Page 1 of Treachery

ONE

Nadia giggled,pulling her peasant blouse up and over her head as she stumbled into the bedroom.

“In a hurry, baby?” her boyfriend, James, asked as he stepped across the threshold into the room, then kicked the door shut with his black shit kicker boots. He leered at her, his perfect lips curling suggestively, his navy-blue eyes heated, hooded as he stared at every inch of flesh she was revealing as she continued to remove her clothes. Usually, she’d be self-conscious about her body; being a size 20 in a world of size zeros and Instagram models was enough to make any woman feel worthless. And she had, for years, until she met James. And he changed everything; making her feel beautiful and desirable with a single look. She reveled in it, loving how good it made her feel, how cherished, how sexy.

It was easy to fall head over heels for a man who truly wanted her and not what she could give him, not what he could get out of her. For years she’d been trapped in her own body by her own self-loathing, but James…he’d liberated her, allowing her to become a woman she could be proud of, one who saw herself as she should be seen—that she had value.

James growled at her, bringing her thoughts back to the moment. Her blouse was gone, so she unhooked and tossed her deep red satin bra, unbuckled her belt, unbuttoned her jeans, then pulled them and her matching satin panties down her thick legs. She was only slightly buzzed—she was a lightweight—but she didn’t need much liquid courage to perform her impromptu strip show. And that was a first.

For most of her life, she’d been self-conscious about her body. A big baby, she hadn’t shed her baby fat when she hit her teens, only growing into her endomorph frame, which made losing weight difficult. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried dieting and exercise, but no matter how hard she worked, she never got smaller than a size 18. And so, she’d worn loose clothes and long skirts as a shield against bullies and mean girls, and that armor covered her until she met James.

Over the course of their relationship, he’d helped her remove each piece of armor, and reveal the real her beneath. God, she’d been terrified their first time, only three weeks after they first met, but James had made it so beautiful. She’d wept tears of happiness and pleasure that night, and he’d pulled her into his arms and held her close afterward. She’d fallen in love with him that night.

James loved her body, loved her curves—though she couldn’t believe that in the beginning, when they’d met months ago. She knew he loved her, too. No, he hadn’t said it, but his type usually didn’t; they were too hardass to be vulnerable, but she understood. She didn’t need to hear the words yet. She could tell by the way he was always with her, in her space, wanting to stay with her, spend time with her—it was like he couldn’t be parted from her. And she was a-okay with that.

Because she her life was practically perfect.

Speaking of perfect…. Her mouth watered and her pussy throbbed as she watched James remove his shirt. Beneath thewhite t-shirt was a set of pecks and a six-pack straight from a romance cover model. He was cut like crazy, hewn from marble by the hand of a sculpting master. His chest was nearly hair free with only a smattering of blonde hairs, but there was a line of dark blonde hair that went from just above his navel and into his crotch. As a man’s man, he didn’t bother with manscaping like most men did, and she didn’t mind. She loved every inch andinchesof her man. Not only was he cut like crazy, but the man was also hung like a donkey; his dick was thick, smooth, and at least 9 inches long. Like a romance novel ingénue, her first thought upon seeing it was to think “will that fit?” Thankfully, it had, but it was atightfit. A perfect fit.

His shirt off, her eyes lifted to his face. His smirk graced a pair of lips that were perfect pillows for kissing, a mouth capable of making every kiss feel decadent, sinful, wicked. The well-defined facial hair was that dark, delicious five-o’clock scruff, shaped by a razor to fit the hard angles of his face. On his head was a black bandana which covered his dark blonde hair he usually slicked back; it was just slightly past his ears in length—not long enough to pull back but just long enough to look roguish. And when he looked at her with those dark blue eyes framed by long, thick eyelashes, it never failed to make her heart swoon, and her lady bits jerk awake.

He barely had his jeans off before she was there, on sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his cock from his boxer briefs. She stared at it, hungry, drooling. It was massive, hard as a steel rod, it’s angry-looking red tip weeping pre-cum.

James peered down at her, his pupils blown, his eyes hooded.

“Put me in your mouth, baby. Suck my dick,” James commanded, his voice a sexy rumble.

Horny has hell, she complied, leaning forward, and tentatively licking around the mushroom head, and down the length of him to the root. She continued the journey upwardagain, slowly lapping at the thick vein that led to the angry, deep red cock head she wanted to swallow.

So she did.

He groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. In that moment, she felt so powerful, her chest filled with it, spilling over into her soul. She’d done this, brought this man, this incredibly sexy man to this point. His face hard and etched with pleasure, like an erotic image crafted by the gods to lure human women into sin.

“Fuck yes, baby,” he moaned, the muscles in his abs and thighs going taut, rippling as he held himself back. “That’s it…suck me hard, fuck—yes! So fucking good,” he moaned, the sound guttural as he thrust forward, unable to rein in the need any longer, his cock hitting the back of her throat. She gagged but recovered quickly, swallowing to tighten the muscles around his dick. He groaned again, hissing as she swallowed again.

She was so focused on pleasuring him with her mouth, she wasn’t paying attention to his hands. Suddenly, she was in the air, landing on her back in the middle of the bed, her legs spread wide.

He flew over her, landing atop her, splayed over her like a blanket made of hot, hard, flesh. He planted his hands on either side of her head, and peered down at her, pressing his fat cock into the cradle of her thighs. “You’re too fucking good at that, baby, and I want to cum in your pussy, not your mouth.”

She groaned, her body on fire, her soul igniting.

She could totally get behind that. Or under it.

He kissed her, ravaging her mouth, making her mindless, as he slipped his hand between them to stroke her clit. Pleasure zinged through her, making her breath catch. She dug her nails into the backs of his shoulders, desperate for him to fill the aching emptiness inside of her. This was the greatest desperation, the most basic and unrelenting need, and only hecould fulfill it, only he could feed the creature inside her, craving him. He was its master, obeying only his call.

He dropped his weight until they were chest to chest, his scorching flesh brushing against hers. The hand not strumming her clit was cupping and kneaded her breasts, teasing her nipples.

Wild, crazed, she cried out, “Please! I need you inside of me!” She could barely recognize her own voice for the feral rasp it was.

He hummed with satisfaction, his dark blue eyes dancing with demonic wickedness, his profane mouth curling into a devilish smirk. And she was lost.

“That’s it, take my cock,” he growled, placing the head of his cock against her entrance.

He took her mouth once more, deepening the kiss until her lips were bruised and pulsing.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he marveled, dragging his cockhead through her wetness—up and down, up and down, before finally notching it once more where she needed it most.

He pulled back his hips, then thrust home in one single movement, making them both cry out in pleasure. He dropped his forehead to her breasts, his breath hot on her sensitive flesh.

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