“Gosh,” he muttered, voice like gravel dragged across silk. “Look at your fat ass and thighs.”
I choked on air.
Like actually choked.
Because the way he said it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mean. It was worse. It was reverent. It was filthy. It was the kind of voice a man uses when he’s about to drop to his knees and eat a girl alive.
And I could feel my whole body start to shake because I wanted that. I wanted his mouth. I wanted his hands. I wanted his c**k. I wanted every inch of this man and every word that came out of his mouth to be inside me, around me, all over me.
His hands came up slowly—almost like he was giving me time to run, but we both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
His fingers slid under the hem of my top. They didn’t yank. They didn’t tear. They just slipped in like they
