Big Girls Do It Wetter Read Online Free PDF Page A

realized he was much bigger than I'd ever thought. His shirts made him seem smaller, somehow, but in reality, he would be much, much stronger than Chase.
    "I'm sorry to hear that," I replied, belatedly.
    "Long time ago." He shrugged, and turned his gaze to my body, nestled naked against his.
    Our warm flesh merged in one long point of contact. I felt comfortable there, held in his arms. Safe. The oddest thing was, even post-sex, still naked and feeling his hot skin and hard muscle, I felt just as at ease with Jeff as if we were setting up for a shift at The Dive.
    His palm moved from the swell of my hip to the hollow of my waist, then down to graze my ass, curling around one cheek and hefting it, following the crease down to the fold where ass meets thigh and then moved back up my body. He rolled so I landed on my back, supporting his head on his elbow. His free hand continued its slow exploration of my body, leaving nowhere untouched. He circled my kneecap, up the inside of my thigh, dips into my navel and the sides of my belly, my ribs; he spends forever on my breasts, lingering on every square inch of skin.
    At last, at long last, he moved his attention downward, tickling my belly, my thighs, and finally slipping one long index finger to the keyhole gap of my pussy. I moved my legs apart, greedy for his touch, hungry to be stimulated, turned on, toyed and played with and sated. He didn't touch me to bring me to climax, at first. It was the same way he touched the rest of my body, as if...as if memorizing my body, creating a mental map of my curves to remember.
    "You're beautiful, Anna." The way he said it, his was voice softer than I ever remember him speaking, a world away from the gruff voice he used most of the time.
    It was three words, but coming from Jeff it was worth ten thousand words. He was spare with words, to the point where sometimes getting him to use complete sentences could be a chore, like dragging answers from a teenager.
    "Thank you."
    He gave me his Jeff smile, the upward quirk of one corner of his mouth, just a twitch of the muscles, but a smile nonetheless.
    I leaned up and kissed him, a slow meeting of lips, a gradual exploration of mouth-space with tongues. His arm wrapped around my back and pulled me closer, rolled me to my side facing him. One arm was trapped between us, and I used that one to touch his manhood, stiffening now under my caress. My other hand slipped up his back and rested between his shoulder blades, stayed there.
    Encouraging his cock to full girth was a slow process, deliberately so. I could have used my mouth to speed it up, but I enjoyed just touching him, holding him, feeling its weight in my hand, brushing the tip in slow, small circles, cupping his balls in my palm, sliding up his length and back down in lazy dips and rises, twisting around him in spirals.
    I wasn't even aware of movement, of a change of position. I blinked, breathed, and found Jeff above me, kneeling between my thighs, his hands on either side of my face, his flinty near-black eyes soft on mine, searching my face.
    I didn't need to guide him in with my hands. He found my entrance without taking his eyes from me, as if his body knew exactly where to merge with mine. He slipped inside me with exquisite slowness, utter gentility, as if I were delicate. In the shower, he'd claimed me slowly, but his desire had been there beneath the surface, boiling within him like magma surging to the core of a volcano; he'd forced himself to go slow, as if savoring the experience.
    Now, he went slow out of pure desire to simply take his time, in no rush, no hurry. He dipped down and kissed me, his tongue flicking out to meet mine in the rhythm of his hips' lunges against mine. My arms floated up as if borne on unfelt winds to wind around his neck as he kissed me; he slipped one thick forearm beneath my head as a pillow, and with his other hand cupped and caressed my breasts, whisking his palms across my nipples, tweaking them,