Smothered

About Smothered

Billionaire Warren Gates has been a bad, bad boy. He's overseen his company's largest round of layoffs and offshoring and cut wages and benefits on everyone remaining.

But that's not what keeps him up at night. A vision of gently rolling hills and valleys of pale flesh, heavy breasts and a deep cavern dripping moisture onto his tongue plague his dreams and leave him with a lust no ordinary woman can satisfy. 

Lucky for him, he knows just the woman to exorcise his demons. Better yet, she's out of work and desperate after he signed the pink slip.

Can he convince Lila to sell her body to him, to sit naked on him, her feminine juices running in rivers down his muscled chest? Will she press her breasts against his face, letting him breathe only when she allows?

Will one session be enough or will Warren always crave MORE.

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Smothered  

A Billionaire's BBW

Headlights strobed across the pine trees. Tires chewed at stones on the dirt and gravel drive. Lila Mathers searched beneath one thigh for the television remote, her movements and generous flesh accidentally pressing the button that shut everything off.

To her left, a banker's lamp with a cracked glass shade illuminated a small rectangle of light in the living room of her narrow trailer. Rising from the couch, she left the light on and walked a cautious line to her dark kitchen.

Lifting her cell phone from its charging base, she looked out the small curtained window over the sink. The vehicle's lights remained on, garishly lighting the first quarter of her trailer. She squinted at the back taillights, a moment's confusion caused by how far they seemed from the front of the car.

A limo -- on her private dirt drive in the middle of nowhere.

She put the phone back on its base and waited to see who would emerge from inside as the door cracked open an inch. Her hands picked at the edges of the plain linen robe in which she had wrapped her body after a shower. Faded blue, the material matched her eyes and covered nothing more than white cotton panties and a bra.

Her hand crept up to her hair. Thick and wavy like the rest of her, the outer layer had dried, frizzing in the process. Everything beneath that layer was humid and warm.

She was definitely in no state to answer the door.

Shaking her head, Lila dismissed the idea completely. A car like that didn't get into trouble, just carried it. The driver could probably have a helicopter onsite in half an hour and a tow truck just a little longer than that. If they were lost, GPS would lead them back to the highway.

She didn't need to play the Good Samaritan. Not to a limo. Not to...

Warren Gates.

Still hiding in the dark of her kitchen, Lila gasped as she saw the man who had fired her six months ago step from the vehicle. The driver's window rolled down and Warren dipped his head, his lips moving in instruction before he straightened and looked long and hard at her front door.

Long and hard were perfect descriptors for the billionaire CEO. He stood at least six-two and, despite all his money, no one hesitated to imply he was a gym freak -- capital F-R-E-A-K. He was rumored to exercise at least two hours a day, every day, and often held meetings with his tight ass pressed against the seat of a rowing machine.

Little wonder she'd been one of the first cuts when "the board" decided to automate all the data entry jobs and offshore all the technical ones. He had probably looked at her dismissal as saving four desks -- if only one salary.

Licking her lips, she moved to the front door as stealthily as possible for a five-foot-four woman who snugly filled a size 22.

Knuckles wrapped against the screen door. Her tongue swiped above her top lip and she rested her head against the wall, waiting for him to knock again. If she had her way, he would knock all night, or at least until his fingers bled.

Not to be a bitch or anything, but Warren Gates had ruined her life. Unemployment hadn't been enough to cover her health insurance and condo payments. At least she had been able to sell the condo at a profit that allowed her to buy her current dump free and clear and leave her money to draw on when her unemployment ran out.

Warren might look like an angel -- a very naughty, sexy angel -- but the man was pure evil.

"Lila, I know you're standing near the door."

His velvet whisky voice brushed smooth then rough against her flesh. She mashed her lips together, her eyes closing as the sensations stirred then pooled at the juncture of her thighs.

Warren pulled the screen door open and stepped onto the top of the concrete block. "I can hear you breathing. Let me in."

She shook her head. House rule #1 -- no asshole inside except the one she wiped twice a day. Didn't matter how rich or handsome, the rule was inviolate.

"I have a business proposition, Miss Mathers."

She snorted then covered her mouth. She had a proposition for him, too. He could kiss her triple-wide butt. She wouldn't even charge him, though he could more than afford to pay.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars if you agree." He spoke against the line where the wooden door met the metal frame of the trailer. The lack of any weather stripping made it sound like he was in the room talking to her. "Five hundred just for letting me in for two minutes."

"Slide the five under the door then talk. You are not coming inside my home." With each word perfectly enunciated without a trace of the tremor running through her, Lila smiled and a little of her old confidence returned. She wasn't an idiot or even dumb, regardless of what his Princeton-educated ass might think.

An envelope slid under the gap at the bottom of the door. She teetered forward, one hand against the door knob as a brace as she scooped it up. She counted the five crisp hundred-dollar bills then shoved them in her bra.

He rattled the knob. "Now let me in."

"You heard what I said, you are not coming inside." She slid the chain in place, knowing none of the locks would keep a man of his strength out if he really wanted in. "Talk if you want to, your two minutes started about twenty seconds ago."

Warren huffed, the sound bringing a smile to Lila's face. She didn't smile much anymore and he was a big part of the reason why. Her last hope at a normal life had disappeared with her job. His signature had been at the bottom of the dismissal letter delivered by some polished blonde in a size four red skirt along with a cardboard box to carry home Lila's belongings.

"I want you..." The door creaked from the press of his hands on the other side. "Rather, I need..."

Feeling him pull away, she braced for the screen door slamming against its frame as he angrily stalked back to his limo. Instead, he growled for her to open the door.

"I need to see you when I say this, Lila."

Fine! She yanked the chain off, slammed the slide bolt and yanked the door open, her robe fluttering open from the artificial breeze. She slapped her hands on her ample hips and held them there. The headlights made her pale skin glow, the blue veins so stark they looked inked onto her thighs and stomach.

Warren stepped forward, his mobile mouth chewing at the sight of her as he crowded her away from the door and into the center of the front room. He turned, put the chain on and slid the bolt. Eyeing her, he walked to the table where the banker's lamp fought the room's deep shadows.

Shoving his hand in the inside pocket of his double-breasted suit jacket, he pulled out a thick wad of money and dropped it onto the table.

"All yours." Facing her, he loosened his tie. A shrug of his shoulders and his jacket hung from one hand. He tossed it on the couch.

Lila stared, lips parted. Was he undressing?

"What are you doing?" Her gaze bounced to the door then back to Warren.

She shook her head, silently cursing her stupidity for letting him in. She held no illusion that no matter how loudly she screamed for help, the driver wouldn't lift a finger to aid her.

Warren dropped his tie, the expensive silk draping itself over one Italian penny loafer. With three buttons worth of his chest on display, Warren untucked the shirt and drew the fabric over his head. His belt landed on top of the tie. Another blink and his cock surfed into view, his hands skimming his hips as he pushed his slacks off.

Shocked, she could do nothing more than stare at the man. She wasted little time on the strong jaw or the chin with its slight cleft. She didn't linger over the lightly bronzed chest with its dark copper nipples. She barely surfed the washboard stomach before her gaze anchored on the lean hips, powerful thighs and the thick cock that rose from a dark mat of fur.

Arousal seeped into Lila's bones at the sight of him nude and erect. She knew she should kick him out. This was some crazy game -- too absurd to even be a dream.

Stripped naked in her living room, Warren Gates lowered his body to her floor. His chest and thighs touched the carpet. Lifting his arms, he stroked the sides of Lila's plump calves. Rolling and spinning, he pressed his back against the floor and brought his arms flat against his sides. His stern gaze caressed the folds of her flesh before he looked at her face.

"You know what I want," he rasped.

Lila shook her head. It wasn't that she wanted to hear him say it. She genuinely had no idea what he wanted. His cock was out and hard, thick and throbbing in a line that ran an inch short of his navel.

But he couldn't want sex -- not with her. Regular guys didn't want sex with her. Out-of-shape guys didn't want sex with her. They were all holding out for the type of supermodels Warren could have hanging from his arm twenty-four-seven.

"Figure it out," he growled.

She stared at him a few seconds longer. His cock bobbed as he tightened his stomach muscles. His lips and cheeks flushed a deep crimson and his dark gray irises disappeared as his pupils expanded.

She tentatively licked her lips. His harsh stare softened. Licking them again, she saw his mouth relax. Despite the response, she hesitated to believe he wanted a sexual encounter. Not with the way his eyes were on her. Her past lovers, few though they were, had never looked at her body during sex. One only wanted to fuck in the dark and another one made her bend over the back of his couch while he watched television.

Yet she didn't know what else that look could mean on Warren's face.

Her gaze questioning, Lila let her robe fall from her shoulders to the floor.

Warren offered a short, approving nod and another command. "All of it."

Her mouth quivered. He stroked his cock, instilling a preternatural calm in Lila. There was nothing worse to show him. If he had stayed aroused through the removal of the robe, he would not lose his erection when she stood before him fully nude.

She reached behind her, her heavy breasts jutting forward as she searched for the bra's closures.

"Yes," he groaned. "Slowly."

Unhooked, she pulled the straps down her arms, her movements naturally unhurried. The money she had tucked inside the cup earlier littered the floor, shaming her for the second it took her to forget. Warren's gaze never registered the falling hundreds, his sharp focus heating her thick crimson nipples.

She pushed her panties down her hips then kicked them at him. Warren caught them mid-air. Bringing them to his face, he scowled. "You just put these on?"

"An hour ago." She scowled back. Did he think she went around in three-day-old panties or something?

"Are you wet, Lila?" He pushed up onto his elbows, his eyes circling her thighs. "Your pussy, I mean."

She nodded, not quite following his line of questioning.

Sitting up, Warren wrapped her panties around his hand. Bringing his fist to the top of her thighs, he gazed up at her, a small amount of begging making his eyes sparkle. She nodded again, relaxing the muscles that kept her legs pressed tightly together.

He invaded, roughly rubbing the fabric between her labia to catch the full scent of her pussy. Prone on his back once more, he covered his face with the moist material and inhaled. He breathed in and out, almost but not quite panting, the fabric lifting and falling with each breath in an uneven flutter.