Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
She sticks her tongue out, and if she were any other woman, I’d point out what I’d like for her to do with that tongue. But instead, I shove another bite into my mouth.
“And thanks to Enrique, I can’t even go for a jog.” She pouts. “Not that it does much …” Her gaze descends to her stomach, and she frowns.
I don’t know much about women, aside from how to pleasure them, but thanks to having a sister, who was obsessed with her weight when she was younger, it’s clear that’s what Daniella is doing—unnecessarily so.
“Nope. None of that woe is me shit allowed around here.” I shake my head. “Your body is banging with all them curves, but if you want to jog, I have an entire gym you can use anytime. It’s not the same as running in the fresh air, but it will do.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry,” she says. “You’re right … not about the banging body part, but about the woe is me shit. I honestly don’t mind being fat. But Enrique made a few comments, and now, they’re stuck in my head.”
“Fat?” I scoff. “You’re far from fat.”
She snorts, and I lock eyes with her.
“Stand. Show me where you’re fat.”
“What?” She gasps. “No way.”
“C’mon.” I set my plate of food down, pause the show we were watching, and stand, pulling her up with me. “Let’s go, Little Russo. You started this shit. Now, show me the fat.”
She huffs, rolls her eyes, and then says, “Fine.”
Her hands go to the seam of my shirt, and she lifts it up to just below the bottom swells of her tits. “This,” she says matter-of-factly, “is fat.”
She’s about to drop the shirt when I reach out and stop her, holding the shirt up with one hand while my other one goes to her soft belly.
“This”—I turn her so we’re facing the mirror hanging on my wall, some decorative piece my interior decorator picked out when she furnished my entire place for me—“is not fat.”
Standing behind her, I keep her shirt lifted while I run the pads of my fingers across her abdomen and over to her hips.
“These are curves,” I tell her, meeting her emerald eyes in the mirror. “They’re perfect for when a man wants to hit it from behind and needs something to hold on to.” I waggle my brows, and she barks out a laugh. “They also serve a great purpose when a woman is on top and the man needs to help guide her up and down.”
“You’re nuts!” Daniella laughs, her cheeks tingeing a beautiful shade of pink. “And what purpose does this serve?” She reaches up and pinches the area under her chin.
“Easy,” I say. “This.”
I spin her around and push her gently against the wall and wrap my fingers around her neck. “If you didn’t have any meat on you, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
Her eyes go wide as her tongue slides across the seam of her lips, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her.
“Okay, Mr. Fat Expert. What about these?”
She shocks the hell out of me when she pulls down my sweats and exposes her all-black cotton panties. They cover everything important, leaving it all to my imagination.
Is she shaved? Bare? Does she have a full bush going on down there?
I’m so stuck on her material-clad pussy being uncovered that I couldn’t tell you what she’s even referring to, until she reaches down and grabs the inside of her thick thighs.
“C’mon, Matteo. What purpose do these serve other than to rub together and cause chafing?”
Her question spurs me on, and without thinking, I reach down and lift her up, the sweats falling to the floor. She squeals in shock as I press her against the wall, and she wraps her legs around my neck as her back and palms hit the wall.
“Matteo! What are you doing?” she hisses, her hands moving to my hair to hold on, so she doesn’t fall.
Not that she’d ever be at risk of that. I could bench-press her several times without breaking a sweat.
“Showing you exactly what your thick thighs’ purpose is.”
With her ankles locked around my neck, the apex of her legs is perfectly situated on either side of my face, giving me the best view of her pussy.
“Now, squeeze.”
“What?” she squeaks.
“I said, fucking squeeze.”
She does as I said, her thighs squeezing the hell out of my head and forcing my face to squish in against her pussy. I inhale a deep breath, and my cock comes to life.
And then she moans … motherfucking moans.
And it hits me—I’m standing in my condo with Little Russo against my wall and her pussy inches from my mouth while her thighs squeeze the sides of my face.
Instantly, I drop her—carefully, of course—and take a step back.