by Katie LaRoux
Once I’m naked he takes another step back, looking at my fully exposed body. I’ve never been naked in front of a man before, so I instinctively move to cover myself up.
He reaches over and grabs my arms. “Don’t cover up,” he tells me, gently but firmly. “I want to see every inch of your gorgeous body.”
I blush and swoon, warm and tingly all over. I feel a sense of being utterly loved, unconditionally. He crawls on top of me and I can feel his hard, defined muscles against my soft skin. The feeling drives me wild with desire. He massages by breasts with his mouth, and while he’s doing so I can feel his big, hard cock grazing the inside of my leg.
Feeling it down there and imaging it inside me makes my pussy wetter and warmer than ever.
“Fuck me,” I whisper in his ear.
Without waiting another moment, he pulls his hips back and thrusts his cock deep inside me. I gasp as he penetrates me, taking my virginity. A pulse of pain wracks my body and my eyes swell up with tears. He remains motionless for a while, allowing my body to adjust to his presence inside me.
The pain begins to subside, and my body adjust to him inside me. It feels so amazing, his cock inside me. It feels closer than I’ve ever been to another person, as close as it’s possible to be to another person.
I look at him and nod, and sign that it’s okay for him to start moving.
He pumps in and out of me. An intense pleasure radiates from between my legs throughout my entire body. I moan, loader and loader with each thrust of his powerful hips. After several thrusts, his breathing becomes heavier, wilder. His thrusts are deeper and more powerful, plunging his cock inside me with incredible force.
Each time he thrusts fully into me, more intense waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel up and down his wide, muscular back with my hands as I call out his name and moan in ecstasy.
His breaths are becoming quicker and harder, his thrusts faster. I fall into an Earth-shattering orgasm and he lets out a primal moan and unloads himself inside me. When I feel him come inside me, I let out a long, high pitched moan of satisfaction.
He collapses next to me on the bed, his muscular physique glistening with sweat in the moonlight that shines through his windows. His wide, powerful chest heaves up and down in exhaustion. I lay in post-orgasm bliss, every part of my body tingling with satisfaction and release.
I turn to him and he turns to me. We both wear a gentle smile and gaze tenderly into each other’s eyes.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
PART TWO, CHAPTER FOUR: Pierre
I wake up to the sweet sound of birds chirping and the gentle morning sunlight streaming through my open windows. The branches of trees, heavy with newly budded leaves, rustle gently in the calm wind. I stare out the sky at the bird perched on a tree branch, hopping back and forth.
I look to me left, and she’s still lying next to me. Allison, my lover. I’ve made her mine and no matter what happens from now on, no matter who knows that we’re together and no matter what anyone thinks, I know that we’ll be together forever. The bond I feel with her, just lying calmly next to each other, is a bond of souls. It can never be torn apart by any human force.
I gaze on her for I don’t know how long. In this beautiful, bright morning, time has lost meaning. Eventually, she starts to move, and I can see her waking up. Her eyes open and the first thing they see are my own. I gaze lovingly into her deep, brown eyes, wordlessly.
“Good morning,” I finally say, the smile still fixed to my face. It maybe fixed permanently. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop smiling.
“Good morning,” she says back, her own smile brightening the room even more than the morning sun.
She lays on her back and gazes up at nothing with me, luxuriating in the bliss of mutual love.
“What do we do now?” she asks. A vague question, but a big one. What do we do about the university, about my job, about her studies and future career?
I decide that thinking about it too much isn’t worth it. Look what thinking almost got me: a life without Allison. And look what acting decisively last night got me: a lifetime with my soul mate. So, I’m not going to waste brain power thinking about this. We’ll just act.
“Let’s go back to France.” I tell her.
“France?” She asks. Of course, when I say ‘back to,’ I’m talking about myself – she’s never been to France.
“You can finish your studies there. It’ll be easy for me to get a job at any university in Paris. If we’re together here, the university is going to give us both a lot of trouble. It would be better if we just left now. You’ll have no trouble getting accepted to any university over there you want, especially with me putting in a word for you.”
She’s looking at me somewhat incredulously. “Pierre, but, how? I can’t afford all that … I’m on a scholarship here. How am I supposed to up and move and afford tuition in France?”
I just chuckle at her worries. “You don’t have to worry about money. I can get us a place and pay for whatever we need. Don’t even think of it.”
“You really make that much as a professor?” She asks, surprised.
“I’m not just a professor,” I confess to her. “Well, that is my main job. But I do it because I love studying my subject, not because I need the money. Actually, I’m part owner of a big construction company in France, inherited from my parents.”
“Really?” She asks, seemingly shocked.
“Yeah,” I say. “My brother is really the one in charge of running it, he cares more about that kind of stuff. Actually, I didn’t start college until later than usual myself. Our parents passed away and left us the company, and it was in a lot of trouble. We were almost going out of business, so I had to take over. I turned it around and it became very successful.”
Allison looks at me with a mix of surprise and admiration.
“But that’s not really what I wanted to do with my life. Once the company was running profitably, I let my brother take over and went to school to study. I plan on staying a professor, but the dividends I get as part owner mean we’ll have more money than we’ll ever need.”
“Oh, Pierre!” She exclaims, flinging her arms around me and burying her head into my neck. I breath in her scent and hold her close.
“I’ll book the tickets and we’ll leave this week,” I tell her. “Your roommate – Jane, right? – can even come to visit over the summer. But today, we’re not going anywhere. We’re not leaving this room.”
We embrace in a deep, passionate kiss.
EPILOGUE: Allison
I’m gazing out of the window in the spacious, dignified apartment Pierre and I live in in the middle of Paris. I just can’t quite get use to being able to see the entire Eiffel Tower just by looking out of my kitchen window.
I’m waiting for Pierre to get home from the university at which he took a job as chairman of the literature department.
I hear him opening the door and I walk out of the kitchen and down the hall of the foyer to greet him with a kiss.
“So,” he begins to ask me. “Have you made up your mind about whether or not you want to start applying for doctorate programs?”
I look at him with a knowing smirk. “I have made up my mind. I won’t be able to. I’ll be pretty busy … for just a little less than nine months now.”
It takes him a minute to get my meaning, and then I see the flash of understanding in his eyes.
“You mean …?”
“That’s right,” I tell him, a smile beaming on my face. “We’re going to have a baby.”
DISCOVERING her CURVES
Steamy Insta-love with an Older Alpha and Young BBW
By Katie LaRoux
© 2019 Katie LaRoux
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
NOTICE: This work is entirely fictional. None of the characters bear any res
emblance to any real persons, living or deceased. All acts depicted are consensual. All characters are above the age of 18.
Contents
PROLOGUE – RYAN
CHAPTER ONE – JENNA
CHAPTER TWO – RYAN
CHAPTER THREE – JENNA
CHAPTER FOUR – RYAN
CHAPTER FIVE – JENNA
CHAPTER SIX – RYAN
CHAPTER SEVEN – JENNA
CHAPTER EIGHT – RYAN
CHAPTER NINE – JENNA
CHAPTER TEN – RYAN
EPILOGUE – JENNA
PROLOGUE – RYAN
When I look at it all, in a lot of ways I’d have to say I’m living my dream. I’m the co-owner of a hugely successful media company. Magazine, major website, a deal for a cable TV station in the works, you name it. I’m technically a billionaire if you go by the valuation of my stake in the company.
Not that money is what I got into this profession for, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it helps.
But still, I got into this for the reporting. It’s always been my dream to expose corruption and empower the common people. I wanted to be the kind of journalist who takes down crooked governments and Presidents. And I did it. I’ve been threatened, attacked … even an assassination attempt. But nothing gets in my way of exposing the truth.
It’s stories like mine that sent out company skyrocketing. My partner Vincent stayed behind to handle the business end of things, while I was off all over the world – changing it.
But now he’s telling me he wants to sell out – to some damned hedge fund! This isn’t about the money for me – even if it were, I already have more than enough – it’s about having a platform I know isn’t owned by any governments or corporations, so I can do what I love: expose the truth.
So, I’m back on a plane to New York, with a mission: saving my life’s work.
But, as it turns out, I run into a bigger mission while I’m there. A beauty worth all my life’s work and more. When I see her on my first day back in our headquarters, even though I only glance her for a second, I’m determined to make her mine.
I’m not going to lose my company – and I’m going to gain that curvy goddess, no matter what it takes.
CHAPTER ONE – JENNA
Whew, I say to myself, as I triumphantly tap down on the period button to finish the story I’ve been working on all summer.
Interning at the Cutting Edge Mag hasn’t been easy these last two months. My first internship and my first time in New York City. I was so excited to start off, but it only took about a day or two for me to realize that they wanted me to be more of an errand girl than a journalist.
The only of us interns who actually got to do any real writing or investigative work were either the boys from the Ivy Leagues, or the sorority girl types who flirted with the writers and editors to get ahead. The kind of girls I couldn’t stand back on my small-town college campus. I’ve always been a curvy girl, and although it’s not like I’ve never gotten any attention from guys, I guess I wasn’t exactly the type to use my looks to get ahead.
Not that I’d want to. I took myself seriously as a writer and a journalist. I wanted my work to speak for itself.
But over this summer, no matter how many stories I pitched, or suggestions I made in meetings, it didn’t matter; they just wanted me to fetch the coffee, pick up lunch, send memos … basically act as an unpaid secretary rather than a journalist intern.
But I decided that I was going to take my fate into my own hands this time. So the editors blew me off to give the stick-thin sorority girls special treatment, so what? So the rich kid Ivy Leaguers maybe cracked a joke about me behind my back once in a while, so what? Growing up with three brothers, if nothing else, gave me a tough skin.
So, I toughed it out and worked on a big news story myself. I’d discovered that the mayor was giving away big city contracts to a company owned by his brother, for hardly any work. I’d assembled the evidence and written up the story on my own. Once I handed in the finished product, they’d have no choice but to run it as front page news.
The story was just that big – and just that well written, if I do say so myself.
Just as I’m sitting here at my desk, looking proudly at the last couple paragraphs of the story displayed on my computer screen, I hear a shout from the office behind me: Emily, come here!
It’s the editor of the City Politics section, the person I’m supposed to be working under, but who’s really treating me as a lackey for the whole office. I’m jolted out of my glow of satisfaction. I roll my eyes, take a deep breath, and get up and walk over to the door of the office.
“Yes, Mr. Jeffries?” I ask.
He keeps typing away at his computer, not even glancing up, for a good ten seconds while I wait in the door. He just called me over!
Finally, he deigns to address me. “I need you to pick up the lunch order for a meeting we’re having in about an hour. It’s the usual Chinese place around the block.”
“Alright,” I tell him. I’m used to wasting my time with tasks like this.
I begin to turn around to walk back to my desk – but stop myself. I know I have to pitch this story some time. And wonders how and when to bring it up has been causing me more than a little bit of anxiety. In a split second I decide now is as good a time as any.
“Mr. Jeffries,” I say, turning around. This time he glances up right away, a hint of arrogant impatience in his eyes. “In my free time I wrote a story … a big story. It’s finished already.”
“Oh?” he replies, raising his right eyebrow slightly. It felt like he was just preparing himself to nonchalantly dismiss it, like usual. But not this story. It was too big and too juicy to be denied.
“It’s, umm,” I start to say. I had been working on this story all by myself – it required the utmost secrecy, of course, given it exposed corruption at the upper reaches of the city government. I wasn’t even sure how to appropriately explain it. Just say it out-loud?
I walk closer to his desk to make sure that only he and I can hear what I’m about to say: “It’s about corruption … big corruption. By the mayor. He’s corruptly handing out big money contracts to companies owned by his brother, and for hardly any work.”
He doesn’t respond, but rather continues to stare at me with a concerned looked on his face. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m crazy or what.
“I know it sounds kind of nuts,” I say, “but I have the proof. Actually, I’ve already written up the story. It’s all documented.”
His eyes widen at that news. He takes a minute to collect his thoughts and says, “Hmmm … well, that’s quite a story. Why don’t you e-mail me the file and I’ll read it.”
My eyes just about pop out of my head with excitement! I can’t help the smile that’s spreading over my face.
“Jenna,” he then says, somewhat sternly. “Just … make sure you don’t mention this to anyone else. You haven’t mentioned this to anyone else, have you?”
“No,” I assure him, still obnoxiously grinning ear to ear, despite my halfhearted attempt to stay modest and not let dreams of success and recognition dance in my head.
“Good,” he says promptly. “Make sure you don’t. It’s very important that this stays between us. Now, send me that story and I’ll read it over. After you’ve sent it, why don’t you go and pick up those lunches?”
“Sure,” I reply cheerfully. A little voice in the back of my mind groans at still being delegated these meaningless tasks. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve already proven myself a superstar journalist with this story!
But, of course, no one else has even read it, let alone published it. I really was telling the truth that I hadn’t spoken about this story to anyone else: not even to the one good friend I’d made over this summer. So I suck it up one more time, and after happily e-mailing over my finished work, pick up my purse and head over to pick up the lunches.
I’m on cloud nine as I walk out the glass doo
rs separating our office space from the hallway and stand waiting for the elevator to open up. The elevator dings and the doors slowly open – and then …
I’m jolted out of my stupor of journalistic triumph by the man walking out of the elevator in front of me. This is New York City, and there are plenty of good-looking men walking about … but my word, not like this. He’s toweringly tall, at least six-foot-four. He wears a tight dark grey suit, tailored perfectly around his muscles, hugging his figure just enough to tease my eyes with the promise of the kind of perfectly sculpted physique that lies under it.
His face is tan, light dark stubble making it look even more dark, which only accentuates his stunning bright blues eyes. The perfection which is his face is topped with a luxuriously thick head of dark black hair.
