Training Her Curves - Geneva (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance) (6 page)

Instantly, his mirth disappeared. He lowered his body so that one knee was planted against the concrete next to his other foot. His hands curled around my knees. As tall as he was, he still had to dip a little to look at my eyes.

This time, I let him hold my gaze.

"Marjolein Dekker, I love you. I would like to discuss whether you love me back, which I think is at minimum a remote possibility, but I would like to do it inside where I know any unresponsiveness on your part is solely my fault and not a result of how high up we are."

He stood, capturing one of my hands and offering to hold the other.

"Come inside, baby."

I stood, my grip on his hand tightening. The tension worked its way up my arm and through the rest of my body so that each step felt like I was wearing lead boots. It had nothing to do with the elevation and everything to do with the man leading me into the chateau I had rented for the night.

Once we were inside, Dylan found the switch that lowered the blinds and cut off the view of the evening sky. Reclaiming my hand, he led me to the deep-seated couch and folded me onto it. He chose to perch at the end of the cushion, his hand still warmly wrapped around mine and his body angled so that a slight turn of his head allowed him to look directly at me.

His lips rolled restless against one another for a few seconds and then he started talking with a slow blink. "When I interviewed you for the executive suite, I was just going through the motions for HR. You know that age-sex-ethnicity distribution sheet they send out monthly to keep legal happy?"

I nodded. The staff that had served the executive suite before my arrival had reflected a reverse ageism, none of the secretaries or clerks below the age of forty. I could understand, initially, based on the assumption that age equaled experience and competency. That assumption held true for quite a few of the staff, but not all. The ones that failed to meet that assumption failed spectacularly, to put it kindly.

Still, it had been quite an experience coming into the executive offices at the age of 24, just two years out of college and with only two years and a summer internship with them between my junior and senior year working for the company.

"But the interview," he continued, "was like someone had pulled back the curtain and let the sun in for the first time in a decade."

He rubbed my hand as if I might be chilled, but I knew he was trying to gather his thoughts. "I think I started going soft in the head over you about month four."

"I'm not a disease," I softly corrected.

He blinked and a small smile relaxed his mouth. "No. But I had forgotten what it was like to relax around anyone -- even Jake and Riona. I had forgotten what it was like to have the tension disappear anywhere other than in a playroom with an experienced..."

Clearing his throat, Dylan patted my hand as if offering an apology or excusing himself for skipping over things that I was too fragile to hear.

"It's okay," I said. "I know you've fucked a lot of women the last two and a half years."

"Not as many as you think," he responded. "I stopped three months before Miami, even though I still booked and paid the women."

My lips parted and I sucked a slow breath in. "Why did you keep booking them...and ordering even more expensive jewelry for them?"

The last three months before Miami had started to take their toll on me. That first big order from Giorgio with three times as many carats in sapphires had sent me to the ladies room for a fifteen minute crying jag. I was certain it was the first sign of him having fallen in love or at least a far deeper lust with one of his paid submissives.

"I didn't want to acknowledge that the status quo had changed...didn't even want to admit it to myself."

I wanted to slug him for those three months of extra hell. Instead, I pulled my hand from his grasp. He distracted himself by straightening the pressed line of his dress pants. I had seen him perform the same act hundreds of times. Usually, he was distancing himself.

"Don't," I bit out, tears springing to my eyes as I covered the closest of his hands. I gave a rough squeeze as I argued with myself about saying anything more. "It's just, I noticed the change and those three months hurt like hell. I had been hoping for a change and it seemed to be in the wrong direction."

I took my hand away again, this time to wipe at an errant tear. Dylan eased more of his body onto the couch, the motion bringing him closer to me. His fingers trailed up my forearm and then slid across my stomach to secure my opposite hip.

"I keep making plans, things that serve some stupid image I've put out there but that I don't even want most of the time, and then I look at you and everything changes." He nodded in the direction of the entry way. "Before I knocked, I promised myself I would spank your bottom hard and long enough that you couldn't sit for a week if you had come here of your own free will. Now I just want to take you into the bedroom and hold you, sleep with you in my arms and get you to agree that we can start fresh."

"Not if all you're going to do is talk," I half-laughed, half-hiccuped as a fresh spill of tears threatened. "You not only have an image of you stuck in your head that works against us, but an image of me. I'm not fragile..."

"You're strong as steel, baby," he agreed with a squeeze of my hip.

"And I'm not a doormat," I added with a light growl for emphasis. "I am my own person."

He nodded, his eyes sparking with a fire I couldn't name.

"If I want to model for the company, I will."

Dylan sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and started to chew at it.

"I will," I repeated. Wiggling my way off the couch, I stood and slammed my hands onto my hips, my fingers curled into fists. "And the next time you start to distance yourself from me, I'm buying an aluminum baseball bat and hitting you upside the head. That will be your only warning, do you understand?"

A grin broke across his face and he nodded.

"Good!" Reaching toward him, I wrapped my fingers around the top knot of his tie and tugged him forward. "Now, I had some very definite plans for the evening and they didn't involve all this talking. You're coming with me--"

"You're coming first," he whispered, his grin turning wicked. "Multiple times."

********************

My fingers gripped the top edge of the headboard, I lifted my torso as my eyes rolled back. A shaky moan escaped me and then my entire body began to quiver. My first release of the night and I still had my dress and bra on.

His tongue slowing against my clit, Dylan glanced up as I opened my eyes and looked down.

The gray irises had darkened to near black, the dimmed bedside lamps reflecting like fireflies in his gaze. Taking a long, last lick of my clit, he pulled his fingers from inside my sodden cunt and seized my hips.

Holy fuck, he was a god in bed, every kiss and stroke were a heady ambrosia that kept me totally intoxicated.

He dragged me lower down the bed. Kneeling between my legs, he stripped off his tie and dress shirt as I watched. My hands found my breasts to squeeze in a failed attempt to tame my grinding hips. I wanted him in me, didn't want to explode with another orgasm merely from looking at him. My pussy burned with the need to wrap around the thick erection I could see pressing against the front panel of his pants.

"Easy, love," he said as he unzipped and eased the fabric down his lean hips. His cock slowly emerged into view, its crown topped by a fat pearl of pre-cum.

I licked at my lips, eager for a taste of him. My pussy squeezed around itself, all the muscles knotted and pushing out more of my cream. Damn, I wanted this man in me, fucking me, his mouth free to whisper that he loved me.

My eyes misted at that last thought, causing Dylan to stop the removal of his pants.

"Keep going," I whispered. "I'm okay, I just want you so badly it hurts."

"I know the feeling," he whispered softly and shed the last of his clothes.

I reached for the first side button hidden beneath the sash of the black silk wrap dress I had selected for the evening. He stopped me, his hand covering mine.

"Let me, please."

The request issued rawly and I eased my hand away in an offer of absolute compliance. He started with the bottom, slowly working up to the top button. Next, he unknotted the sash, mischief dancing in his gaze as he measured the full length of the tie before looking at my hands.

A fresh burst of cream coated my thighs at the idea of Dylan tying me up. Wiggling my ass against the mattress, I groaned.

"Not tonight, love. No roles this time, just me and you." His fingers danced as he spoke, their sporadic jumps somehow managing to peel open the dress to reveal the red silk bra that trapped my breasts.

"Holy fucking hotness," he groaned as he lowered his head toward my breasts, his chest flattening against my stomach and his long, powerful legs nestled between my flexing thighs.

A giggle erupted from me, this time, it was pure amusement with no trace of nerves. I could feel a smile stretching the sides of my face, hurting even, but there was too much pleasure to turn serious. His fingers expertly plucked the front closure on the bra and then he paused to glance up at me.

"If I'm being honest," he started with a grin. "The ad and catalog layouts have given me a few design ideas."

"Just design ideas?" I asked with a hot breath.

His cheeks turned crimson and he offered a half-bashful smile. "We're not going to talk about the wank sessions your pictures inspired..."

I raised an eyebrow, momentarily stalling his speech.

Barking out a laugh, he shook his head. "Anyway," he restarted, drawing out the word. "The creative juices--"

"You really can't help yourself," I teased, earning a confused look. Throwing a wink at him, I explained. "Just creative juices?"

Growling, he surged up the bed and claimed my mouth with a fierce kiss that stopped all thoughts of teasing him further. I surrendered, my body temperature spiking as my hips and breasts tensed upward.

Pulling back, he gave another shake of his head, as if clearing out the cobwebs. "Be still, woman," he warned. "I need to remove the rest of your clothes carefully or you'll be heading back to the hotel in just that trench coat you had over you on your way out."

I took a short lick of my lips then corrected my expression to one that was contrite and obliging. Luckily, I had another pair of panties in my bag. But Dylan was absolutely right that I didn't have anything other than the coat to cover the rest of me if he shredded the dress.

"Ready to behave, I see."

I shook my head, which set him to biting at that thick, tasty lower lip of his once more

"Ready to help," I said, pushing up from the mattress. Teasingly, I eased my arms from the three-quarter sleeves, my hands taking turns shielding my breasts. With the dress off, I repeated the show with the straps and then cups of my bra, one side at a time, the pale cherry of my nipples remaining hidden.

"You're going to pay for that, love," he breathed out, his gaze hot and shimmering.

I dropped my chin to stare meekly at my thighs, my breasts still covered.

Dylan planted his palm against my chest and gently pushed me onto the mattress. Just as tender and slow, he removed my hands from where they shielded my nipples. Lowering himself onto my body, he captured one swollen bud with his tongue to bring it between his teeth.

His weight shifted to one side, his elbow against the mattress keeping him from pressing to heavily atop me. Lightly nibbling at the hard tip of my breast, he worked a hand between us. Finding my clit, he pressed his thumb at the end of the hood that guarded the sensitive pearl beneath.

He started a soft grind against the pearl, as slow and steady as an ocean tide. The nipple he treated less tenderly, the hard sucking and scrape of his teeth pulling my body into him.

"Oh," I cried out, repeating the exclamation twice more before my nails found his back and dug into the skin and firm muscle beneath. "This...I..."

The capacity for speech fled. The soft tissues of my cunt swelled and throbbed with insistent need. My ass tightened, pushing up against his cruel thumb to increase the pressure and pace of his touch. Already at the edge of my second climax, I panted, the sound of my breath quickly turning to a gurgle and then one long, twisting groan.

"Dylan, please," I cried out, hovering at the edge of my next explosion. "I want you in me."

His mouth left my breast to suck and bite at my throat, but he didn't stop the cruel teasing of my cunt and the forward march towards my release.

"I mean it," I said, my nails digging deeper into his flesh and threatening to break the skin. I didn't want to hurt him, but my body's movements were no longer mine to control. All the control was his.

"Okay, love," he relented -- or so I thought.

His body drifted back down the bed, planting light, sucking kisses along my breast and stomach as he moved lower. Pushing my thighs open, he settled his face along the line of my cunt, his nose pushing against the spine of my clit as his tongue teased the rim of my pussy.

"I meant..." I released my frustration with a growl, my tongue suddenly inhibited against saying I wanted his cock in me.