Curves for Two (BBW Erotic Romance)

by Christa Wick

  Thick as thieves since childhood, Chase and Roman have been to hell and back together. Returning from their second tour in Afghanistan, they intend to settle down. There's only one small problem -- they have to convince plus-size beauty Grace Michaels to share their future. First, they need to get her into bed.

  This is a first installment in the Curves for Two series with a happy-for-now ending. If you want another, you have to make a little noise -- beat the drums, rattle the cage, stomp your feet and howl!

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  Copyright © 2012 by Christa Wick (extended content © 2013)

  Cover art © BranislavOstojic @dreamstime. All persons and entities are fictional. Not for sale to libraries. No lending outside distributor (e.g. Kindle/Nook) terms of service. Otherwise, re-distributing, lending, or reading this e-book without first purchasing a license to do so is illegal and subject to heavy fines.

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  CURVES FOR TWO

  Georgia heat reflecting off the concrete surface of the ground and the aluminum hangar behind me, I waited in a crowd of children, parents and lovers. A flag in almost every hand, tissues in the other, we watched as one the exit door of the airplane sixty yards away.

  "Daddy!"

  A pre-schooler's high pitched squeal a few feet away made my gaze jump from the door to the forward edge of the crowd. A little girl broke from the group in a sprint, her mother fast on her heels as the first man off the plane started running down the ladder.

  More shouts of daddy, honey and baby followed as the initial trickle of men disembarking became a landslide. Feeling the tension vibrating through the two women next to me, I knew I was an outsider -- an interloper. I wasn't there as anyone's daughter, lover, mother, or even sister. Still, I had come at the request of my two childhood friends, Chase Winters and Roman Clark, and anyone who thought I should leave could kiss my double-wide butt.

  "Is that Cha--"

  "No." My gaze slid to the left for a second as I answered Laura Winters. The man who'd just stepped onto the ladder was half a foot shorter than Chase and, even at this distance, I could see a glint of red in his dark hair. A Cherokee mix like his mother, Chase's hair was pure black with a shine of blue when the light struck it just right.

  "You're right. It's been so long."

  Laura had started to twist the small clutch purse she held. Lightly wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I gave a gentle squeeze. "He's on the plane, Mrs. Winters. Don't worry yourself that he's not."

  From my right, I heard a sharp intake of breath. I didn't look at Maxine Clark, preferred to avoid doing so whenever I could. Instead, my attention focused on the sliver of door and the tall figure emerging. Seeing the unmistakable frame and dark bronze hair of Roman Clark, my heart did a little back flip, followed by a second somersault as Chase stepped out right behind him.

  "There, see. Both of them." I squeezed Laura's wrist again, my cheeks flushing hot when I heard her wince from my excited grip.

  Releasing her, I folded my arms across my chest, my hands cupping my elbows to control the shake dancing through me. It had been two years since I'd seen Chase or Roman and my stomach was twisting in hard knots with the knowledge that they'd soon touch me.

  A kiss on the cheek, a hug, the rub of a hand along my bare arm -- all the little gestures that either one of the men might make. Seeing them now, the purposeful gaze as they walked toward me, was as good as a whisper in my ear that they would be my undoing, my complete downfall.

  Not that I had much further to fall. I was twenty-six and divorced, living in a small southern town. Everyone from my parents to my Sunday school teacher to the town grocer had written me off as a lost soul.

  Everyone except the two men walking toward me with hungry smiles across their handsome faces.

  An indignant hiss rattled from between Maxine's lips as Roman kept his gaze on me.

  "Same boys," Laura sighed, her tone wistful and without reprimand. She had her son back and in one piece. Nothing else mattered to her. She didn't care if he was zeroing in on me with that look in his eyes -- a look reflected in the gaze of his best friend.

  Next to me, Maxine stiffened. "Exactly the same! At least his father isn't here for him to insult with this behavior."

  Pressing my lips together, I felt my spine go rigid and my shoulders square back. Roman's father wasn't at the airfield to greet his son because George Clark was an asshole. He'd never forgiven his son for dropping out of pre-law to go into the Army. Even if he'd softened a little in Roman's favor, George downright despised Chase for joining first, knowing that Roman would likely follow.

  From childhood, no one could separate the two. Far as I was concerned, it was a sin to try. That was exactly why I'd kept a certain distance from them after it became clear both were intent on pursuing me. Trying to choose would have been impossible enough, but knowing I couldn't love one without hurting the other and potentially turning them against each other made the whole scenario untenable.

  Coming here today, I hoped they had outgrown their sexual interest in me. I wanted, and really needed, my best friends back. With their weekly letters growing more sedate, less ardent, the past few months, I had nursed the hope it would finally happen. But there was no escaping the look in their eyes as they walked toward us.

  Marching straight for me, the two men pivoted at the last second to wrap their arms around their mothers. Laura sniffled, her hands clutching at the front of Chase's ACU jacket. Even the normally cool Maxine melted on initial contact. Her eyes misted up and a quickly suppressed sob broke free. For a moment, she sounded like a real, live human being. Three seconds later, she was shooing Roman back, her cool façade firmly in place once more.

  Smiling, Roman gave her a kiss on the cheek and then he turned to me. His gaze flicked right to find Chase unable to free himself from Laura's grasp. One hand still holding Chase's jacket, her free hand stroked his close-shaven head and the line of his shoulder.

  Feeling the warm tickle of Roman's face against my cheek, I braced myself. One of his big hands dropped to my hip, the other gripped the side of my waist as he tugged me to him. "Got you to myself for a few seconds, beautiful."

  His lips touched my ear before gliding down and to the right to land on my mouth. He tugged at my body again, cinching me a little closer. "Man, I missed looking at you."

  A heart beat later, Chase elbowed him out of the way, his hands landing on me just as intimately, the kiss and tug a little harder, as was his nature. Feeling the firm press of his bottom lip, I knew he was fighting the urge to open his mouth, his tongue ready to tease me into a full kiss.

  In a quick little maneuver, his fingers dipped into his pocket and then he cupped my elbow. His grip slid down to my hand to press a folded piece of paper against my palm before wrapping my fingers around it. Both men then turned back to their mothers.

  They offered the women their apology in unison. "Sorry, but we're stuck on equipment watch."

  Maxine scanned the surrounding soldiers, her mouth puckering indignantly. "I'll talk to your commanding officer about this!"

  "Mom, no -- hell, I'll have equipment watch for a week if you do." Roman gripped her shoulders and looked straight at her, the inside corners of his brows lifting. It was a sure sign he was lying, but Clarks don't lie according to George and Maxine. "There are too many troops coming back this week for the base units to assign guards. And most everyone else has kids to go home to tonight."

  He gave a pointed look at the little girl in her father's arms a foot away.

  That almost stopped further protest, but not quite. Her gaze cut to Chase. "But, both of you?"

  To my left, Laura Winters took
a hard swallow but managed to keep her mouth shut. A quick glance at her hands confirmed it was taking every ounce of will power for her to stay quiet and not inquire why Maxine Clark's son should be allowed to go home for the night while her own kept guard.

  "Four of us, actually," Chase answered. His gaze nailed me for a second before it dropped to my hand with the note tucked inside.

  Mrs. Winters started to twist her clutch back and forth. "When..."

  "After ten tomorrow," Roman answered. His eyes danced my way for a second before he amended his estimate. "Noon at the latest."

  Both women nodded, receiving a last hug and kiss for the day as their reward. I stepped behind Mrs. Winters before Roman or Chase could close in on me again. My reward was two wolfish grins and the promise of trouble glittering in their eyes.

  **********

  By the time I made it all the way around Fort Stewart to my one-bedroom apartment in Glennville, I was in one hell of a state. The walk back to the airfield's parking lot in the presence of Her Royal Highness Maxine Clark and her snide remarks about how awful the heat must be for a girl my size would have been enough to get my blood going on a good day, but when I finally opened the note Chase had slipped me and read it in the privacy of my Jeep, I was stripped of my last frayed nerve.

  Meet us at Elma's at 8pm.

  Elma's was a seedy joint about four miles west of the main gate, buried behind a line of trees off an old dirt road. It was one step below the Silver Dollar Lounge where the girls shake their naked titties on Thursdays and Fridays. The only thing Elma's had going for it in my opinion was that no one got naked there on a regular basis. Nor did anyone talk about having been there.

  That level of secrecy meant my two best friends were up to no good.

  I might have settled for just being annoyed at them lying to their mommas and dragging me into it, but the looks Roman and Chase had given me before walking away had my blood boiling over for an altogether different reason.

  Racing from my air-conditioned vehicle to the dark, cool safety of my apartment, I locked the front door and headed straight for my bedroom. There was no way I was going to make it through a night of chauffeuring those two around to every bar and strip club in the tri-city area -- both of them no doubt trying something with me when the other wasn't looking -- without a little mechanical tension reliever beforehand.

  I tossed my handbag onto the bed, the clasp opening and spilling the contents across my mattress. Ignoring the mess, I opened the drawer to the small nightstand beside my bed and pulled out a divorced woman's best friend -- my Hitachi Magic Wand with its Gee-Whizzard attachment.

  "Fuck, yes." Collapsing on my bed, I hiked up the skirt of my white, sleeveless sundress. I hurriedly pushed my panties down to my ankles, where they snagged against the buckles of my white sandals. I left them there, my hands too shaky for anything other than masturbating.

  I popped the attachment onto the wand and buried it inside my pussy. Five inches of knobby, curved heaven began to vibrate inside me. Closing my eyes, I saw Roman and Chase. Delicious, dirty memories coursed through me. Play house, pool house, school yards, churches, open fields and barns. All through the last half of high school they had found a hundred little ways to be alone with me, each trying to convince me I should surrender to him and him alone.

  I had always refused to give in, refused to choose. But I also always waited to pull away until after they had managed a kiss, a stroke, a hand skipping along the fabric covering my mound or breast, their lips at my throat.

  You belong to me, Gracie.

  They'd both said it -- in the flesh and in their letters and phone calls during their two deployments overseas. It was only in the last few months they'd let up, but the look in their eyes, right in front of their own mothers no less, told me neither man was finished trying.

  "Fuck...oh..." I pushed the little Whizzard deeper, the heat starting to pool low in my belly.

  I'd let another man take my virginity. Stupid me, I married him and was treated like shit -- like his fat little pity fuck and personal slave until, to the great mortification of my family, I divorced his ass. All because I couldn't choose, wouldn't doom my friendship or watch as the undeniable brotherly love they had for one another turned to hate.

  I clicked the wand's vibration setting to high and tried to stop thinking about Chase and Roman. I needed to come and come and come again until I was all wrung out, exhausted and immune to their advances and mouth-watering bodies.

  Above the drone of the vibrator, my cell phone began to buzz next to me. Not thinking, I looked at it, the text of an incoming message from Roman readable.

  Wear that dress you had on at the airfield.

  The hell I would! I thoroughly intended to put on jeans and the biggest pair of granny panties I could find.

  The phone vibrated again, this time Chase's number preceding the text.

  No panties, baby girl, or I'll have to spank you.

  Sweet Jesus, they were texting me in unison. Growling, I cursed the wand for only having two speed settings. And then I cursed my two best friends. Those glorious bastards had been on Georgia soil for less than four hours and were already ruining my sex life.

  Such as it was.

  **********

  Damn me if I didn't wear the sundress -- with panties, thank you very much. Even so, I still felt all kinds of naked walking into the dimly lit interior of Elma's. It seemed like every damn eye in the bar turned my way. It might have been the wholesome appearance of the white sundress filled out with my plump curves, but I thought I saw a couple of the men stand a little taller, while a snarl or two crept along the faces of the women next to them.

  Elma was probably the only place in town where a girl my size could get that kind of reaction. It was the home of low expectations. Still, I was ready to spin on my heels and retreat to my Jeep when Chase emerged from beyond the far end of the bar.

  Meeting me halfway down the middle of the room, he cupped my elbow and guided me to a corner booth. The table with its curving bench seat had to be the darkest spot in the entire place. The light hanging over the table was out and only the barest illumination from the next booth showed Roman waiting with three Coke bottles on ice.

  With Roman along one side of the seat and Chase directing me to the other side, it was clear they planned on sticking me between them. Right where the bar's other lights didn't seem to penetrate at all.

  I eased my way around the cushion to the center. Roman slid left towards me and Chase piled in behind me. He hadn't said anything out at the airfield, but the minute his ass hit the booth's seat, Chase lifted one lock of my artificially blonde hair and cocked an eyebrow at me.

  I scowled at him. "You try getting a job at Adams-Pennington Real Estate without blonde hair."

  The job also required a minimum of D cups, but those I could claim naturally.

  A small click at the back of Roman's throat had me looking right.

  "Grabby-hands Pennington knows we'll break every bone in his body if he harasses you, right?"

  Chase dropped the strand of hair and leaned closer, adding a single word to Roman's threat. "Twice."

  Picking up the unopened Coke bottle in front of me, I popped the cap and took a hard swallow. "I'll figure out a discreet way to inform him."

  "How about you qui--"

  Roman made another one of his clicking noises, stopping Chase before he could finish his sentence. The idea that Chase wanted me to quit was preposterous. I could barely afford my rent and vehicle as it was, and any thought of college had flown right out the window -- along with my savings -- with the divorce attorney's bill.

  "We didn't bring you here to talk about Pennington." Roman traced a finger along the back of my shoulders, the motion sending a shiver all the way down to my toes.

  Not to be outdone, Chase smoothed his hand across the top of my thigh as he leaned in and placed his lips against the side of my neck. His fingers plucked against my sundress for a second before h
e offered a small growl. "Are these panties, baby?"

  Wrapping both hands around the bottle, I started to vibrate -- or parts of me did. The threat of a spanking from Chase did weird things to my body, but I ignored it and smiled at Roman. "Of course you didn't bring me here to talk about my boss. You need a chauffeur since you can't exactly pick up your car from your parent's without Maxine knowing you lied about equipment watch."

  Curling his hand around my bicep, Roman started to slowly stroke the side of my breast with his thumb. "Wrong, beautiful."

  Chase moved his hand down to my knee and then his fingers started a slow crawl up under the skirt of the dress.

  "You!" I hissed and slapped at his hand.

  His progress unhampered, Chase laughed. "No one can see, baby."

  "He's right." Roman's touch became bolder, this thumb sliding forward to trace my swollen nipple. "We unscrewed the light bulb to make sure no one can see you, Gracie."

  Surprised by the coordinated attack, I gasped. This wasn't like them. They would do anything short of intentional injury to keep the other from touching me. Now they were both openly teasing my flesh.

  "What the hell, guys?" I whispered, afraid of what I might see if I dared to look at either of them.

  "Hell is right, Gracie." Chase's voice was as solemn as if he was standing in church with Pastor Brown looking on. "Hell is where we've been -- and the only thing outside of each other that pulled us through it was you."

  "We both want you. That hasn't changed." Roman's mouth lit just below my ear, his tongue laving along my jaw line as his fingers took a little pinch of my flesh. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning as my wet pussy slowly soaked through my panties.

  Chase surfed his fingers along my inside thigh, a harsh groan escaping him as he touched the moist fabric of my underwear. "Only now we're willing to share."

  I stiffened and they both felt it, each reacting differently. Roman's response was to touch me more lightly and murmur softly against my ear to just hear them out. Chase's grip on me tightened, his words far from placating.

  "Baby, you belong to us. There's no arguing it."