Curves for the Billionaire

by Alexis Moore

  “So I assume you wouldn’t like to see another man making love to me, then?” She knew that she was being deliberately provocative, but she enjoyed watching him lose the cool façade he always showed the world.

  “I would snap your neck if you so much as kissed another man,” he threatened sliding his hand around her neck. She raised startled eyes to his and the coldness of his expression sent chills through her.

  “I was only joking,” she apologized, wanting to erase the bleak look from his face.

  “Were you?” he questioned. His hold tightened fractionally and for the first time she realized just how much power he concealed under his sleek muscles. “I think a good spanking will remind you never to make that same joke again.”

  He got off the sofa and imperviously held his hand out to her. She took it obediently, not because she truly wanted to be spanked, but because she seemed to have inadvertently hurt him and wanted to make amends.

  As they made their way silently up to the upper level, Samantha’s heart hammering in her chest. When they got to the room, he sat on the end of the bed and instructed, “Lie across my legs.”

  He could have positioned her himself, but she sensed that he was allowing her some measure of control. She knew if she objected strongly or struggled he probably wouldn’t carry through with his threat, but Samantha lay herself obediently across his knees and once again she found the hem of her dress up over her head.

  She shivered as he ran his hand over her bottom as if to warm it.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he promised and then brought his hand down sharply.

  The pleasure-pain was so intense all she could do was moan. Before she was ready another blow struck her bottom, followed by another ten at regularly spaced intervals. At the end she found herself squirming against his legs, the hunger inside her worst that any he had created all day.

  What’s happening to me? she thought bemused.

  An hour ago she’d thought that she would be too sore for them to make love again before the night was through. Now all she wanted was to have him deep inside her, soothing her burning channel with masterful thrusts.

  Zachary set her on her feet and stood up. He took her face between his palms, kissed her fiercely and then released her.

  “Zac?” she whispered questioningly.

  He didn’t respond—just took her hand and led her to the bathroom with its full-length mirrored walls. Placing her hands against the cool surface of one wall for support, he bent her slightly at the waist, so that her bottom stuck out.

  She’d never basked in the sunshine without protection and even then her costumes had been sensible one-piece garments that covered her bottom fully. On the photo shoot for the catalogue Fiona had said, “Wow, your ass is like porcelain!”

  Pink and red porcelain now, Samantha mused as Zachary slowly and deliberately shed his clothes behind her, admiring his handiwork in the mirror.

  Instead of feeling humiliated or nervous of his next move, Samantha jiggled her bottom and indicated her impatience.

  “Is this what you want?” She watched in the mirror as Zachary’s reflection joined hers. She had kicked off her heels before settling down to watch the movie. Now he dwarfed her with his 6’4” broad-shouldered frame as he held his meaty length and spanked her bottom lightly.

  “Yes,” she replied, beyond shame and pride.

  “I want you to see just how well I fuck you.” He slid one hand around to the front of her body and stroked the nub nestled between her curls as he pressed against her entrance. “Bend a little lower. A bit more. Ah, that’s it.”

  Samantha watched as the gorgeously virile man started to thrust into the voluptuous redhead with long deep strokes and could hardly believe that the woman was her. It was more beautiful that anything she had seen the few times Fiona had persuaded her to watch a porn movie. Its beauty came from the fact that it was not orchestrated or posed. The rhythm of the man’s hips wasn’t choreographed to look good on camera, neither was the desperate movement of the woman as she backed onto him to take every inch within her. No, this was natural, raw, real beauty.

  Suddenly Zachary pulled her up against him. “Do you feel that? Do you feel the way my cock fills you until you can’t take another millimetre?”

  “Yes. Oh God, yes!”

  “No other man is going to fill you in quite the same way.” He bent her forward again and started thrusting furiously. “No other man’s going to fit your tightness like a hand in a glove. No other…fuck!”

  He came without warning, holding her hips still and grinding himself against her. Frantically she worked herself back onto him, triggering her own orgasm as he lost control.

  He moved her closer to the wall and for the next few minutes they leaned half upright against it, joined together, too sated to move. Finally Zachary eased himself carefully out of her and moved towards the bed, her hand in his. They fell onto it tiredly, barely making it under the covers before they fell asleep.

  ***

  “You have an incredible body,” he complimented as they lay in bed late the next morning. He ran his hand slowly down the slope of her shoulders, the full jut of her breast, the soft rise of her stomach and then to the smooth curve of her hip. “I’m glad that you didn’t pursue a career as a lingerie model. You looked sexy in the catalogue but I didn’t enjoy the thought of other men—”

  “What did you just say?” She couldn’t have heard him correctly!

  “I said that you looked sexy in Fiona’s lingerie catalogue, but I—”

  “Oh my God, you recognized me?”

  “Of course.”

  “How could you?”

  “I recognized your hands, then your feet and I looked closer.”

  “My hands and my feet?” she asked stupidly. Surely they were no different from anyone else’s?

  “I love your hands,” he said laying one of them against his larger one, palm to palm, and turning them both to admire the effect. “Even without nail polish they look soft and feminine. The arches of your feet are unusually high and look real sexy in high-heeled sandals like the pair you were wearing last night.”

  “I didn’t think that anyone would recognize me…” Samantha broke off in dismay. “We’d thought with the makeup and the lighting that I would be unrecognizable. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

  “I don’ think that anyone else recognized you.”

  “You did! What if my father had done, too?”

  “Somehow your father didn’t strike me as the type of man to be browsing through lingerie catalogues. I was about to throw out my copy with other junk mail when something familiar caught my eye.”

  The pose she had struck for the cover had been as bold as she had been feeling by the end of the photo shoot—she’d become more and more comfortable with the female photographer and had stopped worrying about the slim possibility of someone recognizing her.

  “Did you throw it out afterwards?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, I’ve still got it.”

  “You’ve kept it for five years?”

  “I don’t intend to ever get rid of it.”

  “Wait! Hold on! If you liked my body so much, how come you’ve always dated skinny blondes?”

  “Because I needed to prove something to myself.”

  “What.”

  “That I could resist falling in love with them.”

  “You didn’t want to fall in love?”

  “No. Love makes fools of men.”

  “What do you have against blondes?” Though it wasn’t directed at her, prejudice of any kind was worrying.

  “I don’t have anything against blondes,” he denied. “I just needed to know that I could resist the feminine wiles of women who look like my—”

  “—mother,” she finished the sentence when he broke off abruptly.

  He looked annoyed that he had revealed more than he wanted to, but Samantha knew that there would never be a more appropriate moment to broach the topic tha
t had troubled her for a long time. “Zac, why do you hate your mother so much?”

  “I don’t hate her. I just don’t like her very much.”

  “You barely said a dozen words to her at the wedding.”

  “That’s eleven more than I wanted to!” he admitted brusquely.

  “You’re starting to worry me now. If we have children and there’s a reason they can’t be left—”

  “I would never leave my son with my mother. Never!”

  “Zac?” Samantha suddenly couldn’t breathe. “You…you didn’t…?”

  “Excuse me. I need some space!”

  “Zac, please don’t leave!” she begged, but he stormed into the other bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

  Samantha sat stunned. She had once been so disgusted at herself for thinking that Zachary might be in love with his own mother, but this seemed much, much worse! Had his mother sexually molested him?

  Oh God, please don’t let it be true! she prayed silently.

  She was aware that children could be sexually abused by either parent, and in some horrendous cases both parents had been perpetrators, but abuse by fathers was more prevalent. Just like male victims of rape, boys abused by their mothers were often more embarrassed about coming forward. And often when they found the courage to do so, they weren’t treated with the same sensitivity as female victims.

  Samantha got up and paced the length of the room, torn between giving Zachary the space he’d demanded and offering him comfort. She would be devastated for him if he confirmed that he had been sexually abused, but he needed to know that it wouldn’t affect the way she felt about him. He would have been an innocent victim and she’d never compound that by blaming him.

  “Zac? Zac, honey, please open the door!”

  “It’s open,” he responded.

  She turned the knob and the door opened easily. Pushing it inwards, she saw him sitting on a chair, holding his head in his hands.

  “Did you just unlock it?”

  “I didn’t lock it in the first place.”

  “Sorry, I thought you did.” Samantha walked across the room and stood beside his chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really, but I guess I owe you an explanation.”

  “Go on,” she urged.

  “Zoë was a daddy’s girl. I loved my mother. She was like an angel to me with her ash blonde hair, soft skin and sweet vanilla scent. I used to love hugging her and pressing my face against her chest. I was about seven or eight when I heard giggling one night and came downstairs thinking that my dad had come home earlier than promised.”

  Samantha pressed the side of his face against her breast and wrapped her arms around him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

  “My mother was an air hostess before she married my father. She got pregnant with us… She was on the sofa, dressed in her uniform and sandwiched between two of my father’s friends...pilots who worked with my dad. I asked her what she was doing, she said they were practising flying. When I said I wanted to join them, she told me to go back to bed, that I was just having a dream.”

  Samantha tried to picture him as a seven-year-old. He must have been cute beyond words. And thank God he hadn’t understood at the time what he was witnessing.

  “Then one day when I was about twelve, I forgot my Maths homework and rode home at lunch time to get it. She was there with my uncle Nico—I don’t think you’ve ever met him. He’s my father’s younger brother and a pilot too. They were in the kitchen. She was sitting on the kitchen table and he was standing between her legs. They were fully dressed—he in his uniform and she in her air hostess uniform again, although she hadn’t returned to work after having Zoë and me—but I had known that they were having sex although he had his back towards me. He didn’t see me, but she did.”

  He took a shuddering breath before controlling himself and Samantha knew that he must have been briefly back in time, reliving the devastating moment.

  “I ran back to school as fast as I could, forgetting that I had ridden my bike home and as I was running I remembered her and those two men. I’d realized that it hadn’t been a dream. That evening she told me that she and Uncle Nico were hugging because they were fond of each other, but the guys at school and I had already been reading Playboy and Penthouse magazines, so she didn’t fool me. I didn’t speak to my uncle again until I was nineteen. I felt so bad for my father and worried that he would come home one day and find her with my uncle or another man. I worried more that he would get a gun and kill us all and then shoot himself.”

  Zachary laughed mirthlessly at his overactive imagination as a child, but Samantha suspected that the fear had been hard for him to live with at the time.

  “Now I’m older I’ve accepted that it’s her prerogative to sleep with whoever she wants, but as a mother it was her responsibility to protect her children from seeing things they shouldn’t or being exposed to risk.”

  Zoë hadn’t mentioned the fact that Zachary had actually witnessed his mother being unfaithful, but he’d always been protective of his twin and Samantha suspected that he hadn’t told her. She wondered if it would be prudent to tell him that his sister had confided in her.

  “My father’s friends were always coming to our house for dinner and drinks when he wasn’t there. I just made sure that Zoë kept her door locked and tried to sleep as lightly as possible, just in case. I was so glad when we both got into Oxford and could leave that damn house.”

  Samantha breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that he’d finished. His mother had been careless and indiscreet, but thank God it hadn’t been as bad as she’d imagined.

  Her relief was premature.

  “I hardly ever came home. I spent the time developing my software ideas. One of my lectures, Professor Stein, thought I had a real flair and worked with me during his free time. Zoë and her friends went to Paris for the summer and I guess I must have been feeling lonely. It was also going to be my mother’s fortieth birthday the next week.”

  Oh God, here it comes!

  “I still had my keys and because I rarely came home, they weren’t expecting me.”

  The only thing that kept Samantha from hyperventilating was the fact that he said ‘they’.

  “My mother was dressed in her uniform again. She’s always told us that doing just half an hour of yoga every morning has kept her from gaining any weight since we were born. The men were all wearing pilot uniforms—four of them. My mother was between two of them—and she was giving another one…head. I shoved him away and grabbed the man on top of her by his hair and yanked him off. I was just about to kick the other one when…when the fourth man called my name.”

  He stopped and Samantha felt moisture wet her fingers.

  “It was Dad.” His voice was choked. He coughed to clear his throat and continued, “He had been sitting right there watching them fuck his own wife! All the years I’d worried about him, prayed that he wouldn’t come home unexpectedly and catch her. I thought that he would be completely devastated, instead all that time she had been fucking other men with his permission!”

  Realizing she’d been holding her breath, Samantha released it with a gasp.

  “I’d taken the late train down, so I couldn’t go back up to Oxford that night. I bolted up to my room and Dad followed me. He asked me not to judge her. She had been sexually abused as a child and though she’d had the best therapist money could pay for, sometimes she needed to feel loved intensely. The gang…bangs didn’t start after my parents got married—they were happening before that. Dad said he saw her vulnerability the first time he was invited to join the group. He took her to dinner the next day and they talked for hours. He knew exactly who she was when he married her. He said that it made him happy to give her anything she needed to be happy, but he ensured that they treated her with utmost respect. He actually said that they worshipped my mother like she was a queen. Complete and utter bullshit! All the other pilots used her like a whore when t
hey got the urge; my father was a fool to fall in love and marry her!”

  “Zac, we can’t decide who we fall in love with,” Samantha gently admonished him. “I’ve seen your parents together and I’ve always thought that they make a wonderful couple. Your father always seems so happy. ”

  “He’s happy because he thinks he has a diamond,” Zac retorted bitterly. “I don’t know how he could hold his head up among his colleagues knowing that they’ve probably all…”

  “…screwed her,” Samantha finished off under her breath.

  His father knowing about the men his wife slept with put a different spin on the situation. It was unusual, but not as rare as people thought.

  “Zachary.” She rarely called him by his full name and he glanced up at her in surprise. “Do you think that your father would be happier without your mother?”

  “He would probably lose the will to live,” Zachary admitted.

  “Then just be happy for him. He’s with the person he loves—not everyone in the world is that lucky. You see your father as a weak person. Perhaps he’s the opposite. Perhaps he’s stronger than most men—strong enough to give the woman he loves whatever her heart desires.”

  Zachary’s arrested expression told her that he had never considered it from that angle. “He told me that night that many of those men envied him. My mother has managed to stay young and beautiful while most of their wives have aged and let themselves go. He said most of them admitted that they wished they had been brave enough to marry her instead of him. A load of bollocks!”

  “Zac, your mother’s stunning.” The woman was incredibly beautiful and looked about fifteen years younger than Samantha knew she must be—unless she’d given birth to Zachary and his twin when she was about eight years old. “Perhaps he was telling you the truth.”

  “Dad wouldn’t lie to me…but I know he’s lying to himself. He actually said that she never cheated on him—that he’s given his permission each time she slept with someone else. He even knew about Uncle Nico—he was the one who had asked my uncle to keep her from being lonely when he was on long-haul flights with stopovers of several nights.”