Fat Guy With Dreads の小説・ストーリー

Faye’s heart skipped a beat. Six large men walked out of the crowd led by a man with the pudgiest face she had ever seen, a big frame, and a very prominent beer belly. He looked to be about 200 pounds. His friends sported very similar physical attributes too, and all of them possessed large swathes of tattoos.

“The fuck do you want?” Something caught in my throat. I couldn’t swallow, looking at the man in front of me. He was completely grey. Not in a good way. In a crack addict who gave up on life kind of way. It was mangy and matted and I wondered if maybe rats lived in it. His body looked weirdly misshapen. Thin arms and legs with a potbelly that rode his shirt, or maybe crop top, up higher than his belly button.

I want to appear rigid and unmoved, so, yeah, I find myself plopping down into the empty chair. Richard stalks across the kitchen a few seconds later. He pulls out the chair beside me and sits down heavily. I keep my head up and gaze straight, but I can still see the smirks around the table. “How are your biscuits this morning?” one of the new guys asks. They’re all wearing various shades of black. I mean, black, but different kinds of it. Anyway, this guy looks tough. He has his hair cut into that up-cut style that makes people appear gangster-like, but this guy truly looks the part. He has a long scar that runs from his forehead, zigzags across the bridge of his nose, and down over his chi

But she never thought that day would be today. She gathered herself and slowly stood up to her feet. Matteo ignored her, while Fredrick is too scared to care about his girlfriend. The California mob boss is in his late fourties. He is a little fat and tall and struggles to stay fit. His hawk like nose is the first thing that everyone notice about him. He is fair and has plump cheeks.

I can hear my intestines wiggling like worms in protests. And oh that hissing sound? I bet it's fat sizzles. I carefully and quietly appear from the wall and what stands in front of my eyes, the back facing me, is Jordan Crown himself. He's topless, only wearing an apron. I can see the well-defined muscles of his back, the rough and firm muscles that link his broad shoulders. That athletic structure reaches all the way down, which his round and healthy buttocks restricted from going further. I know he has the cake. It forms against his gray sweatpants. HIS GRAY SWEATPANTS!

The biting, sarcastic voice of my fiancee, Madison Hodge, rang out once more. "Can you stop eating? I can see your double chin already. Do you seriously expect me to marry you when you look as fat and ugly as a pig? I'm warning you. If you don't get your weight down to 140 pounds, you can forget about us getting married!" I stared at my reflection in the mirror, having just gotten over the shock of hearing my cat, Furball's, thoughts.

Jameson added gently, “I think he’s going to love just as fiercely as his brother does.” My eyes drifted toward the twins again. They were standing side by side now. Almost identical beneath the firelight. And somehow the sight still didn’t feel fully real. “I hope we’ll still see you,” I said quietly. Jameson nodded once. “I’d like that.” Then suddenly— A familiar warmth settled at my back before Denver’s voice reached me. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.” I turned slightly. Denver walked toward us dressed in black ceremonial clothing, though somewhere between the ritual and now, he had finally started looking less like a king carrying war on his shoulders and more like a man fina

he whispered, his thumb now grazing my bottom lip. "How do you know my name and that I'm crying over a man?" I asked, my voice trembling. I'm telling you, this man was standing at a towering 6'4", his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed me whole. His hair was styled in a perfect, dark pompadour, and his face was clean-shaven, highlighting a jawline that looked like it was carved from granite. His icy blue eyes were predatory, fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak.

His gaze cut through me, cold and heavy with disgust, before his fist slammed into the kitchen island. “Look, Myra, I’ve had enough of this,” he snapped. “You’re too stiff. Too boring. And most importantly…” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh as his eyes dragged over me like I was something he couldn’t stand to touch. “Too fucking fat.” The words landed hard in my body, like they didn’t belong in real life but still somehow shattered something inside me anyway. I knew I was a bit bigger than most women, but I was putting a lot of effort to try and stay fit. It wasn't like I wasn't trying my hardest to loose weight and Vincent knew that.

He has the wettest kisses ever! Suddenly I hear bones cracking and my feet leave the ground! 'JUICY MA!' Dag says happily. I open my eyes and see this gorgeous ass, emerald-eyed, extremely ripped, dark-skinned man! With really long, thick, reddish-orange dreadlocks. Umm... okay, what the hell? I know I just heard Dag's voice. So who is this guy? I'm totally confused right now. "Dagonae?" He grins at me, showing lots of big, square shaped but sharp teeth! Why is his face so large? I realize that we were rising. Then his head bumps into the ceiling! I hear my family exclaim, shocked. Some scream, gag, gasp, choke and cough. I'm just as shocked. He looks nothing like he did yesterday. My arms c