“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she screamed out, arching her back and squeezing her eyes shut as she savored the biteful.
A look of ecstasy swept over her face. Every eye in the room stayed on her as she swallowed and cried out “Oh God” before going for another bite.
“I want whatever she’s having,” shouted one of the respondents.
“Me too!” echoed another woman. And then another and another. “Someone pass the box.”
While Olive finished consuming her donut, the box got passed around, and within seconds, moans and groans filled the room. It was like an orgasmic choir led by my beautiful Olive. Even the group moderator joined the chorus and I could hear her moan.
As I watched my Olive lick a little of the cream off her upper lip, I was having my own mental orgasm. My ready-to-burst cock strained against my pants. My know-it-all marketing director was wrong; she’d jumped the gun. There was nothing wrong with our donuts. Fucking nothing. Olive’s “ohs” whirled around in my head. Ideas were spinning too.
An infuriated Mallory broke into my delicious thoughts. “This is ridiculous. It’s like an orgy in there. I am going to put an end to this group.”
“Be my guest.” I had all the research—and answers—I needed. A satisfied smile stretched across my face. Orgy coincidentally began with a big “O” too.
“These women shouldn’t even be compensated,” Mallory hissed. “Especially that big fat ball of trouble.”
Rage pulsed through me; I wanted to smack her.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growled. But then a bright idea hit me. “Actually, Clint, I don’t want her compensated. Please have her stay behind and bring her to my office. I will handle her personally.”
Mallory smirked as she headed out of the observation room. “You should give her what she deserves for disrupting the group.”
That’s exactly what I had in mind. And a lot more.
“And Clint, one more thing. Please fire our advertising agency and hire the hottest one in town to do a new campaign. I want a meeting set for this afternoon.”
Mallory fired me a puzzled what-the-fuck look. Before she could utter a word, I shut her up. “Do it.”
As a miffed Mallory disappeared, my eyes drifted back to my beautiful Olive.
She had single-handedly put the O back in our donuts. I broke into another big smile. Donut King was going to re-conquer the world. And I was going to conquer her.
Why didn’t I get paid? All the other respondents got an envelope with a crisp hundred-dollar bill inside it. I must have messed up. Done something wrong. But all I did was follow instructions, giving my true and honest opinions. And reactions. Tears spilled from my eyes as I sat on a black leather couch in the big corner office belonging to the man who owned this company. I needed the money so badly. I was about to be evicted. Tomorrow I could be homeless. On the street. At the thought of being one of those many desperate people in LA, who held up a sign on a street corner begging for money and food, soft sobs wracked my body. I was a basket case. What did I do to deserve this fate? I was a good girl, so I thought. Taken care of my poor mama until she passed away…gone to church every Sunday…and had vowed to stay a virgin until I found someone to love. The latter—finding the right man—was unlikely. Men didn’t want a big girl like me. Maybe it was time to check into a nunnery.
“Why are you crying, Olive?”
A quasi-familiar deep baritone voice rung in my ears. But how did he know my name? And don’t even get me started on the way he said it. All breathy like a prayer. Startled, I looked up. A gorgeous monumental man loomed over me. My stomach flip-flopped as my heart skipped a beat. While he wasn’t wearing a crown and his royal blue cape or sporting a long beard, I recognized him in an instant. It was the Donut King! Maybe he was meeting with the owner of this company too.
“I-I’m sorry,” I spluttered, looking into his piercing sapphire eyes, which looked even bluer with his jet-black hair, dense eyebrows, and layer of dark stubble along his strong jaw. Holy cow. He was even more gorgeous in person. And so much bigger. At least six-foot-four, maybe even six-foot-six with endless long legs and broad shoulders that belonged on a movie star. In a word, he was dazzling. The most beautiful man I’d ever set eyes on. I tried to collect myself, but it was impossible. My tumultuous emotions mixed with a rush of hot tingles. My breath hitched in my throat, but I miraculously found my voice.
“I’m waiting for the owner of this company. I think he wants to yell at me and tell me how badly I messed up his focus group.”
A warm smile lit up his face, making the fine lines around his eyes and sexy dimple in his chin more prominent. Then to my shock, he brushed away my tears with the back of his large hand. Oh so tenderly.
“I am the owner of this company. Owen King.”
A loud gasp escaped my lungs. Flushing with embarrassment, I stuttered, “Y-you’re the Donut King? I-I thought he was an actor.”
He let out a husky laugh that came from deep down inside him. “Yeah. I’m the one and only Donut King. My acting sucks.”
“No it doesn’t,” I countered, gaining the tiniest bit of confidence and composure. “You’re an amazing actor.” Everything about him was amazing. My heart pitter-pattered as the tingles coursing through my body clustered between my legs. My temperature was rising as fast as bread in an oven and my panties were melting like a stick of butter. Even my breathing labored. Dear God. Was this love? Get a grip, Olive. This man was so out of my league, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he spoke.
“Thanks, but I find it hard to believe. The women in that group certainly didn’t seem to think so.”
I was about to giggle when the reality of messing up the focus group hit me again. More tears poured from my eyes. “I’m so sorry I screwed up the focus group.”
“Stop crying, Miss—”
“Cumming. Olive Cumming.”
“Olive Cumming.” He repeated my name, his rich virile voice making it sound so dreamy. “Mmmm…I like the sound of that,” he added, raking his eyes over me. “How did you get the name Olive?”
I sniffed. “My mother named me after her favorite cartoon character—Olive Oyl.”
He reacted with a belly laugh. It unnerved me. I was a fattie. Plain and simple.
“I know. I’m the furthest thing from Olive Oyl.”
He laughed again. Was he mocking me? While I’d come to grips with my size, the pain I’d endured from kids taunting me about my weight when I was younger came back to haunt me with a vengeance. The tears that were falling multiplied. The gorgeous scumbag. He was no different. I had to get out of here. And besides, I desperately needed to find a job so I could pay my rent to my landlord, mean old Mrs. Murphy. I attempted to stand up, but he gripped my shoulders with his large hands, holding me back. My size was no match for his formidable strength. His eyes burned a hole into mine while a cocky smile swept across his face.
“That skinny bitch wishes she had your beautiful curves. She would have done a lot better than that dickhead sailor.”
I let out a giggle while his hands roamed down my arms and his gaze fixed on my double D-boobs. Goosebumps popped beneath the warmth of his palms. Holding my hands, his eyes met mine again.
“Now, please stop crying and listen up.”
His voice was commanding and authoritative like the chief executive he was. It both intimidated and excited me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to jump away from him or jump him. The latter was winning by a landslide.
“Contrary to what you might be thinking, I actually asked you to be brought to my office so I could personally thank you for your focus group input. I loved everything you said.”
“You did?” I squeaked. He must have been sitting behind that mirrored window.
He nodded. “Yes, you’ve given me an exciting, brand new marketing direction. Something I never thought of. Nor did my brainiac marketing gal.” He bracketed the word “brainiac” with air quotes.
Before he got into
more details, my cell phone rang. I dug it out of my bag and instantly recognized the number. My tingles instantly morphed into trembles. Anxiety filled every nook and cranny of my body. It was my landlord, Mrs. Murphy.
“I’m sorry. I have to take this.” My hands shook as I put the phone to my ear. I listened quietly and then burst into another round of tears. Big, fat ugly ones. The kind that came with a full-on snot storm.
“Jesus. What’s the matter now, Olive?”
Before I could answer him, he scooped me up in his brawny arms. He held me effortlessly, making me feel like a mere waif. Trust me, many pregnant women in their last trimester didn’t weigh as much as I did. I reveled equally in my misery and the strength of this powerful man. My Donut King. On my next breath, he began kissing my tears away, planting the most delicate of kisses all over my wet cheeks with his soft lips. The sexy little sucking sounds made my heart beat into a frenzy while electricity whipped through my system. Oh what this big beautiful sex god could do to me. My arms curled around his broad shoulders as the kisses kept coming.
“I suck at tears,” he murmured.
He could suck at my tears all he wanted. I continued to bawl.
“Seriously, Olive, what can I do to stop you from crying?”
“Kiss me!” My lord, my master! “Take my mouth. Smother it with yours”
I couldn’t believe I was begging this gorgeous man to devour me. And I was in his arms. I’d only met him ten minutes ago. I knew nothing about him except I wanted him to own me, possess me, and never let me go.
Holy shit. She tasted delicious. So delectably sweet, partly thanks to the lingering flavor of the cream-filled donut she’d eaten in the focus group. Too immersed in my work, it had been a long time since I’d kissed a girl and gotten off on it. I’d never kissed anyone like her. And I’d kissed many.
My mouth consumed hers, intermittently gnawing and sucking, and once parted, our tongues tangoed as if we’d danced this dance forever. She followed my lead perfectly, her tongue swirling and twirling, while adorable little sexy sounds escaped from her throat. She was totally turning me on. As her hands tugged at my hair, an erection of mega proportions was raging beneath my trousers. I hardly knew her, but I had to have her. Minutes later, her crying died down.
“Good girl,” I whispered, breaking the all-consuming kiss.
“More,” she breathed out.
Christ. She was insatiable. And I was falling in love with every bit of her.
“Shh.” I smacked another hot kiss on her soft lips and then asked, “Why were you crying so hard?”
Her eyes began to water again. God, she was an emotional one, but I loved that about her. Everything about her was extreme. In many ways, she mirrored me.
“You don’t need to know.”
“Yes. I. Do.”
Another tear blinked out of one eye. Oh, no. Here we go again. I couldn’t handle it.
“Olive…” I stretched out her name, audibly making the two syllables sound like “Aaah…love.” She was quickly becoming my love. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
She gulped down a breath. “My landlord terminated my lease. I’m being kicked out of my apartment today.” Her full lips quivered. “I have no job. No money. And no place to live.”
“What about friends or family?”
She simply shook her head as the tears began to pour down her cheeks. It was fucking gutting me. Big time. And then—PING!—an idea sprung to mind.
“What can I do to help?” Besides marrying you and making you mine forever. And that could easily and happily be option number one.
“I don’t know.” Her misty eyes gazed up at mine. “Maybe just give me the hundred dollar focus group fee. At least, that’ll get me a night in a cheap hotel until I figure out my life.”
God. She was so cute. So humble and modest. She wanted so little from me. I’d never met a woman like this in my thirty-five years. Well, except my beloved late mother, may she rest in peace. With this fond memory, I responded.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
“I understand.” Her lips trembled with despair.
She was no longer gutting me. She was killing me. Her sad chocolate brown eyes were melting me as if I was the Wicked Dick of the West. No more playing games. Looking straight into her soulful eyes, I, the straight shooter (in more ways than one), told her exactly what was on my mind.
“Listen, Olive.” All the air left my lungs as I uttered her breathy name. “I have an opening.”
Her plump, pink lips parted like a rose in bloom. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is I have a job opening. My assistant quit the other day and I’m in desperate need of another.” I refrained from telling her that my last assistant (unlucky number thirteen) had a nervous breakdown because she couldn’t get into my pants or keep up with my demanding workload. All she wanted was a full load of my seed.
Olive’s long-lashed eyes fluttered. “You’re offering me a job?”
“Yes. Under one condition. I need to find out if you’re a good fit.”
My whole life I’d been a social misfit. Sticking out like a sore thumb because of my weight. All the skinny minnies in my neighborhood had mocked me. It had started in kindergarten and gone right through high school. And the boys weren’t any better either. Then, something changed my life—a single acting class. I discovered my weight didn’t matter. I could be anyone I wanted to be. From Romeo’s Juliet to Rhett’s Scarlett. So, I moved to Hollywood right after high school, hoping to become the next Melissa McCarthy. But that hadn’t happened yet. I was still a starving actress, flitting from one waitressing job to another just to stay alive. And get fed. It wasn’t easy. And being overweight made it harder. In the land of Hollywood beauties—and there were many—no one wanted to hire a fat girl when a thin attractive one was at their disposal. The last month had been the hardest. I’d combed the streets, putting in applications everywhere—from the poshest restaurants to the most rinky-dink diners—and not a bite. Desperate, I’d also scoured Craigslist. And that’s how I’d found the focus group.
EARN CASH! Outspoken women ages 21-49 wanted for a research study.
Must love donuts.
Qualified participants will be compensated $100 for their time.
I immediately filled out the online application, answering every question honestly except my age; I put down twenty-one though that birthday was a few weeks away; twenty-four hours later I was accepted. When I found out the study was for Donut King, my favorite addiction, I was ecstatic. I just didn’t expect to be this ecstatic. My love for donuts was nothing compared to the love I was feeling for this incredible man. The Donut King himself.
I was still recovering from my very first kiss, his movie star kiss, my body trembling with need and want, as he set me back down on the couch.
“Lie down, my princess,” he ordered, his gaze devouring me. Hunger glinted in his jewel-toned eyes.
As gracefully as I could, I repositioned myself so that I was spread out across the couch. A pillow rested under my head.
“How will you know if I’m a good fit?” God, I wanted this job so badly I could taste it. But not as badly as I wanted this sex god’s mouth all over me. Lust pulsed through my bloodstream, my heart beating as fast as a jackrabbit’s. I’d never felt this way about a man before.
A wicked smile played on his lips. “I’m going to find out now. But first you need to answer one job interview question.” He paused. “Are you on birth control?”
I nodded, too afraid to ask what this query had to do with a job. I’d been on the pill for a long time to help with my menstrual cramps.
“Good.” Smiling, he told me he’d been tested and was clean, whatever that meant, then looked me up and down, his laser-sharp eyes lingering on places they shouldn’t be. I felt myself flushing.
“Mr. King, are you sizing me up?”
He chuckled. “You could say that. Your sense of humor is very refreshing.”
“Thanks.” I tried to act as cool and calm as possible. But on the inside, I was falling apart. I’d never had such a powerful, instant attraction to a man, and my body didn’t know how to handle it, especially when he was mentally undressing me.
He then growled like a hungry bear. My already rapid heartbeat quickened.
His hand moved to his fly. My wide, unblinking eyes never strayed from him as he unbuttoned it and then zipped it down. The grating sound of the separating metal teeth sent goosebumps to my flesh. My breasts quivered. As still as my heart could be, I watched as he shoved his pants down along with his boxers in a single swift move. My breath hitched in my throat while my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Holy guacamole! His cock was now pointing right at me. Okay, I was no expert on cocks, but his was big. I’m talking humongous. Maybe the mother of all cocks. I let out an audible gasp and then shifted my eyes to his. I desperately needed a cold shower.
“What do you think, Olive?”
He expected me to think? Say something when this monstrosity was practically in my face? Okay, maybe this was all part of the job interview. I prayed to God. Please let me find my voice. I needed this job. And I needed him. Thank goodness, God heard me.
“Mr. King, I must say you look much bigger in person than you do on TV.”
He cast his eyes down at his cock, curling one of his large hands around the thick base. “Yes, Olive. An excellent observation. I’m a lot bigger.” He put special emphasis on the word “lot.” Trust me, there truly was no need.
“Okay, Olive, now let’s find out if you’re a good fit.” His pants halfway down his legs, he inched closer to me. I could smell his virility. A combination of his natural scent and an expensive woodsy cologne. I wanted it everywhere. If I could bottle it, I would douse my entire body with it. With him. Eyeing me lustfully, he continued.
The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) Page 2