“Oh Carver!” I cry out. “Oh god, I love you!”

  He moans as well, his cock jerking in me.

  “And I love you, Ava,” he growls. “You are my one and only.”

  With that, we both explode, our bodies united in shared passion. He jerks and groans, filling me with his virile baby batter while I clamp hard, unable to stop the shaking.

  “Oh oh oh!” I cry out lustily. “Yes!”

  He grunts as everything goes haywire, hot jism filling my back orifice.

  “Take it,” he hisses. “Fuck yeah, you’re my girl.”

  With that, we collapse on the bed, my back glued to his chest as we both heave from excitement. Oh my gosh, did that really just happen? Judging from the liquid trailing down my thigh, yes.

  At that moment, Brett jumps onto the podium, clapping enthusiastically.

  “Congratulations!” he yells. “You guys did it. Ava and Carver are the winners of this dirty competition. More power to you!”

  Amelia and Evan clap limply as well from their seats in the darkness. I faintly hear something that sounds like, “Good job,” from my friend’s mouth, but I’m not sure because I can’t think. I’m crushed beneath Carver’s heavy weight, and yet this is exactly where I want to be. Receiving his virile goodness while also the recipient of kisses as he worships me tenderly.

  “By the way, Ava, I meant what I said in the heat of the moment,” he murmurs low in my ear, so that only I can hear. “I love you, baby.”

  My heart beats powerfully and tears spring to my eyes as I crane my head to look at the handsome man.

  “And I you,” is my simple reply. Because it’s true. Maybe I came to this island to be a party hostess and ended up something completely different. Maybe I hosted a billionaire in a way that I never anticipated. But when it all boils down to what matters, this is the man who means the world to me, and now I know that our love will carry me through … to Maruba and beyond.

  Epilogue

  Carver

  She’s so beautiful it’s impossible to describe. It’s been about eight months since the dirty contest at the Billionaires Island, and Ava’s now plump and round. We’ve just come back from meeting the Pope, but it’s not our Good Father’s company that has her flushed. It’s the fact that Ava’s having pre-contractions while lying in the large double bed, and I’m massaging her feet to help her relax.

  “Sweetheart, it’s a little early,” I soothe. “The baby’s not due for another three weeks so try to relax. These are just practice contractions,” I say.

  “I know,” she mewls. “But it’s hard and it hurts!” she exclaims as another contraction makes her wince a bit.

  “What can I do?” I ask seriously. “I want to make it better for you.”

  After all, this girl is my world now. After winning the competition, Ava and I left Maruba together. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t want to be on an island in the middle of nowhere without this woman. So when the plane lifted off, I was there with her, holding her hand and stroking her curls. She means everything to me, and I want her to have it all.

  It wasn’t hard, to be honest, because my girl doesn’t ask for much. She wants to go back to school and is filling out applications for Ph.D. programs in religion. Thus, the visit with our pontiff. Ava was so excited when I told her we’d be going to the Vatican.

  “Really?” she asked, eyes wide. At this point she was beginning to show and rubbed her belly as if for good luck. “We’re going to meet the Pope?”

  “Really,” I confirmed. “He wants to meet you, too.”

  But then Ava shook her head.

  “I’m honored to meet him,” she said in a soft voice. “But I don’t want a recommendation. It’s not right because he doesn’t really know me, and I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I’m going to get in on my own merits,” she said in a decided voice.

  I was going to argue with her, but that’s what I love most about my woman: she’s so principled and ethical, even if we met in a completely unprincipled setting. As a result, we met with the Pope one Sunday after services, and it was as amazing as can be. He was gracious and kind, befitting a man of his stature, and we felt blessed to be in his presence.

  But now, we’re back in the room and Ava’s having early contractions while carrying our son.

  “Stay calm, sweetheart,” I soothe even as panic jolts in my heart. “Baby Avery doesn’t want to come out yet. It’s too early,” I say.

  My love is about to say something in reply, but then her mouth snaps shut as a thought strikes her.

  “You know, Carver,” she manages between pants. “You could help me relax in a very special way.”

  “How?” I ask, sitting up while clasping her hand. “I’ll do anything sweetheart.”

  Slowly, she undoes her robe, revealing her curvy, hugely pregnant form. Ava’s absolutely gorgeous and I can’t stop staring at her enormous breasts tipped with pink and her large, meaty thighs. She’s put on about seventy pounds, and looks like a creamy Aphrodite, albeit a very pregnant one.

  Slowly, Ava turns herself until she’s on her hands and knees, her big belly cushioned by a pillow. Then she looks back at me, and pulls her cheeks wide, showing me that brownie.

  “Put it in,” she breathes. “It’ll help me relax. But put it in the back way because I don’t want to overstimulate the baby.”

  I rumble low in my throat.

  “Sweetheart, I think the baby’s going to be stimulated if you’re stimulated, and this is supposed to be relaxing, not the other way around.”

  But Ava merely giggles.

  “I know, Carver, but put it in me, pretty please? You know I love the back way now.”

  I do know because ever since that dirty contest, Ava has become a backdoor ho. It’s incredible, and it fills me with wonder too. How did this sassy yet innocent girl become a woman of the world who offers her bottom hole to me all day, every day 24/7? I love it and get up to kneel behind her, grabbing those curvy hips for purchase.

  “You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, right?” I growl.

  She merely closes her eyes and nudges me.

  “Now!” is her demand. “Now, now!”

  How can I say no to a pregnant woman? Within moments, I’m balls deep in her behind, enjoying the tight squeeze.

  “Oooh,” she squeals. “Yes!”

  It doesn’t take much because Ava feels so good. There’s something about being huge and heavily pregnant that turns me on, and within a few minutes, I’m spurting like a madman into her bottom.

  “Fuck,” is my grunt. “Oh shit!”

  Meanwhile, my girl dissolves as well, a mellifluous melody of throaty moans hitting my ears. Oh yeah, she’s having a good time as she milks me hard, absorbing everything I have to give.

  After it’s over, Ava turns around again, her hands resting lightly on her belly.

  “I think you like it even more when I’m pregnant,” she teases.

  I nod, my grin huge.

  “I do, sweetheart. And after you give birth, I want to fill you up with another baby, and then another one, and then another one, et cetera. What do you think?”

  Her cheeks go pink as her mouth opens wide, but then Ava smiles gently at me too.

  “I would love that, Carver. But where would we live? Your penthouse in New York only has four bedrooms, and it sounds like you’d like to have five or six children.”

  I grin.

  “Not five or six, honey. At least a dozen because I can’t wait to have you pregnant and barefoot, waddling around for the next, oh twenty years or so. But sweetheart, it doesn’t matter where we’re located geographically. Wherever you get into school, is where we’ll go. We can buy a house or rent during your Ph.D. program, and I’ll watch the kids as you study. We have so much money, I can afford to be Mr. Mom for a while,” I say seriously.

  She smiles at me, clasping my hand once more.

  “You’re so good to me, Carver,” she breathes. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  I lean down to press my lips against hers in a passionate kiss.

  “You deserve me because you’re amazing, precious, daring, intelligent, and a sweet girl all rolled up into one without even trying,” I breathe against her lips. “You’re everything to me, Ava, and I want to tell you just how much. Will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Carver Temple? I don’t have a ring right now, but we’ll get one as soon as we’re back in the States. A beautiful gold band, sweetheart, with a diamond as big as the moon. What do you think?”

  Tears spring to her eyes then as she returns my kiss, nestling into my embrace.

  “Yes, Carver, I’d love to become your wife, and you know the ring doesn’t matter at all because what matters is us, and that we’re together. Maybe we were introduced at Billionaires Island, but all that is in the past now. You and me? We were meant to be, no matter the circumstances.”

  I can’t agree more and lean down to kiss the precious curvy girl once more because what she says is true. Maybe we met at Billionaires Island, in a secluded paradise meant to cater to wealthy men. Maybe Ava was supposed to be a party hostess but ended up in my suite night after night. Maybe we participated in a dirty contest with eye-opening results. But none of it matters because everything ended up where it should, and with this curvy girl as my wife, the future looks bright indeed.

  * * *

  The End

  * * *

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  Sneak Peek: Pregnant By the CEO

  It’s actually been a really good day. Nicole and I snuck out for drinks at lunch, and my column today was really popular. I got lots of letters applauding my response. Good. I hope that rich Daddy Warbucks who sends his assistant to do his dirty work knows that he’s been vilified in the court of public opinion. So yeah, nothing can disturb my good mood. The sun is shining and it’s finally warm. Best of all, I get to leave work early because Rhonda is at a conference.

  Heading towards the subway, I turn my face to catch some rays. Today has been the first really warm day of spring and the sunshine feels good on my pale skin. The AC was on in the office all day, and they often turn it full blast so that it’s like being at the North Pole. As a result, it’s nice to get out. In fact, it's balmy enough for me to remove my cardigan and wish I hadn’t worn stockings.

  To celebrate, I buy myself a taco from a street cart. Perfect, especially since they have the extra spicy salsa today. But then as I take a bite, I remember my doctor’s appointment from yesterday. Ugh. My primary care physician gave me a long talk about my weight, saying I need to drop at least twenty pounds for health reasons. Blegh.

  Sighing, I glimpse at my reflection in a nearby window. I’m a big girl, it’s true, and nothing’s going to change that, not even losing twenty pounds. I have a large booty, the kind that previous boyfriends adored and hated at once, meaning that they loved to grab it in private, but hated to see it in public. But pooh on them because I love my ass; it’s probably my favorite feature. I wear tight skirts and jeans pretty often, but the problem with tight skirts and jeans is they also accentuate my least favorite body part – my big, round belly. It’s always full and popping out, even if I haven’t eaten in hours. I generally try to shift attention upwards to my breasts which, if I don’t say so myself, are amazing.

  I have round, perky Double Ds, and like my bottom, I like to show them off with scoop necks and dangly necklaces. My legs are long and shapely, and when I wear heels, they make my ass look like a perfect peach.

  For the most part, my generous curves make me feel powerful and sensual. Why not? Stick thin scarecrows aren’t attractive in my book, and I’ve never understood why the male population is drawn to that look. But I guess a little exercise wouldn’t kill me either.

  Damnit. I shake my head and finish the taco, relishing the tangy pineapple and the rich, crackling pork. I vow to walk home instead of taking the subway. When’s the last time I strolled over the Brooklyn Bridge, anyway? Besides, I love to walk. It’s preferable to going to the gym for sure, where I feel like a hamster in a wheel going nowhere.

  It’s such a vibrant afternoon. The buildings glimmer in the sunlight and all around me people are laughing and enjoying the promise of coming summer. I close my eyes and inhale, breathing it all in.

  When I open my eyes, I’m startled because I catch sight of a huge man in a suit barreling down 34th Street, probably late for a meeting. He’s gorgeous for sure, even if he looks like he could tear apart a small animal with his bare hands right now. Dark hair flies in the wind, and those blue eyes are so intense they could sear a steak with that fire.

  I hop out of the way, hoping not to be trampled, but to my horror, he veers right and stays in my path. He looks right at me, locks eyes and then charges forward like a raging bull. My heart races. Holy shit, I’m about to be run over! Help!

  I stand there frozen, like a deer in the headlights unable to move. But then to my relief, he slows and comes to a full stop right in front of me. This man is a good foot taller than I am, and hesitantly, I look up at him. Again, he makes direct eye contact, and this time I can see those blue eyes are full of hate and anger. I’m dumbfounded. Who is this person? Do I even know him?

  But even during this inauspicious moment, my feminine instincts appreciate the sheer male beauty of this man. Sure, he’s angry right now, but it’s the kind of anger that comes from a glowering god. His eyes are the penetrating blue of pure cobalt. He has the sculpted face of an old-time film star, with a firm jaw and thick, masculine brows. His hair, thick and black, sparkles with threads of silver. And best of all, beneath that perfectly tailored charcoal suit, I can sense the outlines of hard, thick male muscle. Oh god. What does he want with me? A frisson of sensation runs down my spine, and I feel my lady parts moistening. I’m in danger, and yet also aroused. How can this be happening?

  But the man knows. He’s still staring right into me, and steps closer. He smells spicy, like ginger and smoke before letting out a low growl. I’m starting to feel legitimately frightened.

  “Are you Casey Henderson?”

  Slowly, I nod. There’s no point in lying; my photo is next to my name in the newspaper every week. “Yes, why?”

  “I’m Pierce Lane.”

  “Okay?”

  Who the hell is Pierce Lane? I’ve never heard that name before in my life.

  He glowers.

  “Perhaps you know me better as ‘P,’ the so-called ‘heartless bastard’ you wrote about in your column last week.”

  Despite myself, I gasp. What the? A guy like this reads my column? I know that most readers of Agony Aunt columns are middle-aged women who live in the Midwest, so this is a surprise. How did he find me?

  “Hello, Mr. Lane,” I say evenly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  He harrumphs some answer, eyeing me up and down. He fixes his gaze upon my own eyes, vibrant blue irises alight with fury.

  An exhilarating surge of fear lights up my body. My heart is slamming in my chest as I stare right back into his gaze. But then I force myself to speak.

  “It’s not libel if it doesn’t say your name or any identifying details,” comes my brave protest. “I clearly had no idea who you were, so why would the readers? I stand by what I wrote to the LW.”

  Whew. I’ve got this and just need to keep my cool for a few more minutes. Pierce seems to relax for a moment.

  “Did you get any feedback?” he asks, almost casual now.

  I can feel my hands shaking. Damn it. I shove them into the pockets of my skirt where they tremble against my hips.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did, Mr. Lane,” I say smoothly. “Plenty of women felt the same way I did. And guess what? They were moved enough by the story that they wrote me very heartfelt replies. More replies than I’ve ever received to a single letter, in fact.”

  He sneers. “Oh, I’m sure.”

  This man drips with arrogance while looking at me patronizingly. I shake my head and glance over my shoulder towards the subway, towards home. I don’t know. Away from this mess.

  “Are we finished?” I manage in an even tone.

  Those blue eyes flash, making my heart accelerate.

  “No, sweetheart, we’re not finished, not even close. You owe me, Ms. Henderson, and it’s time you realized that I always collect.”

  * * *

  To be continued …

  * * *

  Pregnant By the CEO is now LIVE! Pick up your copy here.

  Sneak Peek: It’s A Deal

  ~A MFM Menage Romance ~

  * * *

  By Cassandra Dee

  * * *

  Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

  About This Book

  It’s a Deal: A MFM Menage Romance

  * * *

  Kendall’s a student volunteering her time as part of a charitable medical mission. She’s devoted to children, and health care is scarce in this remote region of Europe. But two handsome doctors stand in her way: Kane and Kent Drew. Sure, the gorgeous physicians are volunteering their time too, but the cocky, arrogant twins drive her crazy even as they make her hot under the collar.

  * * *

  Brothers Kane and Kent have a secret: they’re royalty. Literally, they were born into a noble house and their father is a king. There are dozens of ladies lined up ready to become a princess, but after meeting the beautiful Kendall Smith, there’s only one woman who can satisfy their desire: the curvy girl with the sweet smile who wants nothing to do with them. Can the brothers change her mind?

 

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