Claiming His Sweet Curves: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 171) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Claiming Her Sweet Curves

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  About the Author

  CLAIMING HER SWEET CURVES

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 171

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  CLAIMING HER SWEET CURVES

  Tony

  Libby Brockman's got all the sweet treats I could ever want in her father's bakery, but this Italian Mafia enforcer only has eyes for the younger woman behind the counter. My best friend's daughter's taken my breath away, and I'm going to do everything I can to make her mine.

  Libby

  Tony's always been good to my Dad and I can't help it that I've fallen for him. My Dad's best friend was never supposed to look at me twice, but somehow he can't stop staring. Will this virgin get the older man of her dreams and break away from the bakery for good, or will Dad decide he still knows best after all?

  *Claiming Her Sweet Curves is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Tony

  I'm in the Brockman Bakery every chance I get because of her. I’ve never had a sweet tooth but she hits every single one of my cravings and I can't get enough. The perfect figure of the full bodied woman behind the counter keeps me up at night imagining every inch of her sweet body up against mine, and when I wake up in the morning, the only thing I can do is drag myself right in here to get my fix.

  She's built just right for a man like me, and every time I see her ass sway, I want to grab hold of her and make sure she knows it. I want to bury my face in her breasts and worship every curve of her until she knows that she was made to be adored.

  Every morning there's a line around the block for the fresh bagels and every other delicacy in here, just as soon as they open up, but that's not the reason I'm here. I take it upon myself to monitor the behavior of the line up. I'm not so naive as to think that just because most of the customer-base is made up of senior citizens that there's no dodgy element at play here.

  After all, her father's been under my protection for years. Just my family's reputation is enough to keep trouble at bay, but with Libby here every day now, I have to make sure.

  I drink my coffee, and have my breakfast perched on the hard barstool up by the little table ledge in the window. Only I'm not looking out the window. I never am. Just like usual, my chair is turned in to face the counter and I can't take my eyes off her.

  She looks up at me, meeting my eyes with her large baby blues and I take a slow sip of my coffee, forcing myself to stay perched on the hard wooden bar stool in the window. It's some kind of penance. I'm biding my time, but what I really want is to take her out from behind that counter and strip that clean white coverall right off her to better access her Rubenesque body that she spends too long every day hiding away and show her exactly what kind of loving this six foot five Italian hunk of a man is capable of.

  She is the only woman in the world, or might as well be. The only one I can't stop thinking about. Libby Brockman makes me forget how to breathe right, but I don't need air when she's in the room. I don't need anything at all, except an uninterrupted view for as long as I can get before the start of my day.

  Her cheeks flush under the intensity of my stare, but I can't tear my eyes away even if I'm making her uncomfortable. She's a vanilla cream bomboloni, fresh and plump and appetizing, ready for me to rip right into and devour and I know her soft warmth is exactly what I need in my life. I'll show her that I'm what she needs in hers.

  She is the woman I've been waiting for all this time. The only one I was ever meant to be with. And one of these days I'm going to take her apart piece by piece and devour her just like one of the sweet treats sitting in the counter in front of her.

  She bites her lip as she looks away, back to the customer she's supposed to be serving, but it's too late for me, I'm already as hard as the bread on the floury shelf behind her will be when it's a day old. And I want the asshole ordering three dozen bagels one by one away from her as quickly as possible. My grip on my paper cup tightens enough to dent it with the effort of holding myself back.

  She's mine. She has to know that. I don't care about what her father thinks, or that she's twenty years younger than me. I'll show her that we're meant to be together, that she doesn't have to take this kind of shit from anybody. With me by her side she wouldn't have to.

  Her soft curves are even better than the sugary cupcakes and lines of glazed donuts displayed beneath the glass of the counter. Even in her protective clothing, with her full apron on and a hairnet, she's the most perfect female I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her coworker is all skin and bone with razor sharp cheekbones that make her look skeletal and comical with too much mascara on. She spends her time flirting while Libby gets the real work done.

  "You want another coffee, Tony?"

  I want her to get out of the way so that I can keep on looking at Libby - the only reason I ever come in here. "No thanks. I'm good."

  "You sure? I got a fresh pot. A busy man like you's gotta keep his strength up." She says leaning forward, trying to get me to notice the fact that her coverall is unbuttoned enough for me to see the lacy top of her bra, but I'm not looking at her at all.

  "Lilah. I've got everything I need right here."

  That's not strictly true. What I need is Libby, but she's my best friend's daughter and twenty years younger than me. Us getting together is a fantasy I've never voiced, even though I know, bone deep, that she's the one. The only one I'll ever need.

  My dark eyes sweep over the straining buttons at the front of Libby's pristine white coverall, lingering for a long moment. I wouldn't want her showing off her cleavage, but one day, I've got to see more. I can feel the heat coming off her, and every part of me is primed and ready to claim her. Just one look and I'm hard as a rock.

  Shifting in my seat, I spread my legs wider to stop the zipper of my pants from biting uncomfortably into the straining bulge of my steely hard cock. I might be packing heat, but I am definitely happy to see her too. There ar
e so many things I want to do to her, but I know that none of them are possible right now, and she has a shop full of customers to handle.

  I could close the place down. Make everyone leave, just to have her full undivided attention on me.

  Every time she stretches up to get to the tray of poppy seed bagels on the top shelf, the hem of her skirt lifts up showing off more of her bare thighs and I arch towards her on instinct.

  But I'm not the only one to see.

  A pair of numbnut idiots who seem to think they're wiseguys in the making, still smelling like the party they went to the night before, clearly with a case of the morning munchies are waiting their turn. And the one thing they've both clocked is the way her hem lifts up, and they think it's hilarious.

  "Fuck me sideways. I bet you, she bends over, her panties are going to be pink."

  The first guy's buddy makes a face. "Dude. Did you see the size of her?"

  Panty man tilts his head, assessing my woman like he thinks he has some kind of right to. My fist clenches, ready to pound his face in.

  "Dude, chicks like her? They're desperate. Always. Don't get so much attention, you know? Makes them easy. Fucking nasty in the bedroom, you know what I'm sayin’?"

  The growl that rises up through my body is visceral and I don't realize it's coming from my throat until I'm up on my feet. My fist closes around the first guy's t-shirt collar and I yank him backwards.

  "What did you just say?" I want to hurt him. I want to turn him into a bloody smear for even thinking about Libby like that. "Say it again, buddy. Go ahead, make my day."

  "What the fuck man? What the fuck? I just came in here for a bagel!"

  The guy's intimidated and he should be, but I want him far, far closer to pissing himself. It doesn't take much to open my jacket enough to flash my gun.

  "Oh, shit. Nate, shut up!"

  "Listen to your buddy, Nate. You came to the wrong place this morning. No one talks shit about Libby Brockman. You hear me? You tell the rest of your friends they better watch themselves. None of you piece of shit excuse for men are gonna come in here ever again if you value your balls being attached to your bodies."

  Nate's hands fly up to his shoulders, palms spread wide. "Totally, man. Dude. I totally get what you're sayin’."

  "You listen good, kid. Libby Brockman is mine. And you don't go insulting what's mine unless you want me to end you."

  I twisted his arm behind his back in a patented maneuver designed to get even the biggest, toughest of men out there down on their knees and balling like a baby. Nate let out an eye-watering shriek, pretty damn close to whimpering continuously, and the entire bakery goes silent at the sight of the wannabe tough guy on his knees.

  "Say you're sorry, Nate."

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he says.

  I glanced up to see Libby standing stock still with a pair of bread tongs in her hand, staring, her perfect lips parted and her jaw slack.

  "What are you sorry for, Nate?" I ask.

  "I'm sorry that I...that I tried to see her panties."

  "What else?"

  "That I said she was desperate?"

  "You don't sound like you're apologizing, you schmuck." I wrenched his arm again and he whimpered.

  "I am. I am apologizing!"

  "Try harder."

  "Look, I'm really, really sorry man."

  "Don't tell me, tell her."

  His eyes widened slightly, sweat beading out onto his forehead and he looked from the bakery counter back up to me. "She ...ain't there."

  I looked up sharply, eyes narrowing in fierce irritation as I take in the sight of the empty counter. Lula, the only other girl on shift smiling at me like I was somehow doing all of this for her benefit. She gives me a finger wave. I glared.

  The tongs Libby had been holding are on top of the glass counter and out back, I hear a door close firmly and a rush of footsteps going up the stairs to the back of the apartment above.

  Damn it.

  With another growl, I tugged on Nate's collar and strong arm him and his buddy out onto the street. With a shove, the pair of them go sprawling onto the sidewalk.

  "Get lost, the pair of you. Find another place to get your from bagels unless you want a side of your own ass on the same plate."

  I have no patience for any excuse of a man who thinks it’s okay to talk about women that way, but they were talking about Libby, my Libby, and that made me see red.

  I've waited too long pussying around pretending I could live without her. No more. No one was ever going to speak to Libby like that again, because she was going to be mine and no one in this part of town was crazy enough to go against me. I'd do whatever it took to get her.

  One way or another, she was going to be mine.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Libby

  I'm so embarrassed the only thing I want to do is get as far away as possible from the bakery and all the customers in the line staring right at me. Half of the old bats probably agree with every word those guys said. Mrs. Burgess is always trying to get me to try her diet pills or come with her to her fitness group like I'm in desperate need of help and I want to tear my hair out, because the only thing they see is that I'm not some size six stick insect.

  I'm out the back, the door slamming behind me before I can see any more of the scene playing out right in front of me. There's only so far I can go when home is right above the shop, and I know Dad will kill me if I take more than a few minutes, but I just can't stay there.

  Lilah's had her hand in the register since day one, but her parents own the building and Dad calls it extra rent. I can't leave her alone with the morning customers for long, but I have to clear my head for as long as I can risk it.

  I fumble for my key and jog up the stairs, trying to piece it all together. I'm barely holding back the tears.

  I heard everything those idiot guys said about me and then Tony went and made it worse by making a big deal out of it all instead of ignoring it. I don't even know why he keeps coming in every morning other than to torment me with his presence. I swear I turn into the biggest klutz when he's around, usually right when I'm trying to impress him. Not that he'd be impressed, now or ever.

  I've heard a million and one stupid comments from immature, idiots like the guys Tony was telling off. But the last thing I ever wanted was everyone to know what they thought. And by everyone, I mean Tony. Because I like to think that maybe he's the one guy on the planet who doesn't see me like that. I know he's my Dad's friend, and he probably just sees me as a kid, but maybe he could think that I'm a pretty kid at least, even if he doesn't really see me as a woman, or at all attractive to a guy like him.

  In my fantasies, he sees me as the young woman I like to think I've grown into, and one day he'll realize that we're meant to be together. That I'm the perfect one for him.

  But right now that fantasy's well and truly blown out of the water, and I don't need my Dad's best friend turning all parental on me and pulling out the whole protection detail just because of a few nasty comments from idiots who probably only get laid with ditzy drunk girls.

  In the front room, I go over to the windows and peer out of the curtains in time to see Tony toss the two guys out of the shop completely. I shrink back against the wall in case any of them look up. The last thing I want any of them to see is how much even that apology hurt. I don't want Tony to think of me like that.

  They're wrong about me. I'm not some desperate slut in the making just because I never get attention from jerks like them. I’ve never wanted anything from guys like that. I'm not easy. I'm a virgin through and through and the only man who's ever caught my interest is Tony. He's the only one I've ever dreamed about, the only one I've ever wanted. And they could never compete with a real man like him even if they tried.

  I guess I've been saving myself for him like some total naive fool, and I never, ever wanted him to hear the kind of things guys like that think about me. It's too humiliating to bear.

  Right f
rom when he first came around to our house when I was small, I had been totally infatuated with him. Tony's handsome and kind and good and exactly the kind of man I don't get to be around all that often because we live in a shitty part of Chicago and Dad grew up around the corner and everyone is always paying someone else to keep their mouth shut or look the other way. Except Tony.

  Tony doesn't have to do any of that because he walks into a room and everyone respects him. Sure, part of it comes with the Family, but Tony himself, he doesn't lean on that.

  No one else ever stood a chance in my fantasies and that's a sad little truth. I'm not delusional enough to think that he'd ever cross that line, even if I begged him to, and I've thought about doing that a couple of times.

  Maybe he wouldn't be able to resist me if I went to him in the middle of the night in one of those floaty Hollywood style nightdress things, all feathers and lace. But most likely he'd just give me a spare sweater to stop me from getting cold. And I'd feel like a total fool.

  Which is probably why I've never tried it.

  The trouble is, all the boys at school seemed so immature compared to him, and the guys who got hooked into the kind of deals Dad still dabbles in think they're all that and then some, but I already know five times over that there is never anything good that come out of selling knock off designer handbags or beating people up when they can't pay money owed.

  I've had a lot of practice dealing with guys like those idiots who thought that just because I wasn't destined to be America's Next Top Model, I'd do anything they wanted. I hate that all they see when they look at me is an easy lay. And now Tony knows they all think that, maybe he'll think it's true too. It would be for half the girls in my graduating class.

  It just makes it so much worse that he got up in their faces making out like he was defending my honor. I had a pathetic little rush of hopefulness when he called me his, but I know he didn't mean that the way that I wanted him to. Even though it felt kind of good to see the fear in their eyes when he called them out, it doesn't change anything. How could he really mean any of that? He's just being nice, looking out for me, same as always.