Curves Envy - Alphas Love Curves: BBW Billionaire Romance

Copyright © 2015 Scarlett Avery

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DISCLAIMER

This book is a work of FICTION. Do not try any new sexual practice that you find in this book. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book. Every character in this book is over eighteen years of age. The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY.

This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY over 18.

Enjoy.

Book 1—Curves Envy

Alphas Love Curves

By: Scarlett Avery

© Scarlett Avery 2015

ISBN: 978-1-987943-00-9

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Curves Envy Series

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Book 1—
Alphas Love Curves

Book 2—
Curvy Girls Do It Better

Book 3—
Claimed by An Alpha

Book 4—
Curvy Conquest

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Book 1—Curves Envy

Chapter 1

I’ve come to look forward to these lazy Saturday mornings with my two favorite guys. I’m sprawled luxuriously across my king-size bed like a queen enjoying some early-morning loving. 

This must be how Cleopatra felt every single day of her life in the kingdom of ancient Egypt.

I slowly open one eye, careful not to break the sultry mood, and as I peer at the bright sun I know this is the start to an incredible weekend. Leonardo DiCaprio is licking my face while Vince Guardino is fumbling with my big breasts. He squeezes my nipples and I can’t help but purr with pleasure.

I can’t believe this is happening to me.

“Oh, Candy, you have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen in my life.”

I still blush every time Vince pays me a compliment. I’m not used to men paying homage to my body like he does.

“You say such crazy things because I allow you to fuck my boobs,” I respond, trying to dismiss his flirtatious words.

“You have a good point. Your double-D tits make me come like an animal. I always think I’m going to pass out once I shoot my load all over your boobs. I can never get enough of seeing your big tits squeezing my hard cock.”

Hearing him say these words makes me feel like a sex goddess.

“Okay, Leonardo DiCaprio, stop it. You can’t sit there and lick my face all day,” I giggle.

“Your cat is hilarious. I still can’t believe you named him after a famous actor. What, Fluffy or Pumpkin weren’t available?”

“I’d never name him such a mundane name. He’s too precious. He deserves a name fit for a king and since he has the same drop-dead-gorgeous blue eyes as the actor, I thought it was fitting.” I roll to my side to pet my beautiful white cat. 

The truth is I got Leonardo DiCaprio after reading an article online claiming pets help with weight loss. At the time, I was desperate to get down to a healthier size and I was willing to grasp at any straw. I was walking by a pet shop on my way to meeting my best friend Amelia for brunch on a Saturday morning when I fell head over heels in love with Leonardo. There he was looking up at me with his little paws in the air and I couldn’t resist. I ran into the store, claimed ownership and called my friend to let her know we’d have to order breakfast to go since I couldn’t walk into the restaurant with my new pet.

Amelia thought I was crazy, but she fell as hard as I had when she came over to meet Leonardo. Technically the article focused on having to walk a dog on a daily basis to drop the unwanted pounds, but I hate dogs, so I settled for a cat instead. Needless to say, my beautiful white Turkish Angora cat didn’t help in my quest to discover a trimmer, slimmer and firmer me, but I still love my darn cat.

“Not to mention, I have a major crush on Leonardo DiCaprio since seeing Quentin Tarantino’s
Django Unchained
a few years ago. Don’t even get me started on how dashing he looked in
The Great Gatsby
—what a dream,” I coo. “I think I must have watched Martin Scorsese’s
The Wolf of Wall Street
at least eight times. I still believe he was robbed of the Oscar for best male actor and I’d be willing to petition. Yeah, you could say I’m a hardcore fan.”

“If he ever needs a publicist, you’re the girl for the job.”

“Oh, no. I could never work for him. I’d throw myself at him constantly like a lovesick fool and I wouldn’t get any work done,” I let out dramatically before turning my head to lose myself in my lover’s deep mahogany eyes.

“There’s no way he could resist your charms—or your eyes.”

“It’s true the Hollywood hunk tends to exclusively date twenty-something-year-old hotties, which is a plus in my book. I doubt he’d ever give a second glance to a girl like me. Seems like he’s on a steady diet of skinny blonde models—which I’m not. So I figured naming my cat after him was my only chance to proclaim I sleep with Leonardo every night of the week.” I grin mischievously before turning my body to face Vince.

I can take care of my cat later.

“Leonardo is missing out because in my world big girls do it better.” Vince cups the side of my face and drops a soft, tender kiss on my lips.

“You really feel this way?” I ask, a bit insecure. “I mean, you’re a successful pilot and you travel the world. I’m sure you meet tons of very attractive women. Don’t all men dream of fucking a skinny supermodel?”

“You’re silly, Candy. I’ll be honest, your eyes were the first thing I was attracted to. They’re so green, so deep and so intense they left me weak in the knees, but when I saw you moving around the grocery store, I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest when I laid eyes on your curves.”

Until I recently lost ninety pounds, men never noticed anything else but my eyes. I’m no supermodel and I don’t even know if I’d call myself pretty, but God blessed me with big emerald-colored eyes and even bigger boobs. Listening to Vince go on about my body like this makes me feel like he’s talking about someone else.

“Oh,” I whisper, silenced by his sweet words, which are such a contrast from those my ex-boyfriend George used to barrage me with. It always seemed to me George disliked my body more than I did.

I’m still unable to get used to the way Vince showers me with affection. I wish I could see him more often, but I don’t want to rock the boat this early in our relationship, so I’m quite happy with our Saturday morning hookups. He usually drives straight from JFK airport to my home after he’s landed from his weekly red-eye flight from Dubai to New York City. Our hot and heavy fling has been going on for four weeks now and I spend the better part of my week counting down the days until I’m wrapped in his arms.

“I personally prefer meat on a woman’s bones. Trust me, skinny bitches aren’t nearly as enjoyable as you,” he says, flashing an arresting smile.

Vincent Guardino is a thirty-one-year-old Italian-American I met one month ago at the grocery store. Although I’m only twenty-four, I tend to go for older men because they seem to appreciate a curvier woman’s body more than guys my own age—who obsessively idolize a model’s or porn star’s body.

I know you might think it’s ironic for a big girl to meet her guy while shopping for food, but that’s exactly what happened to me. There I was in the vegetable section trying to be good and follow Dr. Oz’s advice on healthy eating when I felt his eyes on me. At first I thought he was looking at a hot chick behind me, so I instinctively turned around, but when I noticed only a couple of scruffy young male store employees behind me, I lowered my eyes, conscious of the fact a super-sexy dark and handsome stranger was staring at me.

Unwilling to accept the fact I could elicit this kind of reaction from a man, I attempted to continue my grocery shopping, pretending I hadn’t noticed him ogling me. I thought I dodged him in the dairy aisle, but when I closed the refrigerator door after grabbing a carton of one per cent fat milk, there he was—standing in front of me with a charming smile. After we exchanged phone numbers, he casually headed to the checkout counter and I was left fanning myself because I was so overwhelmed by the whole thing. I still remember the incredulous look on an old couple’s face when I opened the freezer door behind me to cool down.

Once I got home with my bags of groceries, I dismissed the whole early-Saturday-morning courting episode as a joke and figured I’d never hear back from Vince again, but within an hour of getting home, he had texted me to have drinks the same night he caught my eye while I was bagging a bunch of heirloom carrots—you know, those fancy-colored carrots that help you forget you’re eating rabbit food.