The Billionaire's Curvy Conquest - Complete by Lydia Layne Page A
Authors: Lydia Layne
Tags: billionaire romance
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fine at work yesterday and while finishing up my shopping for our trip. But shortly after grabbing a quick bite to eat before packing, my stomach had started bothering me. When I threw up my dinner, I wondered if I had gotten food poisoning.
As the evening wore on, the pain in my gut worsened and my thinking got cloudier.
At some point, I thought about calling my mom, but I didn’t want to worry her. Besides, Mr. Reed and I were heading to the Caribbean the next day. He was picking me up at noon. If my mom was here, that would be kind of awkward.
Clearly, my judgement was just as cloudy as my ability to think.
I clutched my stomach as another wave of pain and nausea washed over me.
“Where does it hurt, Cassie?” Mr. Reed asked.
This time, his voice was gentle. And I knew by the use of my first name that he was really, truly concerned. The only time he called me Cassie was when his emotions were running high.
Like in the middle of mind-blowing sex.
Without opening my eyes, I pointed to my stomach before leaning over and dry-heaving again.
Mr. Reed got up from the couch and I had a moment of panic. “Please don’t leave me,” I whispered.
His fingers caressed my cheek and he brushed the sweat-matted hair from my eyes. “Never, my sweet. I’m going to call an ambulance. We need to get you to the hospital.”
My feverish mind drifted while Mr. Reed talked on his phone.
I thought about our fake relationship, which was becoming more real to me every day.
I thought about our amazing night together in his penthouse apartment.
I thought about Mr. Reed’s secrets.
And I thought about the recent confidential memo he had left me that had stopped me from confronting him about those secrets.
I had memorized this memo, just like the ones before it.
~~~
T o keep up appearances, I’ve planned a romantic get-away to a private island resort in the Caribbean. It’s so private that even the paparazzi won’t be able to reach us.
If you’re naughty, there will be no one to hear your cries of passion when I punish you.
For the record, Miss James, I expect you to be extremely naughty.
~~~
W ith those first few lines of his memo, Mr. Reed had me both intrigued and aroused. He was taking me on vacation to somewhere private? Where we could have sex any time of the day or night – without the distractions of work?
I couldn’t wait, and was already thinking up ways to earn Mr. Reed’s very special punishment!
~~~
Y ou will need to purchase resort attire, of course. I prefer dresses.
Without undergarments.
I want to see your nipples stiffen against the fabric of your dress when I inadvertently brush my arm against your breasts, or when the breeze incidentally caresses your skin.
I want to know that, whether we’re lounging or dining or simply taking a walk, there is nothing between your soft, creamy thighs except warm, salty air.
I want to know that, if I were to place my hand on your knee at lunch, and let my fingers dance up your smooth skin, they could slip, unrestricted, between your plump lips to tease your slick folds.
I want to know that, if I were to circle your clit ever-so-slowly, you could spread your legs wide to writhe against my fingers as they bring you to climax while waiting for the next course of our meal to be served.
~~~
T he first time I read his words (and every time since) they had made me dripping wet. They had also made me consider wearing dresses without panties every day for the rest of my life!
~~~
W e will be swimming, Miss James. Feel free to purchase a bathing suit; although once we reach the island, you won’t need it.
I can’t wait to watch your luscious curves, naked and glistening, as they shimmer beneath the blue-green waters of the sea.
~~~
T he truth was, I couldn’t wait to see his chiseled muscles, naked and glistening, as they shimmered beneath the blue-green waters of the sea!
Even though he was 42 years old, Mr. Reed had a magnificent physique. He was
As the evening wore on, the pain in my gut worsened and my thinking got cloudier.
At some point, I thought about calling my mom, but I didn’t want to worry her. Besides, Mr. Reed and I were heading to the Caribbean the next day. He was picking me up at noon. If my mom was here, that would be kind of awkward.
Clearly, my judgement was just as cloudy as my ability to think.
I clutched my stomach as another wave of pain and nausea washed over me.
“Where does it hurt, Cassie?” Mr. Reed asked.
This time, his voice was gentle. And I knew by the use of my first name that he was really, truly concerned. The only time he called me Cassie was when his emotions were running high.
Like in the middle of mind-blowing sex.
Without opening my eyes, I pointed to my stomach before leaning over and dry-heaving again.
Mr. Reed got up from the couch and I had a moment of panic. “Please don’t leave me,” I whispered.
His fingers caressed my cheek and he brushed the sweat-matted hair from my eyes. “Never, my sweet. I’m going to call an ambulance. We need to get you to the hospital.”
My feverish mind drifted while Mr. Reed talked on his phone.
I thought about our fake relationship, which was becoming more real to me every day.
I thought about our amazing night together in his penthouse apartment.
I thought about Mr. Reed’s secrets.
And I thought about the recent confidential memo he had left me that had stopped me from confronting him about those secrets.
I had memorized this memo, just like the ones before it.
~~~
T o keep up appearances, I’ve planned a romantic get-away to a private island resort in the Caribbean. It’s so private that even the paparazzi won’t be able to reach us.
If you’re naughty, there will be no one to hear your cries of passion when I punish you.
For the record, Miss James, I expect you to be extremely naughty.
~~~
W ith those first few lines of his memo, Mr. Reed had me both intrigued and aroused. He was taking me on vacation to somewhere private? Where we could have sex any time of the day or night – without the distractions of work?
I couldn’t wait, and was already thinking up ways to earn Mr. Reed’s very special punishment!
~~~
Y ou will need to purchase resort attire, of course. I prefer dresses.
Without undergarments.
I want to see your nipples stiffen against the fabric of your dress when I inadvertently brush my arm against your breasts, or when the breeze incidentally caresses your skin.
I want to know that, whether we’re lounging or dining or simply taking a walk, there is nothing between your soft, creamy thighs except warm, salty air.
I want to know that, if I were to place my hand on your knee at lunch, and let my fingers dance up your smooth skin, they could slip, unrestricted, between your plump lips to tease your slick folds.
I want to know that, if I were to circle your clit ever-so-slowly, you could spread your legs wide to writhe against my fingers as they bring you to climax while waiting for the next course of our meal to be served.
~~~
T he first time I read his words (and every time since) they had made me dripping wet. They had also made me consider wearing dresses without panties every day for the rest of my life!
~~~
W e will be swimming, Miss James. Feel free to purchase a bathing suit; although once we reach the island, you won’t need it.
I can’t wait to watch your luscious curves, naked and glistening, as they shimmer beneath the blue-green waters of the sea.
~~~
T he truth was, I couldn’t wait to see his chiseled muscles, naked and glistening, as they shimmered beneath the blue-green waters of the sea!
Even though he was 42 years old, Mr. Reed had a magnificent physique. He was
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