Favorite body part on the opposite sex?
When it comes to men, oh, where do I even start? There are so many beautiful things about them that make my heart race and my mind wander places it probably shouldn’t (but absolutely wants to).
But if I had to pick. If you really pinned me down and made me confess, it is the arms and the hands that undo me every time. Every. Single. Time.
There’s just something about a man's arms, strong, thick,, a little rough. I crave that feeling of those arms wrapping around me, pulling me close, squeezing me so tight it is almost hard to breathe (and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to breathe when I’m wrapped up like that. I want to sink into it, get lost, completely and willingly).
And then, the hands.
Goodness. Firm, masculine hands that could make you feel tiny and precious in one moment, and then effortlessly flip the switch to rough, claiming, possessive the next. Large hands sliding over my body, gripping my throat with just enough pressure to make me melt and tremble at the same time? Yes, please. Again and again.
Honestly? Washboard abs don’t even move the needle for me. You can keep your gym rat six packs and those shiny, flexy pecs. Give me the dad bod any day, strong where it matters, a little soft where it is sweet, a whole lot real where it counts.
But those arms and those hands? They better be delicious.
I want to feel the strength in them, the weight, the hunger. I want them to own me without a single word. Just a look. A squeeze. A slow slide of fingers along my skin. A firm grip around my throat. A growled order in my ear.
And before you know it?
I’m not just looking anymore. I’m begging to be claimed.