Claiming His Reunion Obsession: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 162) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Claiming His Reunion Obsession

  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

  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 HIS REUNION OBSESSION

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 162

  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 HIS REUNION OBSESSION

  Chelle

  The dress I never quite fit into the first time, the junior high teacher I had a major crush on. All these years later this curvy, shy and once-bullied girl might just get her chance to be Queen after all. Maybe not Prom queen, or even queen of her high school reunion, but a true king and queen can never be kept apart for long, no matter the odds. No matter the consequences.

  Quinn

  Sure I remember her, but she’s a young woman now. A grown up, full and curvy younger woman and I’m an older man. I’m manning the registration desk at the reunion, not looking for any excitement. Just helping out at the school I used to teach at. But when I see what I want, what I need and just how she needs it? I’ll stake my claim, even if she is my best friend’s daughter.

  *Claiming His Reunion Obsession is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Chelle

  Wear your old prom dress they said, it’ll be fun they said.

  It’s taken me an hour to squeeze into this thing, take it off and decide I’m not going, then going again at least four times.

  I feel like the only fun is going to be what’s poked at me by my ex-classmates.

  The sense of dread pulling up to the gym feels like ninth grade all over again. It’s all coming back to me now.

  I’m glad I’m getting here early so I can leave early.

  It’s stupid. I should’ve stayed at home.

  Heels and lilac… I really haven’t thought this through at all. Great. There’s a registration desk too.

  Name tags, a guest book… OMG this is gonna be…

  Hold. The. Fucking. Phone.

  “Michelle? It is you, isn’t it!”

  I jump a half foot into the air when I feel his hand touching the small of my back, then I catch the long forgotten scent of him. I’m transported back in time in a split second. It’s him, I know it is.

  Before I can speak, he’s literally hugging me, pressing his whole front against me, which I naturally lean right into, and savor his bear like growl.

  “Oh my god, Mr. Quinn?” I stammer, feeling something shift in me as he re-positions himself behind the little table, sitting himself down quickly.

  I’m only going to this stupid reunion because of my dad. His friend, Mr. Quinn used to be my biology teacher and he seemed to think it might make Quinn feel like his work meant something once he found out his friend's daughter became a nurse because of his classes.

  What dad doesn’t know about is the huge crush I’ve had on Mr. Quinn all these years. It’s something I thought I’d be able to hide if I saw him here, but my body has other plans.

  “Quincy…” he murmurs so low it’s almost a growl, “But just call me Quinn.” His eyes unashamedly run up and down my body, giving me shivers in places I’ve never even thought about in a long while. Until now.

  I blush, cherry red really. I’m ashamed of my body, always have been. But the look on Quincy’s face isn’t mocking or even disappointed.

  Quinn likes what he sees by the looks, and stretching back in his chair some, I can see biological proof rising against the zipper line of his stonewashed jeans.

  “I didn’t realize it was a retro theme.” I continue, trying to sound normal, but squeezing my legs together as I feel a hot bead of moisture forming.

  “It’s not,” he says, and smiles broadly, his dark eyes resting on my stiff chest, I know without even looking that my nipples are like bullets.

  “Chilly, isn’t it?” he asks, and makes this low sound again as I shudder a gasp. It’s as if his hands are on me again, tracing the thick lines of my pebbled discs under my dress.

  “I’ve often thought about you,” I blurt out, regretting it straight away. I may as well have just written the words ‘pity fuck?’ on a slip of paper and passed it to him under the desk, but I don’t think there’s any pity from the smoldering look in his eyes.

  “That a fact?” he asks, a grin forming on his lips and his eyes narrowing before shaking himself suddenly. Snapping himself out of the spell that’s come over him.

  Over us both.

  “Sorry, Michelle,” he says, looking as flushed as I feel, “I just can’t believe I’m seeing you as such a beautiful, fully grown young woman now. Makes me feel old.”

  Fully grown is right. Put a ring through my nose and pitch a wooden pen around me.

  I’ve never felt so self-conscious as right now, this stupid dress, Christ and these shoes. My feet are killing me already.

  “Call me Chelle, and you’re not old,” I tell him, trying to find some swagger to match the coolness, the manliness which just seems to ooze from this guy.

  I’m betting that’s not all that oozes from him either.

  I almost laugh out loud at my own thoughts, but they shock me more than anything. I’m not the forward type, far from it. I’m more likely to fog up my glasses with a latte than anything real life, sex kind of steamy. Maybe the odd book here and there, but apart from that my life’s about as plain as it gets.

  “You’re a little early,” he observes, trying to focus himself on the task at hand, registering arrivals and handing out name tags.

  “I have a ‘Michelle’ tag here, but I’ll make you one up with Chelle on it, would you like that?”

  I feel my head pumping as if he’s just asked me if I’d like t
o see that thick line where his zipper rides up again.

  In his perfect, bold and neat teacher’s print, he makes up a name tag and leans forward in his seat.

  “C’mere, I can put it on you if you want?” And I move faster than the line of moisture in my panties as I slide around to his side of the table.

  “Aren’t you going to get up?” I ask him, boldly trying at being sassy again. I can see the man’s as hard as stone down there by now, no denying it.

  He glances across the hall, then to the sides. We’re still alone.

  Another low groan escapes him as he stands up and I look straight down, gasping without controlling my own emotions or arousal anymore.

  Quinn’s big too. That much I can see, he’s at least six five and his thick hardness proves the myth about tall guys in a split second.

  The effect of seeing him hard sends my own pussy into a deep rinse cycle, wanting only to be stuffed full of him.

  I remember him being very tall, but never this muscular. His huge V-shaped torso makes me feel petite as he moves closer, drawing another sound from me, closer to a whimper than anything else.

  “It’s alright,” he reassures me, his huge hands reaching out to me, one on either side of the label as he presses it onto my left breast as I look up at him, biting my lower lip, mentally pinching myself.

  He deliberately presses firmly, letting his fingertips transmit his own excitement into me, as well as register my intense readiness for him as his knuckles brush my stiff rivets as he slowly takes his hands back.

  “Perfect,” he growls again, and hearing the click clack of heels approaching, I notice his eyes narrow again, his body tensing.

  “Sit here, with me.” He says firmly, taking his own seat and I take the seat next to him without thinking, feeling like holding his hand as we do.

  There’s definitely some magic between Quinn and me and although I have no idea what I’m doing, I think I’m going to like it.

  I’m suddenly glad I decided to come to this reunion after all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Q uinn

  Coming back to the registration desk after opening the side door to the gym, I can smell her perfume first, thinking how nice it is. Then I see her full, apple shaped ass from behind, straining through the tight lilac fabric of her strapless, backless dress which accentuates her full curves and shows her perfect skin off to perfection. I can’t help but make a groaning sound as I feel something else shifting in my pants.

  Whoever she is, she’s fucking perfect.

  An ass like that is what makes me very happy, and hips I can hold as well as see… it feels like Christmas in July and it’s only May.

  I’ve never felt so attracted to anyone like this in my life. My own animal instinct shocks me on the one hand, but it’s so freeing on the other. Taking longer strides towards her, I register her lack of bra, thick calves and strong legs as she holds herself up for me, making me want to push those legs apart and feel myself inside her from behind.

  That’s gone and done it, I’m halfway to being fully hard now…

  To my utter amazement, as I come around behind her, I recognize her.

  It’s Michelle Baker. Randy’s daughter. He said she’d be here, but I never… I just never thought…

  My god it is her… when did she become so perfect…? I can barely remember her as one of my students. But now…

  Shit. I think I’ve just fallen for my best friend’s daughter and I haven’t even said hi yet…

  The only sounds that come out of me make me sound like I’ve swallowed some sort of wild animal. Every time she moves I look at another part of her, and I just want to reach out and touch her, to tear off her clothes and kiss every part of her.

  I watch as my hand instinctively reaches out for her as she turns to face me, marking her with my touch first, then with my whole body as I pull her towards me, holding her close and breathing her in.

  Holy fuck, I think I’m about to come in my pants.

  My instant hard on in sending electric pulses all throughout me, every second I’m touching her feels like I’ve died and gone to heaven. She’s an angel, but one I want to be the devil with.

  I’ve got hours of this reunion to get through, it hasn’t even started yet but all I want to do is take her away someplace, to make her mine.

  She’s mine. I have to make her all mine.

  I have to touch her, I can’t control myself. But at the same time, I have to remember I’m still manning the registration desk, so first things first, let’s get a name on that chest.

  I can’t hide my arousal from her any longer, and from the sudden look in her eyes, the sounds she’s making and her eagerness to get and stay close, I figure we’re off to a good start.

  I hear myself practically commanding her to sit next to me, which she does and I feel like holding her hand straight away.

  Forward, much?

  Easy tiger. She’s half your age and her dad’s one of the few friends you have… take it nice and slow.

  Hearing the beginnings of other people arriving, I tense up, letting out a low sound, warning the world that I’ve found something I want and it’s mine.

  She will be soon, anyway.

  “You’re here alone?” I ask her suddenly, needing her to tell me there’s no one else before anyone else even gets close to her.

  Not tonight, not ever.

  It has to be just me and her.

  She stifles a coughing laugh, “Yeah, just me. It’s me, myself and I. Same as any other night.”

  She looks down at her feet and I feel like I’ve said something to upset her, letting my hand close over hers, I notice her jump a little, then purr as I tell her just one of the thousand things I want to tell her right now.

  “Well, tonight you belong to me… and I won’t hear another word about it.” I tell her, hearing my deep voice with such an edge of authority, but she seems to like that.

  I’d feel bad if there was anyone else in her life, the way I’m feeling about Chelle, straight up, I’d pity whoever tried to get in my way right now.

  It’s so primal, so electric. Just being near her makes me feel like a caveman, wanting to throw her over my shoulder. But at the same time I feel like a big ol’ marshmallow inside. Something I’ve never felt before about anyone.

  Ever.

  We sit down and instead of me being all business, getting ready to receive all the hundreds of reunion guests, I find myself just staring at Chelle, and her staring right back at me.

  There’s the clomp of feet coming still, echoing off the sheen of wide linoleum as I hear the familiar, although now grown up gaggle of the Malibu Barbie set. Those kids who were shallow, mean to others and only obsessed with themselves who grew up to be, low and behold…

  Complete bitches.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Chelle

  As someone whose studied physiology, I know how quickly, from a scientific perspective, our body can go from happy to sad.

  Same for confident to scared, fearless to afraid. The same hormones that tell us we’re in love can make us feel terrified in a split second.

  And hearing them coming, then seeing the three girls who made my life hell growing up, sends a shiver of fear rippling across my belly.

  “I should go…” I hear myself stammering, feeling my hands growing cold, clammy and shaky underneath Quinn’s.

  He seems to sense how I feel and leans in close, whispering into my ear, his lips gently touching my skin.

  “You’re mine, remember? You’re not going anywhere. Don’t let these clowns bother you, let’s make this our night.”

  He’s right. The chemistry between us, straight off the bat is undeniable. It’s one of those things I’ve only ever read about, or imagine happening to other people.

  But tonight’s not my imagination, Quinn’s real and so are his feelings. So are mine, and so is that marvelous body of his. His hands, his breath in my ear. It’s all too good to be true, but why shouldn’t
good things happen to Chelle Baker?

  Why the fuck not?

  I can’t help but feel all the old emotions though. I was sure I’d forgotten how nasty those girls could be, but seeing them in their early twenties seems no different to all those years ago.

  “Well, well, well! Michelle the smell!” One says, it’s Cindy Sanders. Chief slut and general pain in the ass for anybody who they decide doesn’t fit into their perfect world.

  “Cindy, Karen, Natalie,” I murmur, forcing a smile and ignoring her comment. She’s wearing a low cut top and leans in over Quinn, puckering her lips and squeezing her chest together, putting on a show most guys would go ape for.

  Quinn slides all three their name tags and marks them off the registry without even giving them a second look.

  “We’d heard you got in shape, Mr. Quinn. If you want somebody to… give you a hand with anything, let me know,” Cindy coos, the other two giggling into their own chests, which look about as fake as their personalities.

  “I’ve got someone helping out tonight, thanks. Have a good night, ladies,” he says dismissively looking past them all and pretending to wave at someone else walking up the hall. The crowd’s all coming at once it seems and it looks like I’ve been recruited by Quinn after all.

  Cindy looks from Quinn to me, then back to him. “Well, if you change your mind… I’m ready when you are,” she drools, trying to sound sexy but sounding more like she’s having a stroke.

  “Alright. Ladies, please! Let some of the others through, there we go,” Quinn says, firmly and in a way that lets me know instantly that he’s not interested in buying whatever it is they’re selling.

  They move away after a few more whispers and giggles, the only two words I catch cut my heart as deep as they ever did. Even after all these years, which surprises me.

  “Lard ass.”

  There’s a few seconds between the next wave of reunion goers and Quinn takes my hand in his, not even trying to hide the fact anymore.

  “You okay?” he asks me, and I feel my lower lip tremble.

  Leaning in closed he whispers in my ear again, spoiling me with so much attention but curing my blues straight away.