Roasts For Tall People Novels & Stories

“Yes ma’am. The doctors projected him to grow until he is close to six foot seven.” “Wow.” She says. “My son is only five foot seven. He took after me unfortunately. But he is a great warrior. He is very stealthy. That’s the one good thing about being shorter than the rest.” “Alright. I’m going to go up and fix something to eat for us. Please make yourselves at home and I’ll be back as soon as I get it done.” Mable said getting up and walking to a set of stairs that’s closed off by a rope. I watch as she undoes the rope and walks up the stairs.

Before either of them could escalate again, my mother stepped in. “If you are both done discussing business,” she said firmly, “we can have breakfast like civilized people.” “Roan was just leaving,” my father muttered. “I could stay a little longer,” Roan replied easily—earning a sharp glare from my father. We all made our way to the dining hall. Roan walked beside me, his presence impossible to ignore. He was so much taller than me—and I was already tall. “How tall are you?” I asked slightly in awe. “Six-eleven,” he said with a wink.

Of course Christopher Henry Jameson—also known as Beast- wasn't the average man. He stood 6'5" and weighed three hundred and two pounds. He didn't like the extra three pounds. He rather liked being in the two hundred weight range even if it was by just one or two pounds. Regardless, there wasn't an ounce of fat on his perfect body. Beast was muscles on top of muscles, yet not hulking like some of the others that worked in the Marine Corps division assigned to The Department of Home Land Security, or better known as DHS. Too big made you slow. He'd seen guys bigger than him hospitalized during the CRUCIBLE training.

His actions confused me while he was barely looking at me. “It’s best if you change clothes here. Though the walk from here seems short, it will be long enough for you to catch a cold… I-I won’t l-look!” He stuttered, while his ears went red. He was taller than me, making him a good hiding place. Since I’m a midget, my height stops at his chest. Let me remind you, I’m 4 feet, 8 inches tall and he’s… tall. Of course, everything is tall for me!

Although his hand was manly and strong and by far bigger than hers, it had a warm and comfortable feeling to it. “What would you like to have for breakfast?” Roy asked. “Anything.” she quietly replied, but instantly regretted as Roy’s hand left hers, leaving her feeling cold and alone once again. “You might need to take a seat.” he suggested, gesturing for her to sit on one of the stools which she reluctantly did. Kimberly watched as Roy made coffee, carefully taking in his features. He was really tall, unmistakably 6ft 3inches in height and well built with broad shoulders. She watched as his biceps flexed while he made breakfast, giving him a sexy look.

I found myself giving a slow, involuntary nod of agreement. The man was a towering wall of muscle, easily hitting 1.9 meters. He was the literal definition of a prime Alpha. Every limb was perfectly proportioned, encased in a rugged black tactical jacket and dark trousers that did nothing to hide the power in his frame—broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and legs that seemed to go on forever.

“You don’t see many men built like you around these parts.” “I haven’t checked in a while... but I was six-one last time I measured,” Ryan murmured. “Probably still am.” “Impressive,” Silas mused, before turning an expectant gaze toward Aaron. Aaron sat down, adjusting his tight shirt. “Six-two.” “The kids these days just keep growing, don’t they, Martha?” Silas chuckled. “Perfect match for our Zoe, if you ask me. Now, let’s eat,” Martha said warmly, handing out the silverware.

“I do have a private chef that cooks most of my meals. But it isn’t because I don’t enjoy cooking or know how to, it’s more for convenience.” His breath tickles my skin. My tennis shoes do nothing to give me any kind of height, so with him this close, it brings attention to just how vastly different our heights are. I’m only a few inches over five feet on a good day. He’s got to be at least a foot taller than me, but I’m a terrible judge of that. I know Carter used to brag that he was six feet tall, and Beck definitely has a few inches on him.

I’d been too dazzled by his masculine beauty to notice that he was only six inches taller than me in this human form, but he was still so powerfully built. Scarab rushed ahead to open the restaurant’s door. “Do you find my appearance pleasing?” he asked as he walked me through the entrance. “You’re very handsome,” I murmured. We stepped inside to find dozens of hogs floating six feet above fire pits that shot out flames toward the ceiling. U-shaped tables surrounded each pit, where diners could reach the roasting meat with a longsword. I shook my head and laughed. This place reminded me so much of hunting with dad and roasting the spoils.

I muttered. “Yeah, but this one?” He tilted his head toward the towering flower arrangements, the gold-threaded banners hanging from the rafters, and the massive, glittering chandelier overhead. “This one feels like he’s making a point. I mean, did you see the roast boar they carried in earlier? Thing was bigger than a pony.” I grunted in acknowledgment, not giving him the satisfaction of an actual laugh. Atlas had a way of feeding on reactions like a campfire feeds on dry wood. Best to keep him at a simmer.