Dangerous Curves 2: The Good Girl (A Billionaire and BBW erotica romance) (5 page)

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.

“I’m coming! Oh, God, I’m coming!” I cried out, as the waves of one orgasm after another washed over me.

I could barely breathe once it was over. I was dizzy with pleasure.

“
Now,”
Nick said, “we can go home.” A satisfied smile spread across his face.

I was positively glowing when I stepped into work the next morning. Nick and I had spent the entire night together, eagerly repeating the same routine we’d started in the car. His oral skills were incredible, leaving me gasping for air and begging for more as he went down on me again and again.

I had yet to return the favor.

“Remember,
these are
my
rules. That’s what you agreed to,” Nick had told me, as I desperately tried to kiss my way down his chiseled chest.

“But I want to!” I’d said. “I’m dying to please you.”

“You’ll have your turn,” he’d promised. “But for now, this is about your pleasure,” before making his way down between my legs one more time.

I had never experienced such intense pleasure in my life, and it had been almost physically painful to peel myself away from him this morning when it was time to go to work.

But here I was, at my desk and ready to report for duty – even if my mind was firmly planted somewhere else….

“I’ve got
the details for your assignment.”

Mariah’s voice shook me from my reverie. I made my way over to her office so we could discuss the
article.

“
So I’m sure you’re curious as to what this lead feature article will be about.”

I certainly was. But I was also in for a shock.

“We’re doing a weight loss story,” Mariah said. “And I figured you’d be the perfect person to write it – for obviousl reasons.”

For obvious reasons? I wanted to explode, but I stifled down my temper. I could smell a fat joke a mile away, and Mariah had been known for making plenty of them. It really was true what they said – fat was the last acceptable prejudice. If my boss had made nasty comments about my love life, or my sex l
ife, or probably even my height, I could have taken that to HR. But fat shaming? Totally fine. Nobody’s got your back on that one.

“Why obvious reasons?” I asked.

“Oh, did I say that?” Mariah feigned innocence. “That’s not what I meant. What I
meant
was, I’ve gotten you an exclusive interview with Darlean Donovan. She’s right in the middle of a comeback, and now is a great time to grab. In the past, she’s been notoriously private. But now she’s actually
courting
the press. She’s willing to give us a two-hour block of her time for an interview!”

Yeah, I thought, she’s only getting negative press at the moment. Knowing Mariah, she’d likely promised Darlean Donovan a nice, flattering “fluff” piece to get her to agree to the interview. This wasn’t just wild speculation – Mariah had gotten in trouble for doing that very thing in the past. Two years ago, she’d made a deal with Lindsay Lohan’s people to run a feature story that painted Lindsay and Dina Lo
han as having the perfect, lovey dovey Mom and Daughter relationship. It had been scheduled to run just in time for Mother’s Day, but someone from Nick’s office had caught wind of it and squashed the story. Mariah had gotten into some serious trouble over it, and the rumor was that she’d kept her job just by the skin of her teeth.

Certainly, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice? Or would she?

“What kind of article are you hoping for?” I asked, trying to prompt the conversation. “Do you have an angle in mind?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Mariah beamed. “The angle I’m picturing is: Why Darlean Donovan is still the best weight loss expert in the country.”

More like the best fraud in the country!
I thought angrily.

Darlean Donovan was the hottest – and most hotly debated – diet guru in the land. She’d pioneered an innovative new weight loss system –
The DarLEAN Diet – that was fueled by an expensive line of supplements. And that was backed up by a lot of empty promises and ridiculous claims. Or so I believed.

She’d rocketed to superstardom on the premise that she “knew what it was like,” because she was “a reformed chubette
” herself.

She backed this up with a few poorly lit “before” photos. But when an erstwhile journalist uncovered the truth – that the photos were fakes, doctored in photoshop to make Darlean look as though she’d once been heavy – her empire had taken a massive hit. She was currently in the throes of a series of lawsuits.

However, amazingly, throughout all of this, Darlean Donovan still had her supporters.

And apparently Mariah was one of them.

“You know the public consensus at the moment is that she’s a fraud,” I pointed out.

“
She’s not a fraud,” Mariah said. “Just because she had one little scandal over some bogus fat picture. Besides, everybody deserves a second chance.”

I bristled. One little scandal? It was more than one little scandal. At least, as far as I was concerned.

“Lying about being overweight is a pretty big deal – especially for someone who’s based an entire empire on the claim that, ‘If you do what I say, you can look just like me.’ When in fact, none of it was the truth.”

“Honestly, Violet,” Mariah said, rolling her eyes. “All Darlean Donovan did was fake a few photoshop pics.
Kim Kardashian does the same thing once a week when she tries to make her butt look bigger and her waist look smaller.”

That was a bit like comparing apples to oranges, but
I didn’t expect Mariah to understand. Mariah is one of those effortlessly thin girls who can eat anything she wants, never hit the gym, and still maintain an insanely perfect figure.

I’ve known a few people like this in my time – who hasn’t
? – and the longer I’m around them, the more it confuses me. How are some people able to consume entire pizzas, candy bars by the handful, put in no time in the gym, and still have
no
discernable body fat? I get that all metabolisms are not created equally, but come on – calories in/calories out is supposed to be basic science.  People like Mariah almost seem to be defying some force of nature.

Which wouldn’t be so bad – everyone’s different, and in my book it’s not cool to talk smack about somebody’s weight, thin or big. But what makes Mariah an annoying case is that she feels the need to constantly brag about her inability to gain weight.

Actually, scratch that. I’d prefer it if she bragged. It would be a lot more tolerable if she just said, “Man, I’m so lucky. I get to eat anything I want and I never gain an ounce!”

But she does not do this. What she does is hide her bragging in the form of a complaint.
“Ugh, you would not believe how much food I eat – and I can’t gain a single ounce! It’s sooooo frustrating! What I wouldn’t give to just be able to put on five pounds.”

This is doubly annoying, because it’s like she’s attempting to rub in her good fortune while at the same time garnering sympathy for it.

You could say I’m just jealous, and you wouldn’t be off base. But I’ll also point out that listening to someone constantly complain about anything (whether it be their boyfriend, their bills, etc.) gets old. And it becomes especially intolerable when the thing they’re complaining about is something they know you’d very much like to have.

Still,
Mariah was my boss, and there was nothing I could do. Not if I wanted to do my first lead feature story.

“I’ll be happy to
interview Darlean,” I said. “Just give me her contact info.”

“That’s the spirit!” She passed me a piece of paper with the contact info for Darlean Donovan’s agent on it.

I took it from her and, with what I hoped appeared like a sincere thank you, headed out into the hall. When I returned to my desk, I found an e-mail waiting for me.

To:
Violet Lewis

From:
Nicholas Colby

Subject:
I sent you something.

Open it in private.

Nick

As if on cue, a courier appeared at the entrance to my cubicle. I signed for the package and then hurried to the bathroom so I could open it in private, per Nick’s instructions. I was pleased to find the bathroom empty. I slipped into the nearest stall and I pulled Nick’s gift from the box.

I was stunned at what I found:

A pair of black lace vibrating panties. In the center, positioned in such a way that it would tuck neatly into my slit, was a smooth little bullet egg.

Nick had attached a note: “I’ll be in the office in
half an hour for a staff meeting. I want you wearing those when I get there.”

I gasped. I wasn’t sure which thing shocked me more: that Nicholas Colby would be attending one of our lowly staff meetings, or that he expected me to wear a pair of vibrating panties
in my office!

But since I had agreed to abide by his terms, I knew I would follow-through.
I was already in the privacy of the bathroom stall, so I quickly slid my underwear down around my ankles and then stepped out of them. Then, just as quickly, I slipped on Nicholas's special gift. It took a moment to get it adjusted properly. I didn’t see a switch to turn them on, but even then, I certainly wouldn’t have tried them. Despite the box's promise that the device was “100% noise free!” I refrained from turning it on while I was in the bathroom. I'd owned vibrators before, and one thing that had always irked me about them was the tell-tale sign of the rhythmic buzzing.

I briefly debated taking the panties off and putting them back in the box. How would Nick really know if I actually wore them or not? But, then I remembered my promise: I had vowed to go along with whatever he requested. Those were the terms, and I was not one to break my word.

# # #

T
hirty minutes later, I was seated in the boardroom, the soft lace panties providing very little coverage underneath my cotton skirt. And, of course, in the middle of them, positioned right between my slit was the tiny little bullet egg. It was both nerve-wracking and exciting to be wearing something like this, much less at work. I could only imagine what Nick had in store. Would he whisk me away somewhere private once the meeting was over? Perhaps we would slip into one of the back conference rooms, shut the blinds, and have a little mid-day fun while my oblivious co-workers went about their business.

Thus far, Nick had gone down on me multiple times, but he had yet to allow me to reciprocate. He’d wanted our ‘sessions’ to be about my pleasure, he’d said. And yet, that night at my apartment, when I’d finally seen him – all of him – naked for the first time, the one, brief moment where he had allowed me to grasp his enormous cock had been thrilling. Touching him, my fingers wrapping around his shaft, had been equally as thrilling as anything he’d done to me. And, yet, he would not allow me to linger there for very long.

He was so well-endowed, it was shocking. I was dying to be nearer to him, all of him….

Perhaps he had devised this new method so that we could both receive pleasure simultaneously? I felt my heart race at the thought of taking him in my mouth while the tiny little vibrator hummed between my legs.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Mariah said, calling the meeting to order. “As you all know, we have a very special guest joining us today. Nicholas Colby, venture capitalist and the owner of
Brown-Eyed Girl
, will be joining us for our staff meeting. Now, Nicholas Colby is really a person who needs no introduction, but just in case you’re not aware, let me go over his background with the magazine.”

“That’s quite all right, Mariah.”

It was Nick!

You could almost hear a collective gasp as he entered the room. All around me, the various staff members were standing at attention, sitting ridiculously upright in their chairs, adjusting their wardrobes and generally looking nervous and intimidated. At least, the men were. Most of the women were staring in shocked silence.

He was devastatingly handsome, decked out in a custom-made Alexander Price suit, wearing a pair of shoes that probably cost more than I’d earn in my lifetime. His thick, dark hair looked even fuller and more magnificent than usual. And his eyes…my God, those eyes….even from across the room you couldn’t escape their piercing stare.

Oh, how I wished Katie wer
e here to enjoy this! She had an appointment this morning to have her wisdom teeth extracted, and wouldn’t be back at the office all week. Ever since our argument Friday night, things had been awkward between us. But she was starting to come around. We’d had a heart-to-heart this morning when I took her to her appointment.

It was something we’d had planned for months – me accompanying her to the dental surgeon’s office – though I suspected Katie thought I wasn’t going to show. She looked stunned when I turned up in front of her apartment at 7 a.m. with a taxi cab waiting.

I’d gone there straight from Nick’s place, though I had refused his insistent offers to let Davis drive me. It seemed like a bad idea to flaunt Nick’s driver in her face, considering he was the subject of our argument. Even so, even without the use of Nick’s driver, I still noticed a paparazzi photographer trailing me from his apartment. When we got to Katie’s apartment he disappeared, likely satisfied that I wouldn’t be doing anything interesting enough to photograph that day.