HIS CURVY OBSESSION

Arrangement

When I return, Banks is by the drinks section while Sam hover behind him.

"This has twelve percent alcohol and tastes like fermented apple," she’s pitching to a man who owns a vineyard. That said man f****d me.

I close my eyes and shake my head

"Add it with Greek yogurt," He replies dismissively, walking through another row. I remain standing behind them as I gawk at his broad shoulders.

They're wide and he's currently wearing a black shirt and matching pant. He's probably six'four or five.

He reaches for something above and his back flexes. Same back that has my scratch marks. I clench my p***y at that dirty image.

Then, he turns to me and stares straight past me.

"I'm ready" I say adjusting my top and rubbing my palms on my jean pants. He keeps on staring.

I look behind me to see what he's looking at.

Oud fills my nose and I turn back... his hand grabs my neck and he pulls me into a deep, hot kiss.

There goes my privacy. My eyes close involuntarily as I take in the soft minty taste of his mouth. He pulls me closer, my stomach folds touching his abs. His tongue finds mine and I grab his arms.

"Hmmm" A moan slip from me as my jeans press into my cunt.

Someone gasps and I regain sanity.

I'm at work! I push him back, finding Samantha’s bewildered face staring at us.

"Leave us" He tells her without looking at her. His lips are now glossy, courtesy of my gloss that I applied when I went for my bag. Sam bolts past me.

Banks palm remains on my face and the other on my waist.

"People will talk and I sent my reply to you sir" He close his eyes and stroke his thumb on my puffed cheeks. His arm pulling my waist closer to him.

"I wasn't requesting you become my partner," he says, his thumb stroking my bottom lip.

"I’m telling you."

"This is my workplace... you can’t..."

"Go to my car." That statement is a command. The deepness of his voice and finality proves it.

I head out into the sun. I don't know his car but maybe it's the rolls Royce that brought me to him yesterday.

I don't see the rolls Royce but in this complex with different cars packed, one stands out.

A pure black Lamborghini with smooth front screaming Aura. I look at it and walk away.

I've heard of arrangements. Three different old men had once suggested it to me but as always, I rejected. I don't like the sting of being catalogued as a woman that was used and abandoned. That's why I've always ended things with people I dated before they could do it to me.

I feel him behind me. Before I can turn, I’m lifted off my feet, turned back and tossed into the passenger seat.

"Mr. Banks! This is wrong!"

He snaps the seatbelt on me and locks the door.

I sit back down, rub my palms together as he enters into the driver's seat.

"I think we need to talk, sir." He closes his eyes. That was involuntary use of sir

"I’m not rejecting you... I just..." God! He smells f*****g delicious but stares like a hound. When I say nothing, he drives off.

The silence is suffocating and he's obviously taking me to his home.

"I appreciate the money, but I have no interest in an arrangement." I manage to rush out and he slams the car into park.

"Arrangement?"

"Yeah. Me f*****g you when you want, and you paying me monthly."

"You seem familiar with the concept." He grinds out through clenched teeth.

"I'm not miss world but I've captured quite few men's attention" I don't mention they're older or that some were challenge to mock me. The fat girl.

"I see." Is all he replies

"I want something else. Respect. Long term."

"How many?"

I look at him and think back on my words. How many what?

"How many what?"

"Arrangements."

"None. I told you, I want more."

He leans forward and kisses me again, cutting off my breath.

"You taste so f*****g good and I've no intention of letting go,until I’m tired of it."

He says then drives off.

Get tired. Tired. That’s the issue.

"Mr Banks"

"You get two million monthly and rules to follow."

He says. Passing me a folder that I don't pick yet. JESUS. Two million.

"I’ll be busy or traveling, but make sure you’re ready when I call."

Two million. Even if he gets tired in a month, I’m set. If he lasts a year? I'll be facing Twenty-four million dollars!. I could buy a house, a car, shop. I could take care of my parents.

I’ll be rich.

Fuck what they say. I’ll cry about their insults on a yacht.

"Why are you quiet?" He questions, taking a glance at me

"When do you think you’ll get tired of me?"

He smiles and faces the road without replying.

I pull out my phone and search: Banks Wellington longest relationship.

Only two. Both lasted six months.

Twelve million dollars. Still enough for the dream. But my dad’s words echo: f*****g a man is a humiliation ritual... make sure you hide him.

I exhale then my body goes rigid as thick palm find the swell of my breast.

"You're mine Anor" He says with a flicker on my n****e. I clench my p***y and gulp. He lets go.

Two million dollars. The numbers stack themselves as he drives.

I pick up the folder to see.

RULES FOR SUB

-𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 (𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘮𝘦, 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥)

What...! I close the folder and flip it over, look around me.. I'm in the car with Banks. I look at him. He's still driving.

I'm really doing this? Me?

I thought subs are slim? Maybe a tiny bit thick.

Not someone that just reduced to ninety four from one hundred and one kg!

Pressure builds from center of my chest, to lower abdomen to the hole between my legs, back up to my nipples... I'm in heat!

With deep intake of breath, I open it back to read.

Ten minutes later, I'm done, scared and intrigued.

I look at Banks. He’s already parked in front of a stunning penthouse, and he is staring at me, waiting.

I have questions to ask.

"Why me?"

"Am I not too fat?"

"Is this a game?"

But I don't ask them... The logical structure of the rules clearly replied to it all, despite my pulsing heart.

Lastly, I should run. I have $10,000 in my account. I can escape.

But as I said... I'm intrigued, so I don't.

"Seems I’m your f**k-toy whether I choose or not."

I say, undoing my seatbelt.

"f**k-toy," he repeats, the title thick in his mouth. He steps out.

I fix my braids, grab my bag when the door flies open.

Before I can process the move, he hoists me over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

"I’m going to throw up!" I yell.

He slaps my ass in response.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You made it this far you slutty cunt. Glad to have your bratty little ass here.

It gets dirtier