Breaking Her Curves
The Alpha's Obsession
Book One
* * *
Bella B. Wilde
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are eighteen years of age or older.
©2019, BELLA B. WILDE. No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without the prior written consent fron the author with the exception for a fair use excerpt for review and editorial purposes.
This title is for adults only. It contains explicit sex acts, adult themes, and material some folks might find offensive.
For permissions, complaints, or just queries, contact: [email protected]
Contents
* * *
1 | Smith
2 | Casey
3 | Smith
4 | Casey
5 | Smith
6 | Casey
7 | Smith
8 | Casey
9 | Smith
10 | Casey
Epilogue | Smith
Epilogue | Casey
Before You Go...
Also by Bella B. Wilde
1
Smith
* * *
I groan out loud, stretching my back out when the sun finally hits my face, my fingertips rubbing little circles against my temple to try and alleviate the tight humming in my head.
Two days spent hanging around airports – two very delayed flights and I’ve finally made it here. Not that I wanted to be here in the first place. Newburgh isn’t a town I ever enjoy returning to, regardless of the occasion. And this certainly isn’t one to be celebrated. My mother is getting married to someone almost 20 years her junior. This will be her third wedding in only eight years, but her fifth engagement. Thank god the other two didn’t go the distance – I was rapidly running out of excuses, and patience.
Mother insisted that this time was different. Of course, she did, she always said that, and I always ignored it. I shake my head, questioning why I fell for it this time as I reach into my bag for my phone. Reading the email and then scanning the parking lot, I find my truck looking as good as ever, right where it’s supposed to be. At least I could always rely on Carlson to make the trips home a lot easier. The reliable butler, and the only mainstay male in the Henry household these days. Yeah, my mother still kept the family name after all these years, likely so that she could still hold onto the respect tied to my father's name.
She had insisted I stay at the house, probably so that she could needle me with questions of when I’m going to get married and give her a grandchild – forgetting about the two grandchildren she already has. There was no way in hell I could face more than a day trapped with that woman, with the wedding planning, and whatever toyboy lover she’s raked up. Ugh. I shake the thought from my head as I stride towards my truck.
One afternoon was going to be more than enough. I gave her some excuse about staying at a hotel so I could concentrate on work, so naturally, she couldn’t resist sticking her nose in and arranging for an overly extravagant room. I don’t care about any of that shit. I just need somewhere comfortable to sleep, even my bones are exhausted at this point.
Driving into town, I’m filled with a sort of nostalgia. The place mostly looks the same, though with a few notable exceptions every time I come. At least Chaser’s is still there. I allow myself a cursory smile as I turn off and into the small parking lot alongside the bar. Just what I need. This place has been here forever and a day, the one place I could hide from my mother because god knows she’d never step inside a bar filled with rough men and strong liquor.
From the outside, it looks as though nothing has changed, and when I swing open the door I’m greeted with all the familiar sights, sounds, and smells – albeit slightly quieter than I’m used to, being midday and all. Leather–clad booths with high backs, aged wood, and every color of brown you could ever want line the back wall.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I sink into one of the stools at the end of the bar and give the woodwork a sharp tap to grab the bartender's attention. “Buffalo Trace. Neat.” When there’s no response after several moments, I lift my head from my phone to give whoever is serving an earful. “Jesus, do I have to ask twice? How hard can it be?”
My eyes are already raking over her before my brain gets the message to shut the fuck up. My jaw unhinges and I can already feel the blood rushing to my cock when I see her. Sauntering towards me, looking less than impressed, is easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
Her blonde hair hangs around her shoulders in waves, blue eyes rolling under thick, long lashes. And her curves. Holy hell. She’s got curves for days, with a tight waist pinched in between her huge tits trapped under a tight black t–shirt, and high waisted jeans that only serve to accentuate her ample hips. She’s red hot, but the look on her face is stone cold.
She heard me, as she takes a glass and fills it with a finger of whiskey. “A please can go a long way, you know.” Fuck, even her silky smooth voice gives my cock a jolt.
I’m instantly filled with thoughts of that voice begging me to fuck her harder, while those eyes fill with tears and plead for mercy. It’s not often I’m lost for words, but I’m too busy being mesmerized by her. Those thick curves packed into a petite frame, she’s pure dynamite, sex–on–legs. My hand goes to press my cock down when she leans in a little closer to take the $10 bill left on the bar, getting a hit of her sweet scent.
Down, boy.
When she turns to walk away, I’m forced to do something. No way is this girl going to get away from me so easily. I stand, grabbing her wrist from across the bar – instantly struck by how smooth her faintly tanned skin is beneath my rough hands – stopping her in her tracks. “Or, you could just tell me your name, skip the pleasantries.”
She looks me up and down for a moment before she scoffs. I’m easily a foot taller than her, and then some, so it’s no simple feat. “Not gonna happen,” she purrs. Oh, she’s good. She knows what she’s doing to me, and she likes it. I kind of like it too, even if women don’t usually talk back to me like that.
I’m used to getting what I want when I want it. My size alone leaves them scrambling to attend to my every need. She moves to pull her delicate wrist from my grasp, but I catch her at the last second, holding her just a little tighter to give her an idea of who she’s dealing with.
“Okay then. No names. It’s more fun that way, don’t ya think? Kinda dangerous. And I bet that’s just how you like it, huh?” She runs her tongue over her pillowy lips, and I could swear I see something flash across her eyes when she looks back. Just for a split second. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, and I let her slip away without resisting this time.
Watching her walk away, that ass swaying side to side, I’m already forming a plan in my head. I already know she’s the one for me, from her curves and her sharp tongue alone. I just need to decide how I’m going to prove it to her. And something tells me this girl isn’t going to make it easy.
It’s already too late for her. She’s mine.
2
Casey
* * *
Who the fuck is that guy?
Afternoon shift is supposed to be easy, chill, but I can feel that guys eyes on me the entire time he’s there. He doesn’t order a second drink, just sits and watches me like a hawk, with eyes that don’t care he’s undressing me. I feel the heat rush to my cheeks every time I happen to glance his way, and I have to look away quickly, hoping he doesn’t see me shiver.
He finally gets up from his seat a little after two, not that I was watching or anything. Okay, I was, but on
ly to try and figure out who the hell he is. This is a fairly small town, and Chaser’s has an even smaller clientele list. I figure he must just be in town on business, or visiting family, and dismiss his rudeness since I’ll likely never see him again. When I go to collect his glass though, I find a $50 bill folded neatly underneath. Shit, at least I’ll be eating well this week.
The rest of the afternoon goes off without a hitch. Things start picking up a little after six, but thankfully I get to clock off at seven and take my place on the other side of the bar. Though it’s not exactly my dream job, the pay is pretty good for a part–time gig, and the owners are practically family. Izzy, my best friend and saving grace in this world, helps to run the place with her parents, Bryan and Amanda. They took me in without question a few years back when my mom passed away. My dad was long gone, and I still haven’t heard from him since. Good riddance.
“He did what to you?” Bryan snaps, his kind eyes clouded under his furrowed brow, as I recall what happened this afternoon with the mystery asshole, but I quickly wave his concern away as I sip my drink.
“No, no, it was nothing. Just some idiot who thought he could try his luck. Besides, chill. He left me a $50 tip, so it wasn’t all bad.” Although he likes to joke that I’m just the stray kitten that Izzy brought home, I know Bryan has come to think of me as a second daughter. But he doesn’t need to protect me anymore. When my mom first got sick, I had to learn to grow up pretty quickly, which included standing up for myself – which isn’t exactly easy when you’re a bigger girl. Still, I made it work, and I worked it with confidence.
Izzy slides in before me, wiggling her eyebrows, and I know she’s about to say something stupid. “So, Casey met a guy…” She teases, walking her fingers up my arm as I click my tongue.
“Don’t be stupid,” I groan.
“What? I’m just saying, it sounds like you finally met someone who can give as good as he gets.” I mean, she’s not wrong. It’s no secret that I have sort of a… reputation for scaring off guys before giving them a chance. The guys in this town just aren’t worth the time – all trust fund babies and mommy’s boys who never figured out how to fly the nest. Glance outside at any time and you’ll easily spot at least one pair of ‘bros’ dressed in tennis whites, racquets slung over their backs.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the tip he left me and waving it in Izzy’s face. “This $50 says I never see that guy again. He was just trying to show off, make himself feel better about life. Believe me, he won’t be coming back.”
Izzy shrugs without responding, a slight grin on her face. We settle into the evening and I finally slink away from the bar a little after ten, slightly tipsy, but nothing to worry about. As much as I might dislike this town, it’s plenty safe, and I’ve never had to worry about walking back to the apartment alone.
That is until I feel a hand at my elbow just as I look up at my door. Keys in hand, and I whirl around, ready to give whoever it is a sharp knee to the groin. But the strong hand pushes me back against the wall, a shadow engulfing me, and I realize it’s the guy from earlier.
My heart is pounding, racing, I’m gasping, pupils wide as I look him up and down, spotting the unmistakable bulge in his pants. He returns the favor, laughing, his eyes lingering on my chest as it rises and falls rapidly. “See. I knew you liked danger.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I spit back.
“I thought you didn’t want to do names,” he growls, a low, throaty sound that crawls over my skin. He leans in, his one hand having moved down to grip my hip, the other getting entangled in my hair as his lips find my neck. Fuck. I can’t help myself as a small groan of pleasure escapes my mouth, his stubble grazing my collarbone.
Fuck, Case, pull yourself together.
“I don’t know who you think I am, but that’s not gonna work on me.” I turn my head away and give him a short, sharp shove backward, but he only pulls me with him, his hand snaking down from my hip and over my ass, giving it a rough squeeze.
“I like that. I like a little fight. Gives me something to work on.” His eyes study my face as my breath gets caught in my throat. I’m still holding onto the lapels of his jacket, bunching up the leather in my fists. “Because I plan to break down your walls. And then,” he exhaled, groaning as he does, his eyes low as they devour my body, “I’m gonna break you, girl.”
Before I can even respond, his lips crash into mine. He pulls my soft body tightly against his, hard and rigid in contrast, while simultaneously pushing me back against the wall. I can already feel my resistance weakening, as much as I hate the idea of giving in. My hands move to his shoulders, my fingers curling, unsure whether I’m pushing or pulling.
I’m kissing him back. That much I do know. My lips parting to allow his tongue to explore my mouth, he still tastes faintly of whiskey. Or maybe that’s just me, I don’t know. I know I need to stop this, but I can’t. I must be fucking crazy to be kissing the guy who basically tried to assault me a few moments ago. As if reading my thoughts, he cups a large hand over my pussy and I squeal because I know he can feel that I’m fucking soaked, heat radiating from between my legs.
What? I’m only human, and this guy is like every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had, rolled into one. Dark, but crisp, clean tattoos cover his arms, a few even poking out from under his sleeves and his collar. His dark hair is swept back, but not overstyled, peppered with just a few grey hairs. I assume he must be in his early 30s, not much more, because his eyes still have a youthful, eager glow to them.
Tall? Check. Tattooed? Check. Older? Check. Sexy–as–sin? Double–check.
When he finally pulls away, my legs feel weak. He rests his forehead against mine, sucking in air through clenched teeth. I’m much the same, flustered and blushing, wide–eyed and totally unsure of what to do or say.
Then he breaks the silence with that laugh. I turn away, closing my eyes, hoping to hide my expression. God, I can’t decide if I hate it or love it. Deep and warm, but with an edge to it. “Are you working tomorrow night?” I shake my head, still in stunned silence and unable to look at him. “I’ll see ya’ tomorrow then.” And then he lets me go, leaving me to stumble back against the wall.
“Where are we even going?” My head snaps back in his direction, and I throw my hands up, confused and frustrated. What is it with this fucking guy? I know I only just met him, but I like to think I have a pretty good handle on reading people – but with him, I can’t tell if he’s trying to flirt with me or make fun of me.
Both? Maybe it’s both.
And why the fuck does that idea turn me on?
He turns on his heels, that cocky fucking smirk making his eyes sparkle. “See. You’re already agreeing and I didn’t even have to ask ya’.” He looks me up and down again, and I feel compelled to pull my jacket closed around myself when he licks his lips. “Dress nice. Don’t hide your body. But bring a jacket.”
“What if I say no?”
He spins to face me one last time, his hands sunk into his pockets which only serves to highlight his broad chest, but still with that irritatingly handsome smirk. “Then I’ll still see ya’ tomorrow.”
I open my mouth to respond, but there’s a lump in my throat. He doesn’t even wait to see if I will respond, he simply walks away without even looking back in my direction. Knitting my brows together, I stamp my feet in frustration as I head towards my front door, but not before I turn and give the middle finger to his back as he walks away.
Well, shit. Like it or not, looks like I’ve got a date?
3
Smith
* * *
24 hours.
24 hours I’ve known this nameless beauty, and I’ve already lost count of the number of times I’ve fisted my cock thinking about her – about those soft, pillowy lips wrapped around the base; about her silky curls tangled in my fingers. Every little thing about her drives me wild. I quickly question whether I’ll have one more round of relief before she comes out, but the answer�
�s no.
She appears at the door wrapped in a tight, skimpy black dress. Exactly the kind of thing I’ve fantasized about seeing her in. An oversized leather jacket is slung around her shoulders, swamping her curves – at least my girl knows how to follow orders, which bodes well for what I plan to do with her.
She approaches the car with her lips pressed together, her shoulders tight. “Get in,” I snap, sounding harsher than I’d meant to. I just can’t help it with this girl. She has me on edge, all the damn time, so that I can’t even tell the difference between angry and aroused.
We don’t say much on the way to the restaurant. We don’t need to. I know she can feel my eyes on her, every chance I get. She sits neatly beside me, her hands folded in her lap as she watches the lights pass outside the window. I knew it last night, but I realize even more so now that she’s quite a bit younger than she’d let on. 21, 22, perhaps? Though no older than that.
Her face as a youthful innocence to it, and although it’s fucking terrible of me, I just want to corrupt it. I want to steal that innocence. I want to fucking break her, over and over and over again until I’m the only one that knows how to put her back together.
She must catch the way I’m looking at her as we approach the restaurant. “What?” She snaps back quickly as if the words ran away from her.
I shake my head, bringing the car to a stop. “Nothing. You just look good, is all.”
I know she’s fucking smiling behind me as I turn my back to her. Jesus. Just the slightest flash of that smile sends a shiver down my spine. I know I want to make her smile like that every day of her life – but I can’t admit that to her. Not yet, at least.
Guiding her out of the car and towards the door, the lights are low inside, and every table is completely empty except for ours in the middle. I small gasp escapes her mouth. “What, you some kind of millionaire or something?” She breathes, examining the room, one lone female waitress standing beside the door to greet us.
Breaking Her Curves Page 1
