Dangerous Curves 2: The Good Girl (A Billionaire and BBW erotica romance)

by Banks, Melody

  I had spent most of the day feeling down in the dumps, the only bright spot my impending date with Nick.

  As requested, I had Davis drive me to Nick’s penthouse before taking me to the airport. Nick had said there would be a surprise there waiting for me, and boy was there, ever!

  As soon as I stepped inside, Nick’s butler, Marlowe, handed me a black gift bag. Attached to the outside of the bag was a small red envelope, containing what appeared to be a car key, along with a note that said:

  Bring this. Wear that.

  -Nick

  The “wear that” part was pretty self explanatory. Inside the gift bag, wrapped in tissue paper, was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen: a slinky black gown, with lacy, see-through sleeves and back. After asking Marlowe for directions, I ducked into the nearby restroom and changed into the gorgeous dress. It was skin tight, hugging my ample body in all the right places. Although, given its form-fitting design and its lacy back, it left very little to the imagination and offered very little coverage.

  I felt slightly self-conscious wearing it, though I remembered what Nick had told me on Day One: he would push me past my comfort zone. Well, this dress was certainly past my comfort zone!

  I wondered where he’d gotten it? There were no tags inside, which left me both surprised and relieved.

  Surprised, because: what kind of outfit came with no tags? And relieved, because: without the tags, there was nothing to remind me that I wore a size 18. I bristled at the thought of Nick going into some plus-size shop to purchase this outfit. Sadly, even in New York, few stores catered to girls my size (which I found to be fairly ridiculous, considering the average American woman is far from a size 2). My clothing options have always been sadly limited, which only added to my curiosity of where Nick had found such a gown.

  Try as I might, I could not picture Nicholas Colby heading into Lane Bryant or Catherine’s and asking to see their evening gowns. I actually found myself giggling a little bit at the thought. It was an amusing mental image, though, to picture Nick – who, at times, had the paparazzi in tow – making his way out of the mall clutching a Lane Bryant shopping bag. Not that Lane Bryant or Catherine’s usually carried dresses this extravagant, anyway, but that was beside the point. Since I was not thin enough to shop in the “normal” stores, Nick would most certainly have had to visit – or instructed one of his assistants to visit – a plus-size shop in order to procure this gown. I pushed that thought out of my head. I was not going to let my insecurities over my weight intrude on this 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 surprisingly gentle kiss on my lips.

  I savored the kiss, enjoying the tender feel of his lips on mine. As he pulled away, he ran his fingers lightly through my hair.

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you,” I instinctively found my hands reaching down to smooth out my dress, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it had not wrinkled or bunched up in any discernable fashion; it looked as perfect now as it did when I first put it on.

  “Thank you for coming,” Nick said. And then, before I could respond, he added, “Mind if I drive?” I handed him the key.

  I was feeling slightly anxious. Just being in his presence always made me feel a bit shy. It was a feeling that would wear off as the night progressed, but initially, I always felt nervous and awkward when we met.

  Nick brushed a lock of hair away from my face. “I’m glad you found my present,” he said. His eyes scanned the length of my body, drinking me in.

  “Not as glad as I was,” I told him. I didn’t add on the embarrassing fact that before changing into this expensive cocktail dress, I’d been wearing an outfit that came from Old Navy’s extended sizes selection.

  “That dress suits you perfectly, Violet. When I had it custom made all I could think of was how beautiful you’d look in it. I must say, the real thing surpasses my expectations.”

  So he’d had the dress custom made. That was why there were no tags in it. I tried to push aside the mental image of Nick giving some designer my measurements (How would he know those, anyway? I didn’t even know my own measurements!) and said, “I’ve nev
er owned a custom gown before.”

  “I have all my clothes custom made,” Nick said. “You will, too, now that you’re with me.”

  I blinked in surprise. Now that you’re with me? Did that mean what I thought it meant? Or did it mean more? Because what I thought it meant was, ‘Now that you’re with me for thirty days,’ but offering someone the use of a custom tailor for only a few weeks seemed a little strange. Then again, Nick was known for his whims, just as much as he was known for his extravagances. And while I found it hard to believe that someone would go “all-in” for a relationship that was only meant to last for one month, I knew Nicholas Colby and I didn’t think the same way on such things.

  There was a reason the press referred to him as “a young George Clooney.” And it wasn’t just because of his looks and charisma. It was because Nick was known, like Clooney, to sweep a woman off her feet, make her his everything, his entire world, and then let her go at the drop of a hat – immediately moving on to someone new.

  It was a thought I tried to keep myself from dwelling on, but at times it was impossible. Just a quick Google search of Nicholas Colby (and, yes, I will sadly admit now that I have done that) will turn up photos of him on the arms of half a dozen supermodels. It’s a tough thing to compete with, and an even tougher thing to understand.

  Despite being forthcoming in a number of areas, Nick was also maddeningly elusive.

  Oh, God, how I wished I could read him!

  I had never been more confused by any man in all my life.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Nick said, opening the passenger’s side door, and leading me into the car.. “I’ll take care of the bags.”

  “Do you need any help?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve got them.”

  He shut the door behind me and went around to place his bags in the trunk. A few moments later, we were pulling out of Teterboro and heading back toward Manhattan.

  Nick expertly maneuvered the Maserati through the crushing traffic.

  “How did you like driving?” he asked.

  “It was awesome,” I told him, grinning from ear to ear.

  “That’s not something I could ask of too many New Yorkers,” Nick laughed. “Most of them don’t even know where to find the ignition switch.”

  I laughed. “I’m not a New Yorker.”

  “You’ve lived here three years. I’d say that qualifies you,” he told me.

  Wait a minute….

  “How’d you know I’ve lived here three years?”

  “I know all the pertinent details about you, Violet.”

  “Do you, now?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  “Every single one.” He turned and winked, and I felt my heart flutter.

  “How was your trip?” I asked.

  Nick frowned slightly. “Not as productive as I would have hoped. Things are…difficult over there.”

  “Difficult?” I asked. “Where is ‘over there,’ anyway? You never said.”

  “London. And, yes, they’re exceedingly difficult. But it’s something I’d rather not get into at the moment.”

  There was an awkward silence as his words hung in the air. Nick slowed down as the traffic on the I-95 grew thicker.

  “You’ve been traveling a lot lately,” I remarked. “I thought this was your rare free time where you were getting to stay in the city?”

  “All of these trips have been unexpected. I wish I could stay in New York.”

  I laughed. “That’s all I do, is stay in New York,” I told him. “I haven’t been anywhere since I took a vacation to Jamaica last year.”

  “Ah, Jamaica,” He smiled. “One of these days, I need to get away for pleasure, rather than business.

  We were approaching the entrance to the bridge that would take us to Manhattan.

  “Speaking of pleasure….” Nick suddenly took a turn, veering away in the opposite direction.

  I was startled by this unannounced change of events. “Are we going somewhere first?” I asked.

  “Indeed we are,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes.

  “Oh?”

  “There’s a building over here that I recently acquired,” he explained. “It’s a luxury apartment complex and they have one of the best views of the New York Skyline. I’d love to show it to you.”

  I smiled. “I’d love to see it.”

  True to his word, Nick’s building was breathtaking. Easily forty stories tall (which was unusual for this part of New Jersey) with a sleek, modern design, the Colby Industries apartment high-rise screamed “luxury” from the word go. As soon as Nick pulled the car up in front, no fewer than three doormen came running out to greet us.

  “Mr. Colby!” they gushed. “We weren’t aware you were coming tonight. Is there anything we can get you?”

  “It’s quite all right, Tom,” Nick said, rolling down the window so he could address the head doorman. “I’d like to take Violet up to the rooftop deck.”

  “But, of course. Have a good evening.”

  Nick steered the car away from the curb, and pulled off toward the back of the building.

  “You’re going to love this,” Nick said. He steered the Maserati onto a small, elevator located behind the building. “Most people don’t know you can drive up to the top,” he said. “But that’s one of the things I like best about this place.”

  The top?

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  A few minutes later the elevator had made it to the 44th floor, and we pulled out onto a large rooftop deck overlooking the city. Nick drove the Maserati right up to the edge, stopping inches away from the railing.

  I thought, perhaps, Nick wanted to get out and look around, but I was mistaken. He reached across and stopped me as I tried to unlock the door.

  “Don’t you want to get out and look at the view?” I asked.

  “I have all the view I want right here,” he told me.

  I shivered, even though it was a warm June night.

  "Push the seat back, Violet,” Nick instructed. I obliged and moved the passenger's seat back as far as it would go. Nick took the keys out of the ignition and turned to face me. His eyes were transfixed on mine. “Violet….” His voice sounded almost pained. “I knew you would look beautiful in that dress, but I never could have imagined….I didn’t know it would do this to me.”

  This?

  He moaned softly. “Do you even realize?”

  Before I could respond, Nick climbed across the car, until he was directly on top of me. He kissed me, passionately, but oh-so-briefly on the lips and then, without lingering, slid down to the passenger’s seat floor, so that he was kneeling between my legs.

  His hands moved up my legs, massaging my calves, then moving up to my thighs, and then, his hands came to a rest just beneath my belly button, at the top of my panties. Nick curled his fingers underneath the lace band, and, then, slowly, purposefully, began sliding my panties lower down my body.

  “Wait….we can’t.”

  "I want to taste you,” he said.

  “Now?” I asked.

  “Since the moment I got off the plane,” he said, kissing my neck.

  Oh, God. I wanted it soooooo bad! I was dying for him to go there.

  But I had never done anything like this in the car before. Nick didn’t have tinted windows. I was incredibly turned on, but I couldn’t shake the idea that someone might see us.

  “Why don’t we go home. It’s not that far.”

  The look on Nick’s face told me that it was entirely too far, but I still wasn’t convinced. If the windows on the Maserati had been darkened, if they offered us some form of concealment, it would have been one thing. But if any of the tenants came upon us they’d be able to look in and see exactly what was happening.

  “I can’t wait that long,” Nick said, hungrily.

  “Um, I guess. If you insist….”

  “I more than insist,” He said. And before I even knew what
was happening, his hands were underneath my butt, lifting me – all 200+ pounds – off the seat so he could slide my panties the rest of the way down. He pulled them off so quickly he nearly ripped them, supporting my body the entire time as if I weighed nothing.

  I sighed, lying back in the seat, and spreading my legs slightly to give him better access.

  I felt nervous at first as Nick kissed his way up my legs. He didn’t waste any time, just dove right in as though he’d been be hungrily waiting to devour me all night. I leaned back as I felt his fingers part my lips and then he started licking me. As his mouth made contact with my slit, a moan escaped my lips. I reached down and grabbed Nick’s hair, holding on tightly as his tongue traced long, firm circles around my clit.

  “Ahhh.”

  He began licking faster, more eagerly.

  “Nick, oh, ahhhhh, that feels so good.”

  He teased the area around my clit for what felt like ages, moving his tongue delicately, but firmly, all around my sweet spot without daring to touch it. When his tongue finally made contact with my clit, the sensation was mind-blowing, almost like an explosion had gone off in my pussy. He continued expertly, flicking his tongue back and forth across my clit. It was all I could do to keep from screaming with pleasure. I started bucking wildly, grinding hard against his face. I no longer cared about where we were or who saw; it felt amazing and I wanted more!

  I knew I would come fast…I had been waiting so long and the pressure was building up so intensely…so I decided to make the most of it. I parted me legs wider, giving his tongue better access.

  And instantly, I knew.

  “Oh, God! I’m gonna come!” I screamed

  Nick dove in farther, locking his lips around my clit, and sucking lightly, while simultaneously inserting to fingers into my pussy.

  The pressure was almost too much to take, his fingers sliding in and out oof my pussy while his lips and tongue applied a gentle nursing action to my clit.

  It lasted only a few seconds before my pussy erupted in a body-shaking orgasm.