Curves and the Billionaire

“Forget the party,” he says. “I didn't hire you because I needed a caterer, Emily. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“What?” I sit up suddenly, catching his eye. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you at the art gala opening a few months ago and was immediately impressed by you. The way you carried yourself, the jokes you told, how smart you were," he grins. "How sexy you were. I knew I wanted to get to know you, too. How else would I have gotten the chance to talk to you on the phone every single day? To pour hours of work into a project alongside you? To bug you in the middle of the night just to see how your day went? I had to hire you.”

“I thought you were just being a needy client,” I tell him honestly, “though I definitely looked forward to talking with you.”

It's true.

I've had needy clients before, but no one has ever come close to Nathan when it comes to contact. He's messaged, called, or emailed me every day since we last met, and I love it. I love having someone ask me how I'm feeling, how I'm doing, or how the plans are coming along.

But I thought it was all about business for him.

"Emily, you're amazing," Nathan tells me. His hand is on my thigh now. His fingers make small swirls in the fabric of my dress, and I can feel every touch through the thin satin.

"You looked pretty happy with Natasha," I comment absentmindedly, trying to explain what I'm feeling. How could a man like Nathan ever like a girl like me? I'm ordinary. I'm average. I'm run-of-the-mill. I'm not a model.

"You have no idea how incredible you are, do you?" He asks. One of his hands cups my cheek, and I turn toward him. "Who told you that you were anything but perfect?"

Where do I start?

The teasing 3rd graders at my all-girl Catholic elementary school?

The teachers in middle school with their sideways glances?

The boys in high school who made fun of me in gym class?

The boyfriends who couldn't handle that I wasn't trying to lose weight?

"I-" I begin, but his mouth is on mine, pressed to me, taking the words away, making me forget, if only for a little bit.

Nathan Thompson is kissing me for the second time after talking about my weight.

And I'm not sure what to do with it except enjoy every second.

His hands run through my long blonde hair, gripping my head, pulling me closer into him. Our mouths are colliding into one, sending shivers down my body. For the second time, I'm wrapped up in his arms, but this time, I don't have to let go.

I don't have to walk away and be professional.

Not this time.

Not tonight.

I reach my own hand to his leg and slide it up until I feel his bulge. He's already hard and throbbing, already prepared to give me what I want from him tonight.

"You're hard," I say through our kisses.

"For you, Baby," he murmurs. "I've been wanting you since the moment I laid eyes on you."

I'm instantly wet, just thinking of all the ways he could take me right here, thinking of all the ways I want to ride him, feel him, enjoy him. While Nathan's guests enjoy the party downstairs, we're about to enjoy our own secret party.

And no one else is invited.

He wriggles out of his jacket as I stand in front of him. I slowly begin to unbutton his shirt, one button at a time. My hands trace his skin as I slowly make my way to the bottom, revealing his abs, revealing his body, revealing what's about to be mine.

I glide my hand over his hard-on one more time before pulling him to his feet. Nathan is quiet as I unbuckle his belt and push his pants to the floor, moving along with them so I end up on my knees in front of him.

His hands find their way back to my hair, making this moment even more intimate. I forget about my insecurities as I slide his dick into my mouth, slowly sucking on the end before gliding the rest of his cock down my throat. His groan satisfies me in ways words never could, reminding me that I'm sexier than I think, quietly promising me that I'm better than Natasha ever could be.