Page 102 of Barbi and the Villain

He still has not said a word, nor has he looked away from my rather nude form. And it’s not just his fangs that are having a reaction to my breasts. Eyes wide, my mouth forms a shocked O as I stare at the dent in his pants. They are entirely wet, clinging to his muscular legs and emphasizing the outline of his hardness.

Oh my!

That is quite…something. A big something.

I nibble at my lips as I continue to shamelessly stare at that part of him, committing it to memory.

I’ve watched porn. Who hasn’t? But those men weren’t quite as…gifted as him in that department. And supposedly porn stars are quite well-endowed. I mean, it’s a requirement for the job, no?

And if he’s bigger than a porn star… Just how big is he?

I lean forward, trying to get a better look and gauge his size—for research purposes, of course. And for my dreams. Girls have wet dreams too, after all. They’re just a little more…romantic? And dirty. Let’s be honest. My dreams about Nykander have been dirty as hell. The amount of times he told me what a good girl I am while he’s deep inside me, claiming me fully and branding me as his…

I sigh.

In my dreams only.

Unfortunately, in real life, he only tells my dog what a good girl she is.

Up close, I can make out the outline of his shaft. It’s thick. I glance at my forearm. Good Lord! Those old-school romances were right! It is the size of my forearm.

A shiver of alarm goes through me.

You’re a big girl, Barbi. You can take it.

The pep talk is rather useless, though, since I doubt that would happen—he’s made it clear that there will be no skinship between us. But that monster in his pants certainly has other plans.

I slowly drag my gaze up, meeting his hungry one.

We stare at each other, both unmoving.

My breathing grows labored as I see the signs of desire become more pronounced on his features. He’s breathing equally hard.

He leans forward, and the intensity in his gaze should scare me. The darkness of his pupils eclipse his light irises, lust and longing echoing in those beautiful depths.

He’s close. So close.

His hand moves from my shoulder to my neck, then slowly descending down my collarbone until he reaches the valley of my breasts. His touch is intoxicating, so much so, my mind becomes a blank mess. He’s the only thing I see. The only thing I feel. The only thing that matters right now.

He spreads his big palm over my breasts, the breadth of it almost covering my chest.

My heart thunders against my ribcage, seizing this moment as she wants to make herself known and show him just how fast she can beat. She wants him to know how hard at work she is, pumping my blood and getting me ready for him to sink his teeth into me.

Taste me.

Consume me.

Get drunk on me and let me get drunk on him in return.

His breath fans my face, a cool breeze that makes me shiver with want.

I lick my lips. This is it. Oh, God! This is it. The moment I have waited for all my life.

My first kiss.

My eyes squeeze shut as I pucker my lips, waiting for that magical moment when his lips will touch mine and fireworks will explode.

I wait.

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