Page 4 of Bidding For Her Curves

For all I care.

She’s perfect. I just know she is.

I know in an instant that I’ve got a chance at something I’ll never have again. A chance meeting?

I don’t believe it.

I make my own results in this life, and I know what I see in front of me is going to be mine.

All mine. No matter what.

Each step I take gets more difficult, my dick getting harder with each pounding beat of my heart against my ribs. I feel my suit pants filled to capacity in three steps and know I’m gonna have to cover myself with something.

I’d prefer my dick to be covered with her. But who knows?

She could be married, have a boyfriend? Fuck! I mean, look at her, of course, she’s…

I can’t even bring myself to think like that, scooping a folder up, I hold it over my aching crotch and decide to stand still.

If only to stop myself from groaning out loud again.

Muttering to herself under her breath, she’s completely oblivious to me and I use my few moments of being hidden from view to study her more.

Her heart shaped ass hugged tight by her black skirt, fashionably long for work. Her thick thighs are pressed together and run down to flexing calves as she struggles to keep a box balanced in one hand while she’s bent over to snatch up programs with the other.

It’s a perfect view and my body and mind already ache for more of her, but I’m still only looking at half a body here.

With a growing need to see more of her, I clear my throat and she jumps up straight, a little sound coming out of her.

A mixture of startled, and a light groan, picking up on the feeling I’m transmitting straight into her.

Her back is wider at the shoulders, a perfect hourglass figure. The kind women used to have, the kind they’re supposed to have.

Her blond hair comes out of its ponytail in places, covering a section of her shoulder that makes me take a step closer, wanting to touch her hair, to take in its scent.

But my eyes move south again. Those hips. Those magnificent hips start to move like magic as she slowly turns around.

Hips I want to grab hard as I fill her from the front, then the back. Hips I know were made for just one thing.

Me.

“I was just…” she starts, but as she turns around, my throat broadcasts another, low growl once I catch sight of her face. Her full and perfect chest.

It’s an animal sound.

The sound a male makes when he’s found his mate. A sound to warn off all other males.

A sound that also brings her into heat, ready for him.

Her round face is flushed, even looking a little sweaty. A button nose sits between a set of full, ruby red lips, gloss but no lipstick required.

Her eyes catch mine. Deep blue, wide and clear. I watch with satisfaction as her pupils dilate, her lips wetted from a slight movement of her tongue’s tip across them as a little pout of frustration forms there.

Her eyes grow wider still, and her chest shudders once it registers who she stands before.

She drops the box and the few programs in her hand and starts to sway, those beautiful eyes growing misty, looking past me before she lets out a tiny squeak and starts to fall forward.Chapter ThreeJulesMy mind’s made up. As soon as witch Karen is out of sight I’m out of the office and in a cab with the boxes of programs, heading straight for Mason Thorne’s building.

It’s a few blocks, but there’s no way I can manage huffing two boxes, and the growing fever I have, which I keep telling myself isn’t a fever at all.

There’s something about his building that makes me shiver too and not from the hot and cold flashes I’m getting in its shadow as I get out of the cab.

There’s something else…

It’s like something is pulling at me, drawing me in. Waiting for my change, I look up, not even able to see the top floors where it’s rumored the man himself actually lives.

The cab’s exhaust in my face tells me there’s no change.

“You’re welcome,” I murmur, hoping he enjoys his tip, and make my way inside.

A wall of security is working to capacity, even on a Saturday but then I remember, this is the same building the stupid auction dinner is being held in too, so security is tight.

I show my ID, explain the programs, and the boxes are checked through.

“We’ll take it from here,” A burly, short tempered guard mumbles, looking at me sideways once he notices I’m still here.

“Uh, I was told to deliver these to Mr. Thorne’s office… personally,” I add, trying to sound like I’m in charge when I really just feel like laying down again.

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