scroll down for excerpt Book 1 in the Big Girls Lovin’ trilogy
What does a shy, 35 yr old, plus-size virgin of when she decides
to lose her virginity and experience just one night of being desirable?
she lets herself get talked into hiring a male escort. Unfortunately,
mistaken identity lands her in the bed of a hunky doctor, and now
things are spiralling out of control!
Chewing her bottom lip, Cherry peeked out the curtains to the dark car park beyond. No car lights, no slamming doors. No man. No Damien.
Dropping the curtain back in place, she reached for the glass of orange juice then changed her mind. If she drank, she’d want to pee, and peeing with a strange man waiting for her wasn’t a good thing. Not that she had a man here waiting for her.
She looked at her watch. Eleven pm on Saturday twelfth at the Indigo Motel. Right date, right time and right place. And so far she was here alone. No Damien. Weren’t escorts supposed to be punctual? Then again, Saturday night, he could be caught in traffic. Would he have his own car or come by taxi?
Oh God, what if the taxi driver was someone she knew? Cherry almost panicked until she remembered she had only the light on in the bathroom. The glow coming through the partially opened door cast the room in shadows. No one who saw her silhouette in the doorway would know it was her.
Calming down, she took a small sip of the orange juice and studied herself once more in the mirror. The dimness of the room meant Damien would be able to see her, but not too clearly. She didn’t want him to see her body with the overly-generous curves and dimples, too closely, and she most certainly didn’t want him to see her face too much. God forbid he came in as a patient one day!
Nope, they were doing this in the dimness. She’d decided that for safety reasons. Safety reasons being she wasn’t going to risk coming face-to-face with him in the hospital ward and have him saying cheerfully, “Hey Ms Jones! How’s your non-virginal vagina doing these days? Need another boink soon?”
Not that he probably would, being a professional and all – she hoped – but it didn’t pay to run risks. Hence she’d snap on the outside light when he knocked and she’d get a good look at him through the window before she turned off the light and opened the door to lover-boy.
Loving in the dimness. How romantic if it were candles instead of the bathroom light. Still, virginal, desperate beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Anyway, it looked like her destiny with a hot hunk might not happen. She looked again at the clock and sighed. Time was ticking away.
She nearly dropped the glass when a fumble sounded at the door. It was him! Hands shaking, she licked her lips, smoothed her dress over her ample hips, and strode to the door. Mind made up, she wasn’t going to shirk away now. She’d waited forever for this moment.
Snapping on the light, she peeked out the window. He stood with his head bent, fingers flicking through a ring of keys. Tall in height, his jacket was slung negligently over one broad shoulder, his lean waist and hips poured into black dress slacks. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows and she could see the play of muscle in his forearms.
He raised his head when the light came on, revealing his profile. Slightly dishevelled black hair that came down to his collar, a hank of it hanging rakishly over his forehead. A straight, autocratic nose, and, she saw when he looked inquiringly at the window face-on, bright green eyes and a mouth that was full enough to be sensuous without being feminine. A strong jaw line.
Oh my God! He’s drop-dead gorgeous! Damien is hot.
And he was hers for two hours. Naked. On her, in her.
Oh shit! Cherry was so glad she had thought to do everything in the dimness. A hunk like this looking at her pudgy body in the full glare of the punishing light was a definite no-go.
Quizzically, Damien looked at the window. “Hello?” He stepped back and studied the door before looking back at the window. “This is the right room.” He sounded puzzled.
No wonder, him standing out there while she gawked – okay, drooled – at him through the window. Cherry dropped the curtain, snapped off the outside light, took a deep breath, and opened the door. “You have the right room.”
“Really?” In the gloom, he peered at her. “You are…?”
“Ms Jones?” He angled his head.
“Molly Jones.” Smiling – though goodness knows he probably couldn’t see it properly in the dimness – she held out her hand. And felt immediately stupid when he took it slowly and gave it a gentle shake. Did one shake hands with the man one didn’t know who was going to boink one’s brains out?
“Molly Jones.” He studied her. “Well.”
“Please, come in.” She stepped back and to the side, trying to sound professional but inwardly quaking with nerves.
She was going to do it. She was really going to do it!
Damien walked past her slowly, his stride long and sure, his head angled down slightly as he looked at her with interest.
Comforted in the knowledge that he couldn’t see her face too clearly, she inhaled deeply and was immediately assailed with the scents of masculine cologne and whisky.
The poor bastard probably needed a drink before going off to shag his next client. Needed to get his courage up, not knowing if he was going to be bedding Bella the Ballerina or Martha the Mega Lady. She fell more on the Martha side, unfortunately. But she would be nice to him, he was doing her a favour. A paid favour. Don’t think about it.
She shut the door and clicked the lock into place. About to turn back, she was stopped by a hand appearing before her nose to land palm down against the door. Gawking at the hand, she became instantly aware of the heat of a hard body at her back.
“So, Molly Jones.” His breath was warm, stirring the hair at her temple. “What a delightful surprise.”
No kidding. Goosebumps sprinkled down her arms. “Mmmm.”
One finger came up to run lightly along the neckline of her dress, leaving a hot, sparking trail in its wake as he pushed a heavy swath of her hair aside. “You’re not quite what I expected.”
Instantly she stiffened. Was he referring to her weight after all? No! He’s not supposed to care.
The finger at her neckline slid down, becoming a hand that came to rest against her lower back. “Voluptuous. Soft.” The chuckle was whisky-tinged and so sweetly hot against her skin as firm lips pressed a kiss against her nape. “Tim knew what I needed.”
“Tim…?” All thought left her when those firm lips pressed against her throat, and a tongue laved expertly across her suddenly pounding pulse. Her knees almost buckled when his palm slid down to spread against one buttock.
Was it possible for a bum cheek to go on fire? Cherry was sure she was going to find out.
“Turn around, sweets. I want to sample my surprise.”
When had this turned into his surprise? Did escorts act like this? Wasn’t there a meet’n’greet system or something? Hell if Cherry knew, and hell if she cared. Damien was coming on strong and forceful, and by God, she liked it. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to make nice, she just had go along with the flow and enjoy it.
Slowly, she turned to find him as close as he’d felt. He was leaning on the door with one hand, and his hand on her bottom trailed around to rest on her lower abdomen as she moved. Looking up, she was disappointed that she couldn’t see his face properly.
“Let’s have a little look at what delectable delight I have here,” he murmured, reaching for the light switch.
“No!” Cherry grabbed his wrist.
“No.” She took a deep breath. “My choice, remember?”
“My rule. No looking.”
His teeth were a flash of white in the gloom. “I can still see a little. What’s the harm in letting me see everything?”
She stiffened. “No.”
“Intriguing. A mystery woman.” His laugh was soft, deep. “I like it.”
Cherry relaxed against the door, relief sweeping through her.
“I can see a little of you, enough to know that you’re pretty.” He leaned closer still, his forearm resting against the door. “So, Molly Jones.” His big hand crept slowly up over the gentle swell of her stomach. “Any other rules I need to know?”
copyright 2011 Angela Verdenius