HIS CURVY OBSESSION : ABDSM CONTRACT

BANKS POV

The moment I step inside this perfume store, a sweet voice wrapped in fury greets me. I stand by the door, watching the scene unfold. Both people oblivious to me. She is facing off against a man I assume is a typical, entitled customer.

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

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

She looks around five-foot-five. Hidden beneath the folds of her purple silk dress, are luscious curves that beg to be grabbed, whipped, and squeezed until she forgets every word in her vocabulary except Master.

"If you try that rubbish again, I’ll have you arrested," she adds, jerking a bottle of perfume out of his hand. The man puffs his chest, trying to tower over her. She doesn't flinch. She moves closer, hands on her hips that strain against the fabric of her gown, with her chin tilted up and her shoulders arched. Her chest: pair of full, heavy breasts... moves with every jagged breath she takes. She is pressed dangerously close to his space. I clench my teeth. 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?" she cuts him off.

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

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, 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 says.

"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 and she stumbles back with surprise.

I close my eyes and inhale. The air around her is the most ravishing fragrance I have ever smelt: sweet and spicy. I don't care what happened with that man. I assume he earned that rage. Or maybe she’s just as rude as she looks. First impressions and all that. 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.

"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.

"Take it off," I say, taking 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.

There is no doubt in my mind she’ll obey. Obedience is a currency I value, and right now, I'm about to overpay. But, if she hesitates, I'll finally see something about her that I dislike.

"Sir?" Just like every woman facing me, she's struggling for air. Eyes searching for breath that I robbed her of. I watch her hand lift unsteadily toward the surgical mask and suppress a smile.

She's affected by me, like everyone else. Time seems to slow, stretching each second into a minute and my heart seems to stop. With a defiant roll of her eyes, she pulls it down. Her lips parting slightly like it's waiting for my fingers or cock.

"How may I help you, sir?" My mouth falls open. I thought her voice was the best thing I’d ever heard. It's firm, melodic, dropping an octave, filled with a heat that wraps around my mind like velvet.

It makes me want to demand she say my name.

But now, seeing her face? It’s everything and it makes me want her even more.

"What do you want,sir?" She repeats

I move closer to her, inhaling her sweet 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. It became raging when I saw her fully. She's a riot of purple dress with black hosiery and defiance.

"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.

She wiggles, which only presses her body closer against me. Her curves strain against her dress like they were begging for my hands to ruin them.

"I want to buy every minute of your time until you forget how to say anything but my name" That's what I want to say, but don't .

Her eyes fly up to me, same time red covers her cheeks and neck.

"Sir.. This isn't.." I close my eyes and breath in.

Was it her scent? Her rage? The way she stood? Her height? Curves ? A dozen details stun me at once. She matches exactly the kind of person I want. Now, 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 small nose ring glints in the light. Her cheeks are a bit pointed, giving her a youthful, pouty look.

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

"Why are 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 as I step away from the door. Her head stops just below my shoulder as she scurries past me toward the counter.

"I need a perfume," I say and she comes back out with a tight-lipped, professional smile.

"That’s great, sir." She leads me toward the expensive section. I don’t mind. I’m used to being steered toward the top shelf; I have the money, and they need the commission. Besides, price usually dictates quality.

"Who is it for?" she asks, standing directly in front of me. My body nudging me to hold her waist again. Is it this hard to resist touching someone?

Wait? Why am I resisting? I take.

Actually, the question is why do I want her?

"A male friend. It's his birthday."

She turns her back to me to reach for a bottle of Clive Christian. Her movements bring her dangerously close to me. As she stretches up, her short dress rides up, revealing a glimpse of her ass cheeks hidden beneath her hosiery.

Images of them on my face glimpse through my mind, raw and unbidden.

I press closer, not quite touching. My arm raises alongside hers to help her reach the bottle and the proximity becomes a problem immediately.

Her scent wraps around me, her warmth rising off her skin directly into my own breath and heat moves through me from jaw to groin.

I inhale without meaning to because my body pulls her in without permission, like she’s air I’ve been short on and current runs up my forearm, across my chest and settles low. What the hell.

My hand finds the bottle but I don’t move back

"Thank yo..." She turns to face me, but the movement is too fast. Her mouth connects squarely with my chest and I grab her waist finally, again. To steady her.

My body responds instantly: Throat thicken, pulse race and my stomach is being throttled. My beast fighting to come out.

Now, this is interesting. We've never been this hungry for anyone. My beast is truly selective.

"I... OMG!" She recoils, looking up at me in horror- someone have heard of me.

Then she looks down at the pink lipstick stain she’s left on my grey polo.

"I’m so sorry, sir!" She plead, wiping the stain with the heel of her palm, her chest brushing against my arms while her hand graze my nipple through the fabric. Well, fuck.

"Please come off..." She groan softly and I’m already imagining her saying please in a very different context. I grab her wrist, stopping the frantic rubbing as my length begin to thicken.

"Stop" Our eyes lock at my order and silence engulfs over us like gust of wind.

I lift my other hand and stroke my thumb gently on her cheeks and a faint flush climbs her neck, up to her cheeks and she looks up at me, while I look down at her.

Noises fade but I hear her breathing clearly. I also hear my struggling ability to swallow.

I drop my thumb to the smudged line of the pink lipstick on her cheeks then I swipe it over with a slowness that make my heart race.

Her lips part in exhale and I leave my thumb on her bottom lips, feeling the gloss settle like heat on my skin.

Her breath catches and it undoes something in me that I didn’t know was held together.

“What’s your name?” I question with a voice that's thick and groggy even to my ears.

“Eleanor.” She responds and I release her wrist slowly, letting my fingers drag across her pulse point.

She doesn’t move. Her lips part just slightly under my touch and a low, involuntary sound moves through her chest.

My blood rushes in my ears.

I remove my thumb completely and step back before my beast tears her apart.

The heat buzzing through my body is questioning.

"I’m sorry, sir," she repeats. I nod and walk toward the desk, swallowing the urge to correct her from saying sir.

She walks faster, heading to the terminal.

The shop is small and empty. The only one here: salesgirl and cashier. Money will get me what I want. It always does anyways.

"What time do you close, Anor?" She tilts her head, biting her lower lip.

"Three p.m." I nod, looking down as she rings up the perfume. I watch her work- the images of how perfect she’ll look under me, spread out for me flashes through my mind.

The pulse at her neck is still visible from here and the flush hasn’t fully left her cheeks.

"Here you go, sir." I collect the bag and bill from her. Staring at her a little longer than necessary as I pay. I see the pulse jumping in her neck. The red in her skin deepens. She knows I’m looking.

My getaway.

"My driver will pick you up," I finally decide, turning to head out.

"I... I’ll be too sweaty," her voice stops me. I turn back.

"Moreover... if I’m not being delusional" she licks her lips and motion both hands down her body.

"I’m not properly dressed for a date."

I walk back toward her with need in my steps, watching her chest rise and fall faster with each step I close. I reach out and place my palm against the side of her face.

She goes completely still.

Her neck tightens, breath seizes, chest heaves rapidly while my own pulse forms a drumbeat of its own. The soft flesh of her cheeks settle into my skin as she leans a fraction into my palm.

A sound builds low in my chest, my beast clawing to feast. Without delay,I lean across the counter until my face is inches from hers. Near enough that I can feel the warmth her skin is putting out, enough that her scent wraps me and my restraint develops a crack.

Her lips part and eyes flutter at me.. She isn’t backing away. I drop the bag and raise my other hand to her neck, and connect our lips together.

SHITSTORM.

Sparks fly across my brain, heat spreads around my head and my stomach forms unmistakable big knots as I kiss her. My mouth covers in on her lower lips, I bite it. Her pulse hum beneath my fingers and the heat of her cheeks light up my hand.

"Hmmmm" She groans and something sets off rapidly in my chest.

Fuck.

I press closer and her arm wrap around my neck, the other fishing my chest, my blood boiling at how impossibly soft and warm her lips are.

"Fuck" I grunt into her mouth and pull away slowly like I have all the time in the world, like I’m not fighting the urge to come fully over this counter and devour every flesh that grace her body.

Her breath comes in shallow waves against my chin and her chest is pressing forward to my chest.

Then I let go. The absence an unwrapping. She stumbles back, one hand flying to her mouth, eyes darting everywhere but on me.

Her chest is heaving, lips are wet and parted.

I need to leave this shop in the next ten seconds or I won’t. I hate the absence immediately but placate myself with the thought that she’ll be mine in three hours.

"That... I’ve never... Why... I’m sorry," Even her stammering makes me smile.

"You won't need your dress for this date."

I leave the shop feeling her gaze on me.

It’s been four months since I’ve had sex. That’s a decision that’s about to be rectified.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Fair warning. One of the readers on this book commented: If you don't like BDSM, RUN.

Another commented: I don't read BDSM but this is great.

And another: Handstock, blindfold and displayed, Cuffs... Everything is touched. So Hot

Here's my Author's advice- If you want an obsessed man, but also Dominant. Want a submissive but make her Brat sub, THEN WELCOME!

The comment section takes a fierce ride from mid book.. But I'll appreciate if you give more comments in early chapters. Gracias.

What do you ThInk? If you've worked in retail, I'm sure you've encountered at least four customers like this.