Billionaire's Bounty (Plus Size Loving) BBW Erotic Romance

by Adriana Hunter

  It took a while for Miranda to remember that she’d stopped breathing, as she forced air back into her lungs, willing her heart to beat less thunderously as she grabbed the glass of champagne at her elbow and took a long, grateful gulp.

  How the week ahead was going to go, had now been officially verified, Miranda realized. And it was going to be one hell of a long, stomach-squelching ride...

  ****

  Keeping his hands off her had been a proper task in the past few hours. What with Carly’s constant, chaperoning presence, and then with his own sense of propriety – slim though it was because he was the least proper person he knew – it had truly been difficult.

  Having her sat there across from him, her beautiful features creased slightly with a troubled expression that made him want to kiss the little frown away...Knowing she was right there, within reach – and soon to be in his passionate clutches, had been enough to keep him hard as a plank all through the long trip. Even in her stern-looking suit, her body was just as gorgeously inviting as ever, her delightful curves encased lovingly by the outfit’s well-fitted lines. Her legs were creamy, smooth, and she unconsciously gave him a decidedly enchanting glimpse of inner thigh whenever she crossed and uncrossed them.

  It was hard enough keeping his mind on Carly’s words all this while. He wished now that he had found a way to cancel this trip, or at least postpone it – and make this all about pleasure. His and Miranda’s. But no, he had very vital contacts to make in London that whole week, which had taken almost a year to arrange. And he had been unable to wait till he got back from London to get his chance with Miranda.

  No, it had been a now-or-never move, and he’d taken it. And now, he knew that it was only a matter of hours, give or take – and then the sexy, voluptuous Miranda would be his. He would focus on work when he needed to, but he’d make sure that when the time came, he’d make every moment with her count. He only hoped he’d have the inclination to let her go once their deal came to an end in seven days...

  ***

  London was a gorgeous city – and any other time, it would have been more than glorious to be there. They touched down late in the evening, and Miranda felt the sense of ancient history all around her as they drove from the airport to the hotel, passing by monument after monument. The city was well lit, beautiful, and filled with a kaleidoscope of people that seemed to swarm around in droves. Miranda was enchanted by the diversity and culture she saw, and wished that she was here on some other mission, and not just as a billionaire’s one-week plaything.

  And what a billionaire, she thought; glancing across at him as they sat in the spacious limousine that had picked them up once they’d arrived. Every time she stole a look at him, she marvelled at the fact that he would be attracted to someone like her. She’d read up recently about his last girlfriend, one that everyone had believed he would propose to. In fact, the model, a little over twenty three, had just a week before the split, boasted that she’d got wind of Jude checking out rings at some mega-expensive jewellers. Obviously, nothing had come of that. But Miranda had seen at least, the kind of woman he must be used to being with. Model-types, the kind who’d make great trophies to a man like him. Women whose beauty and looks conformed to what people would expect of a rich, influential man like him.

  And yet, it was her he wanted. For just a week, maybe. But he’d wanted her so bad he was ready to lose control of what had been her father’s company and a now very lucrative holding - one he’d taken several months to map out its ruthless takeover.

  Miranda guessed she should feel flattered by it all, at least. She didn’t get propositioned by dashing billionaires every day that was for sure. And it wasn’t something that would be likely to repeat itself either. So she might as well make the most of it, she decided, as she settled back against the sinfully plush seats of the limousine. Finally, she was making the decision: it may be only business, but damn it, she’d enjoy every second of it. Roll with the thrills, live it up to the max. If she was to have a man like Jude Stone to herself for a week, then she was sure as hell going to make it one week to remember. For both of them...

  ***

  Checking in, then going up to their exquisitely appointed suite...Carly heading off to her own room on some other end of the floor while she and Jude took up space in what had to be the most fabulous room Miranda had ever stayed in. The bed itself was like an entity on its own: a mass of pillows set on the king-sized, silk-spread expanse of the sinfully beautiful bed. Miranda gulped, turning round to find Jude backing into the door, shutting and locking it without taking his eyes from her.

  They were alone. Finally. The ominous element of that very prospect should have daunted her, but no...It was electrifying. Was this the time of reckoning? Would he want to take her now, the first chance he got - or would he draw out the suspense? Perhaps, they’d dress for dinner first, and then go out for an elaborate meal – or maybe he’d just order up room service and then take things from there?

  They’d mapped out most everything of the whole arrangement – except this most vital, pressing part. Exactly what, Miranda wondered, was expected of her?

  “You must be tired from your journey,” he said mildly, at last advancing from the door and smoothly unbuttoning his top shirt buttons as he loosened his tie.

  “Would it matter if I was?” Miranda queried, standing still in the middle of the suite. He came forward, standing close enough that when he looked down into her face, she could see the golden flecks in his piercing eyes.

  “You’ll cut me out for an insensitive brute, wouldn’t you? But you’ll find that I’m far from the unfeeling, ruthless bastard you think I am.” As he spoke, his tone softened, just as his gaze lowered to her parted lips, which started to tremble in anticipation beneath his fixed, darkened stare. They’d never kissed, had barely had any kind of contact since that first night they’d danced. Miranda felt her eyelids flutter to a close as any moment, she expected his mouth to claim hers in manifestation of the intent she saw burning on his face.

  But he did not kiss her, at least not on the mouth. She felt him press his lips to her forehead, his voice barely above a whisper as he added, “I know we have an arrangement, and now it’s just you and me, just like I wanted. But I’m no savage. I’ll let you get some rest, freshen up from the trip. I have an important meeting in the morning, so I’m going to want my beauty sleep.” He grinned suddenly, drawing away from her.

  Miranda was surprised by his tactics – which was what they had to be. He was pulling the humane card, playing nice and probably seeking to soften her up in some way. Could he sense her resentment? Knowing that even as she’d succumbed to all this, even as she was playing along, she felt indignant of the position in which she was placed?

  Don’t Miranda; don’t let him fool you, she warned herself. Keep your guard up and keep reminding yourself that you were dealing with a man far, far different from you in the way you reasoned and felt. They were as different as chalk and cheese, and though she felt his physical appeal, she couldn’t distance her mind from the fact that he was manipulative, opportunist. A man who would use what ever he had to get what he wanted.

  But then with a jolt, Miranda knew she could very well say the same for herself at this point. Here she was, about to pay the ultimate female price: yielding her body in return for something she desired most in the world: to see her father, her whole family, happy again. To get the pieces of her life back together since the day it was shattered when they’d practically lost all they had.

  So maybe she wasn’t so different from Jude Stone after all.

  ***

  Miranda found herself in a fitful doze when he returned.

  He’d left the room several hours ago, after he’d showered and changed. He said something vague about having to see to some matters with Carly in time for the meeting tomorrow, and that he’d discuss in the PA’s room so that Miranda could rest without disturbance.

  Once she was sure he was gone, she’d sl
owly undressed, then indulged in a leisurely soak in the majestic marble tub in the bathroom. She’d been almost reluctant to finally rise from its scented, warming depths. She’d spent almost an hour in the bath, and still he wasn’t back. Wondering at the strange pinch of perverse irritation she felt, she quickly unpacked, retrieving her lace and satin lingerie, which she’d chosen to wear. Before she put it on, she caught a glimpse of her naked frame in the mirror, and paused.

  Standing in front of the full length, gilt-framed glass, she viewed her reflection and tried to be impartial in her judgement of herself. Miranda had always taken pride in her body; she’d always been full-figured, and had never known what it meant to be skinny or even slender. However, she kept fit, and her body was supple, firm. She had smooth, unblemished skin, which felt very soft as she ran her hands over her shoulder blades and upper arms. And she felt she had nice breasts; they were a high-profiled D-cup, with only the slightest droop that added a somewhat erotic sway to their mounds. Her belly was just a bit rounded, yet flat, and her hips flared out if not delicately, then at least with shapely elegance. Her legs were what she considered her favourite features; they were long, with well-formed calves ending in ankles that were surprisingly narrow for her weight. She also had small feet – another surprise.

  She didn’t think she was doing badly at all, for a plus-sized chick. She turned to one side, and then the other. And then she backed the mirror, looking over her shoulder at her generous rump, the cheeks perfectly curved and silky-skinned. It was firm and soft, and slightly jiggled when ever she moved. She remembered that though she’d always felt it was far too big, at least two of her exes had told her it was the best they’d seen on a woman. She couldn’t help wondering if Jude would think the same when the moment of truth came.

  Oh, so now she was looking forward to it, hmm, her inner voice mocked – but she ignored it. She’d be a fool to pretend to herself that she wasn’t more than a little sexually drawn to Jude. A woman would have to have dry, bloodless veins in her body if she claimed not to find him deeply attractive. Every time he was near, it was hard not to stare at him, or to feel switched on by his effortless magnetism. She’d felt it all from the second she’d set eyes on him, smiling and offering to take her off Kirk’s bumbling hands – and feet. And yet, though she could not find herself to totally like the man – she sure as hell wanted to fuck him like crazy. There was no two-way about it, no doubt. When the time came, she would want it as much as him, just as he’d assured her all those days ago.

  ***

  And now, she felt drawn slowly from her light sleep by lips trailing down her nape.

  She was lying on her belly, her face muffled in the pillow. The sensation of warm, silken lips making a molten path over her exposed back slowly began to register – and her eyes snapped open.

  The room was as dimly lit as she’d left it when she’d settled in soon after she’d bathed, and now there seemed to be a definite glow surrounding her, warming her to the bone. Or maybe that was just the feeling of Jude’s mouth on her skin, trailing lingering kisses over her exposed back.

  “Miranda.”

  It was so like an erotic pronouncement, the one word filled with an undeniably intense declaration of intent that made her shiver within. Miranda lay on her belly, her face turned to the side and muffled within the pillow she now clutched. Jude was right above, his hands propped on either side of her as he continued his tender, heated foray of her shivery skin with just his lips.

  “You smell delicious,” he said thickly, drawing in a ragged breath. “I could eat you all up.” And then she heard him chuckle, the sound downright wolfish as he added,

  “Though, I already intend to do that anyway, so...”

  Once again, Miranda shuddered, and she was sure that this time, he would feel it. Would feel the way her whole frame tensed, and then eased itself beneath the searching, passionate tracks his lips made down the sensitive ridge in the middle of her back. From the waist down, she could feel her body melting, her inner thighs turning moist as if a tap had started to drip right between her legs. And from the waist up, she felt herself grow heavier, tighter, as her breasts grew fuller and taut with an aching need she could not deny. She could feel her nipples pressing almost painfully into the mattress, and moaned.

  She felt him draw away for some moments, and curious, she finally turned on her back, leaning on her elbows as she watched, unable to speak while he started to undress.

  He obviously had no qualms about his body, as silently, holding her gaze almost mesmerizingly, he unbuttoned his shirt, and flung it aside along with his pants. Miranda gulped soundlessly, physically incapable of looking away.

  He was...magnificent. Every inch of him like highly polished gold, and ripped to almost marble-like perfection. She’d never seen a more beautiful body on man, his shoulders broad and strongly masculine as the rest of him. Well-defined chest and pecs, smooth, washboard belly, and flanks that narrowed into a perfect vee. He had the body of an athlete crossed with what a male stripper would look like – and Miranda felt almost faint with the lack of oxygen she was experiencing.

  He was making her forget to breathe – again. Seeing a naked Jude Stone was indeed, dangerous for her health. Especially when her roving eyes tracked low to his crotch, and saw what he was packing in terms of his more private masculine parts. Sure enough, he was no less gifted there as well. In fact, if her sense of proportion was anything to go by, he was at least ten inches, and from the look of things, still flipping growing! His erect girth seemed to thicken and lengthen right before her dazed eyes, as he kicked off his briefs.

  “Oh my God,” Miranda gasped before she could stop herself, and saw his half wry, half predatory smile.

  “Don’t look so horrified, sweetheart,” he murmured, joining her on the wide, silk-spread mattress. “I promise to be gentle – but only when you want me to be. So when you need it rough and wild – you only need to say the word.” He chuckled at her expression, totally unabashed as he lay beside her with that monster of a cock rearing in the middle of his thighs like a separate entity, the balls firm and taut at the pole-thick base.

  She knew she should be freaked out by the size of him, but her traitorous body was beginning to have a mind of its own. Her already molten pussy felt totally drenched now in awareness of the gloriously naked body laying next to her.

  “Touch me.”

  Miranda gaped at him for a few moments, at a loss for words. “What?” she finally croaked, heart pounding so fast it felt ready to explode in her chest.

  “Do it,” he told her coolly. He’d linked his hands behind his head, and she caught glimpse of his silky-haired underarms, the dark tufts such a sexy, erotic sight that she felt her inner thighs clench in shamed arousal. Every inch of him was so freaking hot; she’d heard the term “man-candy” but had never understood it till now. There was no part of him that she wouldn’t gladly sink her teeth into. And yet, she felt almost paralysed, not sure if she could force her brain into taking action.

  “It doesn’t count if it isn’t convincing, Miranda,” he murmured, tone almost conversational. “I have to feel like you want this as much as I do. So, touch me all over, kiss me...do what ever you want. Make me see how wild for me you can get.”

  Miranda’s breath was coming in short, helpless gasps, not sure now that she could pull things off with the cool-headed practicality she had thought she’d have ready when this time came. What could be so hard about pleasuring a man? They were basically quite easy to satisfy. And yet...here was this golden-toned, perfectly ripped body laid out in front of her that seemed built just for a lover’s adoring, hungered touch. She wanted to do what he asked, wanted to do it so very badly it frightened her. But still she was held back by her fears – and she looked up into his hooded eyes pleadingly. She found his gaze merciless, feral in its command.

  “Miranda...”

  The warning tone was enough. She would obey. And gladly...

  ***

>   It was like something had been switched on inside her.

  In that split-second, Miranda turned temptress, teaser and tormentor. Because once she made the split-second decision to rise to Jude’s challenge, she found she was not short on courage, imagination - or passion.

  She arched over him, their bodies barely touching. She was still wearing her lacy, very skimpy lingerie, which she kept on as she proceeded in her heart-lurching task.

  He lay there expectant, and she took her time, bending slowly, ever slowly to his lips. Her eyes fluttering closed against the dark flush of arousal she could see on his face. He was already ablaze for her, she could tell. His whole frame was taut, and bringing off delicious warmth. She was entranced, mesmerized. She wanted to taste him all over, make him lose his infernal cool while still keeping her own self in detachment. But there was no way, she knew, that she could stay detached for long...

  Her mouth melded sensually over his. No tongue, just her lips tugging and nibbling him, building up moisture. His breathing was harsh; she could hear it in the background of her own unsteady gasping as with every taste of his firm, yummy lips, she felt a coil winding tightly inside her belly. She framed his face with her hands, and deepened the kiss, taking him with a feminine roughness that made him growl in approval. He parted his lips to her bold raiding, and she hungrily drove her tongue inside.

  She heard herself moaning as they sampled each other thirstily, turning the heat levels up to steamy in zero to five seconds. Her hands left his face to link with his fingers on either side of his head, drawing them up against the headboard behind him as they had their erotically sloppy tongue-fest. She never wanted to stop; kissing him felt almost too delightful, even sinful, as it grew even more lewd by the second. Sultry, fearless, she poured herself into the mood, enjoying how it felt to take control, to own the scene. And it had only just begun.

  ***