Her Forever (Every Curvy Inch Book 3) Read online

  HER FOREVER

  A Steamy Older Alpha and Younger BBW Romance

  Every Curvy Inch Book 3

  Alexa Blue

  Copyright © 2019 Alexa Blue

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, websites, and names are the product of the author’s imagination. Nothing in the text reference any real people, places or entities. All similarities are purely coincidental.

  Book and Cover design by Alexa Blue

  First Edition: 2019

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE

  MAILING LIST

  MORE FROM ALEXA

  AFTERWORD

  Chapter One

  Amanda

  “Here’s to being single.” Stephanie lifted her glass to meet mine with a clink.

  “Yeah,” I smirk, my head spinning from all the shooters and bottles of champagne Stephanie talked me into. “Fuck men. Who needs them, right?”

  Stephanie climbed on top of the bar. An army of men cheered her on; probably expecting her to put on a show.

  The cheering died down once she started screaming on top of her voice. “Fuck men! As long as we girls stick together and have a spare set of batteries, we don’t need you bastards.”

  Usually, I, the more reserved between us two, would be ducking under the tables and hiding my face in shame. But that night, we were out to prove a point. The point is that we put ourselves before any man.

  I stared in awe as Stephanie leaned on my shoulder and climbed down from the bar. I had always wondered how she could hold her balance in those heels whenever she’d climb on top of bars during one of our ‘girls' night out.’

  Stephanie grabbed our last two shots of tequila. She placed a shot in my hand. “Amanda, this calls for a pact.”

  “A pact?”

  “Yes. No men, until we reach our personal goals.”

  I stared back at Stephanie as if she were high on weed or possessed by some anti-men demon. Deciding she had one too many shooters, I tried taking the tequila out of Stephanie’s hand, but Stephanie jerked back.

  "C'mon ‘Manda, I want to be a model, and you want to lose the weight. I say fuck all guys. Let's use our time to focus on ourselves. Let's make a pact not to waste our time on another man until we're done being the best we can be.”

  My posture stiffened. “Wait. Are you serious?”

  “Yes, of course.” Without waiting for my response, Stephanie raised her shot glass to clink against mine. “A pact.”

  I swallowed hard. “A pact,” and downed my tequila.

  That was two years ago.

  After I attended my sister’s wedding and after seeing how happy she looked being in love, I struggled more and more to hold up my end of the pact.

  At the time, it seemed like a brilliant idea—ditch men and work on me. Besides, it's not like I have a line of men waiting to be with me. Two years later, and I had dropped from a size 20 to a size 18. I first started my weight loss journey after my sister, Brooke, told me I cannot lose the weight, that we both have a case of shitty genetics and that I must accept I will always be a big girl. I hate being told I cannot do something, so I set out to prove her wrong.

  I am so close to reaching my goal of being a size 16, but can't help feeling like I'm missing out on life. That I'm wasting my twenties, a time when I should be out dating, having sex, having my heart broken and moving on. Instead, I’m tied up because of some stupid pact I agreed to two years ago.

  “Excuse me,” I call out as I shift past people to get to my seat in the third row. This is a huge night for me. There are not many people that can say they've had their fashion designs showcased at the prestigious Calloway Fashion Show. Especially not at the age of twenty-two. Stephanie will be modeling two of my dresses tonight. If there's one person that can pull off my designs, it’s Stephanie.

  Stephanie’s face looks as if it was carved by the Gods; a face made for modeling. With a slim figure and the height to match, she makes for the perfect model. She held up her end of the pact and reached her goal of becoming a runway model. She could start dating again if she wanted to, hell, she can have any guy she wanted but chooses to remain single.

  I sit in the third row of the annual Calloway Fashion Show. It’s not that I didn’t get the option of front row seats, but I have never been one for the spotlight—I prefer having all eyes on my creations. The plan is for me to see how people react to my creations, but the hunk that keeps stealing glances at me from two seats down is making it near impossible.

  Her head is upright, back straight and her eyes are demanding of attention as she walks down the ramp. The fabric molds around Stephanie’s body effortlessly and the crowd roars as she walks in the signature dress from my ‘Freedom line.’ A line inspired by the pact Stephanie and I made two years ago. Today marks a special day, not only for my career in fashion but for our friendship as well.

  Everyone has their eyes glued to the stunning model, I’m lucky enough to call my best friend, everyone except the hunk two seats to my left.

  Christian

  It’s hard for me not to notice her as she walks past me, especially not after almost tripping over a few people along the way. "Excuse me, excuse me," she says and shifts past everyone as she makes her way to her seat. I steal a glance at her, and the first thing I notice are those cute dimples. Her thick ass brushes against my knees as she passes me, almost making me come on the fucking spot.

  If anyone looks out of place at this fashion show, it’s me. While most people rocked up dressed in expensive designer suits made by designer names I can’t even pronounce, I rocked up in a pair of Guess jeans and a t-shirt with the words, Don’t like me? Fuck You, printed on the front.

  I'm here for work but have no intentions of doing any. That's what I pay my business manager for. Right now, with my cock pressing against my jeans with my every glance, I have more pressing matters to attend to.

  I keep trying to steal glances at the curvy beauty during the show. I couldn’t care less at what’s happening on stage, not when someone so fucking sexy is seated just two seats away from me. From her flawless skin, I can tell she’s younger than me, by at least ten years. The age gap is what makes it all the more exciting and why I must get the opportunity to strike up a conversation with her.

  A woman’s seated next to me, blocks my view of the young curvy honey. The woman looks as old as a prune and reeks of money. She shoots me dirty glares whenever I try looking past her.

  Bouncy, dance music fills the dome, and the strobe lights dim as the dome lights up in time for the interval. I watch intently, as she remains in her seat. I lift myself to my feet, noticing how she steals a glance at me from the corner of her eye, quickly shying away once I catch her looking.

  That was all the convincing I need to know I have the sexy lady’s attention.

  I return to my seat moments before the second half of the show is about to start with two drinks in my hands. I see that the older woman hasn’t returned yet, taking that as my cue to take a seat in he
r place.

  I’m carrying a beer, and a Mojito, the mint cocktail I noticed her walking in with when she first swept passed me.

  “Excuse me,” the older woman clears her throat, “I believe you are in my seat.”

  I give her a warm smile, banking on the power of my charm as I speak. “I know, but I thought we could swap seats?” I reduce my voice to a whisper, “You see I’m trying to get closer to this lovely lady to my right,” I say and glance at Amanda.

  “We will not be swapping seats!” She barks.

  Remaining in my seat, I whip out my wallet and pull a $100 bill in my hand, “Would this help change your mind?”

  She rolls her eyes at me, making her irritation noticeably obvious. “If you do not leave my seat now, I will call security.”

  Reluctantly, I shift back to my original seat and infuriate the woman further when I ask her to pass the Mojito down.

  I watch the curvy girl I’m eager to claim, waiting for her reaction as she takes the drink in her hand. Once our eyes meet and she realizes I bought her the drink, I give her a coy grin. A grin, filled with intent and promise.

  “No thanks, I didn’t order a drink,” she says, passing the drink back to the person beside her.

  “Oh, my God!” The older woman barks by the time the lady beside her hands her the drink again. “This is becoming fucking ridiculous. I did not pay to come here and pass drinks around.”

  Not wanting to cause more of a scene, the curvy beauty grabs the drink. I sit back in my seat, smiling as the scene unfolds and I sneak her another wink when she finally takes a sip on her cocktail.

  I keep trying to steal glances at the curvy honey, but if I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed she’s related to the grumpy fart next to me. That, or she’s playing hard to get. Whatever the case, I love a challenge, and vow not to leave the dome until I get the chance to speak with her.

  She hadn't taken a bathroom break during the interval, and I can tell by her shaking leg that she needs the loo. She glances to her right and realizes she would have to pass more people to avoid me. Unable to control myself, I beam when she finally stands to her feet. She shifts past her neighbor and the old woman beside me, but as she nears me, I extend my foot, causing her to trip and fall.

  With a moment to spare, I extend my hand, catching her fall so that she lands flat on my lap—right where I want her.

  Chapter Two

  Amanda

  I've needed the bathroom since I first entered the dome, but as I was already running late, I figured I'd wait until the interval. I couldn't risk missing out on the chance to see my designs on the world stage, or not watch my best friend strut her stuff, modeling my signature Freedom line. But, by the time of the interval, I'm faced with an unexpected obstacle. An obstacle covered in dark ink, and with an attitude to match.

  As I make my way to the bathroom, I trip and fall flat on the lap of the man that has had his eyes glued on me the entire evening. It could be my imagination, but it feels like something presses against my ass as I land. God, I hope that is not his cock.

  He caught my eye since I first walked into the dome and has been staring at me since. It isn’t long before I find myself irritated with the man, and that is without us even speaking. Despite dressing up to an event like this in an inappropriate t-shirt, and jeans, I can tell the man has money—I can tell by the unnecessary shimmer of what looks like a Rolex on his wrist. Having money is not the problem, flaunting that money is what pissed me the hell off, especially when he tried bribing the old lady next to him.

  Guys like him think they can have whatever their greedy hearts desire just because they have money. The attraction was there when I first saw him, but it didn’t take me long to remember why I made the pact to avoid all men in the first place.

  My arm wraps around his neck as I land. I yank my arm back. “I’m sorry. I must have tripped,” I say and try standing, but he pulls me back down.

  “That’s because I tripped you, beautiful.” He holds a naughty grin on his face as his eyes look up to meet mine. “I’ve been checking you out all night, but I didn’t expect you to fall for me so soon.”

  "You've got to be fucking kidding me," I blurt out louder than anticipated, causing a few people to shoosh us, including another evil glare from the woman beside us. Not wanting to create more of a scene than I already have, I drop my voice to a whisper. “I need the bathroom and still have to crawl past all these people. Now let me go!”

  Christian looks up, his cocky grin intact. “Why didn’t you just say so? I’ll be happy to take you to the bathroom.”

  “I didn’t… Hey… What the—”

  Christian lifts me over his shoulders as he stands to his feet, carrying me to the isle as if I weigh nothing more than a piece of paper.

  “Excuse me, coming through,” he says as he carries me.

  I bang my fists against the muscle of his back as we near the bathroom. “Let me go, you ass-wipe.”

  Christian gently places me on my feet outside the bathroom and pushes the bathroom door open for me. It would have been a romantic gesture, holding the door open for me, if he wasn’t already inside the bathroom, and if he wasn’t embarrassing me in front of a crowd of people.

  “Get out,” I shout, and try pushing him out the bathroom.

  "Don't be selfish. I need the bathroom as well," Christian laughs. Despite exerting effort to try to move him, his large, muscly build remains firm.

  “Then go to the guys’ bathroom.”

  Christian points at the door, showing me the Unisex sign on the front of the door.

  I notice all the prying eyes fixed on us, and I rush back into the bathroom, banging the stall's door closed as I enter.

  I hear him entering the stall beside me, but it sounds as if his door is left open. Probably hoping I'd sneak into his stall, dick-head.

  I grind on my teeth at the sound of his piss against the water in the neighboring stall. It sounds as if he’s trying to exert as much pressure in a desperate attempt to prove his manhood.

  “The name’s Christian,” he says as the sound of him pulling on his zipper echoes in the bathroom.

  Who the fuck cares? I think to myself, but tell him my name nonetheless. “Amanda.”

  “What brings you, Amanda?”

  “I should be asking you that question. You look like you’re lost. Anyway, I’m a designer, and some of my clothes are on display.”

  “Aren’t you a bit young to be a designer?”

  I let out an exaggerated sigh. Despite my abrupt attempts at showing him I’m not fucking interested, the man is persistent. “Aren’t you a bit old to be so annoying?”

  I walk out of the bathroom stall and find Christian leaning against the bathroom counter. He still has that arrogant grin on his face—that grin that, as much as I'd like to admit, is the only thing I still find attractive about the man.

  “Are you not going to ask me what I do?” Christian continues, handing me a paper towel to dry my hands.

  “Sorry, I just don’t think a bathroom is the best place to be having this conversation.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Christian speaks again. “You’re absolutely right. Which is why I’m taking you to Paddy’s to finish this conversation.”

  I pull my head back, taking a few moments to decide whether the man is on drugs or just flat out insane.

  If he thinks I’m going with him to some sleazy biker’s bar, he’s got another thing coming.

  Christian

  I lower my gaze down on the feisty woman in front of me. It takes me a few moments to take in her beauty. She’s stunning, without even trying. Amanda has curves in all the right places. Curly hair flows down in loose spiral curls that drape past the face of an angel. Now it’s up to me to crack her porcelain front.

  If only she weren't so stuck up, she would be the most perfect woman I had ever come across.

  I lean down on Amanda, my lips just inches away from her ear. “I think you rea
lly wanna come, but that you’re too scared.”

  Amanda jerks back, using her hands to sprinkle water on my face from the tap. “No, dickhead. I don’t want to go to Paddy’s.” For the first time, Amanda holds her gaze, staring back at me with pressed lips.

  “Oh!” I break into a fit of laughter. “Now, I get it.” Once my laughter dies down, I stare blankly into the distance. I take a few moments before I turn back to Amanda, closing in on me and lower my gaze on her full, thick lips. “You’re scared to come with me to Paddy’s, scared you won’t be able to control yourself around me.”

  Amanda crosses her arms, and the sight of her clenching her jaw leaves me grinning. "What bullshit? I can control myself around you. Fine, dickhead. I'll come with you to freaking Paddy's, even if it's just to prove you wrong. We have one drink, and we're not staying a second longer."

  I have known Amanda for all of fifteen minutes and already know which of her buttons to press.

  “Easy, beautiful. Don’t you want to stay, see your designs? Or are you in such a rush to get me alone?”

  Amanda clutches her purse and brushes her shoulders against my torso as she sweeps past me. “My designs were showcased in the first interval. Now let's get this damn drink over and done with before I change my mind."

  I walk behind her, taking a few moments to admire her thick ass before catching up with her. “By the way, Amanda, you have the sexiest dimples I have ever seen on a woman.”

  She pretends not to be bothered by my compliment, but the redness spreading across her cheeks tell a different story.