Page 38 of Brown Sugar
…and I just KNOW he has a huge dick.
This thought pierces my champagne-tipsy fog and makes me giggle as he peppers kisses to my throat. At the melodious sound of my laugh, he lifts his head enough to grin down at me, his darker eyes cloudier than usual.
“Something the matter, princess?”
I stroke his beard and peer back up at him. “I’m really happy right now. I’m feeling really good…”
…thanks to you.
“We should stop,” he rasps despite the fact that he stares at my mouth when he says it. He can’t help himself. “I should stop. This is against the contract.”
“Goliath, I don’t give a fuck about any damn contract,” I say candidly. “I want you. You want me. That’s all that matters. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
“Easy to say now, princess. But I’m a professional. I don’t go around?—”
I silence him with a sweet kiss. I drag his face down to mine and kiss him like earlier, pouring every ounce of feeling I have into the gesture.
Kissing Tyson the Bison Jeffries is like kissing a beast in the best way.
He’s rough against my lips. Hard under my touch.
Such an opposite to myself that it excites me. His energy surrounds me enough to make me drunk on its own. Forget about the Cristal.
“Fuck,” he growls, nipping at my lips. “You taste like sugar… brown sugar. No wonder I can’t get enough of you, princess.”
“There’s a song lyric in there somewhere,” I murmur before he dots more kisses onto my skin.
He pushes aside the collar of my robe and discovers a pleasant surprise—I’m topless underneath. His wide, square jawclenches into a hard line of muscle and his pupils dilate in real time drinking in my breasts.
I lay confidently under him, my lids hanging halfway, biting my lip to further entice him. I’m making a very simple, very bold statement—if you like what you see, do something about it.
If he had any self-restraint left, it’s completely gone in a flash.
Tyson releases a gritty rumble that makes me shudder as he answers my challenge. He fills a large palm with my breast, giving it a rough squeeze. I arch at the feel of his warm palm and how he rolls a nipple between his fingers.
He returns to my mouth as he does, groping me and kissing me all at once.
We give ourselves to the moment.
We kiss hard and let our hands explore each other. I revel in the packed muscle I find wherever I touch him. The sheer stone-like feel of him is overwhelming and soaks my pussy as my imagination runs wild.
If Tyson can turn me on this much from his kisses, his hands teasing my breasts and stomach and hips, then what the hell is he capable of when he’s inside me?
He scoops me up like nothing, to my tipsy giggle. What little of the robe still clung to me slips away, a forgotten crumple of fabric on the sofa. I’m in nothing more than my panties as he walks us to the huge king-sized bed and drops me down. I sit up to watch him disrobe, ripping off his clothes like he’s about to shred the garments if necessary.
My mouth drops open and heat floods me.
Tyson is built like a tank. He’s huge and muscled to the point it makes me speechless. His body basically its own instrument of war.
My gaze tracks down the long, wide length of him, starting at his broad chest and working its way down.
I gulp—yes, gulp—when I reach the erect python between his thighs ready to strike.
He’s easily the biggest, thickest man I’ve ever seen. His dick’s so fat I’m pretty sure it easily puts my wrist to shame.
My reaction must read on my face because he husks out a throaty laugh. He takes himself into his hand and works his hard dick in a slow stroke.
“Don’t worry, princess. We’ll get it to fit. But, first, you’re gonna ride my face and I’m gonna make that pussy squirt.”