Dangerous Curves 2: The Good Girl (A Billionaire and BBW erotica romance) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Melody Banks
evening.
Besides, Nick had been very forthcoming about the fact that he loved my body, that he found my curves to be an immense turn-on. I was starting to get aroused, just thinking about how much Nick loved my body, how he worshipped it when we were alone together.
Mmm.
Between the recent fight with Katie and my increased work-load, I was definitely in need of a little stress relief…the kind that could only be found through Nick’s fingers, Nick’s body, Nick’s lips, Nick’s tongue….
Focus, Violet! You’ve still got at least another hour until you’ll get to see him .Touch him. Feel him. Kiss him….
Okay, I really had to get my mind back at the task at hand or I’d be too worked up to get anything accomplished.
In addition to the gown, Nick had also left me a gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutin shoes. They were black, with maroon soles, and, like the dress, they were the perfect size. (Although I found less embarrassment over the fact that I worse a size 9 shoe, than over the fact that I wore a size 16/18 dress). The Louboutin heels were slanted to fit my feet at such an angle that they made my legs look fantastic – long and graceful, whereas they usually just looked long and thick .
Once I had completed my “wear this” part of the mission, I sought out Marlow to find out what the “bring this” part of the equation meant.
When I held the key up , Marlowe promptly showed me to Nick’s private garage beneath the apartment building. I was stunned to find a luxury vehicle waiting for me.
Is he serious?! I’m supposed to drive this?
As if reading my mind, Marlowe said, “Mr. Colby has left you the key so you may pick him up in his car. If you so desire. Otherwise I can have Davis take you.”
If I so desired? You bet I so desired!
“I think I’ll drive,” I said, turning the key over in my hands.
“Come then,” Marlowe said, “I’ll show you to Mr. Colby’s car.”
Nick’s “car” turned out to be a silver Maserati GranTurismo. To call something like that a “car” was almost absurd. It was a bit like someone saying, “My girlfriend is kind of well-known.” And then you find out they’re dating Julia Roberts.
Feeling giddy as a young child on Christmas morning, I drove to the airport in Nick’s silver Maserati. I had never been inside a car as nice as this, much less behind the wheel.
I was overwhelmed with a strange mix of excitement and nerves. It was a beautiful car – gorgeous , if you wanted to get technical – and driving it felt like a dream. It had been a long time since I’d driven – New Yorkers rarely drove, if ever – and it felt good to power down the speedway in a shiny new car.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to do as much “powering down” as I would have liked – it was more like stopping and starting every few feet as I made the slow crawl out of Manhattan and across the bridge to Teterboro Airport, where Nick’s private plane was landing. I had never been to Teterboro before, but I imagined Nick Colby spent a lot of time there. He owned a number of private jets, and as such, rarely spent time at any of the “conventional” airports around the city.
Getting to Teterboro proved to be more time-consuming than I’d imagined. I’d left early, but the traffic was far worse than I had predicted, and by the time I arrived at the New Jersey airport, Nicholas was already waiting for me out front.
My eyes were wide with surprise when I saw him. I had expected to see one of Nick’s many assistants in tow, carrying his luggage, but he was all alone, looking devastatingly handsome in his designer suit as he juggled a few oversize bags against his shoulder.
I pulled the Maserati over to the pick-up zone, parallel parking between two limousines, and switched off the car. Then I opened the door and climbed out.
“ Hello there,” Nick said, setting down his bags and coming forward to greet me. He hugged me tightly for a moment, then planted a
Besides, Nick had been very forthcoming about the fact that he loved my body, that he found my curves to be an immense turn-on. I was starting to get aroused, just thinking about how much Nick loved my body, how he worshipped it when we were alone together.
Mmm.
Between the recent fight with Katie and my increased work-load, I was definitely in need of a little stress relief…the kind that could only be found through Nick’s fingers, Nick’s body, Nick’s lips, Nick’s tongue….
Focus, Violet! You’ve still got at least another hour until you’ll get to see him .Touch him. Feel him. Kiss him….
Okay, I really had to get my mind back at the task at hand or I’d be too worked up to get anything accomplished.
In addition to the gown, Nick had also left me a gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutin shoes. They were black, with maroon soles, and, like the dress, they were the perfect size. (Although I found less embarrassment over the fact that I worse a size 9 shoe, than over the fact that I wore a size 16/18 dress). The Louboutin heels were slanted to fit my feet at such an angle that they made my legs look fantastic – long and graceful, whereas they usually just looked long and thick .
Once I had completed my “wear this” part of the mission, I sought out Marlow to find out what the “bring this” part of the equation meant.
When I held the key up , Marlowe promptly showed me to Nick’s private garage beneath the apartment building. I was stunned to find a luxury vehicle waiting for me.
Is he serious?! I’m supposed to drive this?
As if reading my mind, Marlowe said, “Mr. Colby has left you the key so you may pick him up in his car. If you so desire. Otherwise I can have Davis take you.”
If I so desired? You bet I so desired!
“I think I’ll drive,” I said, turning the key over in my hands.
“Come then,” Marlowe said, “I’ll show you to Mr. Colby’s car.”
Nick’s “car” turned out to be a silver Maserati GranTurismo. To call something like that a “car” was almost absurd. It was a bit like someone saying, “My girlfriend is kind of well-known.” And then you find out they’re dating Julia Roberts.
Feeling giddy as a young child on Christmas morning, I drove to the airport in Nick’s silver Maserati. I had never been inside a car as nice as this, much less behind the wheel.
I was overwhelmed with a strange mix of excitement and nerves. It was a beautiful car – gorgeous , if you wanted to get technical – and driving it felt like a dream. It had been a long time since I’d driven – New Yorkers rarely drove, if ever – and it felt good to power down the speedway in a shiny new car.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to do as much “powering down” as I would have liked – it was more like stopping and starting every few feet as I made the slow crawl out of Manhattan and across the bridge to Teterboro Airport, where Nick’s private plane was landing. I had never been to Teterboro before, but I imagined Nick Colby spent a lot of time there. He owned a number of private jets, and as such, rarely spent time at any of the “conventional” airports around the city.
Getting to Teterboro proved to be more time-consuming than I’d imagined. I’d left early, but the traffic was far worse than I had predicted, and by the time I arrived at the New Jersey airport, Nicholas was already waiting for me out front.
My eyes were wide with surprise when I saw him. I had expected to see one of Nick’s many assistants in tow, carrying his luggage, but he was all alone, looking devastatingly handsome in his designer suit as he juggled a few oversize bags against his shoulder.
I pulled the Maserati over to the pick-up zone, parallel parking between two limousines, and switched off the car. Then I opened the door and climbed out.
“ Hello there,” Nick said, setting down his bags and coming forward to greet me. He hugged me tightly for a moment, then planted a
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