The Billionaire's Curvy Submissive (BBW Billionaire Erotica Novel) (3 page)

The lightest touch of his fingers against her
sent her into a frenzy. She savored the feel of his rock hard
manhood in her hands as he ripped down her pants and thrust his
hands between her legs. They moaned in unison as his fingers felt
her sweet wetness for want of him. He let his fingers glide along
the edge of her pussy, and tightened her grip on his unimaginably
huge cock. As he brushed against her clit, Claire felt herself soar
as boundless pleasure surged through every pore of her, along every
inch.

The man smiled, having found the key to her
pleasure, and rubbed her clit earnestly. She went limp in his arms,
but he held her up, stroking faster and faster, urging her toward
climax. He grew harder and harder and she began to shriek with joy,
her pussy so wet that she was sure she could take him, big as he
was. At the edge of orgasm, he leaned in to her, lay his lips
against her ear...

“You’re mine,” he whispered, and she was
gone. Past the edge of reason, and time, riding waves of
back-arching pleasure in his sturdy arms.

“I love you!” she said, short of breath,
straining, delighted.

“What?” a small voice answered her. It wasn’t
his voice, but one further off. Her conscience, perhaps?

“I said I love you,” she repeated, looking
him in the eye. He seemed to be fading.

“What are you talking about, Claire?” said
the voice. It was a woman’s, and too close now for comfort. Claire
shook her head roughly and was devastated as the scene of her
passion faded.

It had only been a daydream.

Claire wiped at her forehead with the sleeve
of her coat. She’d only just arrived at work for the day, and she
was in no state to be around anyone. She looked around, amazed that
she’s been able to navigate to the store in the state she’d been
in. She felt a sinking in her stomach as she realized that Cheryl
must have come early to open the store. Sure enough, there she was:
super model tall and thin, face lined from years of smoking, a
short, severe bob and all. And she sure didn’t look pleased.

“How nice of you to show up,” Cheryl said,
her thin, high voice creaking with anger.

“I... I’m so sorry Cheryl. The train—”

“I don’t really give a shit.” Cheryl said,
scowling. “This is really unacceptable, Claire. My husband and I
need to go to our son’s parent teacher conference. Or something.
What if you’d made us late?”

For the first time, Claire noticed that there
was another body in the room. A man’s. He was just finishing a cell
phone call and turned toward the women. He looked familiar...

The bottom dropped out of Claire’s gut. It
was him. Her mystery man. He was... Cheryl’s husband? Oh, no...
Claire thought. This is not going to end well...

“Parker, this is Claire. Claire, Parker.”
Cheryl said, striding toward the exit. “Try not to mess anything
else up today. OK, Claire? Come on, Parker. Get the lead out.”

She strode out the door, letting it slam
behind her. Claire stared at Parker, unable to believe that it was
him standing before her. To her surprise, his expression mirrored
hers.

“Hello... Claire,” he managed, drinking her
in.

“Hi, Parker,” she responded, smiling at
him.

“I’ve... uh... Got to run,” he said
awkwardly. “I guess I’ll... see you?”

“I guess?” Claire offered, and he made his
way past her toward the door. As he did, she dared to let her hand
graze his. He looked back at her as he left and, for the first time
in real life, smiled at her.

Oh my god, Claire thought, her world spinning
on its head, what have I gotten myself into?

* * * * *

Chapter 2

* * * * *

“Are you even listening to me?”

“What?” Claire Baxter looked up guiltily from
her coffee cup and saw that her best friend Savannah was not amused
by her absentmindedness. They were sitting across from each other
at their favorite neighborhood coffee shop on what was supposed to
be a catch-up date. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“Oh my god,” Savannah exclaimed, “What has
been going on with you lately? I feel like I’ve been venting to a
brick wall all week. Are you on drugs or something?”

Claire grinned at her friend, appreciative of
her straight shooting. Claire and Savannah had been like sisters
their entire lives and longer—their moms had been
next-door-neighbors and good friends themselves before the girls
were born. Savannah was the perfect complement to Claire in every
way, and though they had plenty of things in common, in some ways
they were like night and day.

Whereas Claire was as buxom and blonde as any
Swedish milkmaid, Savannah was absolutely pocket-sized. She was
four eleven on a good day, rail thin, and had straight black hair
that she wore to her waist. The girls had been hearing the obvious
“Betty and Veronica” jokes for ages, but couldn’t deny how spot-on
the comparison was. Savannah was far more outgoing than soft spoken
Claire, and much more likely to get into trouble. While Claire had
only been with two guys in her life, her high school and college
sweethearts as it were, Savannah’s “number” was definitely in the
double digits. Claire would never give Savannah flack for being
promiscuous—in fact, she rather envied her, being too shy herself
to take advantage of her man-snagging curves.

“I was saying that I think I might try and
convince Brandon to come out this weekend, if he doesn’t have
work,” Savannah went on.

“Which one is Brandon?” Claire asked.

“The barista.”

“Again... which one?”

“The taller one.”

“Oh... Yeah, he’s cute.”

“Right?” Savannah flashed her signature
devilish grin, “I’ve got big plans for this one.”

“Oh, wow... Are you thinking he’s
relationship material?” Claire asked.

“Relationship material? There’s no such
thing. You must be on drugs after all. No, I just bought a new
vibrator that I want him to help me break in. It has five settings.
Five.”

“Oh... Cool,” Claire said lamely. She wished
that she could be more adventurous, like Savannah was. “You really
don’t believe in relationships at all? I mean, don’t you ever wish
that you had someone in your life to take care of you... protect
you... really stand up for you when you needed help?”

“Who are you talking about?” Savannah asked
craftily, “Because that sure doesn’t sound like your boyfriend to
me.”

Claire blushed in the face of Savannah’s
joking. Not only did she get all hot and bothered whenever Savannah
started in on how much she disapproved of Claire’s boyfriend,
Tommy, but it hadn’t been Tommy she was thinking about. For the
last week, Claire had been fantasizing shamelessly about another
man. An older man. An older, gorgeous, chivalrous man she had met
on the subway that just happened to be the husband of her and
Savannah’s dragon lady of a boss.

Claire had been keeping this secret to
herself, in the hopes that her obsession might wane, but that
certainly didn’t seem to be happening. In fact, as the days went
on, she found herself more and more desperate with yearning for her
mystery man. She was beginning to worry herself—this level of
preoccupation couldn’t be healthy. Maybe it would settle down if
she told Savannah what was going on? It was worth a shot,
anyway.

“It’s funny you should mention Tommy,
actually,” Claire began, wincing at her lame segue attempt.

“Oh? How is Mr. Deadbeat these days?’
Savannah quipped.

“Just as lazy as ever,” Claire responded.
“I’m... uh... actually thinking that maybe it’s time to bid
farewell to him. There’s someone else that I can’t get off my
mind.”

“What?!” Savannah shrieked, “Who is it?”

“Just some guy,” Claire said, smiling, “I met
him on the subway last week.”

“Last week?! And you’re only just now
bringing it up? Claire. As your best friend, I am shocked and
offended.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that I was sort
of hoping that the whole thing would blow over. He’s kind of
off-limits.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s... older.”

“Like, Hugh Hefner older?”

“No. Like George Clooney older.”

“That’s a good kind of older!”

“But he’s also sort of married.”

“Tricky... but doable.”

“Not quite,” Claire muttered.

“I think you should go for it,” Savannah said
definitely, “What have you got to lose?”

“My job, for one,” Claire said.

“Why your job? What does it have to do
with...” Savannah trailed off, her eyes wide. “Wait. Are you
telling me... Are you into Cheryl’s husband?”

Claire nodded guiltily. “In my defense, I
didn’t know he was her husband.”

“Claire, that’s... that’s absolutely
nuts!”

“I know,” Claire groaned, “It’s
horrible.”

“Horrible? More like amazing!” Savannah
crowed, “How perfect would it be to get back at Cheryl for being a
miserable effing human being than by sleeping with her
husband?”

“You have a twisted imagination,” Claire
said, “I could never do something like that. I’m not like you,
Savannah.”

“True,” Savannah said, “But maybe this is
your chance to start living! Ditch that idiot you were stupid
enough to shack up with and get some billionaire action going
on!”

“Billionaire?” Claire said, “Who’s a
billionaire?”

“Cheryl’s husband, dummy.”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh,” Savannah said, “She made me do her
taxes last year. The bitch.”

“He’s like... a billionaire billionaire?
Like, for real?”

“Like for billions of dollars real.”

“Then why does Cheryl have the store, if
they’re not hurting for money?”

“I guess it was a Christmas present to her.
Something to keep her busy.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” said Savannah, “But hey, you liked
him even before you knew! That means it’s got to be true love.”

“You don’t believe in true love,” Claire
said.

“No,” Savannah replied, “But I know you do,
and I want you to get laid. I’m just trying to be a good friend,
here.”

Before Claire could respond, she felt her
phone vibrating against her leg. She pulled out her cell and
squinted at the caller ID. With a pang of panic, she saw that the
number was Cheryl’s. She turned the phone around for Savannah to
see.

“Oh, shit,” Savannah giggled, always excited
by drama as she was, “Maybe she read your mind!”

“Don’t even joke. I’m going to let it go to
voicemail.”

“What a baby.”

The phone stopped buzzing, but before Claire
could savor a moment’s relief, a text message popped up on her
screen. “Need you for errand. Pick up important documents at 582 W.
66th St. and bring them to the store. C”.

“God, I hate how she thinks we’re available
24/7 for her busywork! She really is a witch,” Claire said angrily,
“She wants me to go pick up some papers for her like some low-level
welcome mat of an employee.”

“You are some low-level welcome mat of an
employee.” Savannah said.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Well. You know what would teach her a
lesson.” Savannah said smugly.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” Claire
said, gathering her things, “I’ve got to head into Manhattan. See
you soon.”

“If you see Parker, you know what to do!”

“Parker? Who’s Parker?”

“Who’s...? Claire. Parker is Cheryl’s
husband. Did you seriously not even know his name?”

“Huh... I guess I didn’t.”

“Jesus. You are such a hopeless romantic I
could spit. Now get out of here. That guy by the window table has
been giving me a continuous once-over and I want to see if he’d be
down for a bathroom quickie.”

“Savannah, you’re a marvel.”

“I know, right?”

***

“578... 580... 582. Here we are,” Claire
muttered to herself. The trip uptown had worn her patience down to
a nub. This was supposed to be her day off, and her horrible boss
had her running all sorts of mundane errands? Maybe she should find
a new job, after all. She laughed at the thought, remembering at
once her poor financial state and staggering student loan bills.
Any job was better than none, and she should be grateful to Cheryl
for having hired her with no experience. Trying to stay chipper,
she glanced up at the building from which she was supposed to be
fetching documents.

582 W. 66th Street looked to be a beautiful
pre-war townhouse, not like any office building Claire had ever
seen. She double checked Cheryl’s text and sure, enough, she was at
the right place. What kind of important documents could be here?
She shrugged and climbed the front steps, realizing that she was
dressed pretty casually to be doing anything business related.
Under her coat was a somewhat slinky dress of her favorite
variety—long-sleeved and short-skirted. She hoped that no one would
give her any trouble for daring to look a little sexy. You never
could tell with these snobby business types.

Claire rang the doorbell, hoping that this
whole thing wouldn’t take too long. Cheryl got antsy whenever the
things she wanted done didn’t happen immediately, and Claire didn’t
want to deal with her nonsense. Especially not when she’d been
fantasizing about the woman’s husband for the last week! Claire
felt like she should be on her best behavior around Cheryl, all
things considered.

The sound of quick footsteps sounded through
the door, and Claire stepped back as it swung open towards her. She
peered across the threshold and felt her heart leap into her
throat. Standing before her, in all his glory, was the man of her
illicit dreams: Parker.

Claire felt like she was paralyzed, standing
before him with her mouth gaping. God, she thought, he looks even
better in person than in my imagination. In all of her daydreams
since the day they had met, Parker had taken on a sheen of
perfection that was inhuman. In person, though he was perfectly
suited to her wildest dreams, the flesh and blood of him was
absolutely irresistible. The fact that he was a man who lived and
breathed, sweated and ostensibly fucked, hit Claire hard in the
stomach. She felt, in that moment, that she needed to have him. No
matter what she would have to do.