I try to pull away, but he doesn't budge. His hands are like iron around my wrists.
"Then what is it?" I demand, tears burning my eyes. "If it's not my weight, what's my problem? Why do bad things keep happening to me?"
"That's just the way the world is," Shadow says, and his voice gentles slightly. "Sometimes the best people suffer the most. But I truly believe better things will come. That you'll be rewarded for everything you've gone through."
I'm crying now, sobbing and chuckling at the same time because the contradiction is too much.
"I never expected you to believe in things like karma," I manage through my tears.
"I need to believe it," he whispers. "Need to believe that if I'm better, the world around me will be better too. That maybe I'll feel less guilty for all the bad things I've done."
"You saved a bunch of women last night," I tell him, my voice thick. "The world better reward you for that."
His eyes soften, and for the first time since entering the room, they drop from my face. They roam over my body slowly, taking in every inch of me. His pupils dilate. His eyes widen.
"The world already is," he says, his voice rough.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process what's happening.
"You can't be for real," I whisper. "You can't really like what you're seeing."
"Why not?" He steps closer, still holding my wrists. "Because you don't like yourself? Does that mean nobody will? Because from where I stand, I'm seeing a fucking curvy goddess right before me."
"You're lying." The words come out desperate. "Men like you don't look twice at women like me. It has to be a trap."
"I'm not fucking lying." His voice is almost a growl now. "I fucking love your body. Love the curves. Love every inch of what I'm seeing. And I feel like an idiot for even having to say it."
"Then prove it," I challenge, expecting him to back down. To admit this is all just words.
Instead, Shadow lets go of my wrists. His hands move to his jeans, unbuckling them. He pushes them down his hips, kicking them aside.
And then he grips his bulge through his briefs.
Holy fuck.
It's massive. Thick and hard and straining against the fabric. And he's not embarrassed. If anything, he seems emboldened, stepping closer and asking, "Is being rock hard in front of you proof enough?"
I can't stop staring. My mouth has gone dry. My pussy clenches, and I feel myself getting wetter by the second. The thin string of my panties rubs against my clit as I unconsciously press my thighs together, and it's almost too much.
Shadow isn't saying anything now. He's just standing there, looking devastatingly hot with his right hand gripping his massive bulge, watching me with those intense gray eyes.
"That's... that's proof enough," I finally manage.
He smirks and reaches for his jeans.
"Stop," I blurt out.
He freezes, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "Why?"
"Are you serious? You think you can just show me your bulge and that's it?"
"You wanted proof," he says, and there's a challenge in his voice. "Now you have it. If you want more, you have to prove it too."
Is he fucking serious? Is this some sort of test?
Fine. He wants to push things? I'll push them further.
I reach behind my back and unclasp my sports bra, letting it fall to the floor. My breasts bounce free, heavy and full, nipples already hard from arousal.
