Kelly
“Take it off.Everything.Now,” J.T.demands.
The command hits me low and electric.
Not because he’s ordering me.
But because I want to obey.
There’s a difference.
My fingers fumble with the clasp of my bra, nerves making me slower than I’d like, and he growls—a deep, feral sound that goes straight to my core.
In two long strides he’s in front of me, hands moving with impatient precision as he helps, fabric sliding away like it offended him just by existing between us.
His focus is consuming.
Total.
When he steps back to strip the last of his own clothing away, I kneel on the bed, heart hammering so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it over the blood rushing in my ears.I push my panties down my thighs, not bothering with grace.
I don’t feel shy.
I feel chosen.
He stands there for a second, unapologetically male and devastatingly sure of himself.
Tall.Broad.
All hard lines and powerful muscles built from years of actual work, not vanity.
He doesn’t pose.
He doesn’t preen.
He just looks at me like I’m the one he’s been starving for.
His hand wraps around himself in a slow, possessive stroke, and my breath catches in my throat.I mean, he palms his dick.
Stroking it from root to tip, and I shiver with anticipation.
He is enormous.Not just in size, though yes—God, yes—but in presence.
He fills the room.
The whole space.
Invades my mind, my thoughts.
Looking at him has me tightening every muscle in my body.
My mouth waters just looking at him, and I realize I’ve gone completely still, staring.
He notices.
Of course he does.
His jaw flexes.His eyes darken further.
