Chunky But Funky
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© 2014 Marteeka Karland
Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Dalton Colt is what one would call a badass motherfucker. If one weren’t in the same room with him. If one
was
in the same room with him, one simply called him “Sir.” Six feet, seven inches tall, he weighed in at nearly three hundred pounds. One hundred percent of him muscle-laden, proud-as-fuck United States of goddamned American badass Marine. The very last thing anyone wanted to do was to piss him off.
Harassing his woman was a damned good way to piss him off. It didn't matter that she wasn't
really
his woman, it was implied. Fortunately, that was an oversight he was about to fix. But convincing the plus sized, ebony beauty she was the one for him might prove to be his most important mission to date.
“Got a little baggage there, doncha, hun?”
If Amanda heard that stupid question one more time, she wasn’t going to be responsible for her actions. Instead of responding to the brute, she pretended she didn’t hear over the noise of the bar. It was easily plausible, plus it avoided a confrontation she didn’t want tonight.
“Looks like a couple of basketballs rolling around in those jeans.”
The guys at the bar next to her just wouldn’t quit. The tittering laughter of the anorexic-looking women on the other side of her, combined with the way all of them looked her up and down with disgust was just too much. How the hell was she supposed to ignore all this when they were practically in her face? Tossing back the shot of Jack in her glass, she turned to face the guys.
“I may be fat, but you’re ugly. And I can lose weight.”
“Ohhhh!” One of the guys
grin
ned at her, siding closer. “Good one, baby. They say sex is great at burning calories. How about you and me see if we can work some of that off?” The infuriating bastard had the nerve to look her up and down as if he liked what he saw even after his insulting remarks.
“No thanks. I’d prefer being fat to having sex with you.”
Again, a collective “Ohhhhh!” followed from several men and women at the bar who’d been watching the exchange. The guy didn’t seem particularly put out, but he did have an annoyed gleam in his eye.
“You should be thankful I even asked you,” he said. “It’s not like you’re going to get much action.” And again, he looked her up and down, sneering as he did. “A good month or so on
Biggest Loser
would really do you good. I can hook you up with a personal trainer if you’d actually stick to it.” He turned to his buddies and chuckled, as if he’d gotten the last word on the subject.
The fucking nerve! If it wouldn’t be a waste of a perfectly good shot of Jack Daniels—and if she hadn’t already downed hers—she’d have thrown a drink in his face. As it was, she resorted to the next best thing. She slapped him. Hard. Peals of laughter and outright guffaws erupted all around her.
“What the fuck?” The man stumbled back into the bar, knocking over a couple of drinks in the process. “You fat bitch!”
He raised his hand, obviously to return the blow, but something stopped him. His gaze focused on something behind her, freezing him to the spot. His face grew pale and he stumbled backward again. This time, he tripped over the barstool and landing on the floor flat on his ass.
“That’s right, tough guy,” a familiar male voice growled. Even over the blaring music and people trying to talk over said blaring music, Amanda would have known that voice anywhere. And she cringed with embarrassment. How much had he witnessed? “You will get the
fuck out
.
Now
.” A huge, heavy hand settled gently on her shoulder, a sharp contrast to his words. His show of possession sent a spike of longing through Amanda like nothing in the entire universe could replicate.
Dalton Colt, a descendant of
the
Samuel Colt, was what one might call a badass motherfucker. If one weren’t in the same room with him. If one
was
in the same room with him, one simply called him “Sir.” Six feet, seven inches tall, he weighed in at nearly three hundred pounds. One hundred percent of him muscle-laden, proud-as-fuck United States of goddamned American badass Marine.
Most guys would have phrased that demand a little differently. It would go something like, “If you don’t get the fuck out now
…
”
followed by
“
then I
’
ll
…
”
Not Dalton. There didn
’
t need to be an
“
if/then
”
clause because whatever the
“
then
”
happened to be, no one in their right mind wanted any part of it. Apparently, that included the dunderheaded idiot sitting on the floor with his mouth gaping open.
Dalton was oblivious to the carnage he’d unleashed by his mere presence, though. Just that quickly, he’d dismissed the man, his attention focusing squarely on her. She
hated
it when he did that! He had a way of making her feel like she was the only woman in the world. Considering Amanda knew there was no way she could ever have him, it was infuriating, making her long for things that could never be. Thing was, Dalton was oblivious to his effect on her.
Since the day she’d moved to the little town in rural Kentucky with her family at the tender age of eighteen, Dalton had been fending off bullies for her. She'd been in her senior year of high school and more than a little on the hefty side. Not that he seemed to have cared, or even noticed. He’d been on leave, returning home for a five-year class reunion when they’d met at a football game. As usual, and because she was the new kid on the block, she was being picked on, teased by boys in her class about her weight, about being “chunky, but funky.” Dalton, who had never met her, sidled up to her, throwing his arm around her.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he’d said, then proceeded to kiss her soundly. It hadn’t been an open-mouthed kiss, merely a hard pressing of his mouth to hers, but she’d been forever changed. In that one touch, he’d branded her his. No other man would ever do for her. Dalton hadn’t yet grown into his current tough-guy physique, but he’d still been an intimidating man. The boys who had been teasing her had retreated quickly enough, and word soon spread around the school she was dating the infamous Dalton Colt, the bad-boy-gone-even-badder Marine. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been true. No boy would get within ten feet of her. But then, no one had teased her about her weight anymore, either.
Now, he filled her up with that same intense presence, but she wasn’t the only one. A couple of the women from the bar who’d shared in the merriment at Amanda’s expense immediately hopped up, gliding to Dalton in that slinky, cat-like way only a skinny woman could accomplish. Amanda wanted to scratch their eyes out. From that first encounter, Dalton had been her best friend. But, God, she wanted so much more!
He wore an obscenely tight USMC T-shirt that showed off every single muscle in his torso, his biceps straining the sleeves. His dog tags were proudly displayed for all to see. One of the hussies scraped her blood-red nails down his shoulder to curl her fingers around his huge biceps. “You look like you could use some R and R, soldier,” she purred. “Perhaps I could show you a good time?”
“Maybe both of us could,” the other one added, wrapping her arms around his other biceps, hugging the limb to her.
Dalton leveled his gaze on first one woman, then the other. There was absolutely no interest in those ice blue eyes. No encouragement of any kind. “Remove your hands.” The ice in his voice seemed to cool the ardor of the two women, though one still clung on stubbornly.
“Come on, big guy. I could satisfy a man like you.” She smiled coyly, lust gleaming in her eyes anyone could see easily.
“No,” he said simply. “You couldn’t.”
The busty brunette pouted prettily. “You haven’t even sampled my charms. I know my way around a man’s body. I can do things to you you’ve only ever dreamed about.”
Turning the full force of his gaze on the woman, he looked her up and down, much the same way the women had been eyeing Amanda earlier—that same look of disgust with what he saw mirrored their appraisals exactly. “I’d break a skinny thing like you in half just trying to be gentle.” Just like that, he dismissed them, his full attention back on Amanda. Immediately, his face split into a broad
grin
. “Miss me, gorgeous?”
Amanda couldn’t help but laugh. “Like the plague. How was your last tour?”
He shrugged, as if risking his life were no big deal. “Same ole same ole. Nothing but miles and miles of fucking desert.”
“Well, at least you came back in one piece.”
He moved closer to her, invading her personal space, filling up the air with his spicy, masculine scent that was all clean, addictive male. “Awww, were you worried about me?”
She feigned indifference. “Not really. I was more worried about your enemy. You seem to have a take-no-prisoners kind of attitude. Now that you’re back stateside, I can rest easily knowing there will be no international incident.”
A gruff, rumbly laughter bubbled up from deep within his chest, sending chills of anticipation through her body. God! Why did he have to be so
…
potent
to her? If she thought for one second he’d respond to her, she’d jump his bones right here for all to see. She could just imagine peeling that ridiculously tight USMC T-shirt off his big body and licking every delicious inch of his muscle-packed frame, licking the V of muscle beneath his abs that lead straight to that impressive package she’d seen behind his jeans on more than one occasion. Just the thought of taking him in her mouth and sucking until his eyes rolled back in his head made her ears roar.
“Hello? Earth to Amanda?”
“What? Oh! Sorry. What was that?” She’d been caught daydreaming about his body on more than one occasion. Perhaps she should have been embarrassed, but hell, what were best friends for if one couldn’t ogle them at times? Right?
“I said, weren’t you worried about me even the teeniest bit?” There was mischief dancing in his eyes. Fine crinkles at the corners only accentuated the handsomeness of his face. The effect was devastating on her senses. If she thought for one second he knew his effect on her, she'd never be able to look at him again.
“Nope,” she responded airily with a
grin
. “None whatsoever.”
“Why, you little imp!” He lunged for her, dragging her into his arms. Clamping one brawny arm around her waist, he used the other hand to wage a tickle attack that would have put General Patton to shame. Through peals of laughter and a vain effort to get away from him, Amanda relished being mashed so hard against his body. It might be her imagination, but she swore she could feel every single muscle in his torso imprinting itself on her skin through her blouse. He was the only man she’d ever met who could manhandle her without breaking a sweat. Despite her more-than-generous curves, despite the extra weight she carried, Dalton was more than a match for her, holding her to him tightly, even when he’d stopped tickling.
For long moments, he simply held her, his chin resting on her head. “I missed you so fucking much, gorgeous,” she thought she heard him murmur. He gave her one more hard squeeze before pushing her away. Snagging her hand he dragged her to the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” Amanda laughed all the way, not really caring, but giving her signature token protest.
“I’ve been away for eighteen months and I want to dance with someone other than the LT.”
“You dance with your lieutenant? And here I thought you were the all-American he-man type. If I’d known you swung that way, I’d have hooked you up with one of the twins,” she said, referring to the two men who ran the athletic center. Both were openly gay, but completely faithful to each other. So much so they joked about being Siamese twins because they never separated. Amanda absolutely adored both of them. Being a regular at the center herself, Amanda worked with them every week. They’d scoffed when she tried to get them to help her lose more than ten pounds or so, saying she was perfect just the way she was.
“You haven’t been hanging around them again, have you?” He scowled, giving her a once-over. His gaze raked from her head to her toes, but instead of finding her lacking—like the others had—he looked at her, shaking his head in that way men did when they were completely lost in a woman. “There’s no reason for you to hang around there. People tend to fill your head with nonsense, and I won’t have it.”
“Nonsense? What the hell are you talking about?” Amanda laughed as he swung her around the dance floor only for her to land squarely in his arms, her ample breasts flush against his chest. Her breath caught and she glanced up at Dalton. His eyes were intent on her, that magical blue gaze seeming to bore into her very soul. In that moment, Amanda couldn’t breathe. She just knew he could see right through her. And he was scowling.