Mmm Monday just became Bossy Monday,
but then Nick Frost knows what he wants.
And what girl would be foolish enough not to comply
when you know it’s going to mean sexy fun..?
Mister Bossy isn’t to be argued with, but then why on earth would I?
I lay strewn across the vast bed, a wanton, panting mess, mentally begging him to finish what he’s started, but I don’t feel the bed dip under his weight.
Where the fuck is he?
I prop myself up on my elbows to find him staring at me; the look in his eyes dark and dangerous.
He pulls his T shirt off over his head and I’m treated to my first real sight of his body. I don’t know what I was expecting – what am I saying? I know exactly what I was hoping for, but the luscious bod standing at the foot of the bed surpasses my expectations by a million miles. Ryan Gosling would kill for those pecs. An Abercrombie & Fitch male model couldn’t have better defined abs.
I feel him watching as my gaze traces the path of fine blonde hairs running in a line from below his navel, disappearing under his jeans.
My breathing slows as I watch in rapt anticipation as he unbuttons his fly, tantalisingly slowly, revealing the hair continuing beneath the denim. Going commando I see.
The breath is held captive in my lungs as my jaw hangs open and my whole body tenses involuntarily as he slides his jeans down his well-developed thighs, revealing his cock in all its magnificent glory.
Men may like to believe it’s possible to be too big for a woman to accommodate, but that’s a myth. Our bodies are designed for giving birth for God’s sake. There’s not a dick around that’s too big. Although his is about to put my theory severely to the test.
‘This is all your fault.’
I tear my gaze back up to his face to see him smiling lasciviously, an eyebrow raised in a knowing acknowledgement of my reaction.
My fault? What did I do? I haven’t even touched you. You’re the one who’s done all the touching. Now get your delicious bod over here and take me.
* * *