Sugar Kisses: a BBW Christmas Romance (Warming Up to Love Book 5)

by Megan Wade

  “Stay,” I murmur, stroking the taut flesh absentmindedly, smiling slightly as I feel his cock twitch a little inside me as I caress him.

  “I’m too heavy, sugar,” he whispers.

  “You’re perfect.”

  “Is that so?”

  I nod lazily, and then my eyes fly open, and I yelp as Jackson flips us over, and I find myself sprawled on his body, his arms holding me to him.

  Looking up, I rest my chin on his chest and raise an eyebrow. “That was smooth.”

  He grins sheepishly. “I didn’t want to crush you,” he explains.

  I feel the words rumble through his chest as he speaks and I almost purr in delight, turning my head so my ear is against his skin and I can hear the gentle inhale, exhale of his breathing. It’s so soothing.

  “Sophia?” he murmurs, his fingers stroking my curls as I fight the blanket of satiated sleep that is pulling me under.

  “Jackson?” I smile, and it feels goofy as I lift my head again to look back up at him. His face is soft, but his eyes…well, they’re liquid heat.

  “I’m in love with you.”

  My heart doubles in size, and suddenly, I’m not tired anymore. “You’re what?”

  “I love you,” he repeats. “I’m so in love with you, Sophia, that it consumes me. I know this is all going so fast…”

  “No!” I shake my head as I place an arm on his chest and prop myself up so I can look at him properly.

  “No?” He frowns, his eyes darkening.

  I lean in, my face inches away from his, as I touch a finger to his bearded chin. “No, it’s not going too fast,” I explain as I smile down at him. “Because I love you too.” I lean in and press my lips softly against his. “I love you, Jackson Lee.”

  Barely a beat passes before Jackson grabs my face and kisses me breathless. Whispered, ‘I love you’s’, filling the moments in between.

  I shift my hips, feeling him hardened inside me once more, and wanting nothing more than to experience the power of our union for a second time. “Merry Christmas, my love,” I whisper against his mouth.

  His mouth curves into a grin as his hands grip my hips. “Merry Christmas, sugar. The best gift I’ve ever had.”

  JACKSON

  P ouring myself a cup from the fresh pot of coffee, I keep an eye on the skillet where Sophia’s scrambled eggs are cooking. I already have the bread in the toaster, as well as the pot of jelly and a dish of butter sitting on the island counter.

  While I came to the kitchen to cook, I left Sophia in my shower, giving her the chance to use the massage setting to work the kinks out of her well-used body after I’d taken her against the tiled wall. My sugar deserves a little alone time after the morning we’ve had.

  She walks into the kitchen, looking like a dream come true with her hair damp, and the curls drawn tight against her neck and the sides of her face. She’s wearing one of my shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of my boxers underneath it. Her feet are bare, her face soft and pink from the shower, and she smells like soap, sweetness, and everything that is Sophia.

  Fuck, but she’s beautiful. The sight of her takes my breath away, and I resist the urge to take her here and now on the counter—breakfast be damned. But my girl needs food. She needs to keep her energy up so she can go another few rounds with me.

  “Feeling better?” I ask as she walks up to the counter, eyeing my mug of coffee.

  “Your shower is perfection,” she says. “But I could use a mug of that stuff.” I chuckle, and hand it to her, delighting in the way she inhales the aroma before bringing it to her lips.

  “Thank you,” she says, taking a big gulp of her coffee, giving me an impish smile while I pour myself another cup.

  “My pleasure,” I say, taking a mouthful myself before I turn back to the food. She watches over my shoulder.

  “It smells good in here.”

  “I’ve got eggs, toast, and jelly. I’m pretty sure I have some granola and a couple of boxes of yogurt in the fridge, as well, if you want that instead.” I grab a carton of orange juice and reach around her to grab a couple of glasses from the cabinet, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as I do.

  “Eggs and toast sound great.” She slides her boxer clad butt onto the corner chair at the counter, just as I place the glass of OJ before her. “You always seem to be the one getting me food.” She smiles.

  The toast pops, and I pull them from the toaster and toss them along with the eggs onto two plates.

  “I enjoy taking care of you,” I say, my voice soft as I grate a little parmesan, sprinkle some pepper, and place one plate in front of her, along with utensils. I lean my elbows against the counter opposite her, and watch as she takes a bite.

  She grins up at me, looking shy. “You’re staring at me,” she says, taking a sip of her orange juice. I shrug.

  “I can’t help it, Sophia. You’re beautiful.” I slide the plate of butter toward her. “Does it bother you?”

  “Oddly. No. I like having your eyes on me.” She gives me a sweet smile as she smears butter on her toast. My eyes travel over her luscious form, and I catch the hint of cleavage and the creamy swells of her breasts at the unbuttoned neck of the shirt.

  “Good. Because I love looking at you,” I growl, leaning in for a kiss, tasting mint on her tongue. She brushed her teeth before breakfast. I slip my hand down the front of her shirt, unable to handle being so close to her with so many clothes on, and cup her breast, thumbing a nipple. She hums.

  “Jackson.” She pulls back, her voice full of mirth. “At this rate, we’ll never make it through our Christmas breakfast.” She leans her head back, however, as I kiss my way down her creamy throat, my hands dropping to the waist of the boxers.

  With a giggle, she gently swats my hands away.

  “I’m looking forward to eating my eggs and toast while they’re still hot.” She smiles as I lean away, feigning disappointment as she picks up her fork.

  “I’m looking forward to licking jelly off you,” I retort, and she lets out a full-bellied laugh, while her arm reaches out to gently tousle my hair before she rakes her fingers down my beard. The gesture, so innocent and nonchalant, is shockingly intimate to me. Watching her sit there, wearing my clothes, laughing and playing with my hair, sends a thrill up my spine and suddenly, I find it hard to breathe.

  “Marry me,” I blurt, and her laughter cuts off, and her the hand holding the fork she was using to eat her eggs stills. She blinks.

  “What did you just say?” she asks, a little hesitantly, slowly setting the fork and the uneaten bite of egg back on her plate.

  “Marry me, Sophia,” I repeat, my heart hammering in my chest as I move to stand before her. She turns in her chair, facing me.

  “Marry you?” Her mouth drops open a little, and she blinks at me a couple of times.

  Fuck it, I have to do this right. I drop to my knee, my eyes never leaving hers, and her hands fly up to clutch the base of her throat.

  “Jackson,” she breathes. “Are you serious?”

  “I am. Listen to me, sugar,” I whisper urgently as she clamps her mouth shut. “My mother always promised me that the minute I met the girl I wanted to spend my life with, I’d know. And she was right. I did know it. I knew it the minute you looked up at me in that diner. I knew it when you leaned into me outside Kelly’s. I knew it when I kissed you, and you touched your fingertips to your lips like you wanted to hold my kiss there forever. I knew it the minute you told me I was the first man you’d ever kissed. And I definitely knew it when you took me deep inside you this morning. I knew that I wanted to spend every morning like this morning, waking you up with my mouth on you and going to bed every night, exhausted from fucking you. I want to plant my babies in you, Sophia. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. So marry me, because I’m never letting you go.”

  She sits there, stunned, her eyes a little unfocused as she just stares back at me.

  “Sophia?” I rise, a little uncertai
n now, wary of her lack of reaction. Shit. “Sophia? Are you—”

  “Of course I’ll marry you,” she cries, launching herself at me and grabbing my face, peppering kisses all over my jaw, my cheeks, and lips. “Yes, Jackson. Yes. I want your babies. I want to grow old with you. I want to make love to you over and over again. I want to fall asleep in your arms every night and wake up in them every morning. I want to be your wife, Jackson. I love you.”

  “Oh, thank God. I know this came out of left field, and I don’t have a ring. But I’ll buy you one—”

  “I don’t care about that, Jackson. I just want you.”

  I grin. “You’ve got me, honey. But I’m still buying you a ring. I need all those other men out there to know that you’re mine, all mine.”

  “I was born yours, Jackson.” She wraps her arms around my neck and all but jumps into my arms. I laugh and place my hands under her round ass, lifting her up until her legs are wrapped around my waist.

  “Yeah, you were.” She brings my mouth down for another kiss, and as I carry her out, our breakfast forgotten, I decide it’s time to consummate this Christmas engagement on the rug in front of the fire with the backdrop of the Christmas tree and the snowfall outside.

  SOPHIA

  “Y ou look happy, Sophia!” Mom smiles at me from my phone screen, and I can’t help but smile back. “I’ve been so worried about you spending Christmas all alone in a big city. Actually…” She leans in closer to the screen and squints as she’s obviously taking notice of my surroundings. “Where are you? That’s not your apartment.”

  It’s a couple of hours later, after Jackson and I celebrated our engagement on the floor, this couch, and once again in the bedroom—where he let me take charge, mind you, teaching me things I’d never even dreamed of.

  “No, it’s not,” I say, blushing as I try to fight my smile and lose. “I’m, uh, at Jackson’s.”

  “Jackson’s?” She looks to the side, then I notice her surroundings changing as she moves to another room and lowers her voice. “Who the hell is Jackson?”

  I glance up to the entry door Jackson just left through to fetch our order for Indian food since the storm messed with his Christmas plans too, and we ate all of his meal-worthy food—albeit cold—this morning. “I don’t know how to tell you this, and I don’t want you to freak out or freak Dad out so much that he’ll fly out here with his shotgun,” I start, biting my lip nervously.

  My mom waves a flippant hand and snorts. “Your dad never freaks out. Besides, I made him lock up the shotgun unless he’s on the clock—especially after that incident with Gran last week.”

  I blink. “Wait. What incident?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself with. Just an old woman’s attempt at skeet shooting gone wrong. Go back to what you were telling me. Who is this Jackson person you’re with on Christmas, no less?” She peers curiously at the apartment behind me. “Did my daughter finally go and get herself a nice man to get you some?” The latter part is said like she’s a rapper. Oh lawd!

  “Well…” I can’t help the blush that creeps into my cheeks and my mom breaks off, her mouth falling open.

  “Oh. My. God!” she shrieks, and I wince as her volume increases. “OHMYGOD!” She almost drops her phone as she throws a hand up in the air and practically sings up at the ceiling.

  “Mom! Calm down a minute.” I laugh as I shake my head and watch her lose her mind. My mom has never made me feel like there was something wrong with me for not ever having had a boyfriend, but now I know she was secretly sitting there hoping and praying for me more than she let on.

  “Mom!” Now she’s running through the house yelling for Gran. “Guess what? Sophia went and got herself a man!”

  “Did she get laid too?” Gran asks back.

  Mortified, I drop my face into my palms and groan.

  “Yes!” Mom responds, and now I’m shaking my head because I neither denied nor confirmed that. Still, I’m laughing. These two are nuts.

  The picture on the screen shakes, then goes black, and all I can hear is Gran’s loud, “Sophia? Don’t settle for a man who doesn’t make you come.”

  I frown and pull my head back. “OK?”

  “Mom. It’s a video call. You don’t need to put it to your ear,” Mom says off screen.

  “Oh.” The camera shakes again, and then I can see the top of Gran’s hair and part of her forehead. “There you are! Merry Christmas, Sophia! Congratulations on the sex! And if you ever say the words, ‘I think he makes me come’ then he’s a dud and you need to move on. Do you understand me, dear? Liking and loving someone is grand, but if they’re a terrible lover, no amount of personality will make up for it. That’s my gift to you.”

  “OK, Gran. Thank you. And Merry Christmas.” My face is on fire right now. Thank God Jackson is in another room.

  The phone shifts again, and Mom’s face reappears. “So…does he?” she asks, her eyes wide and eager.

  “Does he what, Mom?”

  “Make you, you know…” She giggles like she’s in high school, then Gran yells out, “Does he make you come?”

  “Oh, my god. I’m not telling you that,” I say.

  “Ah, he’s a dud.” Gran makes a disapproving noise as her voice fades away.

  “No!” I argue. “He’s no dud. I just don’t want to discuss my sex life with you over the phone. Actually, I don’t want to discuss it at all.”

  “He’s not a dud!” Mom tells Gran, and I roll my eyes because somehow, that’s the only bit of information she took from that.

  Then Dad’s confused voice enters the conversation. “Who’s not a dud?” God help me. I place my hand over my face and just wait for this to be over.

  “Sophia’s man, Vernon,” Gran explains. “He’s good in bed.”

  “Bed?” Dad repeats. “Sophia’s not having sex? Is she? She’s too young!”

  “She’s twenty-three,” Mom argues, followed by a thunderous, “Nina, I’m getting the shotgun!” from Dad.

  “No, you won’t, Vernon Clarke!” Gran yells. “You leave that girl to her fun. You’re only young once, and if I remember correctly, you were a bit of a horny young thing when you came sniffing around my daughter at eighteen.”

  “That was different,” Dad booms. “We were in love.”

  “So are we!” I yell, and I witness a real Christmas miracle when they all actually stop. All three faces fill the screen as they turn their attention to me. It’s at the moment that the front door opens and Jackson walks in, carrying our bag of food.

  “You’re in love?” Dad asks. “Why are we only just hearing about this?”

  “Because it’s new,” I say, my eyes meeting Jackson’s as a loving smile plays on my lips.

  “I heard yelling, sugar. Is everything OK?” He drops the bag onto the coffee table and eyes my phone, his eyebrows arching.

  Nodding, I sigh. Might as well go ahead with it.

  I pat the seat next to me and look back to the screen to see Mom and Gran’s eyes eager and wide. Dad’s red face looks about ready to burst, though. Jackson settles beside me and gives me a soothing smile, his hand gently squeezing my thigh in support.

  “Mom, Dad, Gran…” I begin, turning the phone slightly so Jackson joins me in the frame. “This is Jackson Lee. Jackson, that’s my mom, Nina, my gran, Eloise, and that’s my dad, Vernon.” I point each of them out on the screen, and Jackson smiles and lifts a hand.

  Mom gasps a loud, “Oh, my.”

  “Merry Christmas, Clarke family,” Jackson begins, but Dad jumps in before he can say more.

  “Now, what’s this I hear about you and my daughter—”

  “Dad! No!” I hiss.

  “It’s OK.” Jackson chuckles and stretches his arm across my shoulders, hugging me to him, before turning back to look at my family. “Sir, I know I could have gone about this a different way, and should have come to you and Mrs. Clarke first—”

  “And me,” Gran interrupts. “You can call me Ellie, though.
I hear you’ve got the goods.” She winks saucily at him, and Jackson flashes her an amused smile. As I shake my head and groan.

  “She hasn’t heard anything,” I say.

  “It’s OK.” Jackson chuckles before he continues. “Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, Ellie, I want you to know that I’m in love with Sophia, and I’ve asked her to marry me. She’s said yes, and the minute we’re cleared to fly, we’d love to come to Oakwood Falls to get your blessing in person and officially meet you.” Seriously, my man is so smooth, I just swooned a little harder hearing how respectful he is to my folks.

  Mom blinks at him, and I find it important to mention that seeing her at a loss for words—never happened before. Gran smiles, a big toothy grin, and dad… I blink in surprise to see him looking at Jackson with what looks like...respect?

  “Will you look at that?” Dad says, fighting a smile. “You’ve turned Nina mute.” He gives my mom a loving look even though he’s teasing her. “Son, if you weren’t already marrying into the family, I’d adopt you.”

  Mom rolls her eyes and Dad kisses her on the cheek. And just like that, the most perfect Christmas of all feels complete. And it wasn’t because it was filled with expensive gifts and a ridiculous amount of food. No. It’s because it’s been filled with love. And I couldn’t be happier.

  EPILOGUE

  Jackson

  Five Years Later

  When I wake up, it is with Sophia curled into my side, her breathing soft and warm against the hollow of my throat where her face is buried. My wife loves her mornings because I always keep the promise I made to her when I proposed—to wake her up with kisses and love-making. She shifts a little, pressing closer as her hips move against mine. I groan softly. Five years later to the day, and my Sophia still makes me hard, even in her sleep.

  This morning, however, I simply hold her to me, watching and feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders. We probably have a minute or two before our kids come running in, and I’m surprised we’ve gotten this much time to ourselves. It is Christmas, after all.