaled deeply, smelling him.

God, he smelled good!

“You said I was yours,” she told him, leaning back again and opening her legs, bearing her womanhood to him. “So make me yours.”

The way he looked at her, when their eyes met, told her that he was utterly consumed with lust… for her.

Circe’s confidence grew. “Do you like what you see, Miles?”

He blinked, biting his lower lip. “Every single thing I see.” And then he placed his tip at her entrance.

“Oh, God,” she groaned as he began to push inside her. His helmet was wide, and it took a bit of encouragement before he finally got the ridge inside her, and she winced as she felt herself stretch, bordering on pain, and yet somehow feeling fantastic.

“Slowly, Miles,” she gasped, opening her legs wider and reaching for one of his arms. She held onto his wrist, but he turned it over and took her hand into his, their fingers interlocking.

“God, you’re tight,” he told her, and there was no mistaking the appreciation in his voice. “You feel great, babe.”

The affectionate term caught Circe by surprise, and she held his hand tighter, looked at his lips, beckoned him with her eyes to come and kiss her. And he did, and it was passion and fire and tongue and teeth.

Inch by inch she grew used to him, the elasticity of her muscles acclimatized to him. And when he bottomed out, pubic bone against her yearning bud, she held onto his neck, and whispered into his ear, “Make me yours.”

She met his gradual rhythm, lifting her hips to mirror his thrusts, savoring the feeling of being so filled up. It was altogether different from her last – and only – experience with a man. As though everywhere inside her canal was being touched all at once. Her sensory centers were set on fire, her nervous system firing to the pace of his sliding shaft.

“Oh, shit,” she mewled. He began to speed up, and connected at their foreheads, they shared breath, panting and breathing and moaning and groaning into each other, sharing their pleasure with one another.

Circe tried to keep her eyes open, tried to look at Miles, this handsome, playful, energetic and sexy man. It seemed unreal to her that this was happening, that she had let this happen so easily.

“Oh!” she moaned, louder this time as he picked up the pace still. He sent a hand down in between them and caressed her pearl. She leaned up and kissed him hungrily, clamping onto his lower lip, refusing to let him go.

She clawed at his back as he fucked her harder still, until the slapping sounds of their sex, of their slick and sweaty skin, filled the air around them. Until the smell of their union was thick and viscous, submerging them.

And still he fucked her harder. And still he fingered her clit faster. And still her pleasure climbed, her body tightened, her coil wound. And still her string grew tauter.

“Oh, Miles,” she breathed into his ear. “Oh, God. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop!”

He claimed her lips with his, forcing the kiss upon her moaning mouth.

“I’ll never stop,” he whispered, his voice imbued with affectionate, impassioned double-meaning, but Circe was too wrapped up in her own impending rapture to be caught off guard by it.

“Faster!” she screamed. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

She crossed that line, like a thump in her chest, and it was just a full sprint to the edge. She dived off.

She soared.

“FUUUUCCKK!” she wailed, digging her nails into Miles’ back as he drove her through her crisis, his deft fingers slowing, drawing out her orgasm, prolonging it.

“Oooohhh!” she moaned, pushing her head back against the bed, angling her chin upward to the ceiling, teeth gritted and toes curled.

Her bliss, sharp, so intense it almost hurt, crested, and like the tide receding at sunset, her sensations cooled, and she met his eyes with her own heavy-lidded orbs, and told him in a voice so lust-laced that it even surprised herself: “Come inside me, Miles.”

He grinned at her, before scooping up her head with his huge hand and pulling it upward for the kiss. And he held the kiss, tongue dancing with hers, while he fucked her shallowly, just with the tip, his thrusts rapid, like the firing pistons of a sports car.

She moaned continuously as he brought himself to bear, and she held him tight when she felt his body grow tight, when he drove himself all the way inside her for that final, gushing thrust. And then he was twitching, groaning, emptying himself for all he was worth within her.

The thought of his seed filling her up turned her on to astonishing extent, and in a moment of pure impulse, she reached for her clit and rubbed it wildly, bringing herself to a second climax, joining in with her bliss at the tail-end of his.

And then it was over. He lay on her, breathing hard, and she held him tight, panting back.

Sweating, gasping for air, never wanting to let this moment of closeness go, Circe realized just how much she had wanted that. This whole time, for two weeks… had been agonizing self-restraint.

She clasped onto him, pressed his body as close to hers as she could, felt their sweaty skin stick together like static joining two sheets of paper.

“Wow,” she heard him say, his voice deep. “That was amazing. Give me a moment, and I’ll mount you again.”

Circe laughed.

I’ll mount you again.

*

Miles held his lover in his arms, smelling her hair, and letting his hands run over the shape of her body, over each part of her he could grab. With an arm around her back, his hand nuzzled where her breast met her armpit, he could feel its weight, its softness, and he loved it.

“What’s it like?” she asked, her voice scratchy. She leaned up and reached for a glass of water on the bedside table, and sipped on it before passing the crystal container to him.

“What’s what like?” Miles asked, the cool liquid running down his gullet, soothing. The two had reached completion a pair of times over, and were now exhausted.

“You know. Being a shapeshifter.”

“Depends where you’re standing. To me, it’s normal. I guess the main thing is that it’s kind of addictive.”

“Addictive?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning his head against hers. She crossed her hands over her belly, and he pulled a sheet up over her. He found her fingers with his, and weaved them in between hers. “You just want to do it more.”

“Be an animal?”

“Yes.”

“So why not be one all the time?”

“We’re human first. Animal second. It’s a bit like flexing a muscle. It can be tiring. It takes energy, exertion. Holding it forever would be difficult… and it makes you loopy.”

“Loopy?”

“I’ve met a few in my time. A couple of them stayed in the shift as much as they could. They became strange. I can’t really describe it. Just, you know, off-kilter. Like that guy on the train who acts weirdly that everybody avoids. They became like that.”

“Do you know many others?”

“No.”

She leaned up and turned in his arms, looking at him. He saw a great swell of compassion in her eyes. She probably thought he was lonely. But he was no poor thing.

“Why not?”

“Don’t care to.”

“Is there any particular reason?”

“This is all off the record, right?”

Her eyes gleamed with playfulness, but Miles didn’t dare doubt her intelligence or ambition. After all, she had done all this, followed him around, had gone along with vague terms and completely undefined roles, not to mention his frequent unprofessional behavior. She wasn’t just brave. She was driven. And he admired that about her. But it also made him weary.

“I don’t know,” she said, kissing him quickly on the lips. “After all, you showed me of your own volition.”

“Yeah… I’m starting to regret that now.”

Her voice grew serious. “Really?”

“No. But I am starting to wonder if I was careless.”

“You were.”

“So you could print this.”

“I could.”

“And I’d have no recourse?”

“Not entirely true, but you know what professional capacity I’m here under, and you did sign those papers Ms. Jennings had sent over.”

“I did,” Miles said, sucking in air and biting his teeth together. “Oops.”

“You don’t
really
care, do you?”

Miles considered it. Perhaps he didn’t. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I haven’t told anybody until now, so maybe I do care.”

“Nobody? In your whole life?”

“Nobody who didn’t already know when they saw me.”

“Why?”

“Never felt the need to.”

“But you did tonight?”

Miles pulled her back down onto the bed, lying her in between his legs against his body. Both beneath the sheet, he ran his hands over her breasts, felt her nipples grow hard beneath the touch, but when he started to send his hand south she stopped him.

“But you did tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you to know.”

She leaned back, looking up over her head at him. “Why me?”

Kissing her forehead, he shrugged. “Why do you think, Circe?”

She remained silent, but grabbed his hand and pushed it back down over her stomach, and he pinched her, causing her to squirm, before running his fingers through her pubic hair.

“So why don’t you care to meet others like you, Miles? If I were you, I would.”

Miles sighed. That was a long story, and he told her as much. “Well, there’s probably something else you should know, too.”

After a pause she hit his thigh with her knuckles. “Well, tell me, then!”

“You’re pushy with your questions, you know? You’ll make a great journalist someday.”

“Ha, you don’t even know what a journalist is if you think all we do is ask questions.”

“Guilty. I’m just a dumb race-car driver, driving around in circles endlessly while risking my life.”

“Exactly,” Circe said. “That’s exactly what you are. And don’t think I can’t tell that you’re deflecting. Now stop changing the subject and tell me the truth about yourself. I want to know.”

Miles ran a finger down either side of her nether lips. He could feel himself growing hard again. God, he would ravish her again if he didn’t get the impression she needed some answers.

“We live a lot longer than regular old humans.”

“Oh? And how old are you?”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I stopped counting at one hundred.”

She sat up, pulled his hand from in between her legs, and scooted forward on her bum, before turning around to face him, loosely crossing her legs. “
What?
”