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HIS CURVY OBSESSION  Novel Cover

HIS CURVY OBSESSION

Banks Wellington hears her voice and knows he must have her. She's never been small, and the world has always told her to shrink. But when he looks at her, small isn't what he craves. So she signs the contract—agreeing to be worshipped by a man whose rules demand total submission, while secretly holding onto another identity as her escape route. What begins as a dark, consuming arrangement blurs the line between devotion and danger. He wants her softness, her surrender, her breath. She wants to be seen without disappearing. But in a game built on control, the only way out may cost her everything—including the man who sees her as his obsession.
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Chapter 2

BANKS POV

The moment I step inside this perfume store, a sweet voice wrapped in fury greets me. She is facing off against a typical, entitled customer.

"Customers are always right!" the man, maybe fifty years old and puffing with self-importance, barks.

"That's your getaway mantra as a retard with no one at home to respect you. So you find your way to retail stores to bugger innocent, tired staff," she lashes out without stopping. Her voice vibrating with a beautiful, raw heat, while the man stands there, paralyzed by the sheer audacity of her. 

"If you try that rubbish again, I'll have you arrested," she adds, jerking a bottle of perfume out of his hand. I stand by the door, watching the scene unfold. Both people oblivious to me.

"Is this how you tal.." The man puffs his chest, trying to tower over her. She doesn't flinch.

"Talk to rude customers? Yes!" Again, she cuts him off. Moving closer boldly. She looks around five-foot-five, with hands on her hips that strain against the fabric of her gown. Her chin tilted up and her shoulders arched, pushing her chest: pair of full breasts, that moves with every jagged breath she takes. She is pressed dangerously close to his space and my teeth clench. I want to be that man. I want that rage directed at me, just so I can be the one to break it.

"I'll repo..."

"Report me to my manager?"

"Go ahead. I dare you" She rants on. Bold, full, and fierce. The type I never knew I wanted, but now my beast is hungry for it. For her.

"Because I'll not only report you to the officers... I'll take the security clips of your misbehavior, hunt you down, and play them for your boss. Then I'll send them to your kids' school and your neighbors."The man moves back, finally intimidated, and it makes me smile.

Few are the people that can handle heat like hers... I am pleased to consider myself one of them. No. I will become the only one that welcomes, takes, and controls her heat.

"Every day you come here and stress the joy out of me. Out of everyone." The man finally breaks.

"You'll regret this" He warns weakly and throws a shopping bag at her, and storms out, stopping right in front of me. I tilt my head at him, then back at my firecracker who is picking up the bag.

"Mr. B... Siiir," he stutters and I take her in. Hidden beneath the folds of the dress, are luscious curves that beg to be grabbed, whipped, and squeezed until she forgets every word in her vocabulary except Master.

"Go," I dismiss him, and he exhales with a dash outside.

"How dare..." She starts to race after him, but stops dead when she notices me by the door, perfume bottle raised up in her hand. Our eyes meet, she steps back and blinks twice, trying to regain her composure.

"I'm very sorry you witnessed that, sir," she says, straightening her dress to give me a quick, ninety-degree bow. Her first words to me. I don't care what happened with that man. He earned that rage. Or she's just as rude as she looks. First impressions and all that.

"Our service is usually top notch."

"Take off your mask," I request. A single order has always been my way of life. It is redundant to repeat yourself. It is also my test. Apart from the bedroom, submission isn't my forte. But obedience without questioning is important to me.

"What?" she questions, a dark eyebrow arching. I take a step closer to her. She blinks, her heart rate quickening through the fabric of her clothes that clings to her body like it is meant for a man of status. A man like me.

"Sir?" Hands in pockets, I keep my gaze on her. Finally, with a defiant roll of her eyes, she pulls it down. Time seems to slow, stretching each second into a minute and my heart stops. Her lips parting slightly like it's waiting for my fingers or cock.

"What do you want, sir?" She repeats. I move closer to her, inhaling her intoxicating scent, feeling the heat of her skin and craving to touch every inch of flesh that graced her body.

"You" I reply and she stumbles back with a loud, difficult gulp. I want her. That need was primal the moment I heard her.

"I... Excuse me?..." She stutters, steps faltering and I wrap my hand around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the richness of every bit of her body before she could fall. She wiggles, which only presses her body closer against me.

"I want to buy every minute of your time until you forget how to say anything but my name" Her eyes fly up to me, same time red covers her cheeks and neck.

"You.... How could..." I close my eyes and breath in. Was it her scent? rage? The way she stood? Curves ? A dozen details stun me at once. 

And now, in my arms, with the mask gone, I'm face-to-face with round, puffed cheeks on an oval face. Her lips are full and glossy, and a nose ring glints in the light.

"You're pretty," I observe and her eyes widen further.

"Why were you wearing a mask?" Every woman around me flaunts her beauty.

"I don't like the shop's air freshener, but my supervisor insists on it," she replies, her voice regaining softness. I nod, taking my hand off her waist against my desire, and step away from the door. 

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