Page 205 of Boardroom Bride


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Holy fuck, I’m going to come.

The crowd is terrified. I can feel that nervous energy pulsating through the crowd watching me—just like I can feel my own fucking pleasure pulsating through my cunt.

“Someone catch her!” a man yells as I threaten to crash right through the stage.

Tough luck, buddy.

I don’t need anyone to catch me.

Not this time.

The crowd gasps again, bracing for impact as—finally—my head comes down towards the stage.

I stop at the last possible second, only fractions of an inch from the ground.

My naked body is totally fucking exposed.

I’m upside down, panting, breasts heaving, as wave after wave of pleasure slam through my body.

Raucous applause fills the room and assaults my senses.

My eyes are wide open—so is my mouth.

I spread my lips into a smile as the orgasm subsides and gives way to something almost just as good.

The sweet elation of success.

Kara Gilmore, the girl who fell.

And this time, it was actually on purpose.

Kara

I muddled my way through the parade portion of the pageant.

I lifted the weights I needed to lift.

I fucking nailed my talent act, and I’m pretty fucking sure the crowd has fallen in love with me all over again.

I honestly fucking think that, if I can manage to avoid making an ass of myself during this speech, I could really fucking win.

The topic I’ve got to speak on is close to my heart.

What does being naked mean to you?

I mean, how much more fucking personal can you get, right?

Chase, Eric, and I worked hard on the speech I’m supposed to give. We’ve crafted it to be perfectly Miss Sexy Universe-worthy.

It’s salacious, funny, and yeah—even a little dirty, because that’s what people seem to love about me. Who would’ve thought, right?

But the longer I stand naked before the microphone, the more I dread letting those prepared, polished words come out of my mouth.

The answer we’ve prepared…it just doesn’t feel like me.

I clear my throat, realizing that I’ve been standing up here way too fucking long without saying anything. If I don’t get a fucking move on, the judges might think I’m suffering from stage fright and disqualify me.

I take a deep breath and stare out into the audience. I know they’re all waiting for me to give them what they came for—blowjob jokes, sassy quips, and intimate details about my kinky sex life.

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