Bearly Sheltered (BBW Shifter Security Romance) (Big Paw Security Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  “What about you? After your mission?” I said. “Will you catch up to me?”

  He smiled. “Would you like some chocolate?” He produced a small cloth bundle and untied the string. Small dark bricks of chocolate lay there. It had been weeks since I’d had real chocolate.

  “Those look wonderful,” I said. “But I couldn’t. You’ve been so generous already.”

  “You Belgian girls are so shy,” he said. He picked up a piece of chocolate and brought it to my lips.

  The rich smell made my mouth water, and I opened my mouth to accept it. I held it on my tongue, enjoying the rich sweet taste. I could tell he was watching me, his interest going beyond survival. It was having an effect on me, my skin growing hot from the rush of blood.

  I plucked a piece of chocolate and brought it to his lips. His lips parted and I pushed the chocolate in. His lips clamped down on my finger, sucking gently.

  I sat in his lap, his strong thighs flexing beneath me. My arm went behind his head and I pressed my lips to his, kissing him fully. His arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly. I broke the kiss. “Did you say I was shy?”

  He grunted, kissing me again. His hands wandered all over my body, groping me and grabbing me. His need was hot and greedy. His manhood stirred under my bum, straining against his trousers.

  His hand grabbed my breast, squeezing my full mound. Overflowing in his hand, he tweaked my nipple, pulling it taught inside my blouse. His other hand grabbed my hip and pulled me even closer to him.

  I buried my face in his neck. He smelled of musk and sweat. My mouth opened and I kissed the nape of his throat, his stubble scratching my lips wonderfully. “I need your help taking this off,” I said, standing.

  He expertly took my shirt off, leaving me in my shift and skirt. He pulled me back down into his lap, his mouth going for my neck. He pulled the shoulder straps of my shift down and it fluttered to my waist. He kissed and scratched his way down my chest, taking a nipple into his mouth.

  I craned my head back, enjoying the stud’s suckling. This life affirming connection to another human being, it was beautiful. It was a brief respite of sanity amongst the chaos of the day. In this, we could let our guards down and come together in most primal union. No words were needed or even warranted. My pussy was wet, soaking through my thin panties.

  I heard a rumble emanate from his chest, his nostrils flaring as he smelled my womanhood in bloom. He released my nipple and stood me up in front of him. He pulled downward on my skirt roughly, my panties coming down as well.

  My wet bush glistened in the candlelight, exposed to the cool air of the dark tunnel. A drop of dew stood on my lips, and he bent forward. His tongue flicked out, snatching it and savoring it. He closed his eyes, focused on my secret flavor. He pressed his mouth against my mound, his tongue flicking my aching nub.

  He opened his eyes and looked up at me. They were glowing gold. Inhuman. The last time I’d seen those eyes, I’d witnessed his terrible power. I needed that power now, that bestial simplicity. Just towards a different end.

  My good hand grabbed the back of his head roughly as I ground my pussy against his mouth. His tongue dutifully licked at me like a dog lapping up water. Each time his tongue caressed my clit, a tiny shudder shot through me, building on each prior one.

  He brought one of my knees up and over his shoulder, splaying me out fully for his appetites. His tongue dove between my folds, searching for my hidden center. His relentless assault on my pussy drove me over the edge. I came, filling his mouth with my juices.

  I got lightheaded and lost my balance, falling sideways. I saw the hard brick coming up to meet me quickly, but my shaking legs were still recovering from the orgasm. I was helpless to stop it.

  But I never landed. Quentin’s strong arms were under me, lifting me easily to lay me down on his sleeping quilt. The wool blanket was rough but thick, shielding me from the cold damp bricks below. He straightened up, on his knees next to me.

  My hand pulled at his belt, and soon his pants were off. His cock swung between his legs, thick and long. As he hardened, his sheath retracted. The head resembled a small apple, bulbous and red. I could see it shimmer and shine in the candlelight, evidence of his eagerness. His need to mate.

  My hand went to his big dick, and I pulled it to my face. Opening my mouth, I took the head in, sucking it clean of his seed. Mixing with the aftertaste of the chocolate, his essence was mindblowing. Such virility, such masculinity. I sucked his prick, stroking his shaft to entice more seed to flow.

  He groaned, his head going back as he was serviced. His hand was between my thighs, a finger exploring my folds. It thrust into me roughly, lingering inside my tunnel before pulling back out. He added a second finger, stretching my tight sex to accomodate him.

  I moaned around his cock, not sure how he was going to fit all this inside me. But I didn’t care. With his big dick in my mouth and his fingers in my pussy, I was both sated and needing more of him. More of his seed leaked into my mouth and I swallowed it, happy to have a belly full if his balls were so inclined. I cradled his balls in my hand, feeling their heaviness like two stones in a sock.

  He pulled out of my mouth and looked down at me, panting. His golden eyes yearned for relief, yearned to mount me and empty his sagging balls. Like a beast in the forest, he needed to take me, to make me his. Only by claiming me in the most primal way would his fire be extinguished.

  I sat up and turned over, my bare ass and pussy in the air. I pushed myself up on one arm and realized that I couldn’t use both arms to support myself.

  None of this mattered to Quentin. He pounced on top of me instantly, his massive cock pressing wildly between my legs. His hands grabbed my hips, his fingernails digging into me savagely. He thrust forward, his cock slipping between my thighs and jabbing into my navel. It left a smear of cum everywhere it jabbed, like a paintbrush of lust.

  When he pulled back to thrust forward again, I angled my hips down to position my pussy in the right spot. As he drove home, I felt an overwhelming pressure build at my entrance. He was too big for me! I heard a growl above me and he pushed my neck down, pinning it to the blanket.

  With his female in a fully submissive position, he pushed forward, straining to fill me with his manhood. For several wonderful, scary seconds, he made no progress. But then my lips stretched, accomodating this alpha male.

  My body was eager to mate, especially with a prime male specimen like this. My pussy lips stretched, making way for his prick. He stretching me to my fullest, pressing forward as my face was pinned against the scratchy wool blanket.

  He began thrusting, fucking my madly. Not like a man takes a lover, but like a dog takes a bitch. His cock hammered into me, my pussy rubbed raw as he ploughed my field. He slid in and out, his balls slamming forward against my clit. I could feel my juices flowing, running down his shaft and coating his balls.

  The wet slapping noises echoed down the tunnel, two wild animals in heat. His breath sped up, his thrusts got quicker. Then he thrust all the way into me, his body pressing down fully onto me. Crushing me under him, his balls emptied into my hungry womb. His teeth bit down onto the back of my neck, his final act of domination as he came inside his bitch. My pussy spasmed in climax, milking him for all he had, every precious drop of seed.

  I felt it fill me up, hot and creamy. His cock kept throbbing, spilling weeks worth of pent up lust into my body. Eventually the throbs stopped, and I felt his cock get softer. He fell out of me as he collapsed to my side.

  He looked down at me, his eyes blue in the candlelight. He pulled me close to him, his body spooning me in the dark tunnel. The blanket wrapped around us, he stroked my hair and planted small kisses behind my ear.

  —-

  Stirring nearby made me open my eyes. It could’ve been a few minutes later or a few days later. The tunnel was still as dark. The candle still burned, so I guessed it was a few hours later.

  Quentin was standing in the tunnel getting dress
ed. I watched him, smartly putting his uniform on. Several holes in the chest had been sewn up. He unfolded a long length of leather and pulled out a wickedly long knife. Closer to a sword in size, it had strange symbols etched into it. The symbols glowed blue in the candlelight.

  His eyes found mine and I caught a measure of sadness in that look. It was vulnerable, unshielded. He didn’t expect to see me again.

  “Quentin, what are you about to do?” I said.

  “Joan, you need to go down the tunnel. Remember, go left at the fork, then up the ladder. Run across the vineyards until you reach France,” he said.

  “Quentin, answer my question,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “I’m here to kill General Klausen. That’s my mission, Joan.” He fingered the long blade.

  “I don’t understand. I think you can take out an old officer sleeping in a tent,” I said.

  “He’s a vampire, Joan. That’s why I’m here,” he said, solemnly. He slid the long blade into a sheath on his back. “I’m the only one who can do it. He’s in the library above us. I knew he’d make a base out of the most magnificent building in the city.”

  “But you’ll succeed, right? You’ll catch up to me?” I said, my eyes watering. I stood up, suddenly feeling the coldness of the tunnel.

  He held me, his strong arms encompassing my body. I lay my head on his shoulder, smelling his scent. My arm wrapped around his neck, not letting him go. “Please,” I said.

  “You’re strong Joan,” he said. “Never give up. You’ll get through this.” He pressed his lips against mine in a kiss I didn’t want to end.

  He released me, and gently unwound my arm from his neck. His hand stroked my face, and he smiled. “How lucky I was to have met you.”

  With that, he stepped away from me and walked down the tunnel. I stood there, listening to his footfalls grow more and more distant. I recomposed myself, putting my clothes back on. Once I was ready, I walked down the tunnel in the direction he told me to go. After a time I came to the fork and went left. Stumbling around, I eventually reached the ladder.

  Freedom and safety waited above me. A chance to escape. A chance to survive.

  But I didn’t want to just survive. I wanted to live. I ran back down the tunnel, ready and eager to face a dangerous future at Quentin’s side.

  “I’m still alive,” I said.

  Taking The Babysitter

  by

  Becca Fanning

  “Ms. Kennet, Robbie took my goat,” Diana said, looking up at me with tears streaming down her little cheeks. The snot engine was revving up, and I could see a tiny stream of goo begin to fall down to her lip. Her little hands were bunched up, holding her blanket in a death grip.

  This was my life. My poor little booger leaker and her tyrannical four year old brother. Diana was a good girl, but she could go from 0 to disaster in record time. I knew I just had a few seconds to intercede and prevent a full fledged scream snotty explosion.

  “Diana, it’s ok. See, you have your blanket. You can’t play with two things at the same time. Robbie can play with your goat, he won’t hurt it,” I said, patting her flat hair. I smiled down at her, confident I’d solved the problem.

  “But it’s no faaaaair!” she said, howling and thrashing around. She’d gone nuclear, her face turning fire engine red. She began doing this adorable little stomp thing with her feet, wanting to hurt the ground with her rage. She spun around and ran with maximum drama out of the kitchen.

  “That girl has problems,” I said to myself, shaking my head. Such is the terrible life of the two year old. Someone to feed you, clothe you, pay for everything. Even someone to wipe your ass. But none of that matters when someone touches a thing you don’t want them to touch.

  Babies. No thank you.

  I was happy to babysit them, though. It was simple stuff, and their father always overpaid. My friends at college sometimes gave me shit because they thought babysitting was for high school kids. But they worked longer hours for less pay in worse jobs. Why do I have such dumb friends?

  My phone buzzed. Speaking of dumb friends.

  Kerry: Hey Melanie, you want to go clubbing tonight?

  Me: Nah, working tonight.

  Kerry: Boo! Which rugrats are you watching tonight?

  Me: The Sedgwicks.

  Kerry: Oh shit! Is it true they’re separated?

  Me: Divorced, actually.

  Kerry: Forget the club, I’m coming over. Mr. Sedgwick is de-li-shus.

  Me: You’re horrible.

  Kerry: Oh come on, like you don’t undress him with your eyes every time you see him!

  Me: …

  Kerry: He does that Crossfit shit. Mr. Sedgwick is ripped, and he’s not going to be single long.

  Me: Stop it.

  Kerry: Where’s he at anyway? Maybe he’s seeing a hooker! Relieving his bluebells lolol!

  The oven began beeping and I put my phone away. I hit the timer on the oven and took out the tray of cubed sweet potatoes. Mr. Sedgwick liked to say that I had a special touch, getting the kids to eat things he just plain couldn’t. I didn’t know anything about that, but I did use copious amounts of honey, cinnamon and nutmeg on these sweet potatoes. These kids would eat them or I’d eat my hat.

  “Diana! Robbie!” I said. “Come into the kitchen, your snack is done.”

  “Ms. Kennet, can we eat in the living room? My show is on,” Robbie said. He ended that sentence with an inflection that promised whining if he didn’t get his way.

  Too bad.

  “Both of you come eat at the table,” I said. I wasn’t in the mood for games tonight. It had been a long day, and my boyfriend Tim texted me this afternoon. How did he put it? Oh yeah, he needed time to find himself. More like he needed time to find his dick inside some house party skank.

  Diana ran in, chubby cheeks smiling, not a care in the world for her goat or the tears and boogers all over her face. I grabbed a paper towel and cleaned her face and hands. She sputtered her protest but was soon happily seated in her highchair and reaching for the plate.

  “I want the sweet taters,” she said.

  “I know, Diana. Robbie, come in here or you’re getting a time out,” I said.

  “No!” he said from the living room.

  I put a few sweet potatoes on Diana’s plate and went into the living room. The TV was showing some cartoon about little animals solving mysteries. Robbie was planted on the couch, seriously focused on the show in front of him.

  “Milord, the banquet awaits thy royal presence,” I said, droning in monotone.

  “No!” he said, not appreciating my channeling of the classics.

  “Young man, I think you need a time out,” I said.

  “Please Ms. Kennet I just wanna watch this show,” he said, the tear factory beginning to warm up.

  “Robbie, how about you come in and have your snack, then you can watch your show?” I said. Normally, I’d have a more fire and brimstone approach, but I didn’t have the strength in me tonight. I was drained.

  “Did you make them special?” he said. He always asked this.

  “You know I did, Robbie. They’re special just for you,” I said, allaying his concerns. I always gave him the same response. It was part of our schtick.

  He didn’t get off the couch so much as melt off it, and finally a semblance of a little boy stumbled into the kitchen and sat at the table.

  Diana smiled at her older brother, happy to see him again after their long separation of twenty seconds. The strange simple things little kids can find joy in always amazed me.

  I scooped some sweet potatoes onto Robbie’s plate and pushed it over to him. Once I had both kids eating, I walked back into the living room to turn the TV off. We weren’t savages, after all.