Crazy Heifer (The Valentine Boys 2)

Because in the thirty or so minutes I’d been trying to tell myself to get up, I’d been thinking of nothing else but sneaking my hand down his underwear. Cupping that solid package that I could see framed perfectly in his boxer briefs.

God, but he looked good.

So good, in fact, that I’d been thinking that I wanted to touch it.

And you know what they say about touching things that you shouldn’t…

“No,” he said immediately. “What does hurt is my cock.”

I’d been ignoring that thing since I’d decided I wanted it in my mouth.

But now, unable to stop myself, I allowed my gaze to drift south. And what I saw made things inside of me tighten to the point of pain.

“Ummm,” I found myself saying again. “I might have spoken too soon last night.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex with the man.

My God, Callum was perfection personified.

But Jesus, he’d have to look at my non-perfect body, and that was chilling.

I had stretch marks.

I had extra skin.

I had an ass, breasts, and cellulite.

He… didn’t.

And I highly doubted any of the women that he had sex with did, either.

He chuckled lightly. “It’s okay, darlin’,” he told me. “I know that you were just teasing me last night.”

The problem was that I hadn’t been teasing him last night.

I’d been one hundred percent serious.

In fact, if he would just make the first move, I would seriously have no problem doing whatever he wanted to do.

“I was being serious,” I blurted. “What I wasn’t thinking about was doing this in the light of day instead of the darkness.”

He was silent for a few long moments, then turned me until I was straddling him.

I blinked at the new position, which put my unmentionables in quite close quarters to his.

My ass was resting on his thighs, and if I moved forward just a few inches, his cock—his very hard, long, thick cock—would be underneath my pussy, and I’d be able to grind myself against him.

“So you’re saying that you want it, just that you don’t want me to look at you while you do it?” he said.

I licked my dry lips, then shrugged. “Yes.”

He rolled his eyes as his hands smoothed up my bare legs.

“Let me tell you something, honey,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I’ve seen you at the gym in your tight gym clothes. There’s not much left to the imagination when it comes to those.”

He had a very valid point.

“And, just sayin’, but I liked what I saw,” he informed me. “I also like the fact that you have some extra padding. I like that you enjoy your food. I also like the fact that you want to better your health by becoming more active in life. What I don’t like is the fact that you think whatever you have hiding underneath that shirt is going to turn me off.”

I bit my lip at his sweet words.

“You don’t know what’s under here,” I finally said. “What if it’s bad? What if it really does turn you off?”

His fingers dug into my thighs. “What if everything I see only makes me want you more?”

He had a point.

And knowing that he wouldn’t stop until I gave him what he wanted—which was me—I gathered my courage and hefted my shirt over my head.

Callum’s body turned to stone underneath me as he took me in.

I was wearing a push-up bra and panties.

I’d love nothing more than to get rid of the bra—it was killing me from sleeping in it all night—and by the looks of it, Callum wanted nothing more than to do that, too.

“Go ahead,” I urged, watching his face take me in.

His eyes looked… hungry.

That made me squirm, and when I did, I ended up scooting farther up his body until I was completely settled over his hard cock.

He grunted and leaned forward, his hands going to the back of my bra.

“It’s a front clasp,” I whispered.

He immediately switched directions, undeterred by his mistake.

I groaned when my breasts finally popped free, both from the fact that my ribs really did ache from sleeping in that damn torture device all night, and because his eyes dilated when he saw my breasts in their full glory.

I did have to admit, my breasts were my most significant feature.

They were perky, large, and proportionate.

The only downside of them being on the larger side, I had to practically tape the bad boys down when I was working out, or working in general.

Hence the bra being a torture device.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, his hands falling to his lap.

My face flushed at his words.

“You’re giving me a complex,” I murmured, squirming in his lap.

His dick, if possible, had gotten even harder the moment his eyes took me in.

“Baby,” he said, his hands finally coming up to cup the heavy weights in his hand. “These things are lethal weapons. I never would’ve thought you could’ve fit all that gloriousness in that bra, but damn. You did a wonderful job.”