The Curvy Sister (A BBW Erotic Romance) (7 page)

I shut my door and walked
down the block to the corner before crossing. He had his back to me as he
strapped the wood to the truck.

“Nice hat.”

Jason glanced over his
shoulder and grinned that slow, unfurling smile of his. I ordered the
butterflies in my belly to knock it right off, but they didn’t listen. They
never did.

He gave the ropes one last
tug before giving me his full attention with an appraising once over I could
feel in my toes.

“Grandpa Garton’s subtle way
of reminding me where I’m from. You can about imagine how much he loves my dad
and me living out east, working the stock market instead of the land.” He
deflected the faint bitterness I caught around the edges whenever he mentioned
Garton King with an easy, but shrewd smile. “Still, I look damn good, right?”

“And so modest too.” I stuck
my hands in my back pockets and glanced down between us, feeling both nervous
and embarrassed. “I need a ride home.”

He leaned back against the
truck, propped his boot against the tire, and crossed his arms over his chest.
He nodded down the street.

“If I’m not mistaken, your
car is right over there.”

“In which I just got back
from picking up
the
wedding dress in Omaha with my mother and sister. I
need
a ride home.”

“Get in.”

He pushed away from the truck
without further argument and I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. I
clamored up into the cab and slid across the cracked leather. Despite the Kings
owning half the county, Garton King was as down home as a person could get,
unlike his brothers and nephews who flaunted their power and money. He could
have bought himself a fleet of new trucks, but this old blue Dodge still ran
fine and I doubted he’d buy anything new until it refused. The cab smelled like
fresh cut grass.

Jason slid in next to me, put
the truck into gear and pulled off onto Main Street. Once Main Street turned
highway and we were going sixty into farmland, he moved his hand from the gear
shift to my thigh just above my knee. I relaxed for the first time in hours and
concentrated on the heat radiating from his palm.

“So how’d you end up in the
same car as
the wedding dress
, anyway?” he asked.

“Mom needed someone to drive
her. Bailey’s doing some work in the city and met us but threw a fit over the
idea of leaving the dress in her car all day. Said the sun would discolor the
white lace.” I shrugged and stared out the passenger window at the rows of corn
slicing by. They’d be down soon and our world would turn into a
post-apocalyptic desert of empty, broken fields. “Anyway, forbidden topic.”

I felt him look at me, but I
couldn’t acknowledge that look.
Are you ok?
it would say, all blue-eyed
and sincere.
No,
I’d scowl. Then I’d get catty and morose, not that I
didn’t have a corner on that market anyway. But that wasn’t really why I didn’t
look at him. Truth was, I didn’t want to share him with Jonathan and Bailey and
the wedding dress. They didn’t deserve him.

Jason pulled his hand away
and slowed the truck. I glanced up, sure we weren’t quite at the turn off. He
pulled onto an overgrown, unmarked road – really more of a scruff in the grass
than an honest-to-god road - that disappeared into a thicket of trees and
headed back over the hill towards the old apple farm no one cared about
anymore.

“Where are we going?” I
asked, nervous as we bumped along. If not for the occasional bald tire ruts,
the road would have been swallowed completely by now. Jason dropped the gear
into something low and mean and the truck lurched through the brush with a
growl.

“You’ll see.”

Then the path evened out very
suddenly and pulled off along the wide orchard of overgrown apple trees. The
ground here was paved by years of fallen leaves, rotten apple cores, and sprigs
of rusted barbed wire poking through the underbrush.

Jason pulled the truck to a
stop. We were dusted with amber sunlight half shaded by the thin tree branches.
If they’d been half cared for they would have been in full green and filling
with new fruit, but their gnarled bellies hadn’t seen much light back here
since the trees we’d just plowed through had been allowed to overgrow the
orchard and block it from half a day of sunlight.

Instead the trees looked
crouched like an army of old men, gnarled boughs stretching wide instead of
high, creaky and mostly dead.

Without waiting for an
invitation, I climbed across the seat to his arms and he caught me up like he’d
wondered why I’d waited so long. I pinned him to the seat, one knee on either
side of his hips and lowered my mouth to his. I hadn’t pulled my hair back and
it shaded us from the low sun and tickled his rough cheeks. He smiled against
my mouth and caressed the long gold strands from my face.

But I wasn’t so romantic. I
dug at his shirt, untucked it and ran my hands across his strong chest. I
marveled at his muscles, tight and shaped like stone, not real flesh. I had no
idea bodies could feel like this, strength in every breath, every stretch of
his hand.

When I went for his belt
buckle, he caught my hands, pulled them away, and kissed each wrist. “Whoa,
whoa… Hold on now, Cass. Angry sex isn’t going to calm you down.”

I leaned back against the
steering wheel and blew hair out of my eyes, frustrated. “Then what are we
doing here?”

“You need to be settled, not
stirred up. Let me.”

He slid his hands, fingers
splayed, across the small of my back and pulled at my shirt until he felt skin.
I tried to slow my heart. I recognized the anger he’d felt, like adrenaline in
my heart. I let him stroke my skin and kiss my mouth. He pulled at my lips,
licked at them. He had a great tongue.

I curled against him, my
cheek close to his as he touched me, wound his hands down over my buttocks and
thighs. I was grateful I’d worn shorts today, green canvas things that rose
higher than I typically liked but gave him ample access to my thighs. He grabbed
the back of them, each in one hand, and trailed his fingertips teasingly up the
path of delights to the gusset of my shorts.

“Turn around,” he panted, and
I did with some difficulty so that I was pressed between him and the door, my
legs across his lap, settled comfortably in his arms. “Just relax, Cassidy.”

I tried to listen. He undid
my shorts and slid a hand down my stomach and under the band of my panties to
the forbidden triangle between my legs. I sighed when I realized his intentions
and captured his free hand in mine. We laced our fingers, the only sound in the
closed cabin our heavy breathing.

He circled the skin below my
trimmed hair and above the dampening crest below.

“
Yes
,” I breathed and
all but pushed his hand down. He gave and I opened my legs to accommodate his
hand. He stroked the puffy lips lightly, sending little currents up into my
pussy, before dipping into them. I sucked in a sharp breath, arched from him
and though I couldn’t see his face, I could feel him smiling. He smiled a lot
when we were together, laughed sometimes too. I’d never been with someone where
it was completely appropriate to laugh while we fucked when no other emotion
would quite do.

“Relax. There you go. Good
girl.”

I settled and sighed and
closed my eyes, trying not to be completely overwhelmed by every touch and
emotion he elicited so expertly with his fingers. He worked two fingers, then
three into me, scooping my sex with increasing urgency. He felt for the dent
inside me, the little spot that made me lose my head and turn words into noises
of eager need. He rumbled his approval into my neck where he left thorough
kisses up to my ear.

He fingered me deep and hard,
knuckles bruising against my wet lips, and while the pain throbbed dully it
also inflamed my frenzy. I clutched his shirt in my fist and squeezed his hand.
He soaked his hand in my damp folds and shook my mound lightly in his palm. It
was a nothing motion that lit me up like a light bulb, a possessive, claiming
thing. I bit my lip, gyrated into his palm to rub my swollen clit into his
fingers.

“Come for me, Cass,” he
growled into my ear. He brought our laced hands across my stomach to hold me
against him tighter. It wasn’t like having his cock inside me, this was both
dirtier and more innocent and completely frantic.

He let go of my hand to slide
it into my panties too and I clawed fervently at the window, slick with
condensation. I wound my other hand behind his neck to hold him.

He continued plunging his
fingers in and out of me while his other hand nudged back the fleshy hood to
expose my clit. He touched me and I raged, covetous and ardent against his
hands. The overstimulation blew my thoughts, blissed me out like an addict and
everywhere he touched was too good, too much, to
everywhere
.

“Jason,” I gasped. “Oh, god,
I can’t…I…Jason!” I came apart all at once, seizing and flying, knotting and
melting. I shuddered, shook, squeezed as I came humping against his hands.

When I opened my eyes again,
minutes or years later, his hands were no longer inside me. I wiped weakly at
the drips and fog on the driver’s side door window and gazed out at the sun
dappled orchard. No longer did the forgotten trees look like dying old men.
They looked fairy-tale like. Beautiful and forgotten and
ours
.

“Better?” he whispered
against my skin and I nodded. He wiped his hands off on a handkerchief, then
held me in his lap for a long time while I watched the sun sink behind the
overgrown trees.

Of all things, his phone
ringing startled us out of our reverie. He sighed and shifted my weight to
retrieve his cell from his pocket.

“Yeah?” Silence. His brows
drew together suddenly and he tensed. “Wait. Slow down.”

He set me off his lap onto
the seat next to him and I flushed while I buttoned my shorts back up and tried
to straighten up what was clearly orgasm hair. His expression went from peace
to aggravation in a second.

“No, don’t do that, you’ll
only piss him off. I got tied up, but I’m on my way now. Don’t let him get on
it.” There was a moment of silence as he listened to someone on the other end
yelling. “Damn it, Jonathan, he’s not a child. Manage the situation for ten
minutes, that’s all I ask.”

Jonathan
. Well that sobered me up fast.

Jason hung up the phone and
tossed it onto the dashboard. He started the truck with more aggression than
was necessary.

“I need to take you back to
your car.” I nodded and fumbled for the seat belt. He backed up, turned us
around, and headed back down the hidden road to the highway.

“Everything ok?” I asked
quietly. It was weird to be on this side of the conversation instead of being
the one needled for answers to emotions that were too impossible to describe.

“Garton.” Jason’s fists
tightened around the steering wheel. “He thinks the guys we hired to cut the
fields are waiting too late and the hay’ll be too course. Normally I’d say he
knows best, but I think he’s just pissed that someone else is taking care of
the fields this year. He’s looking for any reason to throw them off his land.”

“And I’m guessing he’s
decided to go cut it himself.”

Jason snorted. “All of it
himself. Last time he was on his tractor he fell and broke a hip. Jonathan’s
all but got him tied to his porch chair right now.”

“That’s why he carries a cane
now.”

Jason threw the truck into
fifth gear and floored it up the highway towards town. He was lucky Sheriff
Gibbs wasn’t out anywhere.

“Jonathan treats him like he
should be committed. He’s not losing his mind. It’s just…Garton’s worked his
land since he was barely a teenager. He’s been in the fields every summer for
over seventy years. Seventy years! We can’t expect him to give it all up
overnight. He doesn’t know what to do with himself now.”

I glanced at him, traced the
tight anger in his jaw, all the way down to his squeezed fists. “You’re here
for your grandpa. To make it easier. That’s why you came home.”

Jason sighed and nodded. He
pretended that Garton drove him nuts, but I could see the respectful way he
said his name, the reverence when he spoke of his grandfather’s legacy. “I’m
the one that left town, but it’s Jonathan he thinks has no head for farming.
And he’s right. I’ve almost got him convinced to move in with my mom and sell
the farm. Then Jonathan gets him riled up over losing the King’s position of
power in the community. I could strangle Jonathan sometimes.”

“You better let me watch.”

He grinned, briefly, before
concern reclaimed his serious face. “You’ll be right next to me.”

Jason pulled me up near my
car but left the truck idling.

“I have to go.” I nodded and
lifted the door handle, but he grabbed my wrist before I could leave him. “I…I
don’t think I’ll be over tonight.”

My butterflies catapulted
into my toes. I glanced over my shoulder and tried to steel my thoughts behind
my eyes. “Sure. No problem.”