by Christa Wick
Curve Contract (Big Girls Next Door Erotica)
Curve Contract (Big Girls Next Door Erotica)
Midpoint
CURVE CONTRACT
Big Girls Next Door Erotica
by Christa Wick
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Wicked Christa on Smashwords
Copyright © 2012 by Christa Wick
Cover art licensed from and © dpaint@istockphoto
Fatty Fatty Boombalaty font licensed from Patty Whack Fonts@myfonts
EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT - ALL CHARACTERS 18 AND OVER
Use of licensed images is for illustrative purposes only and does not imply the model’s endorsement of or participation in any or similar activities contained in this work of fiction.
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Plus-size business owner Pippa Jones is in dire straits. Before disappearing, her accountant floated himself a big “loan” instead of paying her PR firm's income and payroll taxes. Even if PJ can avoid criminal prosecution, she's going to have to sell everything she has and lay off all her employees, including her best friend!
Enter millionaire Blake Cross, her firm's biggest client and a notorious playboy. Discovering she's in trouble, he makes an offer that will fix both their problems. All she has to do is marry him and make it look real.
24/7.
With Blake calling her baby and love while his unyielding hands and mouth worship her body publicly and privately, Pippa’s starting to realize that the cost of saving her company just might be a broken heart.
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CURVE CONTRACT
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Blake Cross leaned forward, his face half a foot from mine as his hands gripped the sides of my desk. For the first time in a decade, I felt small and helpless as his dark gray gaze bored into my skull.
“What is there to think about, Pippa? Marry me and your problem is solved.”
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry and was trying hard not to do either -- or both. The idea that my biggest, richest and by far most attractive client had just proposed marriage felt like the lead up to a punch line or the pilot episode of My Big Fat New York Wedding. That I was desperate enough to consider the offer was the opening act to my own personal tragedy.
I pushed my chair back from the desk. I couldn't think straight with him so close to me. The warm spices of his aftershave curled around my senses, stroked at my plump thighs until my stomach and chest clenched. My perineum pulled tight.
Just looking at him eroded my self-control. This was Blake Cross, for heaven’s sake!
I closed my eyes. Ignoring the growing attraction to him I'd felt for months was hard enough on a good day, but right then I needed a shoulder to cry on and big strong arms to hold me while a deep baritone whispered assurances that everything would be okay.
Blake was offering just that -- sort of.
“Pippa.”
I looked up to find him leaning closer, the distance I’d just put between us bridged.
“Answer me.”
I'm sure lots of women have fantasized about Blake proposing to them, just not like this, and not me. “You're serious? You want to marry me?”
Stupid question, but it was too late to take it back without looking the fool. Rich and drop-dead sexy, Blake spent his days swimming through a stream of perfumed A-list actresses, supermodels and socialites. His affairs are legendary and a big part of the Cross brand -- a brand I’d busted my ass cultivating the last twelve months.
That I was beneath his interest was apparent in his response.
“What I want isn't part of the equation.” Blake straightened and folded his arms across his broad chest. He stared at me, his gaze unreadable. “I need a temporary wife -- fast. This arrangement will solve both of our problems.”
Realizing he was serious, I took a slow breath in to compose my thoughts.
I looked beyond him to the glass wall separating my workspace from my employees. Half the crew of twenty was gone for lunch or off site with clients or vendors. Of those left, half a dozen were casting furtive glances in our direction. Blake was to blame. His visits always drew attention, particularly among the women. Today was worse than usual. He was more animated, his stance aggressive the second he walked through the elevators and the man was dripping sex appeal.
His gaze followed my line of sight. He walked over to the blinds and started to close them. “How many do you think have any savings to get them through to the next job?”
I watched the gaps in the blinds narrow as he drew the string. I forced myself not to blink. Tears would fall if I did. “That's not fair, using them against me like that.”
“Nothing about this mess is fair, Pippa.” He crossed back to me, stepping around the desk so that he was standing next to my chair. “It isn't fair Gorman screwed you, it isn't fair your employees could lose their homes because you misplaced your trust.”
I tried to inch my chair to the side.
“Running away isn't your style, Pippa.” Blake reached down, captured my wrist and forced me to stand. “Now give me your answer.”
Tilting my head back, I felt my knees weaken. I’d been dealing with this Gorman problem on my own for a month. Nearly sleepless, unable to eat without feeling like I was going to throw up, I was in no shape to handle Blake tightening the screws on me.
Releasing my hand, Blake grabbed my shoulders. Holding me steady, he glared down at me. I still had no idea how he knew about Gorman embezzling from the firm or the IRS agent that had visited me, threatening jail and a penalty as big as the hundred thousand plus in unpaid payroll taxes. I hadn't told anyone yet.
More mysterious was Blake's need for a wife and his willingness to pay for one -- especially when the woman in question was the chubby bunny who ran his PR campaigns.
Bloody hell! The would be another can of worms if I was stupid enough to accept his offer. The TV gossip shows and press would have a field day. Any woman Blake went out with was assured of plenty of coverage -- frequently accompanied by a public vivisection on blogs and in the comment sections of the papers and shows. When that woman happened to be a virtual nobody who wore a size sixteen?
Dead fucking meat.
The knot that had formed in my throat sank to my stomach. I had a damn good reason for weathering the media storm. Gorman’s embezzlement had started a chain reaction. I had to come up with the unpaid payroll taxes. Add to that the fines and I was out of business. But, hey, let’s not stop there. No business meant no money to cover the small amoun
t of accounts payable the agency ran -- hello vendor lawsuits! It also meant unfinished campaigns that I had received advance payments on and lawsuits on the client side. So, yeah, as much hell as I would go through being Blake’s pseudo-wife, there was a whole other, nastier level of hell waiting for me if I didn’t.
But what about Blake? Marrying me had the potential to seriously damage the Cross brand. If he bailed on me, I would be double fucked and utterly humiliated.
I pushed his hands away. “I’m not answering you until I know why you need a temporary marriage.”
Nostrils flaring, his gaze jumped to the side and his mouth pressed into a grim line. Apparently his reason was on a need to know basis that didn't include me.
I folded my arms across my chest, mirroring his earlier stance. “I can't even consider agreeing until I know why.”
He looked back my way, his right brow shooting up. “You remember Anna?”
Anna Burke -- uber bitch and a former Senior Vice President of Cross Incorporated. She had resigned her position about six months earlier for reasons unstated. As the outside PR firm for Cross, I'd tried to discover why in case it had the potential to explode in the press. It was the only time Cross had given me the brush off -- until now.
I nodded, urging him to continue.
“She's suing the company for millions and -- more importantly -- enough in unearned stock options to make Cross Incorporated vulnerable to a takeover bid.”
Rage burned in his eyes. Even knowing it wasn't directed at me, I withered beneath its heat. The company was everything to him. He'd built it up on his own, product by product, store by store. Even with billions in annual sales and a cadre of senior executives, he kept a tight grip on the reins. It was his baby and any threat to the company made him feral. I’d seen it on more than one occasion.
A shiver ran through me, my shoulders twitching in an attempt to shrug it off. As angry as the question might make him, I had to know. “Why?”
“I'm not going to discuss why with the head of an outside PR firm that won't be in existence a month from now because of unpaid payroll taxes.” His hands drifted down to capture my wrists. He tugged me closer, his gaze softening the slightest bit as he chewed at his bottom lip. His hips gently pushed forward, nudging at my stomach as his voice dropped to stroke deep into my core. “My wife, on the other hand...”
My knees went weak all over again. I stumbled back. Blake's arms circled my waist. Cinching me to him, he dipped his head down, his breath playing warm against my ear. “I don't have a lot of time, Pippa. Neither do you. Tell me now that you'll do this or I have to move on.”
Trembling, I clutched his arms. A world of trouble weighing down on me couldn't erase the fact that I was pressed up against Blake Cross, his thick biceps flexing beneath my palms, my stomach rubbing against the hard plane of his hips. My pussy felt like he’d just run his tongue along its length, leaving me wet and achy.
Tightening my grip, I managed a squeak. “You can give me a few more seconds, Cross. How will marrying me help your lawsuit...what did you do to Burke?”
His hands dropped to clasp together below the curve of my ass. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but he lifted me off my feet. His strong arms slid my body up along his until we were at eye level. “I didn't do anything to Burke and you only need to know that marrying me will help you. Agree and you'll have a three hundred thousand dollar line of credit tomorrow, a private investigator to hunt Gorman down and a team of attorneys to school the IRS in how to treat a lady at no cost to you.”
Blake had already offered the money, the loan payable on demand and secured by all of the firm's assets and my own. A demand note meant he could pull it the moment I tried to back out of our deal or failed to perform to expectations. If I went through with it, the note would be canceled with the marriage's dissolution. The offer of a free PI and attorneys was new -- which meant he was desperate enough to sweeten the deal.
I swallowed and managed another squeak. “I never liked Burke, but I need to know I can pull it off. If she has a legitimate beef…”
I knew Blake well enough to stop talking when I saw the left corner of his mouth twitch once to the side.
He eased me back down to the floor but didn't release me or loosen his grip. He studied me, his gaze an unrelenting polished steel until he blinked. “Fine. Anna doesn't have a legal leg to stand on, but if she gets the jury on her side -- I'm screwed. You've done PR for law suits, Pippa. You know I’m right.”
His hands traveled up to grab my arms just above the elbow. He took a step back, his gaze raking my body for an instant before settling on my face. “I need a counterpoint to Anna. That's you.”
Speechless, I lifted a brow, my lips parting as anger and hurt threatened to boil over. I wanted to slap him for what he'd just said. It was cruel and unnecessary. With her tiny waist, big tits, and manicured everything -- Anna certainly was my opposite. I didn't need Blake Cross to rub my nose in it.
My jaw tightened and I saw confusion flit across his handsome features. A scowl chased it away.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re thinking something ridiculous, Pippa?” He pulled me closer, his fingertips starting to dig into the soft flesh of my arms. “I'm saying I need a woman of substance whose very existence exposes Anna as the rejected, scheming fraud she is.”
Lying to me like that only added insult to injury. I tried to twist free, but he was too strong and the press of his body against mine was annihilating any sense of self-preservation I still had in a slow grind. Every last brain cell knew I had to reject his proposal. Not only had he all but stated he wouldn’t want to marry a woman like me, but Anna would seek to destroy me and the New York press and general public would have a field day pointing and laughing at the fat little pumpkin Blake Cross had mistaken for a princess.
“Stop fighting and listen to me. I’ll protect you from the fallout and treat you well.” He crossed his arms along my back and squeezed, pinning me to him. “All I need you to do is be by my side as my loving wife until the trial is over. Can you do that?”
Loving Blake Cross -- I was halfway there. Every inch of my body ached from being pressed up against him again. My nipples were hard points. A faint tremble ran through my thighs. A flutter of contractions deep up inside me pushed out fresh cream to line my panties.
Still, he was arrogant if he really thought he could protect me from the fallout. Even if I weathered Burke and the media circus about to be unleashed, there was nothing Blake could do to shield me from my feelings for him. Those feelings would only grow stronger beneath the veneer of a fake marriage. Even now, this extraordinary intimacy with him as he tried to persuade me hurt like hell. I couldn’t escape the fact that desperation alone was driving him to hold me and touch me this way.
“Pippa...baby.” His hold on me relaxed into a loose embrace. “Can you?”
Baby? The money, the investigator, the attorneys and, now, baby. Blake Cross didn’t play fair.
Out in the open bay of desks, a phone rang. I looked at the closed blinds. If I rejected Blake’s offer, the phones wouldn’t be on much longer -- or the lights
Apparently reading my mind, he brushed his cheek against mine, whispering in my ear. “They’re more than just your employees, Pippa. They’re your friends.”
I nodded. I’d known my core team for what seemed like forever. College, starter jobs in the smaller NY agencies, the first lean months of eighty-hour weeks just to keep the rent paid and the computers running. We’d been through a lot and they had all busted their asses to help the firm succeed.
Blake smoothed his palm up my arm. “Help them, yourself…” His lips brushed my ear and I felt like I was going to faint. “Help me.”
I nodded again, heart racing. I would do it for them -- not him or me, or for moments like this when he was holding me. When it was all done, I might have to hide out for a very long time with no television or internet or newspapers while my heart and pride healed.
“That’s my girl.” Blake’s mouth tracked left until his lips brushed mine. “But it has to look real, PJ. All the time, even when it seems like we're alone.”
The apprehension that had been slowly ebbing slammed back into me full force. I leaned my head back to look up at him. “All the time?”
“Anna will try to get people to sell us out -- your staff, mine. We should expect hidden cameras and microphones. And you can't shy away when I touch you in public -- that only works if I touch you in private, too.”
His hand drifted to the center of my back. He captured my head with the other. I had half a second to notice him draw his bottom lip in and then his mouth was pressed against mine. He broke contact, his fingers coiling in my hair.
“Can you do that?” He kissed me again, his tongue curling against my upper lip, sucking it into his mouth. “Can you make it real in my home, the car, the office...”
I wasn’t used to performing like he obviously was. He was buying in lock, stock and barrel -- right down to the press of his erection against my stomach. I looked down at the hard line of his cock straining against his pants. “We won’t have to...uhm...”
Hell! I couldn’t believe I was stuttering like some virgin school girl.
“We'll discuss that before you sign the pre-nup and I release the funds.” His free hand roamed my body, caressing my hips, squeezing an arm before stopping at last to curve under my breast, cupping the swollen flesh as his thumb and index finger tested the hardness of my nipple.
Blake Cross in my office, feeling me up with the blinds closed! The quiver of need rolling through my body intensified. “Are you sure you're being sued?”
Realizing how stupid that sounded, I blushed. Of course he was being sued. He wouldn’t be in my office if he had any other choice. He’d admitted that much already.
Stupid as the question was, he didn’t laugh. His tongue swept into my mouth. The hand on my breast grew more demanding, kneading and twisting as the kiss deepened. The room started spinning and I closed my eyes, my knees giving out as he took one straining nipple between his finger and thumb and pinched.
