Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set

by Carolina Moon

  Finally, a slower song began to play, the lights dimmed and Brock took her into his arms. He smiled down at her, pulled her close and they swayed together as if they'd done this a hundred times. Goldie could feel his heart beating against her and she looped her arms around his neck, loving the closeness.

  "Come," he whispered and led her off the dance floor.

  Goldie allowed him to lead her down a hall and into a small room. When he flipped on the lights, she realized it was a bathroom. He locked the door, turned to her and pulled her into his arms. This time there was no dancing involved. His mouth covered hers, taking her breath away. As he plunged his tongue deep, his hands roamed freely until Goldie was a helpless, quivering mass of female flesh, his for the taking.

  She clung to him, loving the way the hard cock in his slacks, pressed against her lower belly. She loved the way he moaned softly when he found her wet and ready for him. Quickly, he unzipped his slacks and pushed them down out of the way. Then he took a seat on a small stool nearby.

  Goldie already knew what she wanted. She shimmied out of her panties, pulled up her skirt and straddled his lap. He held his cock steady by the base and both of them moaned when the wet mouth of her pussy covered the knob. Those moans grew louder as Goldie sank lower and lower onto his cock, covering him with her scalding oils and squeezing him with her strong muscles.

  "Ride it, baby," Brock urged after kissing her again. His voice was throaty and hoarse; his eyes glittering with desire.

  "Oh, Brock," Goldie whimpered as she slowly began to move up and down. "It feels so good."

  Brock's kiss kept her from saying another word. He held onto her ass with his big, strong hands, urging her to move faster and faster. And it wasn't long, before Goldie was riding him to what promised to be her most explosive orgasm yet. Thick, wet sounds filled the room and mingled with their grunts and groans of pleasure.

  Someone tried to open the door. Finding it locked, they knocked.

  Goldie and Brock were too far gone to stop now or to care.

  Whoever it was went away just as Goldie slammed her body down onto Brock one last time and mashed her clit between them. Her climax took her breath away, sending her flying off into orbit. She actually felt her pussy sucking on Brock's big pole. He buried his face in her chest, bucked upward a few times and then he, too, lost complete control, filling her to overflowing with his hot load.

  When they were presentable again, he led her out a back door of the club and to his car.

  "Where are we going?" Goldie asked.

  "My place. I want to enjoy you alone, not with an audience," he said.

  Goldie sat quietly as he backed the car out onto the dark street and pulled silently away from the club. Chet would be angry. This little stunt might even be breaking some part of the contract she'd signed with him and the show. It might mean a lot of things but at that point, she didn't care. She was with Brock and that was all that mattered.

  Could she really be in love with him after such a short time. Yes, Goldie decided, yes she could.

  His apartment really wasn't far away but he circled the block two or three times to make sure they weren't being followed. Then he drove two blocks away and parked. They walked to his building holding hands and practically running, almost as if they were being chased.

  And once they were inside, Goldie didn't have a chance to get her bearings. Brock caught her in his arms and kissed her long and deep, igniting her passion as usual. She quivered and clung to him with all her strength. When he picked her up and carried her through the dark apartment, she knew this was going to be a night she would never forget.

  He undressed her slowly, caressing every inch of skin as it was exposed to his gaze. His lips and tongue followed until Goldie was writhing on his bed, begging him to take her. Finally, he undressed quickly. The street light outside the window gave Goldie just enough light to see that he was hard; his cock bobbing around in front of him with every movement. A fresh flood of juices oozed out of her and she caught it with both hands.

  "Please hurry," Goldie whimpered.

  Brock crawled onto the bed between her legs and gave her every inch of his cock in one long, smooth stroke. Goldie cried out in pleasure and begged him for more.

  "Give it to me," she whispered, looking up at his beautiful body. It towered over her. "I need to come."

  Brock growled and began fucking her steadily, alternating his thrusts and working his hips in a wicked circle that ground her clit between them. Soon, Goldie was bucking upward to meet him, screaming his name when her climax hit.

  And even as Goldie struggled to catch her breath, she wanted more.

  Brock seemed more than willing to fulfill her every wish.

  He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. Drenched in sweat and whimpering with desire, Goldie rode him to another orgasm that sent her senses spinning out of control.

  Brock was still hard, still more than eager to please her. This time he maneuvered her onto her hands and knees. She remembered how he had taken her earlier that day in the water and her excitement crested again.

  "I'm taking that beautiful ass," he grunted, slapping her hard enough to leave a red print of his hand.

  At that point, Goldie wanted Brock everywhere and every way. Reaching around behind her, she pulled her cheeks apart, giving him full access to her most intimate spots. His warm tongue entered her first, bringing guttural sounds that she barely recognized from her lips. He primed her with two fingers and she realized he had used some lubrication.

  Finally, the hot knob of his dick was pressed against her puckered hole. Goldie buried her face in the pillows as he entered her, stretching her impossibly wide. It was not as painful as she had imagined it would be and that subsided quickly turning to an animal-like pleasure that no other man had ever brought to her.

  Again, he brought her off with his fingers before finally allowing himself to climax. With a roar that Goldie was sure the neighbors could hear, Brock allowed himself to come. His cock jerked, swelled to gigantic proportions and exploded deep in her ass.

  They finally collapsed together in a sweaty, tangled heap of arms and legs and slept.

  When Goldie woke up, the sun was streaming through the windows. For a few minutes, she was disoriented. She sat up and frantically looked around the room, searching for a clue as to where she was. Then she spotted Brock, still sleeping soundly beside her and the whole night came back to her. Goldie smiled. This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

  She kissed him awake.

  "Good morning, beautiful," he said and pulled her into his arms.

  "Good morning, yourself," she said, happy to be waking up next to his warm, strong body.

  "I'm going to have to leave soon," she told him.

  "Why?"

  "I have a meeting with Chet and the crew at noon to plan the final episode…and make my choice."

  Brock did not respond.

  "If there is a final episode," Goldie continued, realizing she didn't really care. After sneaking off with you last night…"

  Suddenly, Brock rolled her onto her back and pinned her arms above her head with one big hand. He ran the back of his fingers across her cheek, traced around her full lips and then placed his face so close that his nose was touching hers.

  "Is that what you want?" he asked.

  "I have obligations," Goldie answered weakly. "I signed a contract."

  "So did I. But, Goldie, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since that first meeting, since you first walked into that room - and I think you feel the same way. But I don't want to have to tell you that in front of a camera or an audience. What we share, what I feel, is private, just between the two of us. That's why I asked you to meet me at the beach, why we ate at a hotdog stand and why I brought you here last night. I was trying to get away from the cameras and the prying eyes. I want you all to myself…I want you to be mine forever."

  Goldie was stunned at the intensity
of his words. The depth of his feelings was obvious and echoed her own. Tears of happiness gathered in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  "All I need is you," she whispered, and it was true. She had found him.

  With a groan, Brock released her hands and pulled her into his arms, cameras and game shows and reality TV forgotten. All that mattered now was that they were together.

  One Sweet Christmas

  Chapter One

  “Go,” I said in the best I’m in charge voice I could muster. One of my hands rested on an admittedly ample hip. I pointed toward the frosty glass door with the other.

  “But Miss Lexi,” Ida Mae countered, holding her ground. She was still clutching the envelope with her name printed on the front that I had shoved into her hand earlier. “You’ve never run the place by yourself before.”

  “How hard can it be? You guys have already done all the work. And even I can manage to make coffee. Go. Now.” I continued to point, struggling to keep the smile off of my face.

  “I don’t think she’s going to back down, Ida Mae,” Lacey said, sliding thin arms into her heavy winter coat.

  The two women and best friends were polar opposites in looks and personalities. Lacey was tall and thin and gentle as a lamb. Ida Mae was short and squat and scrappy. Both were in their late 60’s and both had worked at this bakery their whole life, creating melt in your mouth pastries that were known and loved all over the county and at least half the state.

  And both had always, always worked Christmas Eve and Christmas Day just because old Mr. Sweet insisted that the bakery be kept open.

  Not this year. The Sweet Bakery was under new management--me. Yes, we were going to be open simply to keep up the tradition but my employees were going home to spend Christmas with their families, even if I had to throw them out.

  “You sure you’ll be okay?” Lacey said, touching my shoulder. She held onto her envelope as well.

  Both women had followed my instructions not to look inside what appeared to be a Christmas card but I knew they were in for a nice surprise when they did. This bakery made money and there was no reason they shouldn’t share in the profits, especially at Christmas time.

  “I’ll be fine. You two have filled all the orders and packed the shelves with everything I might need to get me through tonight and tomorrow. And I doubt we’ll have that many customers, anyway, other than the usual ones,” I assured her. “Now, go spend Christmas with your families.”

  “You’ll call if you need us,” Ida Mae continued to argue as she put on her hat and gloves.

  I promised that I would.

  “Don’t forget the McDonalds will be here on Christmas morning for their special Christmas donuts,” Ida Mae reminded me for the tenth time.

  “I know, and I know right where they are,” I assured her. Those donuts were Ida Mae’s pride and joy.

  “Ida, maybe she has an ulterior motive for letting us have Christmas Eve off,” Lacey said quietly, elbowing her old friend in the side.

  Before I could respond, the front door opened. The jingle bells hanging on the inside door knob filling the bakery with their cheery greeting. All three of us looked in that direction as icy wind and a swirl of snow blew into the shop ahead of Sheriff Tate Chandler. The man looked even larger than normal. The bulky jacket over his charcoal gray uniform added to his broad shoulders and his thick soled winter boots added at least an inch to his height. He touched the edge of his big, wide-brimmed hat and then took it off, brushing the snow onto the tiled floor at his feet. Thick, unruly dark hair curled over his forehead.

  “Merry Christmas, ladies,” he said in that deep, rumbling voice of his that was as distinctive as his confident swagger.

  “Merry Christmas, Tate,” Ida Mae said and held her arms up for a hug. “I do believe you get better looking every day.”

  These women had known Tate all of his life and I imagined they probably felt like great-aunts or even grandmothers to him. In one swift movement, he wrapped one long arm around each of the two women, hugging them both at the same time. He kissed their wrinkled cheeks before letting go.

  Ah, life in a small town.

  “Merry Christmas, Tate. Merry Christmas, Lexi,” Lacey called out, urging her friend toward the door.

  “Enjoy your holiday and don’t worry about me or the bakery,” I reminded them, giving each a final hug.

  They returned it fiercely and, not for the first time, I was amazed at how quickly the two older women had taken me under their wing and made me feel right at home. I had only owned The Sweet Bakery for a little over six months. They’d worked here forever.

  “Be careful, ladies,” the sheriff said, holding the door open for them. “The roads are getting treacherous.”

  “My son is waiting outside,” Ida Mae told him. “We’ll be fine.”

  Lacey looked back at us one last time, a happy little grin playing across her face. “And you two be careful, too, promise.”

  We both promised.

  Tate opened the door for the two women and escorted each of them safely across the snowy sidewalk to the SUV waiting just outside. I saw Ida Mae kiss his cheek again and Lacey whispered something in his ear. He laughed, shook his head, patted her arm and closed the door when she was safely inside.

  Tate stood there for a moment with his hands on his lean hips watching them drive slowly away on the snow covered street and then he stepped back inside of the bakery, still shaking his head.

  “Lucas shoveled that sidewalk earlier this morning but it’s already covered,” I said when Tate returned to the shop.

  “Yeah, it’s getting nasty out there and I don’t think it’ll let up any time soon,” he said, reaching for the broom standing in the corner behind the door. He swept up the snow he’d brought in with him and tossed it outside.

  That gave me plenty of time to get back behind the safety of the counter. The bulky red sweater I wore disguised my well-developed upper body. But staying behind the counter as much as I could hid the fact that my slacks showed off way too many curves.

  “I don’t think they’ve ever had Christmas off before,” I explained as I busied myself with unnecessary chores. I rearranged the Christmas cookies in the glass display case below the counter and then turned to the coffee pots. “They’re not quite sure what to do with themselves.”

  For some reason, being alone with Tate Chandler made me nervous. He was usually in and out of the bakery several times a day for coffee or donuts for the other officers on our small police force. His office was just on the other end of the block so that was only natural but there were always other people around.

  Oh, I enjoyed his handsome smile, that sexy swagger and the way his uniform enhanced his broad shoulders and lean hips…just like half the women in town. And lately, I was surprised to find myself wondering where he was when he didn’t come in to the shop. But when my thoughts went too far down that road, I just reminded myself what had happened the last time I had let myself get involved with someone. That kind of agony was enough to send my mind and body running in the opposite direction.

  Still, he made me nervous.

  “Old man Sweet wasn’t the best employer in the world,” Tate said, moving toward the counter with that confident, easy gait of his that could be spotted a mile away.

  I emptied one coffee pot, rinsed it out and filled it with water from the small sink. The old man had owned this bakery for over 40 years and when he died, his heirs had put it on Craig’s List. I’d run across the ad purely by accident and the whole idea of running a bakery in a small town seemed to be exactly the medicine I needed to heal my wounded spirit. Amidst loud protests from family and friends, I’d bought it, sight unseen, moved from Chicago to this little town in Minnesota and dived in head first. I was right. This project was just what I needed to keep me from dwelling on the disaster my life had become.

  I kept his employees and let them just continue doing what they do best which was baking their signature cakes, pies and past
ries. Then I added my own spin on things. A good cleaning, some fresh paint, a few tables and chairs and in six months, I’d turned it into a coffee shop as well. A change that was adding nicely to our bottom line. I left the fireplace knowing it would really cozy up the place in the winter and I worked here right alongside my employees every day that we were open. Christmas would be no exception, well, except that my employees would be at home.

  “Are you going to be open tomorrow, too?” Tate’s deep voice splintered my thoughts.

  “Yes,” I answered, adding water to start a fresh pot of coffee.

  When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that he was giving me a questioning look.

  “You’ve lived here all your life, Tate, so you know it’s all about tradition,” I explained. “Mr. Sweet was always open Christmas Eve and Christmas day. I’m sure he has a few regular customers. I’ll honor that tradition at least for this year. The only difference is my employees are going to enjoy their holiday with their families.”

  “And your family?” he asked, cocking his head and giving me a warm smile.

  “My family lives in Chicago. And this year both of my sisters have new babies for my parents to spoil. They won’t miss me this Christmas.” My tone was sharper than I meant for it to be and I immediately regretted it.

  God, if he asked one more question the dam that had been holding back my tears all day would burst and I would make a complete fool of myself. Again, I kept my hands busy wiping down the spotlessly clean counter. Christmas was going to be tough, especially this year, but I was sure that being here at the bakery would keep my mind off things.

  I would get through this.

  I had no choice but to move on.

  “Now, what can I get for you?” I asked, softening my voice and changing the subject as quickly as I could.

  “Just coffee. Black. To go,” he shot back over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the fireplace where he held out his hands to catch the warmth.

  I didn’t have to ask about Tate’s family. Everyone knew sexy, single, eligible bachelor Sheriff Tate Chandler and had already told me his life story. His dad had been sheriff before him, handing the reigns over to his son and blithely moving south to Florida. He had a couple of brothers. One was in the military and the other across the country in California.