“Fuck me!” Stella begged, panting now from desire.
“I don’t know if you deserve it,” he sneered down at her, but his hands moved to her waist. His face hovered in front of hers, their eyes matched up once more, energy like a cord between them. And then he pushed her down, her back against the mattress. Her thighs parted and his fingers landed on her, feeling her slickness and spreading it upward to her clit, making her gasp.
“Please,” she whimpered, legs rising to offer him more of her, feet coming to the end of the bed. His cock pressed lightly against her open slit, her pussy immediately clenching in anticipation. “Please…”
He plunged into her in a single, violent stroke, filling her with his manhood and making her cry out in pleasure. Her head rolled back against the sheets, fingers clawing at them, her juices running down her thighs as he stroked inside of her. His hands moved up towards her waist once more and he gripped her hard, leaning down so his face was inches from hers.
“I’m going to turn you around,” he growled, “and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”
In a single fluid motion, he’d flipped her onto her stomach, and grabbing her hips, raised her ass into the air. Her hips moved backward desperately as he thrust into her, the new angle making her even more crazed, fire licking at her cheeks as her thighs shivered.
Tuck pounded into her mercilessly, his balls slapping against her thighs, one hand returning to her hair and yanking her head upwards on her neck. She moved with him, matching his pace and fervor she’d never known taking over her body. Each thrust was pleasure and pain mixed. Every muscle in her body was taut as a rubber band stretched to its limits. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, filled by the sheets, and when she bit down she moaned.
“I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy,” he said, nearly breathless himself. “I’m going to fill it because it’s mine.”
The word rang in her head like a symphony. Mine. Mine. Mine.
She’d never been anyone’s before. She’d been alone her whole life. And now she was his. She was Tuck’s. And she would do anything to keep it that way.
“Is that what you want,” he growled, yanking hard on her hair so that she rose up, back against his chest. His fingers found her clit and hovered above it, teasing her to the point of torture.
“Yes,” she moaned against him as he thrust harder.
“Yeah? You want your little cunt filled with my cum?”
“Yes, please,” she moaned. “Please, Tuck, I want you to come in me, make me yours…”
He grunted, and his fingers finally touched her clit, rubbing hard as his body shuddered behind her. As the first bursts of his cum slammed against her womb, she quaked, body releasing all at once, pleasure filling her head to toe, each spurting blast of his seed making her shiver and moan, prolonging her orgasm until she was deaf, dumb, and blind to anything but her pleasure.
Finally, they separated, both panting. Tuck watched his cum dripping from her slit and felt a love he couldn’t explain bubbling in his heart. She felt it inside her, and her mind reeled with the sensation, that same love blossoming in her own chest.
But then reality sunk in all at once, and she shook as she turned to him, wide-eyed.
“Tuck,” she whispered, looking down at the seed that coated her thighs. “I’m not on birth control.”
To her surprise, he smiled, wide.
“Good,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you all swollen up with my baby inside you.”
Her mouth opened in shock. She couldn’t…there was no way…how could she…
“Isn’t that what you want? A family?” Tuck asked, brows furrowed as he looked at her. She gulped. She did want a family. She wanted to belong. She wanted…
He pulled her in close, their eyes meeting.
“I’ll take care of you, baby,” he said, leaning in so his lips were hovering just above hers. “I’ll take care of you forever.”
Moaning, she pulled herself up to meet his kiss, and they pressed their bodies together. She imagined, in her mind’s eye, his cum inside her, her body welcoming it, a new life created in her womb. A family. What she’d always wanted. Always.
Epilogue
“I can’t fucking believe it,” Johnny said, growling down at his desk, hair clutched in two fists. Stella bit back a smile. “You fucking women! Every last fucking one of you!”
“Sorry, Johnny,” she said, wishing she actually felt a little bit sorry. He was clearly distraught. But as her fingers fluttered up her slightly swollen stomach, her heart was too full of love to make room for regret.
She knew, just outside that door, Tammy stood with her ear pressed against the wall, dying to rush in and declare herself ready, willing, and able to take Stella’s place. Stella wished the best for her because she couldn’t harbor any hatred for the girl. Right outside the bar, Tuck waited her, his new car ready to drive her back to his house, where his hands would roam across her tummy and then upwards, his eyes fixed on hers, their bodies meeting together in a perfect circle, their family still growing inside her.
Let Tammy be manager. Let Johnny’s strip club burn to the ground. Who cared? Stella was happy, and she was right where she belonged, in Tuck’s arms.
THE END
TRACKING HIS MATE
Alpha Male Paranormal Shifter Romance
CHAPTER ONE
He could smell her from the moment she entered the room. His neck snapped upwards from the notes he’d been looking over. But it was impossible to tell, in the huge horde of girls who’d all entered together, noisy and fragrant, which of them had the scent that had called to him.
Why do they always need to travel in packs, he wondered, reigning in his beast. If he could shift right then and there, in the classroom, he could use his panther’s heightened senses to single her out. But the university wouldn’t look kindly on that sort of behavior. In fact, he was well aware that the university preferred to ignore his shifter identity completely; the only reason they’d tenured him after it came to light was because he was still the country’s foremost expert on shifter sociology. Despite the effort to make mainstream society accept shifters, there was still a great deal of prejudice, especially among society’s upper echelons.
His golden eyes scanned the room as the girls took their seats. For the first time, he cursed the fact that women outnumbered men two to one at the school. Otherwise he found it quite progressive, and was proud to teach some of the nation’s brightest young women. Vassar’s graduates went on to do impressive things, more often than not, and Cillian had seen some of his own students go on to make great strides in sociology, anthropology, and politics.
Why are you even bothering, he thought, scolding himself for giving in so easily to his urges. You don’t truly want another mate.
Still, if he was going to have to spend the entire semester with this girl’s scent in his nostrils, tempting him, taunting him, making the panther inside him growl and pace back and forth in the wild jungle of his mind, it was going to be a very, very long semester.
Bloody hell, he thought as the clock clicked into place. Class was starting. He had no choice but to begin, and try not to get distracted.
“Welcome to Introduction to Shifter Relations,” he said, commanding the class’ attention with his booming voice. He could tell by the way many of the female students leaned forward slightly that they were considering how lucky they were – Cillian knew how handsome he was, at least compared to some of the other professors at Vassar. Plus, his rich English accent didn’t hurt one bit. More than once he’d have to ward off the unwanted advances of a particularly engaged (see also: horny) student.
This year, though, he hoped, far back in his mind, that the girl who was releasing that earthy, intoxicating smell might be one of those few students who couldn’t resist him. Of course, he shoved that desire down as far as he could, willing himself not to give in to his primal instincts.
“Please take a syllabus and hand it down,” he said, b
ringing a stack of papers to each end of the front row. He watched in benign amusement at the confusion that always seemed to break out when the stacks met in the middle and had to be passed back to the next row – every year, the students never failed to make sure at least one person got skipped, and that the last person holding a stack would look around in such wild panic you might think they were caught with a bag of cocaine rather than a harmless collection of papers.
“I’m rather stringent on attendance, so I’m afraid this is not the class to be in if you enjoy coming up with excuses for your absence,” he said, turning back to his desk. “I start each day with roll call, then…”
CHAPTER TWO
Cindy clicked her pen against her teeth until her friend, Jenna, kicked her gently in the shin. Cindy blushed and put the pen down, turning to those around her with an apologetic smile. It was one of her worst habits, and she knew how annoying it was. But it was hard to sit still and not fidget after a long day of the same nonsense. The first two days of class were always torturous for Cindy; while her peers probably enjoyed being eased into the routine of school and coursework, Cindy started every semester claws out, raring to go, wanting to dig deep into the material.
Now, as Professor Turick summarized the information that was clearly available on the sheet he’d handed out, Cindy wanted to groan in boredom. Why can’t we just read this on our own time, and get down to business?
It wasn’t like there was even anything that radical about his rules. Show up on time. Do the reading. Write the essay. Be active in class. Participation grades, midterm grades, weekly writing assignments. Blah, blah, blah. When she yawned, Jenna leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“How can you be bored with that fine specimen in front of us?”
Jenna’s voice was low but Cindy worried about it carrying all the same; perhaps because she thought she saw the professor’s eyes glance over the two girls with a hint of a smile on his face. Cindy turned to her friend and shrugged; Jenna reacted with an exaggerated eye roll, then put two hands over her heart and mimicked fainting. Cindy bit back a giggle.
She guessed Jenna had a point; Professor Turick was rather handsome. With jet black hair, greenish-colored eyes, and a tall, slender, muscular frame, he certainly beat out her History of the UN, 19th Century Literature, and Dramatic Writing professors. And that voice – the British accent was like a siren song for females across America. It was like listening to a cat purring.
The more she stared at the man, though, the more she felt like she wasn’t seeing him at all. Squinting, she tried to make sense of what her brain was trying to tell her. It was like he was there – but also, weirdly, she found herself seeing something else in her mind’s eye. Something like the dark green leaves of a jungle. Or a long, thin figure moving in the dark. Confused and, frankly slightly frightened, she dragged her eyes back down to the sheet.
Too much coffee, she thought. Brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face, she shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. The motion caught the Professor’s eye, and she felt suddenly like a deer in the headlights as he looked at her for a fleeting moment before moving on to Jenna.
Looking at her friend, she wondered if he thought they were sisters, or cousins, something many people seemed to think. Jenna and Cindy weren’t very close, just party friends and occasional study buddies when they had a class together, but everyone always talked about how they should be best friends because of how similar they looked. As though looks were a great indicator of personality.
Still, Cindy could see where those people were coming from. They both had long blonde hair and blue eyes, though Cindy was graced with freckles and a larger bust – her C-cup chest nearly eclipsed Jenna’s A-cup. Cindy also had slightly wider hips and a more substantial behind; in general, she was fuller-figured, something that was rather unfortunate considering how little she wanted to use that body for what everyone thought was its God-given purpose: sex.
Jenna had considered herself asexual for as long as she could remember; she hadn’t learned the term for it until junior year of high school, but she’d known even in ninth grade – or earlier – that the crushes her friends had on boys just weren’t her thing. Neither were girls, for that matter. She didn’t get porn, the few times she tried to watch it. She’d had a few boyfriends, and even had sex in a quest to ignite a passion she knew everyone else had. But nothing worked.
For a long time she’d struggled to find her place in a society that was obsessed with the pleasures of the flesh, especially because her own flesh was, apparently, considered quite pleasurable. But once she entered Vassar as a freshman, she realized that there was a whole spectrum of sexuality, and it was okay to place yourself anywhere on that spectrum – even outside of it entirely.
Sure, she’d had some issues relating to the other girls she lived with in her dorm, especially during those early freshman months of one-night stands and late-night girl talk, but once the girls got the idea that Cindy just didn’t feel the way they did, they accepted it and didn’t let it get in the way of their friendship. Even Jenna, who was one of the more promiscuous girls in their group, had quit ragging on Cindy about her asexuality long ago.
Now, in their junior year, the obsession with sex and boys had calmed down anyway, with grades, internships, politics, and post-collegiate plans becoming the main concern. Students at Vassar were very much encouraged to make the most of themselves, and being celibate was something of a badge of pride. All the more time to devote to making your resume look good without having to pay attention to a boy- or girlfriend.
And Cindy was very motivated. Always had been. She would graduate with honors, undoubtedly, and had already scored an internship with a prominent legal group that dealt exclusively with impoverished and minority clients. She was taking the Shifter Relations class because it fit perfectly into her busy schedule, and because shifters always seemed to be getting themselves into trouble.
At least one-sixth of the clients she saw coming in and out of the legal office were shifters, or in shifter-related cases, which was impressive considering the relatively low population of shifters in New York. The human-animal hybrids were much more common in rural areas than the urban jungle of New York City.
Cindy was reminding herself of this, as a means to kill time while Professor Turick droned on (although his accent did make that droning far more pleasant). Her phone buzzed; surreptitiously checking it under the table, she saw that her best friend, Sam, was demanding her presence at the coffee shop outside Chicago Hall. Typing out a quick agreement, she was relieved to see the professor hadn’t noticed, and was even more relieved to see she only had to endure fifteen minutes of boring getting-to-know-you rigmarole.
Sam and Cindy had been best friends since high school; they’d bonded over being similarly confused over their sexuality in a small Pennsylvania town where being confused over your sexuality wasn’t yet in vogue. Only, where Cindy felt confused about liking no one, Sam was confused about liking the boys on his lacrosse team instead of the cheerleaders who screamed for their victory. He’d spent a semester at a very liberal state school before transferring to Vassar, saying he wanted to be closer to New York City. Just like Cindy, he’d found himself at college, and was no longer ashamed to dish about guys he had crushes on.
“So,” Sam said as soon as Cindy sat down. “Is that Turick guy as hot as they say?”
Cindy laughed and took the coffee he ordered her; Americano, black, her favorite.
“I guess so,” she said with a shrug, her mind lingering on the way she’d felt oddly captivated when his eyes passed over her. “He has an English accent. Pretty hot.”
Cindy wasn’t asexual to the degree where she found people unattractive as a whole. She could see George Clooney and, in her logical mind, recognize his hotness. But that’s generally where her interest in the opposite sex stopped.
“I’m so jealous,” Sam gushed. “I have not one but two women professors, and the rest are old enough
to be planning their own funerals.”
Cindy laughed.
“Missing out on some eye candy?” she asked. “Any cuties in the classes?”
“A few underclassmen seem promising,” Sam said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, here’s to a fruitful semester for me,” she said, raising her cup.
“And a bootyful semester for me,” Sam said, raising his own to clink against hers. For a moment, Cindy contemplated telling her best friend about the weird moment in class. But it was easier just to push it to the side and focus on how to make sure she wowed the professor academically – it never hurt to have a smart Brit on your side, especially when it came time to applying for grad school.
CHAPTER THREE
“For example, wolf shifters tend to be highly pack-oriented, and will entrust their mates to the pack as a whole. Often, a wolf shifter pack may share one or a number of females, with the pack’s alpha taking ownership of the most fertile or desirable, with the remainder of the pack sharing anywhere from three to seven females, depending on the size of the pack.
Bear shifters, on the other hand, are more of a ‘hit it and quit it’ species, to use the parlance of the times. A bear shifter, regardless of its breed, will mate with a female until she is pregnant, then want to have little or nothing to do with her, unless his cub is in direct danger. Of course, in modern times, the father will be required to provide financial assistance and – if the female insists enough – some emotional support for the family. It’s an unpleasant time to be a bear shifter.
Feline shifters – tigers, jaguars, lions, panthers – are far more devoted to their mates, and are so fiercely protective that they’ve been known to kill others who tread too closely to what they consider their territory. The famous case of Macon versus the People set a precedent that although the shifter was acting out of some overwhelming primal urge, he could still be convicted of second-degree murder.
ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) Page 51
