I’m content with my body even if I’ll never fit into single-digit jeans. God, I hate that woman for making me feel self-conscious.
Women are beautiful in all shapes and sizes, and we should remind each other of that frequently.
Men certainly don’t.
Not unless it fits their agenda.
Magnum’s hands slide up my thighs, and the look on his face assures me that he has no qualms with my curves. He bunches the pajama dress above my hips, but I’m grateful the front covers the soft area of my stomach that I’ve never been able to get rid of, no matter how hard I exercise.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he groans, popping the button on his jeans before working the zipper.
The movement draws my eyes, and the bulge from his erection is obscene. I don’t think I tell myself to move, but my hand sure flies to his jeans. I cup his cock, and Magnum growls. Snatching my wrist, he brings it above my head before grabbing the other arm and doing the same.
“Need you to keep these here.” He stretches out over me, ensuring my hands stay locked above me with one of his palms wrapped around my wrists.
I should have asked him to strip me out of my sleep dress. I ache to feel his bare skin against mine. His stubble scratches against my cheek as he kisses me, and his hard cock bumps my pussy. It can’t be comfortable, considering his jeans are still on, but his dick seems to have migrated to where they hang open.
I moan, wrapping my legs around his.
It forces his tip against my lower lips.
Shit.
He should have lost his jeans and boxers too.
Heat builds under my skin, and another wave of cramps rips through my abdomen.
I seize under him.
“Fuck,” Mag whispers against my lips as he stops holding my wrists, moving his hand between us. “I’m trying so hard to be a gentleman, but your tight little body is too tempting for all that.”
His words light up my insides, and I don’t even care that there’s not a singlelittlething about me. The backs of his fingers brush my swollen nub, and I capture his lower lip between my teeth.
He growls as I swirl my tongue around it.
Magnum follows the same pattern, teasing his fingers around my clit. My nipples ache, and my pheromones flood the air. They’re so thick that it almost makes me gag, but feeling Mag’s hard length bumping my thigh is a solid distraction.
He knows exactly how to tease my body to send me soaring, or maybe I’m easy to please. I have no idea, but it’s never been this easy to give myself an orgasm. His lemon and honey scent soothes my instincts while also hyping my body’s response to his careful movements.
“More,” I whine, trying to keep my voice down. Things could get bad fast if Hawk or Moretti were to bust in, but I’m burning from the inside out. “I need pressure.”
“Yeah?” he asks, bumping his cheek against mine.
I nod vigorously, and his stubble scratches my skin.
How would it feel rubbing against my thighs?
Dammit.
I would kill to find out.
Magnum grinds his palm against my clit and teases a thick finger inside me.
I’m soaked, and my face heats.
I’ve made out with guys in clubs, grinded on the dance floor, and considered doing more. It just never seemed worth risking my life if my father and brothers found out.
It’s embarrassing to be a virgin at twenty-five, but my hymen is long gone. If I ever had one, I must have popped it on my own with toys or something.
