Page 19 of Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
Ben breaks off the kiss to turn my face to Caleb, who kisses me just as deeply but more gently. More sweetly, though the subtle scratch of his short beard keeps it from feeling tame. It’s like a reward for enduring Ben’s punishing mouth, but if Ben’s the punishment, then sign me up for a lifetime of being punished. I’m practically writhing underneath them in need, my body aching to be filled after Ben’s claiming touch and then aching even more at Caleb’s worshipping mouth.
Ben wedges his thigh between my legs as he lowers himself to his forearms to kiss me even harder, a look of dark pleasure moving across his face as my hips lift of their own accord to chase the friction. “Poor peach,” Ben murmurs. “Isn’t she a poor girl, Caleb, reduced to fucking my thigh because she’s so hard up for it?”
“It’s too bad,” agrees Caleb. His hand drifts down to my chest, fingers circling one erect nipple, and even through the fabric of my shirt and my bra, it’s excruciatingly good. “Wonder if we can help her with that.”
Ben leans down for another kiss, and this one has biting. He nips at my lips and sucks my tongue and bites along my jaw. He sinks his white teeth hard into my lower lip, and I arch up into him with a cry, and then he turns my head for Caleb to soothe it better, which Caleb does with attentive licks and strokes and sucks.
On and on it goes—a kiss of darkness and near-pain from Ben and then a rewarding kiss of earnest passion from Caleb—one man leaving me wrung out and shaking and then the other man putting me back together again. Until I think I can’t stand it anymore, until I think I might perish with the emptiness low inside me. Until I’m begging them shamelessly, with my pelvis rocking up against Ben’s thigh and my hands clutching blindly at arms and shoulders and my voice quietly pleading against the rain, “More, more, more.”
Ben lifts himself, and with some kind of wordless communication, he and Caleb both shift to peel my clothes off my skin. Ben is efficient, clinical even, but Caleb can’t stop his hands from wandering over each new naked inch, and I’m grateful for the darkness. I catch his hand before he can move it from my sternum to my belly, a flush now burning my cheeks at even the idea of him touching me there. His caresses have been so worshipful, so eager, but will they change when he touches that part of me? Without the semi-smoothing barrier of a shirt or jeans, without anything between his fingers and my skin? My breasts and my ass and even my hips… They’re the parts of me that are easiest to like for a man, I’m sure. The parts that could almost be like a Kardashian’s body—sleek and flat-tummied, a two-dimensional hourglass.
But I’m not sleek. Not in my arms or thighs and definitely not in my belly, which is not two dimensional in the least. And it’s stupid, given that Caleb has already pressed against me, given that nothing about my clothes earlier hid my body, but something about my naked belly feels more real and intimate than anything else we’re doing.
I don’t know if I’m ready to share it with these men. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to share it with any lover, come to that, but especially these two? As fit and tight and hard as their bodies are, how could they still want me if they know how soft and loose I am?
I guide Caleb’s hand back to my breast, which is still covered by my bra, hoping to distract him from my belly, and he palms it with the awed happiness of a teenage boy, but I should have known Ben wouldn’t miss it. I should have known Ben would see, even in the dark, the things I try to hide. He seems like the kind of man who’s very good at seeing what people hide.
He also seems like the kind of man who’s good at hiding himself.
Ben finishes tugging off my jeans and panties and then climbs back over me with glittering eyes. “All,” he drawls. “Any. Those were your words, peach.”
“Yes,” I say with a dry throat, because I think I know what’s about to happen. And it does.
Ben puts his hand over Caleb’s and slowly pushes it down from my breast. Down to my belly.
I suck in a breath.
“You can say stop,” Ben says in a voice that almost sounds indifferent, but in the haze of the nightlight, I can see the rapid pound of his pulse in his neck. He’s aroused. He’s edgy.
He likes this, I realize, and I realize also that it’s not just the obvious—making out and now having me nearly undressed—but also him moving Caleb’s hand. Him nudging me toward something that feels awfully like a boundary. Something scary.
He likes the thrill.
And…I like thrills too. Or I used to, and now I’m relearning how, and this is my first adventure. I can be brave.
I swallow and wet my lips. “I’m not saying stop.”
“Good. Because Caleb wants to touch you here. Don’t you, Caleb?”
“I do,” Caleb groans, his hand flexing over my stomach, running alon
g the curve of it until he reaches my navel. He even caresses the part where my stomach meets my hips and there’s this crease I don’t think a single other human has ever touched on purpose.
He touches it. Traces it. Follows it across my stomach while he bends down to kiss me.
“Caleb, I think you should take off your clothes now,” Ben says in that bossy way of his, which isn’t bossy at all. More like matter-of-fact. More like commanding. “Show off that big, strong body of yours and all the parts of you that want to feel her.”
Caleb gives me a final kiss and then grins down at me, an irrepressible grin that I can’t help but return.
“What about you?” I ask Ben, turning to look up at him. “Any parts of you that want to feel me?”
There’s a flash of something like surprise, maybe even pride, across his face, and his mouth curls up at the corners. “There are some indeed,” he murmurs, lifting himself off me. And while Caleb undresses, Ben pops open the button of his fly and works his jeans open enough to free the head of his erection, which even in the dim light looks florid-dark and swollen. The sight of him in his black T-shirt and jeans, with just the tip of his cock exposed, is the lewdest thing I think I’ve ever seen.
I’m panting for it.
Caleb is disrobing now too, fully, tugging off his T-shirt to expose a body unfairly masculine and perfect. His shoulders and chest and back are layered with swathes of swelling muscle, and when he unbuckles his belt and kicks off his jeans and boxer briefs, I see hard thighs that invite salacious squeezing and a tight, firm ass that does the same. Narrow hips, a lightly furred belly, and a heavy erection that bobs as he climbs back onto the bed. He wastes no time in helping me remove my bra, and then he and I are both completely naked. And then there’s Ben, who somehow seems filthier than the both of us, more obscene, fully clothed with his rigid cock pushing through the fly of his jeans.
“Now,” Caleb breathes, giving me another earnest, bearded kiss, “are you ready for all of it?”
