Forbidden Curves (Steamy Taboo Romance) (3 page)

By Talia Day

Copyright
©
2014 Talia Day

All Rights Reserved Worldwide

“You like that?” he asked,
sliding his hand under my panties and playing with my clit.
 

I blushed and bit my lip.
 
It was true, I did like it, but I’d just
met Daniel and he was twice my age. Things had happened so quickly, we’d only
met this morning, and now, here I was seated on his cold granite countertop
with his hands between my thighs.
 
I
hadn’t gotten a chance to get comfortable, but Daniel seemed to like
that—watching me squirm and blush.

I gasped as I felt his fingers
dive deeper and press upward into my wetness.
 

“You’re so wet,” he growled, “makes
me want to taste you.”
 
His accent
was thick with French and his eyes were lustfully glazed.

“Do you want me to stop?”
 
He asked, his fingers slowly massaging
me.

I shook my head.

“Not good enough, I’m going to
stop.”
 
His voice was serious and his
fingers pulled back a little.

“Don’t stop.”
 
I said softly.

“Daddy.”
 
He added as his fingers slowly began
massaging me again.

"Don’t stop…Daddy.”
  
I softly pleaded, shuddering with
pleasure as his fingers drilled deeper.
  

Daniel placed soft kisses down my
neck and chest, and eventually onto the eager flesh of my sensitive
thighs.
 
I’d never let anyone do
anything like this before.
 
But here
I was, in the nicest place I’d ever been in, with the richest guy I’d ever
met…
 
I’d be stupid of me not to
take the chance.
 

I let him spread my thighs, but I
couldn’t look down at him. I was too shy to see what I was about to let him
do.
 
But as his lips circled around
my clit, I couldn’t contain the whimpers of pleasure.
 

His tongue flicked between soft kisses.
 
My hips bucked against him and I ran my
fingers through his hair and pulled myself firmly against his face.
 
Daniel let out a deep moan and sucked me
harder.
 

“I want to make you cum on my
face.”

I had come to Mexico with a dream
of traveling through all of Central America.
 
I’d been saving since I was sixteen, had
bought a van, and had learned just enough Spanish to get me across the
border.
 

My father took it upon himself to
make sure I knew that I was going to be kidnapped and killed.
 
And my mother had done everything in her
power to stop me.
 
We’d never had
much money, mom was a clerk,
dad
was a salesman.
 
But mom was willing to dip into the
little savings they had to entice me to stay.
 
She’d offered to as much as pay for my
first two years of college.
 
Despite
the negative words and the offer of a free ride, I’d gotten it in my head that
I needed freedom.
 
I needed to
experience life.
 

I’d made a rough plan, five hours
to the beach in San Carlos, stay a few days and make my way to Guatemala.
 
I’d taken a great deal of time planning
my trip beyond the borders of Mexico, but I failed to realize that Mexico is
flipping huge.
 
I’d left San Carlos
with a cheap map that didn’t even have half on the roads labeled at all, and
found myself eight hours into Mexico, lost in what looked to be ruins.
 

The poverty here astounded
me.
 
People lived in houses that
were far beyond what we’d condemn in America, and on top of it, there was trash
and animals everywhere.
 
I’d known
it was going to be a shock, but this was terrifying.
 
There was nowhere to stop, and I was on
my way to a beach in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.
 
The sun was getting low in the sky, and
out of nervousness I’d sped up, completely missing both the giant “tope” speed
bump, and the cops that were parked next to it.
 
The van nearly took flight as I launched
myself over the bump and in an instant, I saw their lights flick on.
 

My heart was beating too fast, my
palms were sweaty, and as the cop pulled out his little notebook to show me
what it cost I nearly had a breakdown.
 
His little paper showed $400 for the infraction.
 
I could barely get a word of what he was
saying, and when I pulled out three thousand pesos that I’d had in my pocket he
said something about doing me a favor.
 
He’d taken every penny, for which I was thrilled as it meant I could
keep going, but later, I found out that the $400’s that I’d been shown was in
pesos and I’d paid him well over six times what I’d owed.
 

I reached the beach well after
dark, and made it my mission to find a good map and study for the next leg of
my trip.
 
The next few days were
nice, I was just living on a beach, enjoying the sunshine.
 
But when I went looking for a book to
get my further South, I’d found that it is nearly impossible to find a map
anywhere in the country.
 
I’d
stopped at twelve Pemex gas stations, three bookstores, and even two
Wal
-Marts, only to find myself on the freeway no better off
than before.

Two days had passed, one where I
parked in a gas station parking lot and slept, and the next where again I’d
gotten in late and wound up lost after dark.
 
I’d been told by a
nice Canadian couple
that I should try a town called
Guanojuato
,
and so I’d basically driven non stop to get there.
 

It was beautiful, and as I drove
through the dark and crowded streets I quickly found myself lost in the maze of
underground cobblestone tunnels and crazy zigzagging roads.
 
Two hours after pulling in to town, and
after leaving town and returning, I finally found the campground.
 
That night, I felt like crying.
 

I practically hadn’t eaten
anything but avocados and tortillas since I’d left the states.
 
It wasn’t that I wasn’t hungry, I was,
but I was a vegetarian, and everything was meat, or looked like it was rotten.
 
My belly grumbled as I laid in bed and
tears streamed down my cheeks.
 
I’d
gotten in over my head, and I didn’t think I could go on.
 

The next morning I’d made up my
mind, I was going to drive to the next town over, find some
internet
to let my family know where I was and that I was coming home, and head back up
the interior until I made it to Texas.
 

The town of San Miguel De Allende
was more than beautiful as I pulled in that morning.
 
I stopped in awe of the sight.
 
Beautiful cobble stone roads, well kept
restaurants, and friendly people who actually spoke English.
 
I’d quickly learned the town was well
known by ex-pat Americans as well as Europeans and Canadians.
 

Whether by luck, or fate, as I
made my way through town that morning looking for breakfast, I wound up at the
Café Monet.
 
I probably picked it
for the price more than anything.
 
But it had a charm as I walked inside and was greeted by friendly hosts.
 
They ushered me in and sat me at a
little table, one side of which was a long bench that served as a seat for all
the tables that lined the wall.
 

The menu was in both Spanish and
English, but trying to be polite to the Spanish-speaking waitress I clumsily
ordered in broken Spanish.
 
I hadn’t
even noticed the man next to me that was watching.
 
Perhaps he’d sat down while I was
reading the menu, or perhaps I’d just over looked him when I came in.
 

“You have not been here
long?”
 
His voice was heavily
accented and deep.
 
“I remember when
I first came here, I struggled like you.”
 

The waitress walked back by and the
man spoke in what sounded to me like impeccable Spanish.
 
Clearly if he was as bad as me when he
came, he’d improved greatly.
 
I
observed him as his attention was with the waitress.
 
He was an attractive man, much older
than me, but very much the kind of ruggedly handsome face that every woman
appreciated.
 
His jawline was strong
and his eyes were the
sort
of light blue that seemed
impossible.
 
When he turned to face
me again I felt my face grow flush as I put on an awkward smile.
 

“Where are you from?”
 
He cocked his head slightly and smiled.

“Arizona.”
 
I smiled, suddenly feeling the need to
explain just how hard I’ve had it.
 
“I have to say, it is a complete relief to find this place.
 
I’ve been on the road coming from San
Carlos for two days.
 
It has been
scary, there is so much poverty and trash that I didn’t even feel safe enough
to stop anywhere.
 
I slept at a gas
station one night, and haven’t had a shower in two days.
 
I honestly came here with the intention
of finding the
internet
to let my family know I’m
coming home.”

“I can tell…
 
About the shower,”
 
he said as he waved his hand in front of
his nose and smiled.

“Are you traveling alone?”
 
He asked in a surprised tone.
 
“That is very brave! You can’t give up
yet though sweetheart, and you can’t compare between America and Mexico.
 
You can only compare parts of Mexico to
Mexico.
 
Some are better than
others, but all are going to seem worse than what you are used to.”
 

“I am from Quebec, and I did the
same thing as you fourteen years ago.
 
I went from Canada to Alaska and then
down the coast all the way into Panama.
 
But something about this place,” his hands waved as if to include all of
the city, “is magical and it calls to me.”
 

I couldn’t believe that he’d done
the same crazy thing as me, or that fourteen years had passed and here he was
speaking beautiful Spanish in a gorgeous colonial city.
 

We spoke about our travels, and
he was absolutely thrilled to hear about my van.
 
He had also taken a Volkswagen, though
he had the much more expensive
Westfalia
.
 
I explained how I’d only been able to
afford the van and had torn out everything inside and made a nice enough
bed.
 

“I tell you what…” He paused, his
eyes flickering towards the ceiling as he realized we hadn’t exchanged names.

“Katherine,” I chirped brightly
and held my hand out.
 

“A beautiful name, Katherine.
Mine is Daniel.”
 
He accentuated the
i
in his name, somehow making the name infinitely
more sexy
.
 
“I
tell you what, it would be a pleasure for me if you wanted to stay at my place
for a few days and relax.”
 

I didn’t know what to think, his
invitation was utterly kind, but in a way it scared me.
 
Why was this stranger inviting me into
his home, should I be worried?
 
My
mother’s voice played through my head, she’d read me several articles about
women who were kidnapped and sold as sex slaves.
 
She’d tried to terrify me out of taking
the trip.

“Oh gosh, I am not sure.
 
I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
 
I replied, trying not to offend his
kindness.
 

“No, it is no problem.
 
I am going to give you my address, if
you want to come, just come.
 
If
not, then at least let me buy you breakfast.”
 
He reached into his pocket and scribbled
an address onto a napkin.
 
Putting
down a bill that covered my own meal he turned towards me and smiled.
 
“It has been a pleasure to meet you, and
may your travels be kind.”
 
He
reached for my hand and gave it a light kiss.
 

I felt myself blushing as I
watched him walk away.
 
I finished
my breakfast and pulled my laptop from the bag beside me.
 
I wasn’t crazy, but I wasn’t entirely
naïve either.
 
I plugged in his
address and his name in Google.
 
My
jaw nearly dropped to the floor as I saw the photos of the home that he resided
in.
 
Not only was it in a gated golf
course community, it had eight bedrooms, vaulted stone ceilings, fountains, and
balconies with views of both the city and of the lake.
 
The last real estate listing had the
home priced at a value of over eight hundred thousand dollars.
 

I had always been overly
cautious, but seeing the place definitely made me reconsider his offer.
 
If he had that kind money, he probably
wasn’t interested in trying to kidnap me for ransom.
 
I laughed out loud as I thought about my
mother’s warnings.
 

By mid afternoon when I realized
that every campground I’d tried was either closed or full, I decided that fate
had led me to Daniel.
 
I pulled the
little note from my pocket and followed the directions.
 
I pulled up to the gate and told the
guard
who
I’d come to see.
 
His hands were animated as he spoke, for
which I was thankful as I had no idea what he was actually saying.
 
I followed his gestures and as his red VW
Westfalia
came into view I gawked, in awe of the huge
house that dwarfed it.
 

I pulled in and gave myself a
look in the mirror.
 
I looked like I
’d spent two days in a van, and no amount of combing or primping
would
fix that.
 
I shrugged
my shoulders and got out, walking up to the gated entryway.
 
I could see a man through the glass, and
I waved as I knocked.
 
It wasn’t
Daniel, it was a Mexican named Diego who was cleaning.
 
He held a finger out to me and closed
the door.
 
Fidgeting nervously I
waited until the door finally opened and Daniel invited me in with an inviting
smile.