Knight Fall (An Erotic BBW Romance) (2 page)

"Enjoy the show, Ms. Saunders?" His tone was cold, his expression murderous.

"I…um…I didn't mean to…" Forget shit storm, this was going to be a shit hurricane. Kelly steeled herself.

"Well, guess what, 'Miss I'm Too Good For Everyone Else'. You get to come in this weekend to compile the TPS reports Mr. Turnstone needs, and if they're not ready — and perfect — by the time I get here Monday morning, you can kiss this job goodbye."

Kelly was horrified. "But…but…I don't know even know what a TPS report is, much less how to create it."

Wigley smirked and thumped the pile of papers he was holding onto her desk. Pointing to her supervisor's desk, he said, "Everything you need to know to turn these into a TPS is in the 'Reports' binder on the top shelf of Mrs. Mendonca's cubicle." He spun on his heel and stormed off. He looked back over his shoulder and snidely wished her a happy weekend before sweeping out of the room.

Kelly sat for a moment in stunned silence. She quietly began putting her desk away, not knowing whether to cry or scream. Either would do, but not here. She stuffed the pile of papers into her oversized purse, hoping she could make sense out of them over a glass of wine at home. As she trudged down the hallway, she noticed Wigley's light was still on.
If he can't fuck me, he'll do anything to fuck me over
, she thought.

~ * ~ * ~

Once in her car, Kelly noticed her gas gauge was pegged all the way to the left. This was not a welcome discovery considering she only had $37 in her checking account to get her through the weekend until payday. She wasn't sure how much she more she could take. "Fuck!" She slammed her fist on the steering wheel. Damn, that felt good. She pounded it again, and again, and again, screaming 'fuck' at the top of her lungs each time.
"Motherrrrrrrfuckerrrrrrr!"
Spent, she gripped the wheel with both hands and rested her forehead on it, gasping for air and trying not to cry. She took a deep breath, sat back and ran her hands through her hair. "I'm not going to let him get to me," she said to the rearview mirror. "If I do, he wins."

It was easier said than done. The primal screaming had helped but tension was like a live wire running through her. Images of a sniper taking Wigley down or a Mack truck running him over (and over and over) danced through her head as she pulled out of the parking garage and headed for the nearest gas station. If she didn't need this job so badly, she'd tell him exactly which orifice she'd prefer he stuff the 'Reports' binder into.

Most of her artist friends had sold out years ago, getting fancy, important jobs and starting families. The ones who hadn't were either wildly successful artists or drug addicts. She didn't belong to either group. Sure, she had all the right connections and had done everything right, but getting an exclusive show had proved impossible. One gallery owner actually told her that her work was exquisite but he didn't think anyone would "buy" her as the artist. As if big girls couldn’t have artistic vision. She knew in her heart that if someone would just give her a shot at a show, she'd break out.

It was Friday afternoon so naturally every pump at the nearest gas station had a line that spilled into the road. But with the needle hovering just below 'E', she didn't have much choice other than to wait. As she fantasized about all the grisly ways in which she'd like to see Wigley die, her gaze settled on a biker on the other side of her island fueling up his classic Peterson-Knight touring bike. He looked to be in his mid 30s, surely no older than 40, and was suited up in a set of form-fitting black leathers. She was normally attracted to younger hipster types, but there was something about this guy's indisputable masculinity that held her attention.

He moved with an agility rarely seen in such tall specimens — he had to be six-five, at least, with a mop of dark hair that made Kelly's fingers itch with desire to get tangled up in it. His physique suggested athlete, but his rough stubble and tattoos offered a different story. Kelly couldn't help noticing how the leathers showed every ripple of his well-defined thighs as he bent down to check something on the bike. Her blood started pumping faster when he stood up and she got a look at his tight ass flexing beneath the supple black leather. Holy cow, he wore those well.

A horn blared from behind her and she was startled out of her reverie to see that the cars in front of her had advanced. She pulled forward, just one car length away from the biker, who had looked around to see what the commotion was about. Kelly stared forward until she was sure the biker was no longer looking in her direction. One stolen sideways glance and she was lost in the man's intensely sexy body. "I'm obviously overdue for a good lay," she muttered.

The bulge at the front of his leathers made it clear he was no boy, and the easy way he moved exuded confidence but not necessarily arrogance. His shrugged out of his jacket, revealing bulging biceps and rock-hard delts. Sweat glistened on his neck, running in a rivulet beneath the collar of his tight black T-shirt as he packed the jacket into a saddlebag. Kelly's tongue slipped across her lips as she imagined following that drop of sweat with her tongue. Her nipples tensed and she nibbled on her lower lip as he put the gas nozzle back in the pump, her eyes focusing on his lower half.

He stopped moving, stood perfectly still next to his bike, giving her a full view of his gorgeous form. Her gaze traveled lazily from his bulge up his flat stomach to his broad chest and finally his tan face. When she reached his eyes, she realized that he was looking directly at her. "Eep!" Kelly flushed and turned her eyes away, embarrassed he'd caught her checking him out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was still facing her direction. Feeling defiant and a little reckless — it had been a helluva day — Kelly turned her face toward him and lifted an eyebrow, as if to say, "Yeah, what are you going to do about it, big boy?" The biker looked right back and a slow, wicked smile slid across his face. That smile told her exactly what he'd do given the chance.

A horn blared again, this time from behind the biker. He shot a glare at the driver and gave Kelly a long, lingering look before jumping on his bike and roaring off.

She smiled to herself.
That was fun
, she thought. She'd never been so bold when checking out a cute guy. And hey, a little harmless flirting is good for the ego of everyone involved. The cars in front of her pulled out and she moved to the forward pump, still glowing from the encounter or whatever you'd call it.

~ * ~ * ~

Kelly carefully calculated how much gas she should put in her tank. Too little and she wouldn't be able to make it back and forth to the office over the weekend. Too much and she wouldn't be able to eat. Taking mental stock of her nearly bare kitchen cupboards, she figured she could get by with just $15 for food, leaving a $2 cushion if she put $20 into her tank. While it certainly wasn't ideal, it was at least acceptable.

As she did the math, her mind drifted back to her hatred of her job and her boss. She felt so powerless over her life, and that was not a feeling she cared for. As a freelance artist, she'd always managed to make rent by having a series of crazy roommates, the last of whom had moved out of the crappy two-bedroom apartment seven months before. She found she enjoyed living alone for once, so she went job hunting.

Her life hadn't been extravagant but she didn't have to answer to anyone but herself. If her boss was being an asshole, all she had to do was look in the mirror and tell herself to chill. She pushed hard when she needed to but could sit back and coast every now and again. Now, all she could do was fume and plot different ways to get the world's top assassins to put Mr. Wigley in their crosshairs.

Just thinking of that pudgy little ferret wiped away any lingering effects of her encounter with the biker. Reality set in. She finished pumping in a daze, noting that less than five gallons of gas was now in her tank. Depressed and distracted, she pulled around the back of the station to check the air in her tires. The last thing she needed was another blowout on the freeway.

She was checking the last tire when a shadow moved over her. The sun was behind him, blinding her when she looked up, but in an instant, she knew it was him — the biker. His bulk was unmistakable, even in silhouette.

"You might need this." His voice matched his appearance: deep, rough, and sexy as hell. A tingle rippled through Kelly's hunched body. He was holding something out to her but she didn't reach for whatever it was. She was too stunned by his presence. She was paralyzed.

Her eyes followed him as he squatted down in front of her, a smile playing at his lips. Kelly realized her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut and looked away for a moment to collect herself. What was he doing here? When she looked back, the tanned skin around biker's eyes was crinkled with amusement. He took one of her hands in his own and pressed something into it. His fingers slowly slid across her skin, sending more tingles through her body. Still mute, she looked down to see her gas cap. She must have left it on top of the pump.

Now with something to focus on other than this handsome stranger who made her belly do flip-flops, Kelly fiddled with it and mumbled a thank you. She was mortified that the guy she'd so brazenly flirted with was inches away. She'd just wanted a little harmless fun, and up close, this man looked anything but harmless. Not scary but definitely…dangerous.

The warm smell of his leathers enveloped her. She closed her still-dazzled eyes and breathed deeply, hoping to clear her head. Mixing with the leather was a deeper, more animal scent. The rubber of her tires added a sharpness that muddled her thoughts even more. Her body was reacting to his closeness. She needed space, she needed to put some distance between them. She stood up quickly, too quickly, and got dizzy.
Reaching out to steady herself, she
found his burly, muscled shoulder. She nearly fainted.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice went from seductive to concerned. He stood up and clutched her shoulder and hip to keep her from toppling over. The dampness that had formed between her legs turned to a faucet at his touch. What the hell was wrong with her?! She decided her best course of action was to blow him off as she'd done so many times before and head home to the box of wine she had in her fridge and the vibrator stashed away in her underwear drawer.

"Yeah, I…I just stood up too fast," she said dismissively, not meeting his gaze. "Thank you so much for bringing this to me. I would have been well and truly screwed."

He was silent but she could sense his body tensing, smell his musk. Her blood was thrumming in her ears. "You still could be, you know," he said.

"Could be what?"

Kelly looked up into his sea foam green eyes and was momentarily lost in them, like a sailor in a storm. Her breathing quickened as he eased closer to her, backing her into the side of the car. His gaze stayed locked on her. Planting one hand on either side of her, he leaned in, not touching her but she fairly burned with the heat of his body.

He dipped his head until his lips nestled in the hair covering her ear. "Screwed," he growled. "You could still be well and truly screwed."

Kelly's nipples responded
by instantly leaping to attention, drawing a small grunt from her. His hot breath tickled her ear and she found herself pressing into him, needing to feel his body against hers. She leaned her head into his, and that was all the invitation he needed.

His body slammed her back into the car with the force of a bull in heat. The lips she'd been wanting to taste found hers and crushed them, pushing her head backward until it rested on the roof of the car. She reached around his back and clutched two handfuls of his shirt, trying to draw him closer, but he wouldn't allow it. Without taking his lips from hers, he reached around, grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the car. She moaned as his tongue invaded her, beating her own probing tongue into submission.

She resisted for just a moment, struggling to move her arms, raise her head, but she was no match for his brawn. He had her completely immobilized. He was in charge. The moment she realized he was going to take her — right here, right now — she gave herself over to the flood of desire tearing through her and stopped struggling. She relaxed into his onslaught. All she could do was ride his wave.

Sensing her surrender, the biker eased his hold on her just a bit without giving her any freedom of movement. The bulge that she'd eyed earlier was threatening to burst from his leathers. He ground his hips into her belly, down to her hips, then into her already pulsating mound. With each grind of his hips, she grunted into his mouth. The fingernails of her clinched fists dug into her palms with exquisite pain. She could feel tension building inside of her, seeking release. She had little room to move, but she met each of his thrusts to let him know she was ready to take him inside.

Never did his lips leave hers. He consumed her, ate her up, lapping at every nook inside her mouth, biting, licking, sucking. His rough whiskers were rubbing her raw and his lips were bruising her. God help him if he stopped.

He released her hands so his could glide down her arms to her breasts — where he paused only momentarily, giving each a healthy squeeze — then to her waist and finally to her full hips. He ran his hands under her round ass and hoisted her to rest against the passenger side window. She wrapped her legs around him, yanking her skirt up to allow him access. He kept her firmly in place with his body while his hands fumbled at the front of his leathers. Kelly's fingernails dug into his shoulders as she felt his fingers seeking purchase on her soaked panties. They both groaned as he ripped them away from her dripping pussy.