Dangerous Curves 2: The Good Girl (A Billionaire and BBW erotica romance)
Read Dangerous Curves 2: The Good Girl (A Billionaire and BBW erotica romance) Online
Authors: Melody Banks
Dangerous Curves
#2
“The Good Girl”
By
Melody Banks
Leave this place and run away with me.
Was I dreaming, or had he really said those words?
These days, it was almost impossible to tell the difference between the waking world and a dreamland. Ever since meeting Nicholas Colby my life had felt like something out of a fairytale.
Nick was perfect in every sense of the word. Handsome beyond compare, with deep, soulful eyes and thick
brown hair that begged to be tousled and played with.
He had soft, firm lips that begged to be kissed, hands that were capable and strong. Not to mention
a body that wouldn’t quit….
Even so, perfection had its price.
Nick had begged me to come aboard his private plane, to escape with him to paradise.
But despite my every aching desire, despite how much I long to be with him, it was a request I was too terrified to fulfill.
We had an agreement. He would give me thirty days of intense, beautiful pleasure. Those were the terms of Nick’s proposition, those were the terms I’d agreed to.
One month and he’d be gone. One month and I’d have to return to my normal, ordinary existence.
And as much as I wanted to let myself go – as much as I was dying to jump onboard that plane and run away with him – I knew that I’d be setting myself up for a massive crash, from which recovery would be impossible.
But despite my best efforts, I was falling for Nick – and falling hard.
I want you, Violet, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“You want me now,” I had said, in a voice barely above a whisper. “But what happens when our time is up?”
It was a question that he wouldn’t answer. And there were other questions, too, darker ones…ones I was too afraid to ask.
As much as I was loving every moment with him, I was deeply afraid of what would happen when our time together came to an end.
That’s the thing about dreams. No matter how good they are, eventually you have to wake up….
“Violet, could I talk to you for a minute?”
I glanced down at the clock on the right-hand corner of my computer screen – 6:38. Shouldn’t she be long gone by now?
She
being my boss Mariah. It wasn’t like her to stay in the office so late, especially on a Friday.
In fact, I’d be cutting out in a few minutes myself. I suppressed a smile as I thought about my after-work plans for the evening.
I had a hot date on the other side of town in just under an hour. Actually, the term “hot date” didn’t quite do it justice.
I had received the message – my summons, as I jokingly called it – early this morning. I had just rolled out of bed and I was checking e-mails on my phone when the
door buzzer went off, alerting me that I had a visitor downstairs. I pressed the talk button and asked, “May I help you?”
“I have delivery for Miss Violet Lewis. It’s from Mr. Nicholas Colby.”
My eyes shot wide open. A delivery? From Nick? It was barely 7 a.m. What could he possibly be sending me?
“Come on up,” I said, pressing the button to unlock the door.
A moment later, the deliveryman appeared, clutching a large to-go cup of coffee, a small pastry box, and a red envelope.
“Mr. Colby wanted you to have these,” the deliveryman said, as I took the items from his hand.
“Thank you,” I told him. I set Nick’s presents down on my coffee table and reached for my purse to give the deliveryman a tip. But as I started to pull out a few dollars, he held up his hand to stop me.
“Mr. Colby has already taken care of it,” he said.
“I insist,” I told him.
I tried, again, to give him the tip, but he shook his head.
“And Mr. Colby insists back. Good day,” he said, ducking out and shutting the door before I could protest.
I turned and picked up the red envelope and carefully opened the flap. Inside, was a small white card, which read:
Dinner tonight, 8 p.m. My driver will pick you up.
Nick
P.S. Enjoy breakfast.
I
opened the pastry box and was delighted to find a chocolate cheesecake croissant – my favorite! I was even more delighted when I noticed a card that said:
Tabor’s Gourmet Bake Shoppe
St. Louis, Missouri
Tabor’s Bake Shoppe is my all-time favorite bakery, and their cheesecake croissants are to die for – especially the chocolate. I grew up an hour outside of St. Louis, and Tabor’s was a special treat that my parents took us to whenever we visited the city. I
hadn’t eaten a croissant from there in years. How did Nick even know this place existed, much less that I loved their chocolate cheesecake croissants? And how did he get them here to Manhattan? Lots of restaurants overnighted food orders, but I knew for a fact that Tabor’s wasn’t one of them. Believe me, I’d tried.
Ever since moving to New York three years ago,
I’d religiously checked Tabor’s website, in the hopes that they would eventually start shipping out their baked goods. But no such luck. Unless, of course, you were Nicholas Colby. In that case, I supposed, you could have anything you wanted.
I picked up the pastry, and took a big, indulgent bite.
Oh. My. God.
It was every bit as good as I remembered – possibly even better. The croissant’s pastry was
soft and flaky with a deliciously rich creamy interior. The chocolate was smooth and wondrous. Each bite equated to utter perfection, somehow tasting even better than the one before it.
I was so enamored with
my pastry, that I temporarily forgot about the coffee. I picked it up and took a sip, and was thrilled to discover that, as with the pastry, Nick had also provided my favorite caffeinated drink: a double cappuccino, lightly sweetened.
All in all, it was the perfect breakfast – and the fact that it
had come from Nick Colby made it even more special.
I smiled at the memory as I made my way over to Mariah’s office
to see what she wanted.
I’d been dreaming a
bout my dinner date all day, and I didn’t have much longer to wait before Nick’s driver picked me.
But for now, duty called.
I covered the distance across the office in record time, saying hi to my best friend, Katie, as I went.
“Cute dress!” Katie said, as I sailed by.
“Thanks!” I told her, beaming at the compliment.
I was wearing a brand new outfit today
– a flirty black and white polka dot dress, accessorized with a yellow scarf knotted loosely around my neck. The outfit had a fun, retro vibe, and it was girly and cute. The best part, though, was that the dress buttoned all the way down the front. I had picked it out for that very reason.
I felt a little chill run down my spine at the thought of how Nick’s fingers would hungrily undo the buttons, racing through them one by one, when we inevitably found ourselves back in his penthouse later that night.
Nick Colby was – in addition to being the owner of our magazine and my temporary lover – one of the most eligible bachelors around.
Just ask
People
magazine. They’d included him on their 50 Most Beautiful People list three years in a row (a record that remained unmatched). At thirty-five years old, Nick had a net worth that rivaled most first world nations.
The fact that he owned a magazine would have been surpr
ising, save for the fact that Nick was a well-known patron of the arts. Not to mention a philanthropist. Nick readily pledged money – heady, insane sums – to organizations like
Feed America
and
Doctors without Borders
.
All of this only added to the fact that I found him completely irresistible. Fortunately, though, I wouldn’t have to resist much longer. We would be meeting up in just around an hour.
But for now, I had to get through the rest of my workday.
The second I saw Mariah’s face,
my entire body tensed up. Mariah was a notoriously tough boss, which would have been tolerable, if she were at least fair. But she wasn’t. Mariah was known for playing favorites, for giving her friends great assignments, while relegating her inferiors (as she called them) to virtual scraps.
From the look on her face, something was up.
Still, nothing could have prepared me for what she was about to say.
“I’m
putting you on assignment,” Mariah said curtly, before I’d even had a chance to sit down.
“On assignment?” I repeated, blinking in surprise.
“I know the original plan was for you to become a columnist for the magazine,” she said. “But I recently had something come up – a lead feature story – that I thought you’d be perfect for. If you’re interested, of course.”
I could hardly contain my excitement. “I’m definitely interested,” I said enthusiastically. Writing a feature story for
Brown-Eyed Girl
was a big deal. Even Katie had never written a lead story for the magazine.
“Great!” Mariah said. “We can go over the details on Monday. I just wa
nted to make sure you were on board before I signed off on it.”
“I’m totally on board,” I affirmed. “What’s the topic?” I asked, realizing that in all my excitement, I’d committed to writing the article without
asking anything about it. Not that it mattered. Any lead story would be too good to turn down – no matter the topic.
“We can go over it on Monday,” Mariah said, waving her hand dismissively. “That’s when I’ll get the details in. For now, get out of here,” she said, laughing. “Go enjoy your weekend.” She turned and glanced out the window, where a sudden cloudburst had taken over the Manhattan skyline. “As much as you
can
enjoy it in this weather, anyway.”
I stood up to go. “Thanks, Mariah,” I said, feeling genuinely pleased. A
column and a lead feature story?! I could barely wrap my head around it. Now, instead of simply blogging to get my writing fix, I’d be able to make a living with my words.
I could hardly wait to tell Nick about it….
He’d be so excited. Since day one, he’d been full of praise for my writing abilities. My writing, after all, had been how we’d met. Nick had read the very first column I’d ever composed – and it had led him to suggest our thirty-day relationship arrangement (or whatever you wanted to call it). He always acted as though he was only mildly interested, yet he was constantly urging me to write more, even suggesting that I approach other magazines if Mariah didn’t allow me more writing assignments for
Brown-Eyed Girl
.
“Are
you trying to get rid of me?” I’d joked, when he first said this. A fair enough question, considering Nick owned the magazine (in addition to owning two dozen other companies, but that’s beside the point).
“Not a chance,” he’d said, smiling broadly. “Believe me, the last thing I want is for the magazine to lose you
, Violet. But you’ve got talent, and talent deserves to be recognized. That flat out isn’t happening while you’re toiling away as a website editor for
Brown-Eyed Girl
.”
Well, I’d be ‘toiling away’ no more.
I stepped out into the hall, and headed back to my cubicle.
I felt a pang of guilt for all the times I’d dissed Mariah or complained about her being a cruddy boss. Perhaps she wasn’t so bad after all.
I was just about to sit down at my desk, and glanced at the clock on my computer. It was almost 7 p.m. I still had a few minutes to kill before my date with Nick Colby. Since I didn’t have to worry about catching a cab (which would have taken ages on a rainy Friday night) I could afford to get a bit more work done before I left. I booted up the file I’d been working on before Mariah summoned me to her office. I’d been putting the final touches on my weekly column, which was just about ready to go:
My Naughty Little Secret
It all started with an ad in the back of a magazine, for a nifty little device whose name instantly caught my eye.
THE TONGUE
The ad promised that this enticing little sex toy would offer real, life-like tongue action. I had no idea if it worked or not – I was too shy to discuss those kinds of things with my friends. But once I saw the ad, I was hooked. Oral sex whenever I wanted it? Yes, please!
It might be a pathetic thing to admit, but I spent months dreaming about that vibrator.
It was my senior year of high school, and I had just turned eighteen. I’d also just had my very first experience with oral sex. And I think I speak for all women when I say, there are three things we want in a man: Compassion, Charisma, and Cunilingus.
So, needless to say, the
idea of having the ability to simulate the third C anytime I wanted was too tempting to ignore. (Who needs a man, when you have…THE TONGUE!)
Now there’s a little something you should know about me. I grew up in a tiny Midwestern town, the kind of place that didn’t exactly have a sex shop on every corner – or any corner, for that matter.
If I wanted to get The Tongue, I’d have to drive two towns over. That seemed like a big undertaking, but there were two things that motivated me to go through with it: 1.) I’d been wanting a vibrator for a very long time, ever since seeing the
Sex and the City
episode where Charlotte gets immense pleasure from The Rabbit and 2.) THE EVENT…more on this later.
The idea of ordering The Tongue via the magazine ad never
seriously crossed my mind. Oh, sure…it said discreet shipping. But how could I trust that it would be discreet enough? Besides, my mom was beyond nosy, often opening my mail before I had the chance to do it, and the idea of her sliding open the packaging and finding my naughty new device was mortifying.
So, sex shop it was….
Lulu’s Fun Shop was located in a strip mall just off the highway.
Armed with a fistful of cash, I climbed into my beat-up second hand Honda Civic and embarked on the quest to buy my
very first vibrator.
I intentionally planned The Great Vibrator Trek for a Thu
rsday night, because my mother worked super later on Thursdays. This meant that I’d not only have time to make it to the other town at back – but, more importantly, I'd have time to enjoy my new toy before she got here.
I had something very, very hot to turn over in my mind.
I'd spent the previous weekend engaging in a heavy duty makeout session with an older guy I’ll call Shawn.
I’d gone over to Shawn’s house under the pretense that we were going to watch a moving. But, somewhere between the previews and the start of the film, he’d decided that he needed to take a trip downtown.
“I’m leaving for college in the morning,” he’d said. “You’ve got to let me taste you before I go.”
