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

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Wicked Christa on Smashwords

Copyright © 2012 by Christa Wick

Cover art licensed from and ©
[email protected]

Fatty Fatty Boombalaty font licensed from Patty Whack [email protected]

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.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

General License Notes

No part of this document may be reproduced, retransmitted or otherwise redistributed in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including by photocopying, facsimile transmission, recording, re-keying, or using any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from its author. Reading this e-book without first purchasing a license to do so is illegal and subject to heavy fines. This book is not for sale to libraries and may only be lent under the terms of service of an authorized distributor (e.g. Kindle and Nook, 14-day, one time lending program of purchased copies).

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

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.

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

CURVE CONTRACT

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

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 amount 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.