Wolves Love Her Curves (BBW werewolf menage)
Bubbly, curvy and full of life, Lacy Chisolm has a taste for naughty dreams, muscular men, and... running late for class.
When she gets herself in deep, she's given an ultimatum: catalog the trees in the university tree farm with Rock Davidson, a man just like she's always wanted, or get kicked out of the Forestry program. Werewolves, curves and a whole lot of fun are just around the corner!
Lacy Chisolm is a bubbly, life-loving big girl with a taste for naughty dreams, naughty fantasies, muscular guys, and...running late for class.
When she gets to class late, then sleeps through it again, she’s given an ultimatum by her professor to team up with fellow truant Rock Davidson, one of the guys she’s always had a shy taste for, and take a survey of the university’s tree farm, or get kicked out of the Forestry program. She decides to invite her roommate Jack along for the ride but when he goes missing on the night of the full moon, it looks like she and hunky Rock are going to be all alone in the woods.
Will she and Rock – who seems preoccupied with getting home before the sun goes down – be able to finish their assignment, or will Lacy get to realize her naughtiest fantasy ever?
Warning: This sizzlingly light-hearted 14000+ word erotic tale features long walks in the woods, a nasty professor with no sense of humor, two unbelievable guys who share the same secret, full moon confessions, a rough-and-wild ménage so incredible you’ll just have to read it to believe it, and a happy-ever-after for plus-sized Lacy and the two wolves who love her curves and steal her heart!
“Lacy, get away. As soon as the moon...” his breathing was ragged. Rock, I was convinced, was dying right before my eyes. “The moon...it...full...”
Suddenly, I saw what I thought was impossible. Rock pushed himself to his hands and knees and stumbled forward into a beam of moonlight.
Hair? He’s covered in hair? No way. No way is this happening. Not possible. And – what is that? Oh my God he is actually bent over like he’s a...
He howled again.
And then he charged.
“Run! Get away!” He screamed, even as he tore at my shirt. I twisted away from the enraged beast and slapped his hand, or his claw or whatever it was, and escaped with only a rip in my shirt. For a moment we stared at each other, but he lunged and I dodged underneath. Deeper into the woods I ran, looking back every so often to see Rock behind me, almost at my heels.
“What are you?” I cried back, hoping he had enough sense to respond. “Rock! What’s happened to you? I can’t keep running forever.”
Just then my lungs started burning. The end of my little marathon was coming a lot quicker than I expected.
“Car,” he grunted. “Get...to...car...”
I couldn’t figure out what he meant, but then the keys in my pocket stuck me in the leg and I spun on my heel, running back in the other direction, avoided another of his clumsy lunges, and bee-lined for the Mini.
As terrified as I admittedly was, that same bizarre feeling from earlier came back over me in between expert jukes of the grabs Rock attempted. The warmth that I felt when his skin sweltered under my palm, the scent he carried that made my legs feel a little tingly, and made my tits ache just a bit, it struck me full in the face whenever he thrashed at me and fell past my dodge, and his hair – or fur – brushed against my face.
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