The Billionbear's Bride: BBW Bear Shifter BWWM Paranormal Romance

by Zoe Chant

  What did it all mean?

  The rest of the night was a blur—Wanda telling her about shifters, the arrival of the police, Bruce placing a blanket tenderly around her shoulders. She hadn't known what to say to him; she'd been in shock. He had taken her home—to his home, she reminded herself, even though it felt like her home now too. Without saying anything, she'd collapsed in her guest bedroom, her mind spinning.

  Despite her inner turmoil, she eventually dozed off. At first her dreams were shadowed by an unformed, frantic anxiety, but gradually she relaxed.

  She was by the back windows. Something hot was in her hands—a mug of cocoa. As she looked outside, a huge shape clambered past the window.

  It was a bear. Its head lifted, and its gaze met hers. Dimly, in the back of her mind, Violet registered the memory.

  She should feel scared. But the bear recognized her; its head stilled, and its eyes locked on hers.

  Something passed between them: a primal knowledge. She recognized the bear; she knew in an instant who it was.

  She stepped outside. It was an enormous creature; she only came up to its shoulder. It was so powerful, and next to it she was tiny.

  But she wasn't afraid. He would never do anything to hurt her. She knew that now.

  She reached out a hand, and the bear bowed to nuzzle it gently.

  When she woke, cold morning light was filtering in through the window. Automatically she reached for Bruce, only to find the rest of the bed empty.

  She was alone.

  Memories of the night before returned to her in a rush, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught momentarily.

  It had been a harrowing night. But she was safe now.

  She remembered her dream. She'd never been afraid of Bruce, she knew now. She'd been afraid of Jim, but she knew Bruce would never hurt her—that he was only trying to protect her. Her fear had been for Bruce; she'd felt the danger he was in somehow, in her mind.

  Pushing the door open, she peeked outside. She didn't see or hear Bruce; either he was still asleep or outside. She had a feeling she knew which.

  Quietly she padded out. On her quest for Bruce, she passed the spacious den and heard the crackling of a fire, but he wasn’t there. He was part-bear; maybe he wanted to be outside. Sure enough, he was there—in his bear form. Instinctively she knew she would be able to tell him apart from any other bear; he was hers.

  When he heard the porch creak under her feet, his great form stilled.

  Like she had the first time they'd "met", she waved to him and smiled. She felt light.

  He took that as his cue. In a second the bear shrank and twisted to become a man.

  "Morning," he said neutrally to her as he approached. He had an uncertain expression on his face. "Are you … okay?"

  "I'm good." Violet leaned against the pillar. "You're naked, though."

  Bruce looked down at himself and colored slightly. It was cute. "I'll go put something on," he muttered, moving to brush past her.

  "Oh, I don't know," she said breezily. "I kind of like the view."

  Bruce relaxed with a laugh. "It's a little cold out here."

  "Why don't you come in and warm up, then?" she suggested cheekily.

  Bruce came up the porch stairs, drawing closer to her and stopping just a few inches away. Two stairs below, he was still taller than her. She didn't mind; it reminded her of how safe and protected she was with him.

  "About last night …" she began, then wasn't sure how to continue.

  His large, warm hands enfolded hers. "I'm so sorry, Violet. I never thought something like that would happen."

  She gave him a wry smile. "Unless you followed me into every single bathroom, it was going to happen eventually. That was a grudge the size of Texas. Trust me, he made me listen to it."

  "I didn't mean to hurt you with my … secret. I thought I was protecting you."

  She slipped one hand out of his grasp and around the back of his neck. Her nails gently scratched his skin; she watched as his eyes half-closed involuntarily at the caress. "I know."

  "I'd never hurt you," he vowed. "Violet—I love you."

  "I know that, too," she murmured, remembering how he’d fought for her. “You saved me.” She leaned in to press her lips to his.

  The kiss ignited something in him. He returned the kiss with passion, his hot mouth demanding against hers. He slid a hand around her possessively, rubbing up and down her back. His other fingers laced through hers.

  Bruce nibbled at her bottom lip and sucked it gently between his, playing with her. She responded in kind, her tongue stroking his while her grip tightened around him and she tangled her hand further in his hair. She never wanted to let him go.

  He pressed himself close to her, drawing her against his body. Which was waking up; she felt something press low against her belly. It was his rapidly hardening erection.

  Cool air nipped at their entwined bodies, causing her to shiver. Regretfully she pulled back. “Maybe we should take this inside.”

  “Are you sure?” he teased.

  Violet giggled. “You might have a fur coat to protect you, but I don’t.”

  “I bet I could think of something,” he suggested, but she was already turning around and leading him up the porch stairs. A burst of warm air greeted them when she opened the door, and she gave an appreciative wiggle, her toes curling.

  Bruce’s hands were firm on her hips, and his mouth dipped to kiss her on the shoulder. She felt him against her backside, as hard as steel, and her body hummed with anticipation.

  Violet didn’t make it past the den before turning around and reaching for him. He was so tall and solid. She ran her hands appreciatively over the hard planes of his chest, her fingers drifting through the little indents between muscles. When he growled, she felt the vibrations under her fingertips.

  The fire was crackling, welcoming. In the room there were chairs, even a sofa, but Violet led him to the soft hearth rug instead. She lay back, watching Bruce’s eyes widen above her in appreciation.

  “You’re amazing,” he murmured, bracing himself on one hand above her.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she joked, running a hand over his firm biceps.

  Bruce’s other hand slid down her barely-clothed body with a tantalizingly light touch. By the time his fingers reached the hem of the shirt she’d thrown on before climbing into bed the night before, her legs were trembling.

  He didn’t pull up the fabric immediately, instead tugging on the hem lightly. It was some kind of soft, forest-green Henley she’d found in the closet, barely looking at it before climbing into bed. It was a large shirt, comfortably worn down, the hem hanging to her thighs and the sleeves past her elbows.

  “You found one of my shirts,” he said.

  Violet propped herself up on her elbows and quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re concerned about right now? Shirt theft?”

  His smile spread slowly, and his knuckles teased her inner thighs. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

  "I'm not so sure," she teased back. She was pretty sure Bruce would look great in anything. "Want to try it on?"

  "You know," he added, tugging on the hem again, this time pulling it up, "I think you'd look even better without it."

  Violet giggled and lifted her hips so that Bruce could push the shirt up, exposing her belly. The fabric came up to just below her breasts, but he didn't let that get in his way: he took a nipple between his lips and sucked, wetting the fabric around it. She wasn't wearing a bra; the slight scratch of the fabric combined with the wet heat of his mouth felt heavenly.

  Gently he took her tight bud between his teeth and nipped. An electric shock of pleasure zipped down Violet's spine, and she let out a small cry, unable to help herself.

  He had dampened the shirt around her nipple so that she could feel every exquisite movement he made. She writhed under his ministrations, feeling her pussy get slicker and hotter than she had ever felt.


  Bruce cupped her other breast and kneaded, relieving a pressure she hadn't even known she'd been feeling. His palm brushed over the sensitive peak, making her arch and dig her toes into the carpet. How could he drive her so crazy by just playing with her breasts? It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Only Bruce made her feel like this.

  He rose to kiss her, pressing their bodies together as his tongue plundered her mouth, powerful and desirous of her. His hand cupped the back of her head and tilted it back. She arched up to meet him. Skin to skin, belly to belly, it still wasn't close enough.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, felt his body settle between them. His cock was like a rod of steel, and when he moved it rubbed against the crotch of her panties with delicious friction.

  Violet was almost dripping with desire, so wet she could hardly believe it. As he rocked against her, bringing his massive cock against her sensitive nub, they moaned into each other's mouths simultaneously. Her hands moved without thinking, stroking over his powerful shoulders, feeling the muscles in his arms flex as he moved, gliding down his back and cupping his ass, digging her fingers into him, trying to pull him even closer to her.

  He broke the kiss, turning to nip dirtily at her throat while she gasped. When he pulled back to sit on his knees, she couldn't help but make a disappointed sound and reach for him.

  "Not yet," he said huskily, and his fingers hooked into the waist of her panties.

  He skimmed them down her thighs and tugged them off. His hands folded around her knees and he eased them apart. Air passed between them, sending a cool shiver down Violet's slick folds.

  Bruce kissed the inside of her knee. When he spoke, his voice was admiring. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he said. "God, you're so perfect. So wet for me."

  Violet lifted her hips and said breathlessly, "I don't know, I could be a little more wet …"

  His deep laugh reverberated through her skin as his lips traveled down her inner thigh. His warm lips and tongue against the sensitive skin there made her shiver. Finally, finally, he reached her pussy.

  His fingers parted her, and the tip of his tongue delved in to explore her.

  Violet whimpered with each movement: the broad flat of his tongue against her entrance, just dipping inside, tracing her folds, and slipping in a maddening circle around her swollen, aching clit, not quite there, not where she needed him the most.

  "Bruce," she gasped as he just slipped around her nub again in another near-miss. "Bruce, please—I need—"

  "What do you need?" His voice was rough with lust. "Tell me."

  She was close to whining, the pressure building up inside of her with no release valve. "You, I need—your mouth—"

  With a rumble of satisfaction, he slipped his mouth over her clit and sucked. Violet arched clear off the rug. He was giving her exactly what she needed most, in a steady, relentless rhythm that pulled her ever closer to the edge with every second. The tip of one finger circled her tight entrance without delving inside—teasing.

  She rocked her hips against him and sank a hand into his thick hair. Every movement drew a gasp or a moan from her; she was dizzy with arousal, uninhibited. Her hand tightened in his hair.

  Pleasure spiraled within her, tightening, and her legs began to tremble. "Bruce—"

  He didn't stop, or let up at all. His tongue slipped over her nub again and again until he brought her to climax—and she cried out. The force of it washed over her in wave after wave of white-hot pleasure filling every cell of her body.

  Bruce slowed his ministrations, bringing her floating back down to earth. "Beautiful," he growled, and she heard a hint of his bear behind it.

  He bent over her, nuzzling her neck and stroking her skin as the aftershocks began to fade.

  "You might have to give me a minute," she murmured, and felt silent laughter shake his body. The weight of his body over hers was a pleasant pressure. Her fingers skimmed over his ribs in lazy exploration, feeling each bone and the surrounding muscle.

  As he shifted, she felt his cock grind against her inner thigh. Giggling, she rolled them over so she was straddling his thighs. His thick, reddened shaft was standing up in its bed of dark curls. There was a pearly bead of liquid at the tip.

  Violet scooted back until she was between his legs. On impulse she bent over and traced her tongue along the slit. The salty, slightly bitter taste of him filled her mouth. She felt rather than heard the sharp intake of his breath, and loved it, loved that she could make him feel this way. Parting her lips, she sealed her mouth around the swollen head of his cock and sucked.

  Shy, but wanting to see him, Violet looked up at him through her lashes.

  He propped himself on his elbows and was looking down at her with something like amazement in his eyes. His throat worked as he swallowed at the sight of her. She bent to take him in deeper, and her hair fell around her like a curtain. Bruce's fingers weren't quite steady as he pushed it back, his fingers not pushing or taking control, but stroking her face. She memorized the sight and tucked it away to remember—a moment of weakness no one but her would ever see, it was something to cherish.

  Violet swirled her tongue around his cockhead and felt his hips jerk in response. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft—she couldn't quite get all the way around, he was so large—and began to stroke in a rhythm with her mouth. She sucked gently, bobbing her head, with the sole focus of giving him as much pleasure as he'd given her.

  It wasn't more than a minute before his fingers tugged at her hair. She pulled off his cock with a soft, wet pop and gave him a questioning look. A flush had crept down his neck and onto his chest, and he was panting.

  Bruce led her up, pulling her against him and kissing her. This kiss was messier, more desperate than the others; she felt it, too, along with the hard rod of his shaft sliding against her hip. He tugged her shirt the rest of the way off and cast it aside, uncaring. When she was completely naked, a smile played at the corner of his lips and he cupped her hips in his hands.

  “Violet,” he murmured into her throat, the words hot and longing. “My mate.”

  The words crackled between them. Mate was a word that spoke to the bear inside of him, and the bear’s mate inside of her. They belonged together, like two pieces fitting into a whole. Violet straddled him, bringing their bodies together, and guided him inside.

  She sank down on him slowly, savoring every inch, and braced herself with her hands splayed against his chest. The heat of the fire had made a light sweat spring up on both their bodies.

  Every time she moved, the heat inside her built further. The slide of his cock felt amazing; it rubbed her in all the right places. His hands ran all along her curvy body, pressing against her breasts, stroking her thighs, and every touch fanned the flames higher.

  Bruce rose, closing the distance between them, and the changed angle made her moan and speed up the movement of her hips. Nestling her face into the curve of his neck, she felt his hand dip between them and his thumb stroke over her nub.

  It only took that little touch to bring her to the peak again. This time her orgasm was more drawn-out; she held him close as her whole body shuddered and clenched around him, making every movement sweeter.

  He thrust up from beneath her, his strokes long and powerful and ravishing her sensitive walls. He finished with a groan of her name. “Violet …”

  She gasped at the sound of her name and felt his climax spill into her.

  She tucked herself into his side, laying her head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her and held her tight. His other hand played with the ends of her hair, twisting it and turning it around between his fingers. She listened to the crackle of the fire and their soft breathing together.

  “Bears mate for life, you know,” he murmured into her hair.

  She traced aimless patterns on his chest with her fingers. “Yeah? And I’m your mate?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.


  “You’re my mate,” he confirmed, his voice easy and confident. “This was a mad scheme, getting married. I’ll tell you why I had to, sometime. But I’m so glad I found you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it now.”

  “Me either,” she said softly. “I love you.”

  His hand touched her face. “I love you, too.”

  They shared a brief kiss, before he sprang up and knelt next to her with a half-nervous, half-excited smile. “We should make it official, shouldn’t we?”

  Violet rolled over on her side, an excited flutter in her belly. “Haven’t we already?”

  His smile didn’t fade, but it turned serious. “That was a business deal. This is something else. Something real.”

  Sitting up, Violet tugged off the ring that had already begun to feel natural on her finger and handed it to him, watching. Completely naked, he got on one knee—even though she was on the floor—and held the ring out. The diamond caught the firelight and sparkled like it was a living thing, but Bruce’s gaze captured hers.

  “Violet, will you be my wife—for real this time, in sickness and in health, till death do us part?” The side of his mouth curved up, but his gaze was intense and locked on her.

  Violet blinked, an unexpected heat rushing to her eyes and making them prickle. The moment was unexpectedly tender. “I do. I mean, I will.”

  They laughed, and he slipped the ring back onto her finger, where it belonged. Then he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes half-closed in bliss. A light kiss brought them together.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Davis,” he whispered against her lips.

  She locked her arms around his neck. “Good morning, Mr. Simmons,” she teased.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Bruce looked down at himself. “Or maybe I should put some clothes on first.”

  Violet smirked, running her fingers over his chest. Her husband’s chest—and she could use that word without it being a lie, or a technicality. And a very nice chest it was, too. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”