Curves for the Billionaire (16 page)

“We will go back to Dubai soon—for a month and this time we’ll take in the sights.”

“Perhaps we’ll have company the next time.”

“Maybe in here.”  Zachary touched her stomach, his eyes softening.  She hoped she’d already conceived—he’d be a wonderful dad.  “I’m going to clear my diary over the next two months and we’ll return for a month of pleasure.”

“More than we’ve had this week?”

“Much more.  And there are still parts of you I need to explore.”

“You’ve seen every inch of me!” she retorted.

“On the outside—I want to look deep inside you.”  He placed his hand over her breast, over her heart.  “Here.  And there’s a matter of a little virgin hole that may or may not want to be fully fucked.  It needs a chance to make up its own mind without distractions or outside influence.”

Samantha couldn’t decide whether or not she wanted to engage in anal sex or not.  Zachary had said that he wouldn’t push her, but he felt that she might be missing out on the pleasure of the act just because she thought it was taboo.

“It can’t make a decision in the UK?” she asked, with a laugh.

“No.  I want all your firsts to be in Dubai.  In that same room and on that same bed.”  Samantha didn’t even want to think about what their honeymoon had cost.  “We will be away from the world and its rules and regulations—just the two of us and the rules we make up for ourselves.”

“And if I decide that I want you to wear a butt plug?”

Fiona had had a boyfriend once who liked to be plugged and she’d told Samantha about it.  She had found it amusing, but for the life of her, she couldn’t meet the man’s gaze after that bit of information.

Zachary looked at her in surprise for a moment and then laughed.  “Perhaps.”

“You wouldn’t,” she accused.

“Perhaps we’ll both explore our virgin little holes and see what they like—fingers, plugs or something larger.”

Samantha knew that he wouldn’t renege on the promise.  And though he had admitted that his motives for exploring the prospect of anal sex weren’t altogether altruistic, he’d said it was more about her experiencing pleasure in all its forms than him receiving it.  The two fingers he had employed the night she had danced for him had been very satisfying.  She didn’t know if she wanted any more than that.

“Perhaps I’ll strap on and fuck you,” she challenged, deliberately.

His eyes sparked and she knew that she was in trouble before he growled in her ear, “Are you looking for a spanking?”

Samantha laughed out loud and nodded.

“Okay, you’ll get one!”  Zachary double checked that the privacy screen was in place and pulled her across his knees.

Samantha loved how he responded to being challenged.  He was like a dormant volcano—erupting whenever she provoked him.  He had mellowed in the glorious week they had spent together, but he would never lose that dominant streak or the need to show her who’s the boss whenever she stepped out of line.  Yet, he’d shown that he respected her opinion and she knew that he would let her have a say in the important things of their marriage.  She had no desire to wear the trousers—he filled them quite nicely with his taut butt and muscular thighs.

She hadn’t yet decided what she wanted for the future—a career of her own or to be free to travel with Zachary all over the world on his business trips.  It seemed a waste of her medical training, but she’d seen more death and devastation in Rwanda than most doctors would see in a lifetime.  Zachary hadn’t asked her to make a decision, but he’d said that he would refit his plane or buy a newer, more luxurious model if she’d be accompanying him on his business trips.

The idea of being apart from him made her heart ache.  It was ironic that he had married her so that she could keep her childhood home and in one short week she’d realized that it wouldn’t be home without him.  A persistent idea had entered her thoughts on the flight home.  With the stair lift that had been installed during her father’s convalescence, Rosewood would make the perfect rehabilitation home for recovering cancer victims.  She could loan it to Cancer Research for a few years at first…and see how that felt.  Later she could make a more permanent decision. 

***

Sixty-five-year-old Mahoney, expertly driving through the narrow streets of London, would have been oblivious to the fact that his employer had first spanked his naughty wife and then made her climb onto his lap and ride him for daring to challenge him.

Unfortunately Zachary had forgotten the intercom.

The driver covered the journey trying hard not to laugh, his erection fuller and more rigid than he remembered it being in years.  He would give his wife a little surprise when he got home later and perhaps maybe a few experimental spanks to see how she reacted.  She had the perfect bottom for a good spanking, he mused, licking his lips in anticipation.  Her high round derriere had caught his attention forty years ago and it was still the sexiest thing on her trim body.

His boss’s marriage was off to a great start, he thought, and if he could keep a straight face and the intercom on discreetly, he might just pick up a few tips.

Which fool was it, he wondered, who said that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks? 

The End

Thank you for making this purchase.  I do hope you enjoyed reading
Curves for the Billionaire
as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Please leave a review!

Regards,

Alexis Moore

Excerpts from other books by Alexis Moore

MY DAD’S BOSS

It was
a
Mr Hudson, but not the one I expected. This was his good-looking bastard of a son, Nicholas.

His eyes opened in surprise, then he smiled and said, “Hi, Bruiser!”

I hated that name!  It was a painful reminder of the first time we’d met.  I had still been wearing the stupid dental braces my mother had insisted I needed, though I’d thought my teeth were fine.  People tell me I have a killer smile now, so I guess the pain and embarrassment at the time were worth it.  But that hadn’t been the most embarrassing thing of meeting him that day.  I had bumped into my friend, Gemma, in gym class the day before. And, I mean bumped into, literally.  She was shorter then so her hard head had connected with my left eye.  I hadn’t wanted to attend the stupid company picnic with an eye the colour of a rainbow, but my father had insisted, saying that I was too young to be left at home on my own.  And, added to all that, I had woken up with my first ever teenage spot that same bloody morning.  I had looked and felt like hell.  I felt even worse when I met Mr Hudson’s eldest son, who just graduated from Cambridge and was off to work in the States on a four-year contract, the next week.  He’d been dressed casually in a polo shirt and black jeans, but he’d looked so worldly and sophisticated, I’d felt like a ten-year-old and I’d wished he had bloody gone to America a week early.

He looked suave and even better looking now, sitting behind his father’s desk and wearing a light grey shirt which perfectly matched his eyes.  I stared at him stupidly for several seconds, realizing in horror that except for the top which occasionally rode up and showed the undersides of my breasts and the short skirt my mother often threatened to burn or give to the twelve-year-old girl next door, I was naked to his gaze.

“So, Bruiser,  what can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see your father.”  My voice came out wobbly.

“My father retired three months ago.  He and Mum are currently on a Caribbean cruise.”

“So who’s in charge?” I asked, hoping that I was mistaken in thinking that
he
was.

“I am, of course.  Who did you expect to be?”

This is why my dad was worried, I realized.  Old Mr Hudson had known him for years and knew how good he was at his job as an investment banker.  This young upstart would only see the money he would lose if he lost Mrs North’s account.  I decided it would be foolish to beg
him
for anything. 

“Never mind, then.” I grabbed the side of the door wishing that I could back through it instead of having to turn around and walk through it.  My mother claimed that the cheeks of my ass were visible under the skirt, but I disagreed totally. The only things visible were the tops of my thighs as they curved into my ass, but I didn’t particularly want him seeing that much of me.

“Come back here, Bruiser!”

I wanted to stick two fingers in the air and tell him to sit on them, but my father’s job kept me in a style to which I had become accustomed.  If he lost it, I would have to find one of my own.

My Dad's Boss – Amazon US

My Dad's Boss – Amazon UK

REAR ENTRY

Twenty-two-year-old, newly-wed bride, Christina Richmond, wearing black garter belt, stockings and sheer babydoll nightgown, turned obediently onto her stomach and then let her sixty-seven-year-old groom, Royce, urge her up on all-fours.

“Are you going to fuck my ass?” she asked hopefully, tilting herself up in anticipation.

“Why would I fuck your bottom, my dear, when you have
such
a delectable little pussy?” Arranging his fingers as though making the sign for a gun, he poked the two straight fingers into her pussy and finger fucked her vigorously.  “I leave ass fucking to gay men and such.”

No ass fucking for a year, she thought in dismay, she wouldn’t survive, would she?  She should have gone for the settlement of five hundred thousand pounds—she would have only had to stay married to him for six months.  Instead, she had been greedy and opted for the prenup for twice the money and now she would have to stay married to him for twice as long.  Her ass would need therapy if it was denied fucking for that length of time!

She sighed aloud as he pulled his fingers out and buried his cock smoothly inside her with one long thrust.  At least his cock was still reasonably meaty and long, although it must have atrophied a little with age.  He had already fucked her once, missionary style.  She had then expected to snuggle up to him and sleep for the remainder of their wedding night.  Instead he had insisted on fucking her again, briefly building her hopes of an ass fucking when he had turned her onto her front, but instead it was another pussy fucking, only this time from the back.  He was a fit man who played tennis twice weekly and jogged early mornings when the weather was good, but she wondered vaguely, as he pounded his cock into her, if his vigour was natural or Viagra-aided.