Curves Envy - Alphas Love Curves: BBW Billionaire Romance (11 page)

I turn my head to the side, trying to avoid the raw desire I read in his eyes, but he grabs my chin into his hands, preventing me from looking away.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I want you to look at me. I want to be able to lose myself in your eyes when you melt into my hands.”

What is he talking about?

I open my mouth to protest, but he drops to his knees in front of me. He pushes open my left leg and I panic.

“What are you doing?”

“I already told you. I want to find out if you’re as sweet as your nickname. I love seeing you vulnerable and I want to look up at your beautiful face as I push you over the edge.”

“You can’t…” I squirm desperately, trying to convince myself I’m half as offended as I am pretending to be, but it’s too late. He has me wedged against this damn wall. My panties are ripped to shreds and lying on the floor of this VIP den as a telltale sign of my misbehaving. My pussy is unshielded and begging for his tongue.

“If you don’t want to continue, we can go downstairs and you can catch a cab home.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I slowly close it instead, incapable of finding a valid reason to prevent this man from licking me. He smiles victoriously as he slides his hand down my stomach until he reaches the betraying wetness of my pussy.

“Oh, dear God,” I whisper.

I look down at him and I immediately close my eyes against the amusement flashing in his eyes.
Bastard. He knows he has me.

“You’re so wet. I guess you no longer consider me a stranger,” he mocks.

I can’t help but smile with eyes half open. With one finger, he strokes down into my wetness and back up, circling my clit. Each circuit sends a gush of tingling sensation to my engorged nub. He teases me and I’m sure he’s aware of the pain and pleasure he’s subjecting me to by never touching my aching node.

“Sweet Mother of God,” I whine and I thrust my hips forward hoping he flicks the tip of my impatient clit with his tongue.

“Don’t rush me,” he laughs into my pussy. “Enjoy every bit of it because I’m going to finger-fuck you until you’re forced to bite your tongue in order to avoid screaming out my name.”

“Jesus,” I let out, caught between excitement and the fear of losing all control to this stranger. “But I barely know you.”

“From the way your body is responding to me I’d say, you’ve been waiting for me your entire life.”

“You’re very cocky.”

“Not at all. You keep betraying yourself, Candy.” Without leaving my gaze, he pulls his fingers from my pussy and licks them.
Ah.
“You’re so fucking wet it won’t take me long to make you lose it.”

“You think you have me all figured out.”

Instead of responding me, he pushes his finger into my pussy, hard and fast.

“Oh,” I gasp.

The exhilarating shots of pleasure make my head spin.
What’s taken over me?
My body has never responded like this to any man I’ve been with in the past. Nothing makes any sense anymore considering how out of control I am under the hands of a guy who has never explored my body before.

“Oh, Candy, you are sweeter than I expected.” His fingers slide in and out of me in a ruthless cadence until my pussy clenches around his sweet intrusion, gripping him tight.
I never want to let go.

I’m nearly delirious and I can’t possibly imagine anything more intoxicating until he inserts another finger.

“Holy shit,” I scream out.

“Candy, you’re going to have to keep it down or else the concierge will run into the room to find your pussy exposed,” he warns, grinning with satisfaction.

I shake my head to let him know I have no desire to be found out and he smiles before thrusting his fingers inside me again.

“Oh, Max,” I moan.

He increases the rhythm of his naughty play and as the pleasure increases, the overwhelming intensity of the pressure building inside frightens me.

“Yes,” I hiss, tilting my head against the wall. I push my hips forward, vying for more.

“Look at you. You’re dying for me to give you more, aren’t you? You look innocent enough, but there’s a bad girl waiting to escape.”

“It’s your fault. You’re doing things to me…”

“I’m pleasuring you as much as I’m pleasuring myself, sweetness.”

His comment leaves my legs shaking. Little do I know there’s much more to come.

“Your tight little clit is yearning for relief.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” I’m surprised I’m willing to admit so much.

Without warning, his thumb skates over my clit, gliding directly over it each time his fingers plunge deeper inside my aching pussy.

“Did your last boyfriend know how to meet your needs?”

Well, we can’t officially call Vince a boyfriend, since I was fucking a married man, and George was a capable lover, but it was always about him. If he didn’t make me come before him, I was screwed since he had the annoying habit of falling asleep right after ejaculating.

“Not like this,” I confess, shaking my head.

Without losing a beat his thumb continues to toy with my clit. One, two, three strokes.
Jesus.
My body coils tighter as he relentlessly torments me. I’m gasping for air, shaking my head from left to right so violently my hair sticks to the pearls of sweat trailing down my face.

“Remember, sweetness, it doesn’t matter how hard I make you come, you can’t scream or else we’ll get caught.”

Devious man. He’s taking pleasure in seeing me so helpless and so close to the edge.

I nod my head in agreement as I slide a finger into my mouth to keep me preoccupied and to prevent me from screaming my head off.

“Good girl. I can’t wait to find out if your cheeks will flame up when you come.”

“Ah.” His words turn me on so much, I sink my hips lower against his hand, seeking more sexual healing.
Make me come.

His thumb rolls over my clit and my orgasm explodes inside me like fireworks on Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Here I am completely undone on the forty-first floor of a hotel with a dreamy guy on his knees giving me more pleasure than I thought possible.

“Oh, Lord,” I murmur, biting my lower lip so hard I draw blood. My hips buck against his hand as a second and then a third wave of a dizzying climax tears through my trembling body.

“I love watching your wide hips pulse in response to my touch.”

“Your touch is…” I try to find the words to describe what he’s done to my body, but how can you ever describe ecstasy?

He gets back on his feet and straightens his impeccable suit before taking a step closer to me. “You look so dazed, sweetness. That was nothing. Had the concierge not been standing within hearing range, I would have made you lose your mind so much they would have heard you downstairs in the lobby.” His finger is trailing along my jaw before tilting my head. I lose myself in his intense eyes and I don’t even move when he takes my mouth hard.

Nothing? Is he kidding me?

“You’re so sweet and so tempting,” he sighs as he takes a step back. 

“What about you?” He’s made me nearly lose my mind, but I should return the favor.

“I should stop now or else I’ll throw you against the couch over there and I’ll slide my hard cock inside your luscious pussy. It might be wise to wait for another fortuitous encounter, don’t you think?” He winks and my legs go so weak, I flinch.

It’s not as if Vince was an inadequate lover, but he never left me so helpless, so vulnerable and so weak in the knees. Max has masterfully taken control of all my senses by using his tongue and his fingers. Compared to most men, he has a PhD in sexual pleasure.

“Perhaps it’s best to wait for the next time I flash you.” I lick my lips, savoring every ripple of pleasure, and I shrug at the idea I could dissolve so easily in the arms of a stranger.

“I do apologize again for the panties. But since you can’t possibly wear these anymore, why don’t I hold on to them. Since I promised you a new pair, it’s going to make my job much easier if I know your size,” he says, bending down to scoop up the panties he had casually discarded earlier.

I smile when he tucks my panties into his pocket and taps on the front of his jacket as if to confirm they’re safely in his possession.

“Oh, I can’t possibly get a new pair of underwear to you if I can’t find you. Of course, I could wait until we bump into each other again, but I’d rather have the peace of mind of knowing I have your number.”

“You want my number?”

“Of course, sweetness. I hope you don’t think I’ve already had enough of you.”

“Uh… I wasn’t sure what would happen next,” I confess, surprised he’s making plans to see me again. I thought it was a one-time thing.

“Hand me your phone, I’ll put in my number and you’ll do the same for me.”

I turn on my heel to grab the handbag I dropped on the coffee table in front of the couch he was threatening to fuck me on and I fish for my phone. He grabs it and pushes in seven digits and hands it back to me with a bad-boy grin. “I hope you’ll want to see me again, Candy?”

Everything about his tone suggests he’s not asking me a question, but rather confirming how things will unfold between us.

“It would be lovely to see you again, Max,” I say so quietly I can barely hear myself speak.

“I’m glad you feel the same way I do. Now let’s get out of here,” he says, slapping my ass so hard I jump.

Chapter 7

I desperately tried to regain my composure during the ride home last night at the back of a chauffeured limousine Max hired for me, to no avail. My stomach was a ball of nerves the whole way back to my place. As I relived every detail of the evening, from the moment I stepped into the luxury hotel where I was supposed to meet my cousin Trish to the point where Max was on his knees in front of me licking and finger-fucking my pussy,
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a dream. I kept waiting for the car zooming down Manhattan’s deserted streets to turn into a pumpkin, the chauffeur into a mouse and the dress that witnessed our naughty interlude into rags. When I looked down at my turquoise high-heeled shoes, I knew what I experienced wasn’t a fairy tale and I wasn’t Cinderella.

It’s not as if I’ve never climaxed before, but last night was more like a volcano erupting than a simple tickle—which is the only kind of orgasm I had known until I bumped into Max.

Fuck, I can’t believe I allowed a stranger to make me come more strongly than I’ve ever come before.

I’m so upset at myself. How can I have fallen for a person I know so little about… especially when Vince’s drama is still ringing in my ears?
God, why couldn’t I have resisted Max more?

“Candy? Earth to Candy?”

Carl Applegate, one of my fabulously gay male co-workers, is snapping his fingers in front of my face trying to catch my attention. I’m so surprised I blink a few times to remind myself I’m still at work.

“Child, where were you?”

I immediately straighten myself in my chair when I realize I’m spending more time thinking about Maximiliano than doing my job.

God, are Carl’s glasses getting bigger and bigger? These new ones nearly hide his entire face.

Carl is one of our beauty editors at large. He’s the go-to person for all beauty magazines for both the skinny and plus-size divisions. He has a thing for big bold glasses. Although he has twenty-twenty vision, he insists on using glasses to make a statement like some women use their overpriced Hermes Birkin bags.

“Sorry, I’m a bit distracted with personal stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope it’s nothing too serious?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, it’s good to hear because Maleficent wants you in the boardroom, pronto.”

Shit.
I roll my eyes, dreading an unexpected meeting with my boss, Jennifer.

I love my job and my co-workers. The only blemish on an otherwise perfect career is my new boss, Jennifer Lau. She’s such an ice queen, the entire office calls her Maleficent behind her back because she makes the villain witch from Walt Disney’s
Sleeping Beauty
look like a little lamb.

Jennifer is a petite Asian-American who runs this magazine with an iron fist. I doubt she could spell the word smile with a dictionary, but I’ve been stuck with her since my former boss, Christine, decided to become a stay-at-home mom after the birth of her third child six months ago. I know Jennifer secretly despises me, but there are three undeniable things playing in my favor—I’m very good at my job, the plus-size online and offline division has helped balloon annual sales by several tens of millions of dollars in advertising spending from some of the biggest luxury brands, and I’ve been voted best new voice for plus-size women by the influential online Bible for all big girls—The Curvy Fashionista. I ain’t going away, no matter how many times she hopes a slender girl will replace me.
Bitch.

“What? I wasn’t supposed to have a meeting with her,” I lament.

“It’s not a meeting with her per se. She’s sitting in the boardroom with a bunch of suits—the ad executives from Bard Advertisement, a tall slender woman wearing a fierce suit that would make Tilda Swinton weep and a mystery bigshot client. I couldn’t see his face, but he has incredible hair.”

Great, a meeting with a skinny woman who will remind me how not skinny I am.

“I’m not the one who usually sits with new ad accounts. I’m just the editor. I write pretty stories and I’m the cheerleader for our readers. I don’t negotiate ad contracts.”

“You’re right, but Jennifer called for you because Denise had to run to the daycare and grab her twins who have chickenpox. Since she most likely won’t be back for days, you’ve inherited her duties because the bigshot client wants to spend gobs of money on the plus-size magazine and website over the next two years. Jennifer wants someone who will be the liaison.”

“Isn’t the agency our liaison?”

“Jennifer said this client required a more personal touch.”