The Consumed Series
Hot, tingling, panty-dampening lust.
A few long seconds pass and, as I continue to stare at his pants, I realize the strings aren't swinging with every flick of his hips anymore. My heart thrums in my ears, a deafening pound. I slowly drag my gaze up his slim hips, then his rippling waist. I linger for a second, admiring the way his muscles sit, then I continue up to a chest doused in a thin layer of clean sweat, his well-formed traps, and lastly, a pair of dark, brown eyes that are looking directly at me.
Bab Populer