The Alpha’s Curvy Match 2
He was a powerful wolf shifter Sheikh. She was a sassy BBW human struggling to work her way through college. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything for someone like her. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to fall for an asshole like him. But when he was forced to hire her as his social secretary, and they stopped sparring long enough to see how perfect they were for each other, it didn’t take long for their passions to take hold.
But what happens when a Sheikh with an insatiable sexual appetite gives up all of his bad ways to be with a girl like Jenny… and then SHE leaves HIM? I’ll give you a hint. Powerful men aren’t known for letting things go.
Things are a little different when you break a wolf shifting Sheikh’s heart. Because the asshole human in him can deny his feelings all he wants, but his wolf knows the truth. And with his wolf consumed with returning to its mate, there will be nothing anyone can do to keep them apart.
But doesn’t the young, newly turned Jenny have anything to say about who she takes as a mate? If you think she doesn’t, then I’m afraid that you don’t know Jenny. The real question you should be asking is why she left the Sheikh in the first place. And asking yourself that, the next thing you should wonder is how much of the world the Sheikh’s wolf will tear apart to get her back.
With the next full moon quickly approaching, you will soon find out.
Do you know what I love about Los Angeles? It’s weekday evenings after the sun has set and the entire town is lit up like a light parade. It’s then that I flip what’s-her-name over, fold her like a contortionist and fuck her while admiring the view. From a house in the Hollywood Hills that overlook the city, you can see a lot.
What? Did you just say that you don’t know what that’s like? Of course you don’t. That’s because I was born to have this. Yeah, sure, you might say that we can’t choose our parents, so I’m just lucky. But no. I’m like a cat. You can hold me upside down and drop me from the stairwell, and I will always land on my feet.
How do I know that? You may ask. Because I was born into incredible wealth like every Sheikh is, I partied like a rock star like ever good Sheikh does. And then after some wacked out Japanese royal turned me into a werewolf and I got banished, I still ended up in Los Angeles tapping the asses of the most beautiful Brittney’s in town.
Then when I made the epically stupid decision to lower my standards and fool myself into believing that I had feelings for a girl with more girth than beauty, I still landed on my feet. That’s even after I escaped my luxury prison by killing all of my bodyguards. That’s even after I showed my face and naked cock to drivers-by carrying that wide load’s wolf body into the woods protecting her until she recovered. And that is even after that ingrate freaked out and took off because I turned her into a monster or something.
Hey, I could have given up. I could have wallowed in thoughts of ‘oh, I loved her and I can’t live life without her. Oh, how could she leave me when I just gave up everything for her?’ But I didn’t. You know what I did? I hopped the fence of someone’s house, knocked on their back sliding glass door and then charmingly asked them for some clothes.
I made up a lie about how I was mugged. And not only did they give me something to wear, but they gave me a couple hundred dollars to help me get back home.
Do you know how that happened? Because I’m like a cat, a magical cat that always lands on his feet into a luxurious life.
Even this woman, Miss What’s-her-name. I was at a bar needing a drink and a conquest… did I mention that I have an affliction… and this woman bought me a drink. Sure, she was a little older than anyone I have ever fucked in my life, and her body bulged out in places that bodies shouldn’t, but god damn if she didn’t drive a Porsche.
And I know what you’re thinking right now. How could I stand to even get naked with someone so flawed? Well, let me tell you a secret. And if you tell anyone else, I will deny it. But that last girl I was with, Jenny, not only did she have junk in the trunk, but she was a hoarder. The trunk, the hood, spilling out of the car window, so Miss What’s-her-names’ wide hips and cankle’s? Please, she practically a supermodel compared to my last mistake.
