Curve Effect (A BBW Box Set of Contemporary, Science Fiction and Paranormal Romances) by Ann Vremont
Authors: Ann Vremont
Tags: Romance
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like me? People drastically altered their appearance monthly, weekly if they were rich enough, to match current fashions. No one changed their face or body to look like Morgan Macy, the plump, bookish research assistant only a handful of people even know exists.
"Beautiful, desirable, so very, very fuckable." His strokes increased in force and speed, his own release closing in on him as his brows and mouth contorted. "Believe me."
Vance claimed my mouth, the pressure almost desperate as he drove home the last few, straining thrusts. His tongue swept against my palate, his muscles contracting to hold me tightly to him. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clinging as he pushed my senses completely over the edge.
He broke the kiss and I squeezed at him -- legs and arms, hands and cunt. Holding, grinding and gasping, I begged him, "Please come with me this time.”
He kissed me, silencing my pleas. His hand found my breast, closed possessively around it to stroke and squeeze, the word "mine" falling from him in a whisper over and over as he kissed my throat.
His muscles seized and, trembling, he said it one last time.
Mine.
**********
I drifted out from the haze of my climax to Vance caressing my cheek with his thumb, his gaze locked on my face. Rolling onto his side, he pulled me to him.
"Come home with me.”
Swallowing my surprise, I shook my head. Every minute I spent with him increased my risk of exposure. I couldn’t laugh off what I had said or how I had said it. Nor could I forget what he had said when he thought he was talking to a pleasure droid.
I would be crushed when he fell mute after realizing my identity.
Trying to preserve that last little corner of my heart he didn't yet have the power to destroy, I dropped my voice to a bored monotone. "You are out of paper credits, Master."
"Ah, right, credits." He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "I could go get some… take me fifteen minutes max. You could wait--"
I caught the flick of his eyes in my direction, the strangely hopeful glance surprising me. I drew a deep breath, released it with what I hoped was my one-word pass out of the cube and away from him. "Protocol.”
He blinked, the motion so slow it seemed shocked, and then he went right on talking. "Right. Never wait."
Sitting up, he pulled his clothes on. He stood, found mine and handed me the dress. The panties he kept. He opened another panel in the wall, made a selection and a tightly wrapped package dropped into his hand. He passed the package to me.
The panties passed briefly below his nose, his eyes drifting shut for a second before he pocketed them.
I read the tight lettering on the package. New York Transit Fantasy Unit, sized Xtra Fun.
I stared at the package, numb with disbelief as he reopened the panel to the sanitation station.
"There are about ten minutes left on the cube." He punctuated the sentence with a grunt. "Time enough for you to clean up and get dressed before finding your next…customer.”
Now that he wasn’t touching me, reality sank in. Whatever had just happened, it was over. Still numb, I nodded and thanked him.
Vance shrugged and lifted his chipped wrist to the video dock, where he downloaded the recording of our session. I chewed at my lip, wondering what he would notice when he viewed the playback.
Or to whom he might show it.
The download took less than a minute and then he left. I used all the remaining nine minutes to clean up, hoping Vance would be gone and the platform empty by the time I emerged.
He was still there when I stepped onto the platform. He stood by the elevator and ignored its closing doors as he stared me. Suppressing the nervous need to wave, I shoved my hand into the dress pocket, my fingers curling around the comforting presence of my net card as the train pulled up and the doors slid open.
Thumbing the card, I realized something terrible.
I had issued an Endscape broadcast after arriving on the platform. Without
"Beautiful, desirable, so very, very fuckable." His strokes increased in force and speed, his own release closing in on him as his brows and mouth contorted. "Believe me."
Vance claimed my mouth, the pressure almost desperate as he drove home the last few, straining thrusts. His tongue swept against my palate, his muscles contracting to hold me tightly to him. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clinging as he pushed my senses completely over the edge.
He broke the kiss and I squeezed at him -- legs and arms, hands and cunt. Holding, grinding and gasping, I begged him, "Please come with me this time.”
He kissed me, silencing my pleas. His hand found my breast, closed possessively around it to stroke and squeeze, the word "mine" falling from him in a whisper over and over as he kissed my throat.
His muscles seized and, trembling, he said it one last time.
Mine.
**********
I drifted out from the haze of my climax to Vance caressing my cheek with his thumb, his gaze locked on my face. Rolling onto his side, he pulled me to him.
"Come home with me.”
Swallowing my surprise, I shook my head. Every minute I spent with him increased my risk of exposure. I couldn’t laugh off what I had said or how I had said it. Nor could I forget what he had said when he thought he was talking to a pleasure droid.
I would be crushed when he fell mute after realizing my identity.
Trying to preserve that last little corner of my heart he didn't yet have the power to destroy, I dropped my voice to a bored monotone. "You are out of paper credits, Master."
"Ah, right, credits." He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "I could go get some… take me fifteen minutes max. You could wait--"
I caught the flick of his eyes in my direction, the strangely hopeful glance surprising me. I drew a deep breath, released it with what I hoped was my one-word pass out of the cube and away from him. "Protocol.”
He blinked, the motion so slow it seemed shocked, and then he went right on talking. "Right. Never wait."
Sitting up, he pulled his clothes on. He stood, found mine and handed me the dress. The panties he kept. He opened another panel in the wall, made a selection and a tightly wrapped package dropped into his hand. He passed the package to me.
The panties passed briefly below his nose, his eyes drifting shut for a second before he pocketed them.
I read the tight lettering on the package. New York Transit Fantasy Unit, sized Xtra Fun.
I stared at the package, numb with disbelief as he reopened the panel to the sanitation station.
"There are about ten minutes left on the cube." He punctuated the sentence with a grunt. "Time enough for you to clean up and get dressed before finding your next…customer.”
Now that he wasn’t touching me, reality sank in. Whatever had just happened, it was over. Still numb, I nodded and thanked him.
Vance shrugged and lifted his chipped wrist to the video dock, where he downloaded the recording of our session. I chewed at my lip, wondering what he would notice when he viewed the playback.
Or to whom he might show it.
The download took less than a minute and then he left. I used all the remaining nine minutes to clean up, hoping Vance would be gone and the platform empty by the time I emerged.
He was still there when I stepped onto the platform. He stood by the elevator and ignored its closing doors as he stared me. Suppressing the nervous need to wave, I shoved my hand into the dress pocket, my fingers curling around the comforting presence of my net card as the train pulled up and the doors slid open.
Thumbing the card, I realized something terrible.
I had issued an Endscape broadcast after arriving on the platform. Without
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