Boardroom Bride

But Miss Sexy Universe isn’t just about looking good naked. Kara’s fucking smart, man. I don’t even think she realizes it sometimes, but she’s as sharp as the Bowie knife I keep beneath my pillow at night—just in case any of my old mob connections are looking to reconnect, of course.

I look over to Kara’s face. She’s enamored. I can see it. As they make their way downstage, it looks like the contestants are about to walk right off screen and into the office with us.

Her cunt’s getting wet just imagining she’s a part of this. Letting an entire worldwide audience study and admire her gorgeous figure, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Eric is watching her, too. He smirks as her mouth forms a soft little blowjob-ready O.

We’ve already got her. We fucking know we do. It’s just a matter of convincing her that it’s true.

“This was last year’s Miss Sexy Universe competition,” says Eric. “Women from each participating country came together for the final showdown and an international winner was chosen.”

“Oh, I know what it is,” Kara says, nodding. “It’s televised worldwide. Everyone watches it—whether they admit it or not.”

“Good. Then you know how the different phases work and what the judges expect of the competitors,” he comments. “What do you think of it all?”

“Well, it’s entertaining. And when it’s on, you can hardly force yourself to look away,” she answers. “What I’m wondering is…why are you showing it to me now? What are you two getting at?”

“You, Kara,” Eric says.

The look on Kara’s face reads as confused, but I can see the way her nipples harden beneath her sports bra when he says it. Even if she doesn’t want to accept it in her head yet—that hot little body of hers already knows what we want her to do.

“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” Kara says, crossing her arms. She plays it off as getting bitchy with us, but I think she’s realized it, too: her nipples are so fucking hard, they’re threatening to pierce the fabric of her tight little tank top.

“We want you to compete in the pageant,” Eric reveals. “We’ll sponsor you with the Protein Plus brand. We’ll train you to be a part of this. It’ll be hard work, but you’re a fucking winner. We know you’ll succeed.”

Kara laughs nervously. “You guys are hilarious. The women up there…” She glances at the screen again, where the Miss Sexy Russia contestant is squatting a huge amount of weight. The camera pans in on her pussy—dripping fucking wet. “I’m not strong like that. I mean, look at me.”

Kara holds up her arms like she’s going to flex her biceps for us. She’s right. They’re barely there—but we can fix that.

“We have been looking at you, Kara,” Eric says, coming around behind her to take her biceps in his hands.

“Been looking at you a whole fucking lot,” I agree.

“And I like that,” she says, closing her eyes as Eric’s thumbs rub up and down the lengths of her biceps. It’s like she’s holding her breath until, finally, he releases her and backs off again. “Really, I do. It’s just…”

She starts fidgeting with her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and letting it go. She does it three times?all of them unsuccessful. She’s nervous.

She’s fucking hot when she’s nervous. Makes me want to push her down on the floor and lick her cunt until she’s begging to be allowed to compete for us. But Eric says we need to do this properly. Not let our dicks get in the way.

It’s not easy.

We’ve got pretty big dicks.

“You’re a model, Kara,” Eric says, shifting gears. “We’ve done the research—we’ve seen your pictures. You were fucking good at it, too.”

“Too good,” I say, swaggering forward. We’re closing in on her now. Circling her like fucking sharks. “A body like yours needs to be put to work.”

“Remember the drink you tried yesterday? Two Girls One Cupcake? That was from our line,” I add.

“Right. And it was?okay, it was fucking good.” she admits. Her face still shows hints of trepidation. “I’m sure you’ll have a lot of success with it. But I’m a failed model, guys. I don’t know where you’ve been snooping around about me at all, but if you did it properly, I’m sure you discovered that I lost my contract.”

“Which was a fucking mistake.”

“Any idiot can take one look at you and see that,” I agree.

“Here,” Eric says, reaching into his mini fridge and pulling out a shake. He tosses it to her and she catches it. “Try that and tell me you don’t fucking love it.”

“Sin-ammon?” she asks, reading the label. She shrugs her shoulders and giggles playfully. “Clever.” She twists the cap and sniffs it, much like she did with the cupcake flavor.