How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.
No." I pulled away just enough to lock my eyes with his. His crooked smile sent shivers down my spine. His eyes were a deep blue darkening more as the minutes passing between us were getting hotter. "I will be the one using you, and you'll love every second, every breath, every stroke and every fucking inch of me," he said, his lips ghosting above mine.
He smiled wickedly, and my body warmed. "Girls dig bad boys." "Unfortunately, that's true." "Is there a message, Bridge?" "In your dreams," I replied with a roll of my eyes, but it was all an act because there was a message there. I wanted him. I was screwed ― Uh, bad choice of words.
After a few seconds of scraping, I realize what he has isn’t a trail, it’s a whole forest! Ack! Weren’t all men supposed to shave their chest and stuff nowadays? Whatever happened to having fuzz-free Hollywood heroes as role models? At least my embarrassment is completely foregone by the irritation at his lack of upkeep. The only thing distracting me now is that heady mix of musk, shaving cream and a distinctly…male scent. And God knows that is one seriously jeopardizing distraction. Especially with a whizzing needle in one’s hand.
Is it really true that the only good thing a Blackman can offer in a relationship with a white woman is thunderous sex?Of course, sex plays a vital healing role in every loving relationship. That is a fact of life. But, as we discover in the story of Glasgow Kiss, sex is not always the only thing that occupies a Blackman’s mind. On the contrary, when a man is as passionate, dedicated, committed and determined as Mamadu is to fight and hold onto his true love, irrespective of the numerous challenges he faces, he is able show that it is far more important to pay attention to his heartbeat than the growing erection in his trousers!
She reached for the milk and honey soap, then poured it into the puff, but when she started washing him with it, he chuckled.“Uh, sweetheart?”“Hmm?” Candice mumbled as she stared at some interesting spot on his arm.“Real men don’t use puffs,” he said, amused and turned on by having Candice’s undivided attention.She finally managed to drag her gaze away from his forearm and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You can’t be serious?” When he only shrugged, she rolled her eyes. “What does it matter what I use, so long as you’re clean?”“It matters, believe me.” Blade knew he sounded absurd but he couldn’t help it. It was bad enough he’d let her put bandages on a few measly cuts; if word got out he’d let her use a peach-colored puff and milk-and-honey bath soap he’d never hear the end of it.A man had to put his foot down somewhere.