The Curvy Sister (A BBW Erotic Romance) (4 page)

Jason slid a hand down my
slick body and pushed it between us. He pressed his mouth against my neck and
simultaneously touched my clit with his middle finger and I saw stars. I arched
and writhed and fought for no reason, gyrated my hips up into his.

His breathing quickened, a
sound of pleasure and triumph against my sweaty skin as he unwound the last of
my sanity. He guided the hard little button in a rhythm with his thrusts and I
didn’t last long before I came screaming, muffling my voice against his
shoulder. I don’t know what I was afraid of more, that Jason might see me lose
control or that I actually had lost it.

I shook and shuddered beneath
him as he abandoned my throbbing clit to hold me still while he quickened his
thrusts, hard and fast, his own control slipping, sweat slicking his hard body.
He built towards release as mine simmered down, left me weak and tingly. I
could feel his cock inside me throbbing, jerking as he drove in, pleasure still
aching between my legs. His moans turned to grunts, to curses, sometimes my
name, and when I could tell he was about to explode, he leaned down and crushed
my mouth with his. I clasped the nape of his neck and kissed him back, messy
and careless. He came like that, shuddering with each eruption, muscles
straining against my soft body.

Jason stilled, relaxed his
mouth, but kissed me anyway, like a
thank you
, which might have been
ridiculous but for the sweetness of it and I obliged because he tasted too good
to say no to.

The glow of our tryst lost
its sheen quickly, though. I became too aware of the hard kitchen floor, our
dirty bodies, and the wind whistling through a window upstairs I hadn’t shut. I
was too aware of my body, glistening with sweat, big and bumpy and that in a
moment he’d pull away and really see it for the first time. I’d have to see his
reaction when he realized who he’d just screwed in the dark. His brother’s fat
ex-fiancé.

  And still a part of me
didn’t want his heavy, warm body to pull away. I gave it to the count of ten.
Even though he seemed in no hurry to let go, I pushed him off and struggled
onto my hands and knees, grabbing up snatches of clothing I was only half sure
were mine.

He propped on his elbow and
watched me hop one legged into my panties and wiggle them up over my hips. I
found his shirt, then mine and didn’t look at him until most of my body was
covered.

“Cassidy,” he said quietly,
my name so unfamiliar in his voice. Like someone else’s name. The storm had
really rolled in while we weren’t looking and dropped a thick dark across the
room. I blessedly couldn’t see his blue eyes.

“You should go.” I tossed him
his shirt and left the room, got as far as the hallway and leaned against the
closet door to catch my breath. I pressed my palm against my chest and I
expected the voices, the panic, the freaking out, the anxiety to come crashing
down on top of me, but there was only silence. There wasn’t enough room in my
head for Jonathan and Bailey now that every corner of my thoughts was filled
with the gorgeous body tying his shoes in the other room.

“You sure you want me to go?”
His voice sounded quiet and close, just on the other side of the wall I hid
behind. I could imagine him mirroring me. Could imagine his bright eyes and
smooth jaw.

“Yes,” I whispered. I touched
my fingers to my bruised lips and swallowed my panic. “Please go.”

He lingered forever. I could
feel the heat of his body through the wall, could sense the shape of him, and
hear his breathing, even and deep. I could smell his earthy, sweaty body. It
was a terrible mistake, a terrible, terrible mistake I could never undo. If
anyone found out, at best they’d call me desperate and out of control. At
worse, they’d think it was some kind of revenge ploy, something to make
Jonathan jealous.

Finally I heard the door
open. The sudden frenzy of rain across the back porch and gutters filled the
quiet dark. Then the door closed, leaving me alone to erase the evidence of our
misguided tryst.

5

____________

The sheet had wrapped itself
so thoroughly around the princess tower at the front of the house I considered
cutting it off, but the idea of my grandma haunting me for the rest of my life
for cutting up her best sheets changed my mind. I dragged the big ladder out of
the barn and got up there to unwrap it by hand.

Unfortunately it gave me time
to dwell on Jason King and the things we’d done during the storm. Every once in
a while I’d get a flash of a moment, a sound, a body part, and I’d near fall
off the damn roof.

And because I was up there
yanking on the stiff linen to uncatch it from the roof tiles, I had a bird’s
eye view of the sheriff’s car barreling up the road towards me.

Sheriff Gibbs was at least
good enough to catch my laundry for me so I could climb down to be arrested.

“Cassidy Blue,” he said. I
hopped the last few rungs and beat my hands off on my hips to free the tile
grit that clung to my skin.

“Sheriff.” I nodded into the
reflective aviator glasses he wore. Like some kind of John Wayne meets Howard
Hughes. “Now, before you say anything, I can explain.”

His hard mouth didn’t bend.
“There’s a good explanation for taking a baseball bat to Jonathan King’s
truck?”

“I never said it would be a
good one.”

“You remember when you were
fifteen and I caught you and Charlotte Harvey and those other kids breaking
into the high school on Halloween?”

I smiled innocently.
“Technically they were breaking in. I was the look out.”

“Get-away driver goes to jail
like as any other criminal. And you said to me, you promised you’d never give
me a reason to arrest you again so long as I didn’t tell your grandma what you
done.”

I stabbed my finger at his
chest. “And you lied like a dog. You told her the next morning.”

“Like I was going to have
Ruthie after me for not telling her? Point is, you promised you wouldn’t give
me a reason to arrest you and now I have the smoking gun in my trunk and
several thousand dollars worth of damages on my hands.”

“No jury would convict me,” I
warned.

“They’d convict you,
sweetheart, but they’d feel real bad about it.” He pulled off his glasses and
rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Lucky you that Jonathan King’s
not pressing charges and his brother’s agreed to pay for the damages.”

My mouth fell open and stayed
that way while I tried to process what he’d just said. I took a step back and
haltingly covered my mouth with my fingertips. “He did what?”

“I like you Cassidy. You’re a
good girl and what happened to you was god awful. A boy did that to my Grace
and I’d have him strung up myself. But the Kings are only going to take so much
before they bring the hammer down on you, girl. You stay away from the Kings
and you give this wedding business a wide berth. I don’t want to arrest you
because you can’t control your anger. Find a way to deal with this that doesn’t
involve violent weapons. You do what you have to do to make peace with them.”

Make peace with them. Like it
was my responsibility. Like I had something to apologize for. When were they
going to make peace with me? I rubbed my fingertips across my ears and closed
my eyes as the screaming crept back in, started at my spine and traveled to
every cell in my body. Screaming and screaming and screaming. For months it had
felt like this and one stupid, violent, reckless night and I’d found silence.
In the arms of a rake and my ex-fiancé’s brother, but I’d still found it.

But now it was back, louder
this time, banging away like a marching band across my frontal lobes. Suddenly
the sun was too bright, especially when the Sheriff put his glasses back on and
the reflection struck me like a punch.

His hard mouth relaxed and he
sighed. “Find a way to deal with this, Cassidy. You don’t want to go toe-to-toe
with the Kings.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I murmured.
“I won’t give Jonathan the satisfaction of having me arrested. I’ll stay away
from them.”

6

____________

Less than thirty minutes
later I sat in my car in the King’s driveway, drumming my fingers on the
steering wheel, chastising myself for being born weak-willed. The sheriff had
barely hit the highway before I’d thrown my pile of sheets on the porch and floored
it down the dirt road like some kind of junkie looking to score.

Not
that I was looking
to
score
. Bad analogy. I needed something to dampen the anxiety and the
very bad, deep down feeling in my chest I couldn’t shake. Jason King had done
that even before I ripped his clothes off. He’d made things quieter.

And, I rationalized, I needed
to thank him for helping me because surely I would never have been able to
afford the repairs to Jonathan’s truck on my own. I didn’t necessarily want to
see him, I told myself. I just didn’t want to be alone with my rage. That had
gone poorly last time.

Garton’s truck was gone and
there was only Jason’s black SUV parked in front of the converted barn where
Jonathan used to live before moving in with my sister. Jason must have taken
over the apartment for now. I didn’t know why but I hadn’t expected to feel
such trepidation returning to the place I’d spent so many nights with my
ex-fiancé, only a few hours since spending the night with his brother.

I didn’t even want to think
about what kind of girl that made me.

I got out of the car and
hurried across the yard for the outside stairs up to the second floor loft
apartment. At the base of the stairs, I stopped cold.

There was no way this was a
healthy and rational response. I could send him a thank you card. I didn’t need
to see him. This playboy. This city boy.
He’d sleep with any girl,
I
reminded myself.
You were probably easier than most, all desperate and
wounded and plus-sized.

And crazy. Clearly we could
also add ‘crazy’ to that list.

I climbed the stairs one step
at a time on my toes like a cat burglar. I didn’t want to alert him of my
presence until I was absolutely sure I wasn’t going to run. I wanted options for
escape.

At the top of the stairs, I
paced. I wrung my hands and told myself to go home and stop being foolish but
then all those voices would start in again, telling me to make peace with my
sister, to forgive them so that it would be easier for everyone else. They told
me, somehow, that him cheating was my fault and to take some responsibility for
my role in it. I stood with my back to the door, overlooking the yard, fingers
pressed to my ears when the door opened and made my decision for me.

“Cassidy?”

I turned sharply, took one
look down his shirtless body, passed the abs and those hips all the way down to
the low slung jeans and dropped my hands in exasperation.

“Oh come on,
how is
that even fair
?
”

He leaned his shoulder
casually against the doorframe and stuck his thumbs in his belt loops. His grin
spread slowly, like a Cheshire cat.

“Nice to see you too. Are you
here for more revenge, or something else?” He teased, that half grin and
telling eyes. I didn’t expect him to mention last night so casually and I hated
that it made me blush.

I crossed my arms, averted my
eyes, and scowled. “I’m reconsidering my position on further violence.”

Jason shook his head. “What
can I do for you, Cass?”

“You had no right,” I said
suddenly, surprising us both. His eyebrows lifted and I took a step back until
I ran into the railing, reminding me I was two floors up and quick escape was
impossible. “Getting involved, I mean. It wasn’t your place to do anything for
me.”

This was not what I’d come
here to say to him, but I couldn’t stop the accusations if I wanted to. My
anger was not for him. It was Jonathan’s and Bailey’s and Sheriff Gibbs’s and
my parents’, but it wasn’t for Jason. And yet I felt explosive when I looked at
him.

I wanted to rip something
good up with my bare hands.

“I could have taken care of
the damages myself. I don’t need your help or your goddamn money.”

I balled my fists, felt blood
flush my cheeks. He shrugged and relaxed his body into a deeper lean as if
there was no way I had the power to upset him no matter how loud my tantrum
got.

“I’m sure you could have
taken care of it yourself, but I didn’t think you should have to. You deserved
some revenge and it wouldn’t be right to make you apologize for getting it.”

Oh.

I faltered, dropped my hands
to my sides, opened my mouth to say something horrible, but nothing came out.
His lazy blue eyes broke their hold on me and looked down. He scuffed the toe
of his work boot on the doorframe and I wondered if he was remembering what I
was remembering and if his heart was hammering in his chest as hard as mine
was.

I shoved off the railing and
pressed the palms of my hands against his naked chest, slick with late summer
sweat. He captured me into his body, arms caging me in as if he feared I might
run away. I could have,
would have,
if I wasn’t so sick from withdrawal,
if I didn’t want him to kiss away the pressure behind my eyes and make the rest
of the world quiet. For just a few minutes.