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When I check it to see what’s up, my notifications are flooded with likes, hearts, and comments. It’s nothing unusual for a former plus-sized public figure…except that I’ve been pretty much media-silent since I lost my contract, and I figured I would have lost my following by now.
I scroll through the notifications, just perusing the positive comments. But then a notification comes in from him.
My heart skips a fucking beat, then lodges itself in my windpipe.
“Holly-Anne,” I croak as I turn my phone to her.
“That little shit,” Holly-Anne swears back.
Ryan has started following my profile again.
On some level, I’m actually surprised. Not that he’s joined my fan base, though…but more because I’m not actually sure that I care. My initial reaction was as expected, but the follow-up leaves something to be desired.
I mean, after Chase and Eric in the shower today—do I even give a fuck about that image-obsessed prick anymore?
“God, I’d forgotten all about him blocking me,” I admit. “Big surprise he wants to be back in the picture now.”
“Forgot? Kara, you dated him for years. Plural. And you forgot about him cutting you off? Ghosting on you?” Holly-Anne asks.
“I-I don’t need Ryan,” I explain. “Time heals all wounds, right? I just don’t see the point in being hurt over it. I don’t think I need him anymore.”
And I mean it. I don’t need him.
Every moment I spent with Ryan was spent in agonizing worry—was my muffin top showing? Could he see my tummy rolls if I put my legs up over my head?
Compare that to today, when I had two pretty-much-strangers feeling up my body, showering it with kisses and shoving their dicks inside it—and all I could think of was how fucking good it felt to be with them.
After Ryan, I second guessed everything. I moved a certain way to avoid any jiggling. I tried no carbs.
No fats. No calories. No anything.
I bought a Shakeweight for that man, for fuck’s sake! And none of it paid off—it just ended in binge after binge as I broke down from whatever fad diet I was on that week and ate my fe
elings.
No matter how much I ate, though, I still felt unhappy.
All it took was a few hours with Chase and Eric, and all of that literally melted.
I want to feel that again, I realize.
Fuck, I have to see them again.
“So are you going back to the gym tomorrow?” Holly-Anne asks, carving a path through the Ben & Jerry’s with her spoon.
“And the next day,” I laugh. “And the next. And the next.”
Chapter 8
Eric
I walk into my kitchen, the cool tile hitting my bare feet and my cock bouncing heavy against my thigh.
When I’m home, I barely wear anything. I cover just enough to keep the husbands of my female neighbors appeased: sweatpants.
My fingers collect beads of water between them as I drag them through my hair. After our little encounter with Kara in the shower earlier, I needed a second shower just to cool down.
I grab a cutting board out from beneath my sink and place it onto my stainless steel countertop…and seeing the steel reminds me of Kara’s fingers gripping the hot and cold water dials in ecstasy just a few hours ago while I pumped her full of my cum.
