Training Her Curves - Miami (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance) Read online

  Letting the pen fall alongside the papers, I lifted my torso and grabbed the edges of the table. Swiveling my head, I stared at the man that I had just agreed to submit to, in front of an audience, for the next twelve months.

  "What now?" I asked. I knew what I wanted -- the hard cock pressed against me unsheathed and stretching my drenched pussy. I also knew what I didn't want -- a repeat of the ending of our last meeting when he had turned glacial.

  I had to trust that he wouldn't, but I had a lifetime of experience telling me I could trust no one.

  "Now," he said, reaching beneath me to knead my breasts, "remove your top and bra."

  I straightened and turned to find him retreating to the edge of the couch where he planted his gorgeous ass on the armrest. Folding his arms across his chest, he lifted his brows at me in challenge.

  My hands drifted to the hem of my blouse and, for the first time since his arrival, I realized just how dressed down I was. For heaven's sake, he had just agreed to pay a million dollars to a woman wearing sweats without even a flake of makeup on me other than my polished nails. Even my hair, knotted in a rough bun atop my head, was a mess!

  Reading my mind, he grinned. "I don't care what you're taking off those luscious breasts, Alexa. I want them bare...and your hair down."

  I lifted the sweatshirt up and over my head. Heart hammering against my sternum, I folded the shirt and placed it on the table. Already feeling naked and wanting something to hide beneath, I reached upward to free my hair.

  He stopped me. "Bra first."

  I eased one shoulder strap down, my hand shaking, and then the next. Reaching behind me, I started working the hooks. My breasts pushed forward and sparked a brushfire in Jake's gaze.

  "Stop," he ordered and stood. "Don't move."

  Obeying meant I stayed in place, fingers still gripping the back band of the bra, arms trembling as he approached.

  "Fatigue?" he asked, his gaze pointing at one bouncing shoulder.

  "No," I answered. "Nerves."

  My confession must have pleased him because he smiled and stepped fully into my personal space, just an inch or two of air between us.

  "Good," he continued, one finger tracking across my shoulder, over the curve of my neck and up to my ear before he cupped the side of my face. "Because submission is about endurance."

  I remembered the scar hiding beneath his expensive suit, the pain and long period of rehabilitation and all the years before that enduring the physical demands of a professional athlete.

  My lips rolled as I started thinking about all the ways we were mismatched -- body, looks, social stature, income, confidence...

  "Don't think, Alexa." The hand cupping my face moved down to my exposed breast and lightly thumbed the nipple. "Endurance is like standing in the middle of a very long road. You only falter when you stop to look ahead at the distance remaining or behind at all the miles already covered."

  Leaning closer to me, he dipped his head. "Never look at the road, Alexa."

  He kissed the edge of my chin, then my lips in a sweet ghosting before he brought his eyes level with mine. "Look at me, instead."

  I swallowed, only a little of the knot clogging my throat dissolving, and then I nodded.

  Capturing my face with both hands, he moved in for another kiss, stopping just before our lips met.

  "Unhook," he ordered.

  I obeyed and the bra fell to the floor. His foot swept it out of the way. His hands tilted my head with a gentle force as his mouth covered mine. I felt his fingers hook the covered elastic band that held my hair in its bun and then the tickle of my hair falling against my shoulders and down my back.

  "So lovely," he said, taking a step back. Combing his fingers through my hair, he pulled a thick lock to the front on each side, the silky strands forming a border on the outside of each nipple.

  Encircling my wrists with his big hands, he moved me toward the couch, returning to the side perch as I remained standing. With his head level with my breasts, he cupped them, brought them together so that, when he kissed along the inside of one I could feel the rough brush of his cheek against the other.

  He sucked at my flesh for several slow seconds, my body dissolving in his direction. My palms curled around his broad shoulders for support as my knees weakened and my pussy grew hotter and wetter.

  I stiffened when his fingers moved to the soft swell of my stomach. Jake pushed lightly, making me take a step back. Releasing my waist, he dipped into his pocket then captured my wrist.

  Enthralled by his touch, I had forgotten all about the object he had removed from the briefcase and hidden in his jacket. No forgetting or ignoring it once he placed it in my hand. The squarish sense I'd had of its shape earlier was confirmed as I looked down to find a jeweler's box resting atop my palm.

  "What is this?" Another wave of dread caused my body to pull tight.

  "Where are your eyes, Alexa?"

  My lips flattened and I answered with a small snort and a glare. He held my gaze, his expression serene as he waited for the right answer.

  The real answer...

  "On the road," I said at last, the tension easing from my body with the simple admission.

  Jake lifted the lid from the box to reveal two spiral barbells. A little more tension escaped me with a giggle as I saw the nipple jewelry.

  "You're not as crazy as I thought," I quipped as he removed the first one from the box.

  He paused, his hot gaze suddenly burning at me through slatted eyes. "I'm a maniac, baby. Don't make the mistake of believing otherwise."

  I started to smile then realized he was dead serious. Fighting the urge to flee, I looked down to where he firmly gripped my breast. His legs shifted so that he could press a knee against each of my hips, holding me in place as he used both hands to unscrew the end cap of the spiral barbell.

  My brows lifted in surprise as I studied the piece of jewelry. Each end opened into a leaf shape snugly cupping a black pearl. Four twists made up the platinum spiral, a letter engraved on the forward curve of each twist.

  JMMK

  Jake Michael Morgan Kehoe.

  My lungs froze as he lowered his lips to slowly suck one nipple into his mouth. My gaze flitted between the box in my hand, the barbell he still pinched between his thumb and index finger and where he manipulated my flesh with his tongue and teeth.

  I started to shake. Not just a hand or an arm but every ounce of flesh trembled in his presence. His fingers replaced his mouth and he started to thread the spiral through the piercing. Finished, he screwed the end cap in place and took the box from me. He placed the box on the cushion next to him and prepared the second barbell for insertion.

  "I'm going to be sucking on your sweet little pearl in a few seconds." With his attention focused on the piercing, the words sounded too much like just another business transaction.

  I felt myself starting to shrink. His hands stopped moving. His gaze cut upward to snare mine.

  "Bottoms off, Alexa," he ordered.

  I sucked a mouthful of air in, realized I had been repeatedly holding my breath and that the room was starting to spin.

  Still staring at me, he shifted the pressure of his knees off my hips but said nothing. My hands crept down to push at the top elastic band of my sweats and the panties beneath. I pushed and wiggled, my range of motion constrained by Jake's continued hold on my breast and the half-threaded spiral.

  Finally I got the fabric down far enough that I could balance on one foot and use the other to push the clothing to the floor with the other, then shift to the other foot and repeat the motion until the material pooled at my feet and I was nude.

  "Hands over your mound," he commanded.

  Slow as mud, I cupped my pussy with one hand and covered that hand with the other. The position kept my breasts trapped and squeezed between my upper arms. Sensing he had quashed the growing mutiny, Jake returned his attention to inserting the barbell and securing its end.

  With gra
ce I couldn't hope to mimic, he rolled off the back of the couch and onto his feet. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around my shoulder to keep me in place as he moved to stand behind me. He coaxed me into a wider stance with pressure against my inner thighs and then his fingers slid between my drenched lower lips to trace the circle of my cunt with a maddening softness.

  His face nuzzled its way past the hair covering my neck to suck my flesh as his fingers -- and tone -- became more aggressive.

  "Hold yourself open."

  My knees almost buckled at the hard command. I caught myself then quickly pinched my labia and pulled each fold toward its thigh.

  "All those subtle flares of opposition when you're this wet, Alexa..." The soft contemplation of his voice sharply contrasted with the rough manipulation of my flesh. The small pearl he had promised to suck on was under assault with a rolling grind that threatened to crush it into nothingness.

  Fierce below, but gentle as a lamb above, he softly kissed my throat and asked, "Do you even understand your own reaction?"

  "No," I croaked, my throat as raw as my emotions. I didn't understand my body, the situation or Jake. The first two, I could almost grasp. With every pound gained, I'd been told how weak-willed I was. I'd spent the last ten years fighting to prove otherwise, but here I was, stripped of my clothing, my cunt weeping down my thighs and my body trembling from how badly I craved all the rough things Jake did to my flesh.

  So maybe that explained me -- the weakness I'd tried to avoid seeing, had conned myself into disbelieving. And that in turned explained a great deal of the situation. After all, isn't it the nature of the strong to manipulate the weak? Certainly it is their province. But Jake remained a mystery. What did he see in me beyond weakness? Or was that the sum total of my appeal to him, what aroused him when he looked at me?

  His fingers stopped their inexplicably sweet torture. He brushed his lips along my neck before gently nuzzling the spot just below my ear. "It's okay, baby, we'll figure it out together."

  Drawing a breath to ask just what it was we would figure out, I realized from my moist, ragged intake of air that Jake had stopped rubbing me because I was crying. My hands left my pussy to brush my wet cheeks.

  "I can't do this," I said with a slow dawning understanding of just how large a mistake I had made in signing the documents. I started to turn...toward the table with the signed copies of the contract and the shredder on the floor beside it.

  Jake wrapped his strong arms around me. He exerted no force to hold me in place but my progress toward the table halted anyway. Too malleable, all this fat and the brittle bones sheltering inside my flesh.

  "Shh...baby," he whispered, more kisses lightly caressing my skin as he guided us toward my bedroom. Stopping beside the bed, he moved my phone and laptop onto the nightstand. His hands returned to my body, his chest barely brushing my breasts as his long arms reached around me and his fingers soothed my tense flesh with the softest of strokes over the curve of my bottom, the small of my back and up my shoulder blades.

  Cupping the sides of my face, he kissed me on the mouth, his tongue delicately probing its way past my lips. He touched me with all the tender apprehension one would afford a newborn child or kitten, as if the first careless ounce of strength would break me into a million pieces.

  Still kissing and stroking, Jake maneuvered me onto my bed and onto my back, his body planted beneath my widely spread legs. Sitting on his haunches, he unthreaded his belt and dropped it onto the floor. His shirt followed and then he draped his bare torso over mine.

  I hadn't stopped crying soon enough for the moisture from my tears to evaporate. His lips brushed over my cheeks, his tongue collecting the salt and transferring the taste to me with another deep probing kiss. One of his hands moved between us to softly stroke the spine of my clit.

  Forgetting my fear and the certainty of my mistake in signing the contract, I moved beneath him, arching and squirming as my pussy grew wetter and my pleasure more vocal. With a throaty moan, I said his name. Fingers made a tentative incursion inside me and I cried out with a hasty need, the tension in my cunt trebling with just that small invasion.

  Jake moved a little lower down my body, his progress halting when his mouth reached my breasts and the nipples with their new jewelry -- jewelry with his initials engraved in them to mark me as his property.

  His tongue flicked one nipple as his fingers continued their soft attack of slow fucking into me while the thumb traced firm circles around the swollen nodule quivering under the hood of my clit. Sucking, stroking, the pressure inexorably climbing higher, I shattered upward against him in my first climax.

  His rough groan told me he wasn't through, would never be through.

  Down he went in an erratic trail of kisses as his hands gripped my thighs and pushed them further apart. He buried two thirds of his face against my sopping cunt, just the mesmerizing eyes and their dark brows visible when I pushed onto my elbows and stared over the swell of my stomach.

  Fuck...even half hidden, he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. And I was his.

  For a year...

  Something inside reached up and bitch slapped me. His earlier admonition reverberated in the slap and I submitted, for the moment, to its wisdom as my second climax overtook me.

  Never look at the road, Alexa. Look at me...

  ********************

  A limo arrived at ten thirty the next morning to take me to the airport. Somewhere between my fourth climax and Jake's departure from my apartment, he had texted Marjolein to make all the necessary arrangements. She had knocked on my door about an hour after he left and proceeded to commandeer my makeshift desk to officially put me on the Kehoe payroll.

  Pulling up to the hangar that housed the company's private jet, I mulled over what appeared to be Jake's modus operandi as evidenced by Marjolein's arrival the night before. At least his M.O. certainly seemed to be marked by raising a girl up to heaven with his mouth and hands and, holy hell, that thick, hard driving cock of his, then yanking her back down to earth and the untidy reality that, underlying everything he had just done, was a business arrangement.

  Sliding out of the limo, I looked up the staircase to the plane's open door. Seeing no movement, I started to deflate all over again. It was stupid expecting Jake there, waiting for my arrival, worried, perhaps, that I had already chickened out. But, clearly, I was stupid enough to hope for just that.

  "Ready, miss?" the driver asked.

  He had pulled my suitcase from the trunk and waited expectantly for me. I nodded, a little confused about the protocol of a private jet.

  "There's no security?" A blush warmed my cheeks as I asked. Other than my complete inexperience with how the world worked for the rich, I had nothing to be embarrassed about. Silently communicating that I was only allowed the pleasure he offered, Jake had confiscated my discreet vibe on its chain. He had also prohibited all but a few bits of clothing, leaving the contents of the bag the driver held an entirely mundane assortment of makeup, hygiene items, and tools to tame my frequently wild mane of red hair.

  "Private plane with a private airstrip, miss. Best way to fly," the driver answered, then cracked a grin. "Or so I hear."

  "You heard right, Bobby."

  Recognizing Marjolein's bright chirp, I lifted my gaze to where her lush frame crowded the edges of the plane's open door. She gestured for me to join her.

  "Come inside, Bobby will make sure your bag is stored."

  "Thank you," I said, turning in Bobby's direction and forcefully reminding myself that he wasn't a cab driver and I shouldn't reach into my purse for a tip unless I wanted to be embarrassed all over again.

  "Sure thing, miss." His fingers brushed the brim of his cap in a short salute. "Safe trip."

  "Thank you," I repeated and slowly turned toward the stairs. If I had felt slightly deflated upon arrival, Marjolein's presence doubled my discomposure because her being there underscored the business nature of my "relationship"
with Jake.

  With the same snail's pace, I ascended the twelve-foot staircase, my gaze focused on Marjolein's smiling face. I kept a straight spine, my internal thoughts far removed from the proud posture. Truth was, I didn't want to reach the top huffing and puffing and in a sweat, but I also didn't want to be obvious about why I moved so slowly.

  As I neared the door, she took two steps back, her head tilting toward me as I stepped inside the plane.

  "The boys are in the rear, conversing..."

  I stiffened, bothered both by the plural used and the way her tone dropped on the last word to indicate something uncomfortable about the conversation they were having. I didn't know who the other "boy" might be, but my best guess was Dylan Kehoe.

  My head swiveled right, allowing me to look down the long body of the plane's interior. A wood panel, dark in color, separated a luxurious seating area from whatever the last two thirds of the plane housed. An open door in the center of the panel gave me a glimpse of Jake and a man I recognized from the trust's website as Dylan. Seeing me, his scowl furious, Jake shut the door.

  My body rotated toward the staircase behind me. Marjolein's hand landed softly on my shoulder.

  "Bobby's already gone," she said, before cautioning, "These fights they have don't last long. And the look on Jake's face was solely for Dylan, who is habitually a dickweed."

  She stepped a little closer and I could smell her perfume. I didn't know the brand or even the primary scent, but she smelled like a calming mix of rain and sunshine.

  "They aren't even arguing about you," she whispered. "They finished that fight in the office at seven this morning. Right now, it's about Riona."

  At the mention of another woman, I looked over my shoulder at her. My heart felt like it had lodged in my throat and was working my windpipe like a boxer with a speed ball.

  "Their sister," she said, filling in the blank. "Jake thinks Dylan needs to loosen his grip on the short leash he keeps Riona on."

  Her mouth quirked and her eyes rolled to one side. "Which, come to think of it, was pretty much the point Jake was making when Dylan warned him about..."