Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(13)

Jesus, everything about him. Those broad shoulders and sculpted arms, those flat abs and that thick erection I can still feel against my belly. It stretched all the way to his hip, a massive monster, and it wanted me.

I wanted it.

And then there’s the way he touched and looked at me—all lust and grabbing and possessive. I’ve never been touched like that, like someone couldn’t get enough of my body, and the parts of my body that Brian always avoided—hell, the parts I avoid touching myself—Caleb put his hands all over. He cupped my hips and slid his hands over the places where my waist turned into the soft convexity of my belly. He ran his hands over my ass and my thighs. His palm flexed against the parts of my back where my bra dug into my skin. And the whole time, I felt nothing from him but hot, throbbing desire.

This is bonkers, right? This whole thing. And yet it doesn’t feel crazy at all. It feels necessary. Natural. The kiss and this hot longing I have in the aftermath. I try to remind myself that I started the day wanting to be professional, that technically this is a work trip, that Caleb is my boss’s friend.

That it’s unseemly to need to fuck under these conditions.

But watching Caleb in his wet T-shirt as he wrestles against the wind… Well, I’m willing to set aside professional seemliness just this once. After all, isn’t it like a known fact that men fuck on business trips all the time? Why not me? If I’m single and Caleb and Ben are…well, whatever version of single exists for them?

Outside, the barn door is finally closed, and I watch Caleb go around the side to where I’m guessing the smaller door is, the one close to his rustic office setup. He said he had things to gather. He said Ben would be here soon.

I don’t want to wait. Not for explanations and not for fixing the coiling need at the apex of my thighs.

It’s more complicated than you think, Mrs. Parry said.

Well, it is certainly shaping up to be that.

I push open the door, and Greta looks up from her bed near the wood-burning stove, glances at the rain-soaked world outside, and lays her head back down, as if to say thanks, but no thanks. With a smile, I head out into the rain, cutting a breathless and wet jog across the short grass to the barn, having to circle around the long way to find the small door. It’s propped open, and the growing roar of the rain is enough to mask my footsteps as I come inside.

And I thank God for that the minute my eyes adjust to the dim light inside the barn, because Caleb is standing slightly angled away from me with his jeans hanging open around his hips, the muscles in his arms bunching as he strokes and pumps at his straining cock.

Sweet merciful Jesus, the man is big. Long enough that the swollen head moves out of his giant hand as he fucks his fist back to the root and thick enough to make me swallow in a combination of lust and oh shit, because taking that part of him inside me would be a feat in itself.

The taut flex of his hips and the top of his ass where it peeks above his slackened belt is just the garnish on this masculine feast in front of me, and if I thought I was wet and aroused before, it’s nothing like now. Now, when my nipples actually hurt they’re so hard and I can feel the emptiness in my core like a living, keening thing.

I creep around the corner into an empty stall so I can stay hidden in case he turns—which is wrong. It’s so wrong. In real life I’d never watch someone without their consent. But I felt him as we kissed. I felt his hands and his erection and his insatiable hunger for my body. And he didn’t make it sound like he regretted our kiss, only that he wanted to wait for Ben…so maybe he wouldn’t mind that I’m watching?

Maybe he’d even like it?

Except then again, maybe he wouldn’t? Because he did lie to me, and he’s not in here waiting for Ben by shuffling stuff around his office—he’s in here jerking off his beautiful dick without me.

And okay, maybe it’s a little bananas that I’m hurt by that, given that we just met and it’s not exactly like I want him to go Clan of the Cave Bear on me and fuck me right in the wet grass…but also it’s not exactly like I don’t want it either? Sex with my ex-boyfriend was lights-out, missionary, and always came with this weird philanthropic vibe, like he was doing me a favor by fucking me. But with Caleb, it was like I made him wild, like I made him hungry for more of me, and seeing him do something as brutally primal as beat his cock the minute I’m not around him is rather exhilarating.

So maybe he wouldn’t mind me watching or maybe he would, but the thing is that I’ve never had this feeling before—this power—knowing that I’ve driven a virile man past all politeness and civilized pretending simply just by being me, and there’s no way in hell I can walk away from it now.

Plus there’d be no walking away from it anyway, because it’s possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Which changes in a matter of seconds with what happens next.





Heavy footsteps echo through the barn, and I nearly leap out of my skin when I realize someone walked right past me and I didn’t even notice. The storm was loud and I was watching the delicious spectacle that was Caleb, and…yeah. Maybe I wasn’t as alert as a voyeuring girl should be.

Luckily, the man walking up to Caleb doesn’t seem to notice I’m here—I’m tucked far enough back into the empty stall that I’m probably hidden from view—and who would think to look in a shadowy stall for a peeping Tonya anyway? I almost wish he had seen me, though, so it would’ve given Caleb enough time to cover up his, um, activities. Because I have no idea who this man is, but there’s no way he’s not going to see exactly what Caleb is doing, and God, Caleb will be so embarrassed—