The Step father and His plus size obsession
Not when I was wearing a dress that was practically painted on.
It was emerald green, with a sweetheart neckline that pushed my heavy breasts up to my collarbone, and a skirt that clung desperately to my thick thighs and soft waist.
I knew exactly what I was doing. I wasn't some stick-thin, fragile socialite like the other girls my mom dragged to charity galas.
I was built for sin, with curves that demanded attention, and for once, I actually wanted men to stare. I wanted to feel dangerous. I wanted to feel like I had some control over my own body before Arthur Sterling claimed it for his household.