Dancing in the Dark (Curves for the Rock Star 4 - A BBW Rockstar Erotic Romance) Read Online Free Page B

scolded.
“Don’t you dare.”
    “What song are
we going to have for our first dance?” I asked.
    “Hmm. Let’s do
something different, none of that lovey-dovey stuff. How about ‘New
Sensation’?”
    “By INXS?
Maybe.”
    “Or ‘Run to
You’. Bit of Bryan Adams never goes down badly.”
    I raised my
eyebrows. “You sure about that?”
    “Okay, ‘More
Than a Feeling’. Let’s rock out to Boston, just for kicks.”
    “Oh God, no.
The guitar solo goes on forever.”
    “I give up,
then. ‘Dancing in the Dark’. That’s my last suggestion.”
    I smiled.
“Yeah. I like that. Remember the video? You can be Bruce
Springsteen and I can be Courtney Cox, your adoring fan being
pulled up onto the stage.”
    “It’s settled,
then. The Boss it is.”
    I thumbed
through a magazine full of beautiful dresses, from Vera Wang to
Stella McCartney. “All the women in here are so beautiful,” I
sighed. “They’re so damn…skinny.”
    “When will you
women ever learn?” he laughed. “Men don’t like skinny girls. We
like curves. Hips and lips. Tits and ass. We’re shallow creatures,
really.”
    “You wouldn’t
believe it looking at this.”
    “Well, that
magazine isn’t aimed at men, is it? It always staggers me how
women’s magazines are full of skinny, airbrushed models with
articles on every other page about how to lose weight. They poke
fun at female celebrities, showing pictures of their cellulite and
pregnancy bellies in order to make women feel better about
themselves. It’s ridiculous.”
    He had a point.
“True. Very true.”
    “What all women
should do, Amy, is pick up a men’s magazine. Doesn’t matter whether
it’s Playboy or Esquire or Maxim. Take a look at the women. Never
skinny, always curvy. Big, sexy butts and boobs. Men love boobs.
Hooray for boobies!”
    “You really
should consider a career as a feminist spokesperson, Rick.”
    It seemed that
after such a crazy year of ups and downs, highs and lows, things
were finally looking nothing but positive. Four months had passed
since the incident with Louisa in the hotel room. That completely
bizarre, crazy morning was now a distant memory that we simply
laughed about. Louisa herself was back to living a relatively
normal life, albeit with medication and regular medical care. We
had also been spared the prospect of having to testify in the trial
of the men – and Jake – who had abducted Luke. That tragic turn of
events, which led to Sean's death, had ended with a whimper. All
pleaded guilty, hoping for some form of more favourable sentence –
either way, that chapter in our life was over.
    Rick was a
different man, too. Some things never change, like that wicked
sense of humour and childlike curiosity with the world. He had
started to create music on an iPad, marvelling at the array of
tools and mixing loops he could achieve with just a ten-inch
screen. It had reignited his creativity again and he was putting
together some of the best material he'd ever written. This was a
more mature, considered artist. We'd spend quiet evenings at home,
trying out new lyrics over glasses of wine. I always thought that
things like this didn't happen to people like me.
    It sounds
corny, but I was living the dream and I didn't want to wake up.
    "Anyway," Rick
smiled, I thought you were going to go for the Italian dress you
talked about."
    "I am. I'm just
looking, that's all."
    "When do I get
to see it?"
    "On our wedding
day, silly," I replied. "I've told you before, I want it to be a
surprise."
    Rick put a
record on the hi-fi – "Tango in the Night", a Fleetwood Mac album –
and the vinyl crackled slightly before the music sprang to life. He
nuzzled into my neck, kissing it gently. "Oh go on, just a hint.
Just a little one."
    "No," I
giggled. "I won't be swayed."
    "Please?"
    "Nope."
    He softly ran
the tip of his tongue up my ear. "Pretty please?"
    "I tell you
what," I whispered. "I won't show you the dress, but if you're a
good boy, I might give you