Knight Fall (An Erotic BBW Romance) Read Free

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