Matthew (BBW Country Music Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearly Saints Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  He grunted into their kiss, his hand rhythmically squeezing at her thigh, tempting and pulling at her. He cupped her breast, and felt the weight of it, as his thumb teased across her nipple. The sensation caused Linnie’s hips to flex upward, seeking out Cain’s own, and she felt a generous bulge between Cain’s legs press against her.

  The feeling of Cain’s cock rutting against her sex set Linnie quivering. “Oh, wow. You’re huge,” she murmured, and Cain chuckled in response. He adjusted his hips, so that the thick shaft pressed against Linnie’s tights, and she felt her cotton panties, soaked with her juices, press into her slit. Hooking her fingers over Cain’s shoulders, she pulled on him, trying to bring him closer to her, but she was nowhere near strong enough to make him so much as budge.

  Cain gathered Linnie’s shirt in his hand, allowing his fingers to press forcefully across her breast for a moment. Linnie moaned, and then gasped as Cain tugged at her shirt, blowing all the buttons off. The cool fall air and the heat of the fireplace both traced across the skin of her chest, as Cain pulled her shirt open.

  Beneath Cain’s weight, Linnie writhed, biting her lip, stretching her arms over her head and nodding. Cain shifted, pulling himself back, half-standing over the edge of the couch, reaching down to undo his belt. Linnie nodded, and pulled her arms out of what was left of her shirt, before reaching for the lower edge of Cain’s sweater.

  Cain reached his arms out, and allowed her to pull his sweater from him. His body was powerfully built, but his muscles were partly hidden beneath a light layer of plush. Linnie ran her hands across his chest, through the thick hair there, pressing against his firm yet pliable flesh.

  Cain finished undoing his belt, and allowed his pants to fall to the ground. Linnie gasped as Cain’s shaft leapt to attention. Linnie gingerly reached up to take hold of Cain’s cock. It was thick, thicker around than she’d been with before, as thick across as her three fingers, and longer than she’d had before. The head was a dull purple, soft and spongy. She ran her hand up from the base of the shaft to the head, pressing against the frenulum with the pad of her thumb.

  Linnie looked up at Cain from her seated spot on the couch, and he brushed the hair out of her face. With one hand, she cupped Cain’s heavy testicles, while the other wrapped around his shaft at the base. Linnie leaned forward, parting her lips, and gently directed the head of Cain’s cock into her mouth. Her tongue teased around the edge of the mushroom-shaped head at the end of Cain’s shaft, and she felt the cock swell beneath her grasp., growing just a bit thicker. She murmured, and Cain groaned in response.

  Linnie’s hands reached up to Cain’s hips, her fingernails tracing along his skin. His hands cupped her head, one on either side of her jaw, gently holding her in place, as his hips flexed involuntarily under her touch. She felt her pussy throb, pouring her juices out, soaking through her panties and dampening her tights.

  Cain’s cock tasted like he smelled; a deep and manly scent, one that was delicious and alluring. Deep and earthy. She craned her neck forward, taking more of Cain’s shaft into her mouth, and he groaned approvingly.

  “Enough,” he grunted, and Linnie felt herself start to smile. She tried to move her head down, but Cain would have none of it; he pulled her head from his shaft, and pushed Linnie back onto the couch.

  Linnie gasped, and Cain reached for the waistband of her tights. He pulled them from her, yanking them down with a single smooth and forceful motion, causing Linnie to groan, setting her hips rocking. Cain slipped an arm under her, and pulled her into the air, setting her back down with her knees on the floor, her face buried against the back of the couch.

  Linnie’s hands dug into the cushions of the couch, firmly taking hold. She spread her knees, even as she brought her ankles together, to best display her naked and glistening slit to Cain.

  She felt Cain’s hands settle on her hips, squeezing tightly, and pulling her backward toward him. His left hand left Linnie’s hip to take hold of the back of her neck, thumb on one side, two fingers on the other, and Linnie felt the rounded head of his shaft press against her treasured opening.

  Cain rubbed at her neck with his fingers, and Linnie gave the slightest nod, as she moaned, “Mmmm…oh yes, please.”

  Cain pressed forward, and Linnie felt her world catch fire.

  Cain didn’t pause, or give her body time to adjust; his forward thrust was urgent, needing, almost desperate. Like a primitive beast needing to mate, every motion of his body was just to take her and claim her as his.

  Linnie could feel the leather of the couch against her face and chest, warm and supple and wonderful, it’s smell filling her nose and overwhelming her senses. She could feel the head of Cain’s cock, buried more deeply inside her than anything had ever been before, and her thighs shuddered for it. She moaned, and nodded, urging Cain forward. “More,” she begged.

  Cain drew back, and as he thrust again, he pulled back on Linnie’s hips, bouncing them against his own, bouncing her buttocks against his thighs. She heard her lover snarl, and felt his right hand clench her hip more tightly; in response she only nodded. Her left hand crushed the couch-cushion as she bit on the knuckle of her right thumb, the feeling of Cain’s cock making it’s way in-and-out of her sheath overwhelming her senses, building her towards an eruption, an explosive climax that might undo her.

  “Yes!“ Linnie moaned, nodding. While one hand dug into the leather, the other slid down, under her body, curling around her hip; she stretched two fingers down, through the peach-fuzz fur above her wet slit. Her clit throbbed; Linnie’s index finger traced along its hood, rubbing and teasing, moving back and forth in sync with Cain’s thrusts.

  Cain’s growls behind her built, building in volume as his thrusts built in forcefulness. Cain’s right hand pulled Linnie’s hips back, while his left pressed her down towards his hips, bending her body into the correct shape for him to best fill her with his seed.

  Linnie felt her body swelling, her nerves growing taut, her pussy pulsing and pulling at Cain’s shaft, trying to coax him towards his own eruption.

  “Linnie,” Cain said, his voice deep. He spoke her name with a deep rumble, throaty and heavy with lust.

  Linnie felt the head of his cock swell, felt his shaft twitch, and felt the hefty vein that ran along his marvelous dick throb. Linnie angled her hips up as the fingers that rubbed at her clit became a blur of motion.

  Cain gave a final, forceful thrust. He plunged his cock as deep into Linnie as he could, the soft head of his impressive shaft bumping against Linnie’s cervix. The tight bundle of his sac smacked against her sore clit.

  Linnie cried out as pain and pleasure mixed, deep inside her body. Linnie whimpered as one, two, three thick jets of cum tore out of Cain’s cock, soaking the walls of her inner sanctum. She worked her hips back, feeling Cain’s cock throb and pulse, depositing shot after shot of his hot, sticky seed inside her, filling her; she felt full, as if she was ready to burst. Feeling Cain’s hot cream within her was too much, and it pushed Linnie over the edge; Linnie felt her climax carry her away.

  Linnie’s pussy pulsed around Cain’s member, squeezing it as tightly as it could, milking and tugging and desperate for every drop of Cain’s cum. She felt her fingertips press along the leather of the couch, felt the fires of her pleasure surge through her body, rushing out from her clit and her cunt and setting her muscles on fire. Her thighs shuddered, and as the sensation passed up her spine, she felt Cain’s cock continue to pump her full of his seed.

  The climax stole Linnie’s breath, and she felt a wonderful, velvet darkness tease the edges of her mind. Cain gave her another thrust, and then gently picked her up from the floor. She gave a gentle moan of pleasure, as she felt Cain’s great strength lay her on the couch, and felt him tenderly lay a blanket atop her, as he slid in around her feet.

  At long last, sleep came easily to her.

  The morning sun seemed brighter, the morning after the storm. Linnie roused herself slowly, glancing arou
nd the cabin, finding that Cain was nowhere to be seen, but the smell of coffee filled the room, creeping forth from a pot that sat atop the warm coals of the fire.

  A few minutes later, Linnie slipped outside, into the brisk morning air, following the steady “thump” of Cain, chopping wood. She stood a moment on the porch to watch him as he rebuilt their woodpile after last night. Seeing her standing there, he paused a moment, and walked towards her.

  She leaned over the edge of the porch to speak to him. “I’m going to testify.” she said, and he nodded. “It’s what’s right, isn’t it?”

  Cain was quiet, and let her speak. She nodded to herself.

  “You’ll be with me, won’t you?” Linnie smiled. “To see it through to the end?”

  “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me, I’m afraid.” Cain said, putting his hand over hers.

  Linnie smiled, the first carefree smile she’d had in a very long time.

  A VOICE LIKE HONEY TITLE PAGE

  A Voice Like Honey

  by

  Becca Fanning

  A VOICE LIKE HONEY

  Nicole Warren’s hands hovered over her keyboard as she pondered on the right word to use to describe the album she was reviewing. For all the years she spent in English classes and all her experience writing, there was always that one word that would fit perfectly in her write-up. Finding it was like hunting an elk in the frozen tundra. You couldn’t blindly rush for it, because your mind would seal it off and it would be gone. You had to stalk it, tip-toe around it until it happened to fall into your lap.

  She took her well worn pen into her mouth and sucked on the end. Her tongue found the little scratches and dents her teeth left in it. She noticed the small growing pile of empty yogurt containers on her desk. The plant in the window of her bedroom had seen better days, and there really were way too many dirty clothes on her floor for her to consider herself an independent adult. Ahh, the glorious life of the freelance writer. She didn’t recall any pictures of this scene in the San Diego School of Journalism brochures.

  The album was a fairly typical college rock blast from the 90s, by kids who weren’t even old enough to be genuinely nostalgic about that period of time. It was derivative, but that was a cynic’s word. Nicole wasn’t a cynic. It had elements of passion that came through and it even took chances at times, so to call it derivative would be just as inaccurate as calling it flawless. And it definitely wasn’t flawless.

  She let the thought run through her mind again. To think that she was almost done with the article. She was really eager to finish up on this one and move on to her personal project. In actuality, it was not an official project yet. She still had to submit it to the powers that be, but it was something she had her heart on for a very long time now.

  She was going to start an interview series for those behind the success of the big stars. The idea had first come to her during an event. She had been standing beside someone she eventually found out was the manager of one of the new up and coming hip-hop stars. It struck her then that while everyone was obsessed with the stars, there were a lot of people behind the scenes who made their success happen. It was her duty as a music lover and reporter to bring people’s attention to things they previously overlooked.

  Fortunately for her she had an editor who was beyond enthusiastic. The smile Josh gave her as soon as she spoke the words “interview series” told Nicole that she was in. He told her right then and there that he would take care of all the nitty gritty and that as soon as she was done with this album review, she could start working on the new project.

  Nicole remembered being so excited that she left his office immediately without another word. She was going to finish this album review and then sink her teeth into something real. Not this four paragraph consumer report on a rock album that would never amount to anything. Something like real journalism. Then it hit her. It landed in her lap like a surprised elk that bumbled through the brush right into the hunter’s sights.

  Authentic. That’s what the album was. Just because the band was born a decade later than they needed to be to grow up on Nirvana didn’t mean they couldn’t identify with those heavy guitar riffs. If nothing else, this was an authentic album.

  She tapped at the keys of the keyboard some more and then brought the article to a close. She read through the piece one last time and saved it on her hard drive. She thought to email to Josh but decided against it. The walk to his office, little as it was, would do her some good. And there was also the fact that she wanted to see him personally about her new mission. She clicked ‘print’, got the papers out of the printer and headed on to her editor’s office.

  She had a good feeling about today. She could feel it in her bones that it would be the start of something new and wonderful in her life and her career. She nodded at the colleagues she made eye contact with and greeted the few within earshot. On entering his office, he was on the phone. He had the wide-eyed, excited look he usually did when he just closed something big on his face. This was even better for her. She made herself comfortable on one of the chairs opposite his table and waited till he was done with his call.

  “Hey Nicole, what’s up?” he said to her with a smile.

  “Hello Josh.”

  “How are you this fine day?” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Very well, thank you,” Nicole said, “You’re in a good mood. Ex-wife have an accident?” Nicole said, making air quotes with her fingers.

  “Bah! I’ll never be lucky enough to outlive her. Got something for me?”

  “I actually do. Geronimo’s album review,” she said and handed him the review. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to read through it. She watched him, trying to judge his mood. She was going to need his help to pull off this interview piece. She’ll need his Rolodex, his Facebook friends and even his little black book. His whole network of roadies, managers, gaffers, backup dancers and voice coaches.

  “This is lovely as usual, Nik. Top notch stuff,” he said when he was done.

  “Thank you. You know I always put my all into whatever I am working on,” she said, hoping her confidence would grease the wheels for this next project.

  “I never have a doubt when it comes to your work, Nicole. When you came to me with this interview idea, I said to myself, ‘Self, she’s finally stepping up!’”

  “Yes, about that. I am glad you are giving me the opportunity to speak for all these silent people in the industry. I’m moved that you trusted me enough to green light it without hearing the full pitch.” Nicole did her best to control herself, to keep it calm and professional. But she was about to get the nod to do a real journalism piece, not some magazine fluff.

  “We’re on the same page, Nicole,” he said, nodding sagely. “I don’t have to listen to the pitch to know what you are going to say. I was sold the instant I heard ‘interview’ series. I always wanted to feature a series.”

  “Great. So for the interviewee, I have in mind…”

  “Ha! I’m way ahead of you! That’s who I was on the phone with just now, your first interview!” Josh's finger pointed at the phone, grinning like he’d just scored a touchdown at the big homecoming game.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. In fact, you would be spending time with them to cover their lives. That is the essence of the series, right?”

  Nicole was dumbfounded. This was too good to be true. He had actually arranged it all. “It is. To cover their lives. To really get in there and, and…” she said, her mind racing so fast her mouth couldn’t catch up, “do it.”

  “Good. Pack your bags. You’re going on tour with The Solid Oaks.”

  Nicole stared at Josh. She cocked her head sideways and furrowed her brow. She tried to make sense of the last statement Josh made to her. She couldn’t have heard what she just did. How in the world did they get here? “Umm, what was that again?” she asked, the confused look still all over her face.

  “Give me a story on Th
e Solid Oaks. Country band out of Georgia. All brothers, can you believe it? At least I think they’re all brothers. They all seem to have the last name Dixon. I dunno. That’s your job! You’ve heard of them, right? What’s their song on the radio right now?”

  “Dust Moon Rising,” Nicole said, staring off out Josh's window. The sunny morning had changed. Overcast and a strong wind was whipping against the tree branches outside.

  “Yeah! That’s it! I mean, it’s not my cup of tea, but our readers will eat it up. Five handsome young country boys up on a stage with their cowboy hats and GEDs,” Josh said, holding up his hands in his defense, “or maybe they’re MIT graduates. I have no idea. Neither does anyone else. That’s why you’ve gotta get the scoop and get it now.”

  “Yes. No. Wait, what?” Nicole sputtered. “This is not what we discussed!”

  “Huh? You said interview series. Who better to interview-”