Den and Breakfast: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Honeycomb Falls Book 1)

by Cassie Wright

  I close my eyes and cup his face between my hands. "Wait," I hear myself saying. What? "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

  He pulls back and straightens, so that I'm staring right into his searing gold eyes. His sizzling gaze holds me in place, and then the corners of his lips curl up. "A good idea? That, I don't know. But I want this." His voice is raw and low, and thrills me through and through. "I want you. I've needed you since I first saw you. I want to fuck your pretty lips, I want to part your sexy thighs and slide my hard cock into your wet pussy." He leans forward and presses his lips to my ear, his words bypassing my mind and going right down to my throbbing sex. "I want to fuck you raw, over and over again. And then I want to come deep within you, till I've got nothing left to give."

  He bites my earlobe, his breath hot, and I feel the last of my hesitation melt away. Game, set, and match.

  #

  Chapter Six

  Without hesitation, Blake scoops me up as if I weigh less than a feather. I marvel at the smooth way his muscles move, effortless and hot, and he carries me around to his front door and kicks it open. I have a brief flash of his home, a small room lined with books, and then he's lying me down on his bed as if I'm a priceless treasure. His sheets smell of him, of pinecones and loam, of the wild and the wind through the trees. My heart is thudding, my pulse racing, my stomach tremulous with excitement and fear. He extends a finger toward me, and my eyes go wide as a claw extends from his fingertip, wickedly sharp and long. He hooks the top of my shirt and slices it right down the center, the fabric giving easily before its sharp edge. I couldn't care less about the shirt, and the reminder of whom I'm with - a dangerous shifter, a werewolf, a man who is more beast than human - pushes me over the edge.

  "You're beautiful," he says, admiring my body, eyes filled with a lust that I've never seen before in the eyes of a man. Oh god, what have I been doing all my life, wasting my time with guys who act like I should thank them for being fucked? Wasting my nights with men who think that just because I'm curvy I'm grateful for any attention I get, and just take take take? This is what I've needed all my life, this connection like a live wire, this super-charged atmosphere of erotic desire. For the first time I don't have even a moment's care for my soft tummy, and when I unclasp my bra and slip it off, his growl of appreciation sends shivers from my head to my toes. Oh yes.

  He bends his shaggy head down to my nipples and licks one and then the other, cupping my breasts with both hands. The sensation of his tongue dancing from one nipple to the other, circling my aching nub and then his lips sucking it in causes me to arch my back. My pussy clenches, and I feel a fiery ache blossoming within me, his tantalizing dance across my nipples driving me insane. He squeezes my full breasts, pushing the nipples together so that he can lick them both at once, and then nips one with his teeth in a way that sends a flash of pleasure into my core. I can feel my pussy cream, my arousal beyond all measure.

  "You are one fucking sexy woman, Rach." His voice is rough, and I can hear his slipping self-control. "So lush. So ripe. So perfect for fucking."

  I smile and close my eyes, wriggling beneath him, arching my back as he leans back down to tease my nipples, squeezing my breasts, licking the valley between them then suddenly moving up to kiss my lips, his tongue urgent, his ripped body pressed fully against my own, his skin searing against mine. Rach. How did the nickname come so easily to him? Is this real? Is this even happening? Am I about to get fucked by a rough and gorgeous werebeast?

  His rock-hard cock promises that I am. Fucked raw. I lower my hands to his jeans and touch his cock where it emerges from his jeans, wrapping my fingers around his head, feeling the dampness of pre-cum on the tip. I slide one hand inside his jeans, marveling at his size, how long and thick he is. He growls playfully and shifts, pushing himself up onto his knees. I rise to my elbows and watch as he unbuttons his jeans and unzips them. His cock springs free, and my eyes go wide. It's perfect. I'm a big girl, and god damn it I like big cocks. A cock that will stretch me and fill me just right. His promises to do just that. Sitting back on his heels, he grasps it by the base, his face dangerous, eyes gleaming gold. I watch, mesmerized, as he slowly strokes his cock, completely unabashed.

  My heart has gone from racing at a million miles an hour to stopping altogether. I can't breathe. I've never wanted anybody this bad. Never wanted to be fucked as if my very life depends on it. I lick my lips, and when he stands to shuck off his jeans altogether I don't hesitate, rising up and swinging my legs over the edge of his bed to take his cock in one hand, his balls in the other.

  I rub my thumb over the slit in his head, lubricating his skin. It feels like holding a massive rod of steel rebar. Ridged and powerful and as hard as granite. I look up at him, loving the mixture of need and hunger writ large on his handsome face, the feral impatience matched by his human mastery of himself. "Do you want me to suck your cock, Blake?" I make my voice innocent, my eyes wide.

  "Like nothing else in this world," he growls.

  I smile and lean forward, taking his head into my mouth. His hands are in my hair, and I hear him groan as I undulate my tongue beneath his head, working more and more of his length into my mouth. There's no end to him, and when his head hits the back of my throat there's still enough room for my hand to wrap around his base and work his shaft. I massage his balls as I slowly work him, tease him, sucking and licking, pulling him out to kiss down the length of his cock, then pressing it against him so that I can swipe my tongue all the way from the base to the tip, watching his face as I do. His jaw is tensed, his eyes almost closed, the light of the single naked bulb causing the stubble on his jaw to glow red. His whole body is tensed, his muscles coiled, restraint fighting his need for release.

  I love it, and suck him harder, working him, letting loose, thrilling as I hear him groan. I reach around to cup his perfect ass with one hand, pulling him closer, and fight to take all of him into me, pushing my lips closer and closer to the thatch of wiry hair around the base of his cock. My lips stretch out wide as he slides in, and I squeeze his ass as he fills me like nothing ever has.

  "Holy fucking Christ," he groans, body straining. "You are so fucking hot. Like that. Fuck. Just like that."

  I pull back with a gasp and a grin, and then pump him, moving my fist up and down his length, till suddenly he interrupts me and pushes me back on the bed. "Not yet," he says. "I want to save myself for your sweet pussy." He unbuttons my pants and I help him slide them over my broad hips and legs. He tosses them aside and parts my large thighs, kneeling down so that his face comes level with my cunt. "God. I've been smelling this sweetness for too long now." My panties are wet from my desire, translucent almost, and I expect him to tear them off only to feel him gently part my thighs wider, as wide as they go till I'm completely open before him. Most guys won't go down on me, complaining that it's too much work, cutting right to the chase, but Blake seems determined to enjoy every moment of the experience.

  And I'm more than happy to let him. Resting my head back, I feel his lips work along my inner thighs, his strong arms wrapping around them, holding me open. I can't help but raise my hips off the bed, wanting to bring my clit closer to his face, but I hear him laugh quietly beneath his breath. "Patience, Rach. We've got all night."

  All night? I nearly faint from the thought.

  He gets closer, nibbling and kissing, his stubble faintly scratchy, his lips soft, his touch fiery. I toss my head from one side to the other. I want him, I need his touch on my wet slit, I need release. This build-up is too much. But when he finally gets close to my lips, he passes right over my pussy to my other thigh. I groan in desperation and feel him smile. The fabric of my panties suddenly parts, sliced away, and I feel the cool air of the cabin against my lips.

  "You're perfect," I hear him whisper. "I'm going to own this pussy. Drink you deep. You're mine."

  I reach down to run my fingers into his hair again, and when he flicks his tongue like the touch of a lash on my slit I
whimper.

  "Harder," I say. "Please, Blake. I need you. Now."

  Then my whole body goes rigid as he licks me from ass to clit, his tongue broad, conquering me, tasting me, a swipe of ownership that is rough and perfect and overwhelming. I strain, hips coming right off the bed, fighting the urge to squeeze his head with my thighs. Again he licks me, the tip of his tongue grazing my clit, and my whole body jerks from the sheer intensity of the sensation. Down, tongue tip slipping between my lips and into my creamy wetness. I hear him growl with pleasure, and the vibration right against my clit is too much. His tongue explores me, my folds and depths, tasting, savoring, lapping and licking. I've never been taken like this. If I felt feverish before, I'm positively delirious now. My head tosses from one side to the other, my hands leaving his head for my breasts, squeezing them, pinching my nipples. I'm moaning uncontrollably now, writhing under his tongue, helpless, at his mercy.

  His tongue pushes deep into me and I cry out. Deep into my canal, and my pussy clenches around it, wanting him, needing him to go deeper, to fill me up. Out and up to my clit, which he circles and teases, building my fire to an inferno. I'm gasping, the ceiling of the shed out of focus. On the hotness scale of 1 to 10 this has broken right through to ten trillion.

  "Blake, stop, stop, you're ruining me." I don't even know what I'm saying. "Don't. You're ruining sex. Nothing will ever be this good again."

  He laughs deep in his chest and steps up between my thighs. Oh god. The moment is here. I blink and look down, his sculpted body positioned right over me, his cock grasped in one hand, the head resting right above my lips. His eyes teasing, tormenting. "You ready to be fucked?"

  Oh, those words. "Yes. Yes yes yes, a thousand times over."

  And he slides into me. Thank god that I'm wetter than the ocean, because otherwise I don't think I'd be able to take his girth. His full manhood, which sinks in one smooth push to the hilt, all the way in. My whole body goes stiff, my mouth open, but I can't breathe, I can't think. He's stretching me to my limit, almost to the point of pain, but it's heaven, it's ecstasy. I strain, unable to cry out, to let loose the scream that's trapped in my throat. How can any one man be this perfect? He grunts as he pushes deep into me, his hips meeting mine, and then slowly he pulls free, the ridge around his cock head leaving a trail of shivering, wild ecstasy in its wake.

  Then he pistons back into me, firm, confident, picking up speed, all the way in, then out. I can breathe again, but not really - all I can do is gasp, straining for breath, to try to ride this wave that is threatening to sweep me away into oblivion. Blake is moving above me, his gorgeous mountain-man body covered with a sheen of sweat as he fucks me, his massive cock obliterating any concept I'd ever held of what sex could be. This is on a whole new level. All I can do is turn my head from side to side, whimpering and crying out, my whole body shaking as he slams into me, over and over and over again.

  "Fuck," he gasps. "You're perfect. This body. So good. Tight. Oh Rachel, where have you been all my life?"

  I want to answer, say something sassy, something, anything, but I can't think. Can't formulate basic words. Blake slides his arms under my knees and lifts me so that my hips leave the bed, leaning back on his heels as he continues to fuck me, the angle such now that he's sliding up and along my g-spot.

  I'm sorry. There is no way any one mortal human woman can handle this kind of fucking.

  I come, my scream echoing within the shed, but the orgasm keeps building. Like a tidal wave, it mounts, and mounts, and when it finally does crash it sweeps away all civilization, all conscious thought. And Blake's still fucking me, taking my orgasm to a level I've never experienced before. It rolls on and on, wringing my body like a wet cloth. Then I hear Blake roar, his whole body tensing, my body lifted so high I'm only resting on my shoulders, and his searing hot come jets into my depths, his rigid cock throbbing as my pussy clenches him tight.

  The moment seems to last forever, and then Blake relaxes, and we fall back onto the bed. I hold him tight, his body searing hot. My stomach is trembling with the aftershocks. He slides his cock out, and I almost gasp at the loss.

  "Oh. My. God." It's the best I can do.

  He grins, his eyes bright. "You are so fucking sexy. I don't think I can wait."

  "Wait?" A flutter of panic passes through me. "For what?"

  "To take you again." He pushes himself up.

  "Again?" My voice is weak with disbelief.

  His grin is pure wolf. "What part of 'all night' didn't you hear?"

  I'm still catching my breath. This can't be happening. This can't be real. But as Blake leans his head down to kiss me, I realize, oh yes. Yes, it really is real. And my night's just getting started.

  Chapter Seven

  I'm on cloud nine. The morning sunlight streams into the kitchen, clear and bright, all the windows thrown open so that I can smell the woods. Pop music playing on the old radio I've found, yellow kitchen gloves on as I tackle the oven. Then the doorbell rings. I stop, realizing that I've actually been enjoying myself. Because this is my house now. This is my kitchen. And because I'm sore in all the right places from last night's activities. I peer out the window, trying to catch a glance of Blake, but I don't see him.

  Did last night really happen? It now feels like a blur of sinful, soul-searing moments, nothing coherent, just an endless orgy of decadent passion. I smile dreamily and rest my chin on my palm, gazing out at nothing. Good lord. And there's another night coming after this day is over. And another tomorrow. How will I hold up?

  The doorbell rings again, and I blink and stand up. Whoops. Peeling off the gloves, I head through the house to the front door, which reveals a prim, older Asian lady. She looks severe, like a schoolteacher who has spent her whole life dealing with little monsters, and I almost gulp when she levels her laser eyes on me.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Possibly. My name is Hui Wang. I have come to inquire about the posting for a maid." Her voice is precise, but not unkind.

  "Oh." I don't know why I'm surprised. "Please come in." She nods and enters the hall, looking around with sharp curiosity. "I'm Rachel Wilder. I just arrived in town yesterday." Was it only yesterday? "I'm going to be turning Honeycomb Hall into a bed and breakfast, and I'm looking for somebody who can work every day."

  Hui nods. "Very good. What would my duties involve?"

  I quickly list them. Cleaning the rooms each morning. Maintaining the house. Laundry, and all the rest of it. I watch her carefully to see if she's fazed. I'm getting the impression that nothing will faze her.

  "That sounds reasonable. Here is my reference." She pulls a folded sheet from her purse and hands it to me. I blink and open it. There is one address listed, a retirement home located two towns over, where Hui was apparently the head of the cleaning crew. "The Wilson Center closed two months ago. I was very satisfied with my position there, but now I need new work. I enjoy challenges. This is a large home, but I believe I can handle it alone."

  "Well. Great." I can't help but be impressed. There's something about her manner. Her gravity. She has the bearing of a general in need of an army to command. "I'll make the call, but to be honest, I'd be happy to offer you the job. When can you start?"

  "I am ready to begin immediately, if you are agreeable."

  "Really? Even better! I was just getting started, but... it's a big job."

  Hui looks around the entry hall once more, and then waggles her head from side to side. "Not so big. It just requires focused, sustained work."

  I smile. "Well, unless I hear something surprising from the Wilson Center, welcome aboard." I extend my hand.

  Hui looks at it, and then shakes it. Her grip is firm, no-nonsense. "Thank you. Are you already in possession of all required cleaning supplies?"

  "I think so." I lead her into the house, to the closet where mops and cleaning bottles are stacked.

  Hui shakes her head. "No good. I will go buy new supplies. You will reimburse me with my first payche
ck."

  My eyes go wide with surprise at her assurance, but I nod. "Sure. That sounds great."

  "Very good. I'll go now. If you'll excuse me, Ms. Wilder."

  "Sure thing," I say, though her asking for my permission seems almost strange. She's that authoritative.

  We walk to the front door, and I open it just as Anita leans forward to ring the bell. She squeaks in surprise and almost drops a covered dish she's holding in her free hand.

  "Anita!" I beam at her. "You came!"

  "I - yes! Good morning!" She smiles nervously at me, then looks to Hui, who is giving her a severe look.

  "This is Hui," I say, ushering Anita inside. "She's our new maid."

  "Hui Wang," says Hui, voice formal. "A pleasure. Now, if you'll excuse me -"

  "Actually, why don't you wait a moment?" I can't help but stare curiously at the covered dish. "Anita has brought a sample of her cooking for us to taste. Why don't you join us in the kitchen?"

  Hui opens her mouth to protest, but then closes it with a snap and nods. "If you wish."

  We walk toward the back. Anita is radiating excitement and nerves, and I know that any more small talk will only make her more anxious. We step into the breakfast nook and she sets the covered dish on the table.

  "This is my grandmother's special dish," she says, looking at us both. "She would only cook it for weddings and birthdays. I'm sure mine's not as good, but..."

  I'm dying with impatience to see. Even Hui is looking curious. Anita bites her lower lip and then uncovers the dish. Sitting in the center is a large tart, the crust undulating perfectly, the outer curves slightly browned, a deep crimson mix contained within and topped with a heavenly looking meringue.

  "Strawberry rhubarb meringue tart," says Anita, studying my face anxiously. "Is that all right? I almost made my salted caramel chocolate tart instead, but I thought -"

  I raise my hand and cut her off. "Be bold, Anita. You've made a choice. Commit! We're going to try your tart right here, right now. Hui, I expect you to be absolutely honest in your assessment. Anita, will you get forks from that drawer?"