Page 10 of Curvy Girl for the Billionaire

And I know now that I’m completely fucking in love with this curvy beauty.

The drive home is silent, thick with the residue of unfulfilled craving. My cock is so fucking hard, it’s all I can do to keep from dragging Charlie’s sexy self over here and pulling her onto my lap.

I want to grind myself against her and kiss her lips, her neck, that delicious fucking cleavage that’s been taunting me all night.

When the limo purrs to a stop outside her place, I adjust myself as discreetly as I can before getting out to walk her to her door.

"Goodnight, Charlie," I murmur. I want to kiss her, but something tells me she won’t be receptive to it.

Not now

"Goodnight, Alex," I replies with a smile that makes my dick ache. She steps inside, and the click of the closing door severs our connection.

I make my way back to the limo and throw myself into the backseat.

“Drive!” I snap at my driver as I roll up the partition that separates him from me.

I don’t need anyone witnessing my insanity as I press my face into the seat where Charlie sat moments ago.

I inhale the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with the leather as I unzip my trousers and free my aching cock.

A stream of precum leaks from my tip. I smear it all over myself and begin to stroke.

Fuck, being so close to Charlie all night yet unable to touch her…it was torture.

"Charlie," I groan into the silence, her name a talisman invoking visions of what could be.

My hand moves in fervent strokes, chasing release as I fantasize about possessing her completely, utterly.

All while I sniff where her sweet ass sat like a deranged lunatic.

My climax builds swiftly, a crescendo of lust and frustration fueled by the electric images of Charlotte's curvaceous body, her green eyes veiled with desire in my mind's eye. I picture her lips parted, the sound of her breath hitched in expectation.

My strokes become more erratic, more desperate as I imagine sliding into her heat, feeling her clench around me.

"Fuck, Charlie..." My voice breaks on her name, the intensity of my fantasy overwhelming.

As the tension coils tighter within me, each stroke fans the flames higher, and I'm close—so damn close—to spilling myself while lost in thoughts of her. The imagined sensation of her soft thighs wrapped around my hips pushes me over the edge.

With a guttural groan, my release crashes over me in powerful waves. I come hard, hot streaks of semen splashing against my hand and the leather seat beneath me.

My breath is heavy, ragged, as I come down from the high, the reality of my situation sinking in with the cooling of my skin.

What the fuck am I doing?

I clean myself up with a handful of tissues from the compartment beside me, each wipe a harsh reminder of how dangerously close I am to losing control around her.

The frustration is still there, simmering beneath the post-orgasmic haze.

But it’s not just sexual—it’s emotional, this unsettling desire to claim her as mine.

In all ways possible.

six

. . .

Alex

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