The Curvy Sister (A BBW Erotic Romance) (6 page)

I exploded, threw my head
back and rose onto my hands and knees. He growled, pleased, and worked the nub
hard between two fingers, rolling and tugging and pushing, each stroke making
me buck against him, fucking him instead of the other way around. He must have
drove him crazy by the way he grunted, groaned, swore. He made me feel like a
wild animal trying to break out of its cage. He laid his bare chest down across
my back, strung his thick arm around my neck, the other buried between my legs.
He barely pulled out of me anymore, caught in the lock we made of our slick,
sweaty bodies. He pressed his mouth against my ear so I could hear every gasp
and pant, moan and growl while he fingered me into oblivion.

“That’s it, Cass, come for
me. Come screaming my name.” He nuzzled his nose into my hair and nipped at the
back of my ear. “I want to
hear
you.”

“Jason, it’s too much, too
oh…oh…Oh!” Two hard flicks and he got his wish.

I threw my head back against
his shoulder came screaming his name, which lost coherency quick. The explosion
of light and stars blinded me, sent my pussy into convulsions around his thick
member.

I jerked, spasmed, lost all
strength and collapsed forward into the sheets beneath his weight. He kissed
the side of my face, layered kisses across my shoulders and spine before he
released my clit, straightened, tightened his hold on my hips and began
pounding me again. This time harder, thrusting to his own needs and I lay there
shaking, wells of pleasure spiking at random intervals.

It felt like my orgasm went
on for hours, at least as long as it took for him to build up his own release.
He palmed my backside, stroked his whole, spread hand across each globed cheek.
All at once he shouted, threw himself into me, grappled me around the waist and
buried himself to the root and came. He came and came and came, strong
explosions that rocked him forward, expelled my name louder, loud, then soft as
breath against my spine.
Cass, Cass, Cassidy Blue
. He shuddered long and
hard until he stilled.

We lowered to the sheets,
though he didn’t slide out of me. We spooned as he softened, his arms tight as
vices around my body, his sweaty forehead resting against my sweaty shoulder.

We lost time. I knew by where
the light shafts from between his curtains landed when I opened my eyes again.
He was no longer inside of me but we were still tangled as we had been after he
came. Jason’s breath came in steady, even sounds against my skin and for a
moment I was inclined to stay that way. Forever, if necessary.

But my head and heart were
too broken for this. Sex, sure, cuddling? Too much. I unknotted his arms as
gently as possible and slid out of bed while trying not to wake him.

“Mmm. Cass?”

Failure.

I glanced in the mirror above
his dresser and saw him fingering the sheets where my body had been a moment
before. He looked handsome and rumpled.

I looked for my panties and
bra. They were harder to find than they should have been considering how clean
the room was.

“I have to go.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t sound
surprised, but he did roll onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“I’m not sure I should have
come here.”

“Hmm.”

I ducked out of the room to
locate my clothes in the living room before tip-toeing back to his bedroom.
He’d gotten so far as to put his boxers on and sat on the edge of his bed,
thoughts hidden from me as he stared at the floor between his feet, elbows on
his knees, fingers knotted.

“I mean, it was amazing. Mind
blowing.” I struggled with this part. I’d left awkward one night stands before,
but this was one thing practice didn’t make easier.

“Mind blowing?” His shadowed
thoughts gave way to amusement and I caught him watching me struggle into my
jeans. “Well, then.”

“It’s just,” I finally got
the damn things over my hips and stopped to stare at myself in the mirror,
half-clothed, flush with the glow of post-orgasm bliss. I looked ashamed even
though there was nothing to be ashamed of. “I liked it. A lot. You make my head
go quiet and I can’t tell you how badly I need that stillness right now.”

“But?” He wasn’t stupid. I
buttoned my jeans and leaned against his dresser while I tried to order my
thoughts.

“You have a reputation.”

At this, he scowled. “My only
reputation is as the guy who hasn’t lived here for six years.”

“Ok, fair enough. You
had
a reputation. And you don’t live here anymore. So it seems smart to…you
know…keep this as just sex. You know, without cuddling afterwards.”

“Cuddling.”

“Or sleeping.”

“Really.”

“Or eating. Or talking. You
know, all the things that aren’t sex.”

“That seems very sensible.
I’ve known girls who think they want
just sex
, but it never works out
that way in the end.”

“Yeah, well, most girls
haven’t had their hearts completely hollowed out by everyone in their life they
trusted. So I think you can trust that all I want from you is sex. I mean it.
Nothing else.”

Jason thought about this and
after a moment he pointed at the space between his spread knees. “Come here,
Cassidy.”

I tilted my head towards him,
then pushed off the dresser and made my way over until I fit neatly between his
knees. His hands went to my jeans and started unbuttoning them again.

“Tell me, does showering
count in your list of things we can’t do together?”

He looked up at me with those
baby blues of his and my stomach did a little flip.

“I think I’m open to
negotiations.”

“Good,” he said as he lowered
my zipper. “We can discuss the finer points of our arrangement once I have you
on your knees again.”

“Yes, sir.” I exhaled as the
butterflies released their mad flight into my heart. He leaned forward and
kissed the warm skin next to my belly button. I touched his sweaty hair as he
began tracing kisses across my stomach and for the first time it didn’t even
occur to me to worry about my body. It didn’t occur to me to worry about
anything.

8

____________

Since I was a little girl, my
parents’ home has smelled like new carpeting and furniture polish despite
having had the same shagless shag carpet since the 70s.

The kitchen always felt too
small, a cramped little L shape around a table too big for its corner. Coupons
took up half the table while my mother and her wedding picture books took up
the rest. Hens and apples decorated every flat surface. Unlike my grandma’s
farmhouse, everything in the little Bungalow was designed to close in around
the family, creating a suffocating sense of belonging. The only evidence that
my parents lived in the digital age was a commercial grade cappuccino machine
shoved between the toaster oven and waffle press and the high-tech sonar
scanners hung up with the fishing poles next to the hats and coats by the door.

I pressed myself into the
tiny kitchen window to get a look at the bright outside. Honey bees went about
their lives swarming their hives, the fruits of their labor melting at the
bottom of my tea cup. I could see into the McCormick’s kitchen window, which
freaked me out a little. I could make out the shape of the King’s place from
my
kitchen window only if I squinted.

The little introvert in me
wanted to scamper back to the farmhouse post haste. 

“The dress is gorgeous. Isn’t
it gorgeous? She’s going to look like a princess.” My mother sighed, her face
propped in one hand. I glanced towards the yards of plastic hiding the wedding
dress hung up on the coat rack. We picked it up from an Omaha dressmaker that
morning and I was already tired of the dusty smell of dry cleaned silk and
lace.

“So you’ve been saying all
morning.”

“It’s just so romantic.”

I snorted into my tea cup. “I
guess if a cheating fiancé does it for you, then sure. Like Prince Charming.”

“
Cassidy
.”

“
Mom
.”

She sighed. “Please don’t
start.”

I threw her a look that couldn’t
possibly emote how deeply that one hurt. “
Mom.
Six months ago you and I
were talking about dresses and flowers and now you’re using the same wedding
books you and I created for my sister and my ex-fiancé. Why does everyone
expect me to forget that part?”

“This is about Bailey and
Jonathan now, not you. I know you’re hurt, but you need to start dealing with
that fact this wedding is going to happen.”

“She’s been with him for six
months. I was with him for two
years
. Tell me how exactly I’m supposed
to deal with this and I’ll do it. It’s like an episode of the Twilight Zone
that won’t quit.” I squeezed my mug so tight I thought I’d crack the porcelain.
I set it down hard on the countertop and turned my back on my mom so she
couldn’t see me shaking. My thoughts raced to the loft apartment and the bed
and the man who gave me a way to shut it out. A week with him and we hadn’t had
a night alone yet, but that didn’t help me deal with the reality of the wedding
right
now
. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do but I know what they
did was wrong. I know that one thing.”

“Oh, Cassidy. I love you.
You’re my heart. And I want you to be happy, baby, but what do you want me to
do? Do you want me to shun Bailey and pretend like this wedding isn’t
happening?” She sighed. “Because I can’t do that. I can’t choose between my
only daughters. If I am not a part of this then I’ll miss out on a once in a
life time experience. I’ve been waiting for this your whole lives. How many
times do we have to talk about this before you’re satisfied?”

For the first time I felt a
twinge of guilt at being so abrasive towards her. I hadn’t considered my
parents’ position in all this, but it was an ugly one. There was no way I could
ask them to choose sides, even if by not choosing one they ended up on Bailey’s
by default.

“It would be nice if I had an
apology. That would be a start.”

“Of course Bailey’s sorry.
She’s your sister.”

“She’s never said. Not once.”

“Have you apologized for the
damage you caused at the King’s? Have you? Oh yes, I heard all about it, Cass.
Francine King gave me an earful at church. You scared her to death. She thought
you were going to go after Jonathan.”

“Thought good and hard about
it. Could have only been an improvement.”

My mother gave me the
I am
not amused, Cassidy Marie Blue
, look and I swallowed any other smart-ass
remarks before I got in trouble like I was sixteen years old again.

“I have an idea,” she said
suddenly, brightness returning to her sun-wrinkled face. “You, me, and Bailey
will have lunch together this week. We’ll clear the air. Like we used to. It’ll
be fun.”

I gave her a skeptical look.
“Mom, we never did that.”

“Once we did. Remember? We
drove to Lincoln and had lunch and went shopping.”

The thought of sitting somewhere
in public with my sister to
clear the air
seemed like a fast way to
another visit from Sheriff Gibbs. Anxiety clenched my stomach and despite the
hope in my mom’s eyes, I shook my head.

“I don’t think so, mom.”

“What, so you’re just going
to ignore her for the rest of your life?”

“Not in a town this small.”

“You know, you’ll meet
someone else, kiddo, and this will seem like a blessing. Maybe not now, but
soon. You’ll meet the person you’re supposed to be with and you’ll be grateful
you didn’t marry Jonathan King.”

“Oh, I’m already grateful I
didn’t marry Jonathan King.” I dumped my cold tea in the sink. “I have to get
going. Thanks for the tea, mom.”

“Wait, Cass, we’re not done
yet.” She stood up but I held up my hands to keep her from getting any closer.
Bailey was the touchy-feely one in this family.

“I’ve got some deadlines and
I’m already way behind. Another day, I promise.” I put the plastic covered
couch between us as fast as I could and waved over my shoulder as I fled my
mother’s house.

I headed down the block
towards Main Street where I’d parked my car. The heart of the town was a two
block stretch of small businesses dressed up all historic for the antique
shopping tourists. Castle Creek had twelve antique stores, four churches, and
five bars which pretty much summed up every rural small town I’d ever been to.
Busy for us was foot traffic into Marcy’s Diner after church on Sundays and the
annual antique fair in June when our population quadrupled for sixteen hours a
year. When McDonalds went in off the highway with the gas stations, you’d have
thought we’d just gone cosmopolitan.

I got as far as opening my
car door when I noticed him across the street loading plywood into his
grandfather’s truck bed. Jason had apparently made the full transition back to
country boy, sun-sweat glistening across his biceps, darkening his t-shirt at
the small of his back. The t-shirt looked too small strained across his
shoulders and my fingers pressed into my palm at the memory of what it felt to
touch the shape of him. His jeans looked faded and soft, worn through in the
right knee and back pocket in the shape of his wallet. His work boots looked
old, but the black cowboy hat looked new. His grandfather’s influence, I was
willing to bet. He even wore a little bit of dark stubble on his usually
baby-smooth cheeks. He looked rough and strong and I was suddenly overwhelmed
by a powerful craving to peel the sweat soaked t-shirt over his head and kiss
him madly.