Electing For her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

  CONTENTS

  Electing For Her Curves

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  ELECTING FOR HER CURVES

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 230

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2021 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.

  ELECTING FOR HER CURVES

  KRYSTAL

  Being the only daughter to the Mayor of our sleepy little town seems complicated enough.

  Now that I’ve finished college it’s a full-time job supporting my dad in his upcoming campaign for re-election.

  But complicated doesn’t begin to describe it.

  For the first time ever, dad has a genuine opposing candidate. Nothing too shocking about that, it had to happen at some point.

  But once I see not just who it is, but what he is, I’m done.

  Pop my timer, baste me in my own juices and turn me over.

  I. Am. Done.

  Finished.

  James Silverthorn is a freaking god.

  If I ever get close enough to meet the man in person, I know I’ll just die.

  An older guy like that, actually falling for a younger, thicker girl like me?

  It’s about as close as I’ll ever get to a real man, even just being in the same town.

  But the fantasy I have in my mind, makes a river look dry.

  JAMES

  I have my doubts. Moving from the city to some middle of nowhere town famed for its lumber and popular Mayor.

  Giving up my role in managing a successful string of very successful businesses.

  But once I see the public channel broadcast late one night after a layover flight.

  Once I see her.

  Krystal Newland. Daughter and campaign manager for the small town Mayor’s campaign this year, I know exactly where I’m headed and why.

  A younger girl like that, falling for an older guy like me?

  I don’t know for sure, but I’ll risk everything I have to stake my claim.

  The thought of any other man, anyone even breathing the same air as her.

  I can’t get to the sleepy town of Woods End fast enough.

  *Electing For Her Curves is an insta-everything, over the top, standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Krystal

  “But you go with me every year, sweetie. You’re the prettiest girl in town and the only one I want on my arm. It’s you who gets me re-elected, don’t you know?” Dad croons, blushing as he looks down at his feet.

  I stifle a sigh, creasing my lips.

  Any other year, any other campaign ball and dinner of daddy’s, I’d be there in a heartbeat, but for the first time in living memory, the annually elected mayor of our little town has a real contender.

  James Silverthorn.

  The very thought of him makes my knees weak. The single notion that I’ll go to a dinner and dance, seeing him up close?

  It’s too much. Too much for my nerves and twitching sex to take.

  I’ve already changed once today because I thought about him too hard when his picture leaflets were delivered to my dad’s office by mistake along with Dad’s by the printer’s.

  Never being one to even look at myself naked, let alone touch myself… the very sight of the man.

  My god, I felt myself almost come before I had to fight the uncontrollable urge to finger myself. Hard.

  Plus, if I did meet him and he looked at me like most people do for the first time. I’d just die, I know it.

  Those eyes scanning me up and down, thinking one word and feeling sorry for me.

  Nice girl, pity she’s so…

  But I can’t think like that. Not today. I won’t let anything spoil my little fantasy.

  Instead, I volunteer to run the leaflets over to Mr. Silverthorn’s campaign office.

  Maybe to test my theory. If he doesn’t run a mile at the sight of me, I might go to the stupid ball.

  But I don’t realize such a simple errand will be such a life-changing experience.

  Okay, Krystal. Back up a little.

  Lemme explain just a little more about James Silverthorn.

  And our tiny little town.

  My dad’s been Mayor ever since I can remember, longest-serving in living memory. Everybody loves him. Local accountant before running for Mayor and now the savior of our town ever since.

  Giving a little backwater town a voice and some calm which helps with local industries like the lumber workers, mill, and all the local land owners.

  Enter James Silverthorn, newest resident of our town and self-made man who wants to add some local politics to his resume before maybe running for governor, who knows?

  And to be frank. Who cares what his motives are?

  The man’s a freaking god.

  News of the first serious opposing candidate was brushed off with as much humor as chipper, friendly local opponents who do it every year to give dad a better platform. That was until his picture was on the local news.

  Then his flyers arrived at my dad’s office.

  I tremble to even think about it, seeing his picture for the first time which is nothing compared to the man himself.

  Okay, so I’m making my way over to his new office which he’s rented to deliver his flyers, telling myself I’ll meet a stuffy secretary or some sort of campaign official that’ll brush me off…

  But it’s the man himself who opens his office door once he sees me struggling up the steps to the French doors.

  Before he even reaches the door I can feel his presence, see how big he is in real life.

  He has on an immaculate white shirt with suspenders that stretches over his huge chest.

  His massive arm reaches for the door giving it a dollhouse
appearance.

  He’s so big, it’s like no building, and no world could even contain him.

  Thick, dark hair with a sheen of gray flecked at the sides that shines in sunlight sits atop the most powerful, masculine face I’ve ever seen.

  His photographer should be fired.

  Or maybe he deliberately toned down the man’s appearance for the sake of women’s laundry?

  I feel an instant flush of heat to my stiffening chest and then my groin once his smoldering hazel eyes lock on mine; the perfect grill of white from his smile set firm in a concrete jaw that draws a whimpering sound from me I hope the creaking of the door disguises.

  I can feel myself rocking.

  Swooning as he lurches forward, eases the heavy boxes from my hands as if they weigh nothing before I feel his other hand on me.

  Supporting me.

  I know I’m done for.

  It’s like an electric current straight to my core, right through my heart, my mind and all the way down to the business end of biology I know has complete power over me now.

  Love at first sight?

  I dunno about that, but I do know my body wants this man inside me like nothing else.

  Like right freaking now.

  And I hope that shimmer of light in his dark eyes is broadcasting the same message because he seems just as interested as I am helpless right now.

  “Are you alright… Miss?” he asks, easing me inside with a strong arm I find myself leaning heavily against as he guides me to a sheet-covered couch.

  Still moving in, the whole office smells of paint with half-unpacked cardboard boxes scattered around, my own in his hands adding to the piles around him as he studies me.

  “I… Your… I mean-” I stammer, noting his broad grin widen as he squats down in front of me, resting his huge hands on my knees for a moment before he commands me to collect myself.

  “It’s alright, take your time,” he says, his dark eyes moving from mine down to my chest as I feel my nipples scratch against my white blouse.

  He makes a low, satisfied, sound.

  Then he moves to stand up but thinks better of it, choosing to rest on his knees in front of me.

  “Let’s start over,” he recommends. “I’m James, and I’m very pleased to meet you, miss…?” he says in a deep. Smoky voice.

  “Newland,” I squeak, “Krystal Newland. We got your fliers by mistake… my dad. Mayor… Bring them over,” I stammer, watching his brow cock as I gasp again.

  His hand on my knee squeezing a little tighter, sliding up an inch, gently moving aside the soft fabric of my three-quarter skirt.

  But oh, that freaking inch.

  There’s a long pause and I’m sure I make a whimpering sound but I see his brow crease, deeper in thought now.

  Not so satisfied.

  Not with the name at least.

  But his body tells a different story.

  “I see,” he murmurs, standing swiftly and turning away from me.

  But not fast enough for me not to notice the pulsing bulge at the front of his suit pants for a few magical seconds.

  The dark circle of damp too, around what I know is the tip of his magnificent cock.

  I gasp again, louder, and suddenly feeling fainter I fall back into the huge couch as the leather creaks under me.

  But James Silverthorn has only just started to exert his power over me.

  Over this town.

  And I can’t wait for more of it, however, he chooses to give it to me.

  To us all, but mostly me I hope. The sodden gap between my legs I feel opening involuntarily the longer I stare up at him, hoping and begging the universe to let him touch me again.

  Touch me there.

  James draws in a sharp breath, watching from behind the safe island of his desk as his eyes widen, watching my own hand stray to the space between my legs.

  Showing more of myself than even I’ve probably seen of myself.

  I gasp louder, catching myself.

  Stopping myself. But also willing myself to somehow have the courage to show him what I know he really wants to see.

  To spread myself wide open in invitation for him to do more than just look.

  “Do that again,” he says louder, making me jump as my hand shifts away, his deep voice with an even more commanding tone.

  “Do what?” I shiver, feeling my hands tremble in time with the lips of my sopping pussy I have under my skirt that I know is going to leave a mark on his furniture.

  “Say it again. Why are you here?” he asks firmly, covering his true mood for a moment, but his eyes tell me what we both know we really want.

  He’s staring in between my legs as I struggle to press them closed, wishing he’d stand up again so I can see that magic bulge I know I want inside me.

  I sit up straight suddenly, hearing the sharp tap at the door and hearing my dad’s voice, shaking me from my erotic fantasy with the man I’ve only just met.

  Sending me crashing back to reality.

  I love my dad, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so annoyed to see or hear him.

  Why? Is there something else he’s suddenly afraid of apart from a new candidate in a small town election?

  I stifle the groan in my throat as I hear my dad inviting himself in, hand outstretched.

  Meeting the one man who’s his latest adversary.

  The man I know I’ve already promised my heart to.

  Along with a few other strategic points of my anatomy.

  But would an older guy, such a hot older guy ever go for someone like me?

  Something in his eyes tells me yes.

  CHAPTER TWO

  James

  I had my doubts. Moving from the city to some middle of nowhere town famed for its lumber and popular Mayor.

  Giving up my role in managing a successful string of businesses.

  The businesses I’ve spent half my life shaping and evolving, very successfully.

  But once I see the broadcast on some public channel late one night after a layover flight.

  Once I see her.

  Krystal Newland.

  I know where my next career path lies.

  Every year the township of Woods End holds an election to re-elect its favorite mayor. There’s a couple of token candidates opposing, but they always concede defeat happily knowing the town is in safe hands for another year.

  There’s a pre-election ball and gala dinner, followed by another once the same guy wins every year.

  Small town tradition that’s harmless.

  Wholesome.

  Fun even.

  But once I saw her, his only daughter on his arm when the last gala dinner was covered by the town’s nowheresville public broadcaster covering the upcoming local election, I knew what I wanted as soon as I saw her.

  She will be mine.

  But I also know her dad is in my way.

  It’s nothing for me to arrange the printed fliers to be sent to the current mayor’s office, knowing he’ll send his dutiful daughter who’s also his campaign assistant to return them to me in person.

  But once I see her, once I feel her.

  I know she’s not going to be as easy to pluck from the tree as I might like.

  Not if her old man has anything to do with it.

  Before I meet my opponent for the title of Mayor though, I get a front row seat of everything I came here for.

  I feel my heart rate quicken once I see her coming up the path to the office. My mouth’s suddenly dry and I feel like reaching for some water.

  But there’s something else I’d rather have coating the inside of my mouth once I pretend not to notice her ascending the steps to my door.

  I see her shape moving behind a stack of boxes she’s carrying.

  Curves that snake and tease my eyes with each step.

  Perfect hips that move rhythmically in time with her feet.

  Hips I already know I want to grip as I fill her with my seed.

  Childbearing
hips.

  The hips of the perfect woman, a mother. Lover.

  Forever hips that I just know will have an ass to match.

  The very thought sees me making an involuntary sound, groaning with a pleasure I’ve reserved for us both in a near future. As soon as possible.

  She’s struggling with the boxes I know the printer sent to her instead of me, and once I notice how much she’s troubled by them, how much trouble she’s really having I rush to the door and open it.

  My instinct is to take the boxes, toss them aside and pick her up instead.

  To feel those hips with my own hands, to feel her equally heavy chest pressing against mine as I tell her just what I have planned for her…

  But I have to keep up the pretense. I have to be James Silverthorn, Mayoral candidate for Woods End for just a little longer.

  I help her with the boxes and ease her inside, settling her down onto the huge leather couch in my office, still covered with a white sheet from storage.

  I pretend not to know who she is, listening to her stumble over her words as she mirrors every feeling I have in my body with her own.

  By god, but she’s perfect.

  Her blond bangs tease her brow which arches cover an oval face.

  Brilliant, clear blue eyes almost flutter as she looks up at me before I have to squat then finally kneel down in front of her if only to try and disguise the instant effect she’s having on me.

  I’ve never known such a feeling, such an instant and overwhelming current in anyone else’s presence.

  It’s like her entire body is the matching end of a current that powers a giant switch between us, lighting up everything.

  Everything looks brighter, clearer, and more colorful now that she’s here.

  I can feel a tightness in my chest but I’ve never breathed easier, nor had such a pleasant ache in my groin ever.

  It’s like everything I felt the first time I saw her on TV amplified by a thousand.

  A million.

  A trillion.

  She introduces herself after I insist we start over, her own babbling tells me the effect I have on her, but I can’t presume to know who she is without being properly introduced.

  That would blow my cover.

  By sheer instinct, I feel my hand on her knee, gripping it gently and even sliding some of the sheer cotton fabric upwards.