Body Worship: The Billionaire and the BBW: Body Heat Series Book 3 (2 page)

“
Y
ou know
why I’m here,” she says once we’ve settled into the large leather-upholstered booth. “Why does a man like you need to come somewhere like this?”

I drain the rest of my drink. “Because I have particular tastes and I value my privacy.”

“Particular tastes?” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re making me a little nervous.”

“Don’t be,” I say. I flag down a server and order another bourbon. I’m going to need it to negotiate this conversation. Evelyn switches to water. “It turns out we’re a match made in heaven.”

“How do you figure?” A smile plays on her lips. She tucks a lock of auburn hair behind her ear and waits expectantly for my response. She’s exquisite with her high cheekbones, cerulean blue eyes, and china doll complexion. I have to fight the urge to stare.

“Well, I love watching women have orgasms, and you’re in desperate need of one.” It’s the truth. It’s just not the
entire
truth. But I’m not about to burden her with my baggage. I only had to learn that lesson once.

“You make it sound like it’s no big thing,” she says. The server reappears with our drinks and slides them onto the table.

“Well, trying is half the fun.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“I always enjoy a challenge,” I say. She recrosses her legs under the table and our legs touch for a moment. I feel like I just stuck a fork in an outlet. I want her so damn bad. It’s followed by a tinge of sadness, because even if she says yes to tonight, I’ll never get to have her the way I really want her.

“A smart reply for everything. And what inspires such confidence?” She rests her elbow on the table top and rests her chin on the heel of her hand.

“My track record and my tools.”

“I can only imagine. Fingers? Tongue? Cock? I bet everything about you is impressive.”

I pause for a moment and try to figure out how to explain what I do without sending her screaming from the room. Because I really want her to stay. “Those aren’t really my thing.” I fold my napkin into progressively smaller triangles. “Have you heard of a Sybian?”

“A Sybian?” If I didn’t have her full attention before, I certainly do now. She gives me a curious look.

“A vibrating leather rounded box that sits on the floor,” I say. “You pick out the attachment, I strap you to it, and then I control the settings. The intensity of the vibration, the speed of the rotation-”

“Yeah, I know what it is, Tiger. Although I’ve never had the pleasure of riding one.” She pauses in thought before continuing. “You have one at your place? I guess being rich does have its benefits.”

“I prefer to play here. For privacy reasons.” I’ve presented this same proposition to at least a dozen women, but I’ve never been nervous they wouldn’t accept. But Evelyn? I know she’d walk away in a heartbeat, and the panic that courses through me at the thought makes me feel hope again.

“Do they have private rooms here?”

“Not really. I usually use one of the gallery rooms.” I steel myself for her response.

“You let people watch?” She reaches for her handbag and starts sliding out of the booth. “I’m sorry, that’s just not my jam.”

“Evelyn, please.” I touch her elbow to halt her exit. “It’s negotiable. Maybe we could use the room, but we could flip the switch that frosts the window, so that nobody can see us. Would that work for you?”

She settles back into her seat. She’s still on board. “And what do you do while I’m getting ravaged by your pleasure machine?”

“I enjoy the show.” And something tells me I’d enjoy it more than usual with Evelyn as the star. The thought of a patch of auburn hair between her milky white thighs makes my breath catch in my throat.

“I’m assuming you get off while you watch.”

“No. It’s all about you.” She looks pleased with that response.

“That sounds nice. It hasn’t been all about me in a very long time.” I reach across the table and take her hand in my own.

“It should always be about you. How do you not know that?”

“Oh, I know it. It’s the men I date who don’t always know it.” She pulls her hand free of mine and rests it in her lap. “Do you get naked?”

“I prefer to stay clothed.” She arches her brows.

“So, what do you get out of it?”

“The pride that comes from a job well done.” She scrunches her brows into an ‘are you serious’ look and I throw my hands up. “Humans are complicated animals. I don’t know why certain things trip my trigger, but they do.”

“Do you ever have good old-fashioned sex with women here?”

“Nope. Never have.” And for the past few years, not here or anywhere else. But she’d never guess the truth in a million years. I guess my public persona is good for something: maintaining my cover.

“I suppose a man like you doesn’t need to,” she says. “You probably have women falling all over themselves to score a spot in your bed.”

“I’m not the bed-hopping lothario the press would have you believe. You just have to trust me on that one.”

“They say everyone has a cross to bear. I suppose being constantly photographed with famous beautiful women is yours.” Her mouth turns up at the corners as she takes a sip and I feel I chuckle rise within me.

“I knew you’d understand,” I say.

“As far as I’m concerned, if you can’t feel pity for a hunky billionaire, you’ve pretty much lost your humanity.” I ball up my fabric napkin and toss it at her. I can’t remember the last time a woman gave me so much shit and I love it. Usually they agree with everything I say, no matter how ridiculous, and avoid voicing any opinions of their own.

“So,” she says, “with the Sybian. You said you usually tie women to it. I don’t think I’d like being tied to something. Could you live without that, too? Or am I deviating too much from your erotic vision?”

“I’m pretty sure I can work with that.”

“Good. I’d hate for you to think I’m too demanding.”

“Any other questions?”

“Only one,” she says. “What time do you have the room?”

H
e flips
the metal switch to frost the glass in our gallery room and I hear a groan of disappointment from the crowd gathered outside. I wrinkle my brow at him and he laughs and extends a hand. I walk into the room and take it.

“It seems you have quite a following,” I say.

“I’ve never frosted the glass before. But there’s a first time for everything and I’m happy to make an exception for you.”

I close the door behind us and lock it. The room has already been set up and there are only two things in it: the Sybian and a chair about four feet away, facing it. The room is less clinical than I thought it would be. Hardwood floors add a touch of warmth and a universally flattering beige adorns the walls.

“So how do we go about getting started?” I’m nervous as hell, but I’m excited, too. He leads me by the hand over to a small leather case.

“Why don’t you pick out the attachment you want.” He opens the case and watches me intently as I weigh my options. There are small attachments that resemble a finger, circular ones made to stimulate a g-spot, larger ones that look like a cock, and a double pronged version that makes my eyes almost pop out of my head. I feel like a girl in a very naughty candy store.

“Let’s try this bad boy,” I say as I remove a medium-sized cock-shaped attachment and hand it to him. I watch as he attaches it and then I spin around and present him with my back.

“Unzip me?”

“Of course.” His fingers brush the nape of my neck as he searches for the zipper and I quiver under his touch. He makes quick work of the zipper; I step out of my dress and hang it on a hook on the wall. I’m glad I ditched the Spanx tonight and opted for my sexiest lingerie instead: a teal lace set that shows off my ivory skin and auburn hair to perfection. I kick off my heels and walk toward him.

“Care to warm me up a little?” I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. I rest my hands on his massive chest and feel his heart race. At first he pulls away from my touch, but then something shifts and he gives himself over to me. His tongue parts my lips and strokes me with its velvety softness. His hands wrap around my waist and knead my ass while he devours my mouth with his own. I could have kissed him forever, but there’s no use getting romantic with the city’s biggest playboy. I pull myself out of his arms and walk over to the Sybian.

He sinks into the chair, rolls his dress shirt cuffs up to his elbows, and takes the small black control box in his hand. I tug my panties to the side and start to straddle it, but he has other ideas.

“I want you naked.” His eyes bore into me.

“Negotiable?” Because maybe I’m not as confident as I pretend to be. Not anymore.

He shakes his head. “I’ve been picturing you naked all night. I need to see every spectacular inch.”

I reach behind and unclasp my bra. My full breasts spill out of the cups and I watch for his reaction. His chest heaves as I toss my sexy underwire to the floor and hook my thumbs in the waist of my lace tanga. He leans forward in his chair when I shimmy my hips and slide the fabric down. My breasts sway as I wiggle around and he’s staring at me with insane intensity.

“Fuck,” he says, “you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Still, there’s no telltale bulge in the front of his pants. Maybe he just takes a while to get started. I kick my panties off and move to the Sybian.

I straddle the machine, spread my already swollen pussy lips, and lower myself onto it. He watches with glassy eyes and bated breath as I slowly impale myself on the fleshy attachment. I haven’t had anything inside me for a while, so it takes time to ease the silicone cock all the way inside.

“Your pussy is so tight, isn’t it baby,” he says. “It barely fits.”

I rub my clit with the pads of my fingers as the shaft stretches me. It takes time, but I eventually open to accept it. Before long, I’m sitting flat on the Sybian. Just when I think I can handle things, it jumps to life.

I gasp with pleasure as the vibrations rumble through me. It shakes deep within my core. I lean forward and the nubs on the attachment flutter against my clit. I try to get my bearings, but then it begins to rotate within me, a torturously slow circle that massages the walls of my pussy. All my plans for looking dignified in front of this magnificent man —
hold in your stomach, watch your posture, don’t sweat, don’t make any funny facial expression
— are gone.

I’m grinding against the Sybian so hard I’m afraid I’ll break it. But I can’t stop. I’m finally chasing what I’ve wanted for months and it’s not going to escape me now. I lean forward, rest the heels of my hands on the front of the machine, and double down. I ride that vibrating, mechanical cock like I’ve never ridden anything in my life. I feel beads of sweat collect at my collar bone and run down the channel between my heaving breasts. My moans sound barely human.

Everything feels fucking fantastic, but I just can’t push myself over the edge. I just can’t get there. Oh my God. What if this doesn’t work either? What if something is totally messed up and broken inside of me and there’s no way to fix it? What if I never have another orgasm again?

Then I remember, I’m not in this alone. I lift my chin and look at Nash.

No one, in my entire life, has looked at me with such open desire and lust. I stare into his green eyes and I see so much. Longing, anger, jealousy, intensity. Maybe a little pain, too. There’s something else there. A raw hunger. He could have any woman in the world he wants, and right now he’s looking at me like I’m an icy cold beer on the hottest day of the year.

The thought makes me smile and he smiles in return. It’s the naughtiest grin I’ve ever seen. Then he turns the dial and ramps up the power. My first impulse is panic; it’s just too strong. I want to stand up and get away from it. I push against the box and start to ease myself off.

“Do I have to get out the restraints?” He asks.

“It’s too much. I just can’t. I’m sorry.” He lowers the power to an idle.

“We aren’t leaving this room until you come, beautiful. I don’t care if it takes all night.” He runs his hands along his thighs. “So, tell me what you need.”

What do I need? I wish I knew. I can see the benefit of the restraints holding me helpless against the vibrating toy, but it sounds too cold and impersonal. Maybe there’s a different option. A warmer, more personal one.

“I want you to hold me down on it,” I say.

He sits there, silent, as if he’s weighing his options. And then he springs from his chair like a tiger and closes the distance between us in a second. He squats in front of me, so we’re eye to eye and his hands go to my hips. They’re massive and hot as the blacktop on a summer day. His touch practically burns. He moves one, only for a second, to turn up the power on his delicious toy, and then returns to holding me down.

It’s too intense. I use my knees as leverage to try and pry myself off, but his strong hands keep my clasped to it like a vise. Still, I fight it as the sweat courses down my body. He shifts his grip and then leans in closer, until our lips are only inches apart. His brilliant eyes burn into mine.

“Come for me, beautiful girl.”

And with that, I’m cascading over the edge. My body twitches and shudders and my mouth opens for a soundless scream. He covers my mouth with his own and mashes our lips together with a bruising force. As the ripples of pleasure continue to course through me, he licks at my lips and sucks my tongue into his eager mouth. I moan against him and collapse against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds me there while the aftershocks subside.

We stay that way until I catch my breath and stop trembling. He places chaste kisses along my forehead and I lick his perfectly chiseled jawline. I lean in closer, to hold him as tightly as he’s holding me, and I brush against the rock hard bulge in his pants.

I finally feel whole again and I want him to share in my good fortune.

“Can this get any more interactive?” I look up at him with a mischievous grin. “Because I’d sell my soul to the devil to get a look at your cock.”