Thunder Thighs
I’d always been told I had thunder thighs. Chunky, thick, beautiful – I embraced my curves just waiting for the right thunder god to come along and rock my world. Then Gunnar Larsson strode his tall, blonde, Viking butt through my bar doors. My thighs awaited his plunder.
Walking into Ella Bronze’s bar was the best decision I’d made all year. Fuck, all decade. The gorgeous bombshell had curves for days – the kind that made me drool. There was no way this seductive siren was escaping. Looked like it was time to do what my ancestors did best – take what I wanted.
