Skin Walkers: Baymac

by Susan Bliler

  “Kya Blackbird is sharing information on Skin Walkers?”

  “No! Not like that. We talk about stuff like this. Paranormal, folklore, legend, myth. You know vampires, werewolves, bigfoot, witches. It’s just talk. She hasn’t said anything about your people. I asked once if she knew any Skin Walkers because I’m always studying and looking up stuff on paranormals, you know, because of the Blackbirds and all. I mean, if shifters are real then everything else could be too. She humors me for the most part but when I told her what I’d researched on Skin Walkers and the need to wear the skins of dead animals to shift into that animals form she let it slip that didn’t work that way. I could tell she instantly regretted it, so I pretended not to have heard. That was all. We never talked about it again and I never brought it up again. She’s my friend. I don’t want to put her in a bad spot. Other than the fact that I know you don’t need to wear dead animal skins to shift into that animal’s form, I know nothing else.”

  She watched Baymac’s expression and waited for him say something. His nostrils flared like he was scenting her and she was glad. The Blackbird wolves could scent a lie and she assumed Skin Walkers were the same, and everything she’d just told him was the honest to God truth. When his rigid frame relaxed, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back into the couch too, her eyes tracking back to the fire. “I’m going to live with the wolves, Mac. Hurting them or anyone like them hurts me too. I’d never…” But she didn’t finish. She didn’t need to, and they sat in silence for a long time, each watching the fire until Grace finally dozed off.

  ***

  Baymac felt like a perv, but for some reason he couldn’t stop staring at Grace. She’d fallen asleep watching the fire and he was grateful because he’d been peeking glances at her for the better part of an hour, and now finally had the opportunity to openly stare, and stare he did. He drank in the sight of her and then studied each part of her for long minutes. Her cheeks were rosy, probably from the heat of the fire. Her lips parted slightly, drawing his attention, and fuck if he didn’t wonder what they’d feel like pressed against his.

  Sooty lashes rested on her cheeks and her dark hair had come unpinned from where she’d had it piled on her head. Soft brown locks framed her face and made her look angelic. Angelic, he snorted quietly. His thoughts were anything but. Dark eyes slid to her breasts and for the hundredth time since he met her, he could actually feel his palms itch with the need to touch her. Touch. What was it about Grace that evoked the need to sate all five his senses. He couldn’t stop looking at her, he loved the crazy sweet scent of her, his hands itched to touch her, her voice soothed his inner beasts, and…his tongue darted out and his eyes dipped to her lap. He’d never wanted to tongue fuck a woman so badly in his life. His eyes flicked back up and satisfied that Grace was still asleep, he let his eyes fall back to her lap as he imagined what it would be like to French kiss her between her legs. He imagined the sounds she’d make, the little cries of pleasure as she buried her hands in his hair and her body bowed. His cock pressed painfully against the front of his pants and he didn’t bother trying to hide it. No one to hide it from.

  Grace moaned and he nearly groaned because it was the exact sound he’d been thinking his fantasy Grace would make while he devoured her pussy. She adjusted and the neck on her sweater pulled and exposed one shoulder. Her skin was creamy and smooth. He wanted to sink his fucking teeth into her while he sunk his cock into her like he wanted his next breath. He was tempted to rouse her or even try to carry her to bed, but this was the best sleep she’d gotten, so he’d let it ride. He couldn’t keep watching though, because he was so damn tempted to whip his dick out and jerk off just to the sight of her sleeping. Disgraceful.

  He shoved up off the couch as self-disgust filled him. Here was Grace, on the run from some fuck who’d already hurt her and the first time she gets a decent sleep he sits and oogles her body while fantasizing about eating her sweet pussy. Monster!

  Chapter 11

  Sitting at the table in the kitchen, Grace and Baymac had finished dinner and cleaned up when Grace decided she wanted to make a sweet treat. Baymac couldn’t help the grin that claimed his mouth. How anyone could enjoy so much sugar was beyond him, but it made sense now. It had taken him two full days to pinpoint the scent on Grace, and now he knew. Sugar cookies. Grace Rowland smelled exactly like sugar cookies.

  By the Gods, he was having the hardest time being secluded with her. It had been easier when Kris and Mary had been at the cabin. He’d been able to distract himself by helping the old man with chores or conversing with the old woman. Now that it was just him and Grace, he couldn’t stop watching her. How was it possible that he found every single thing about the woman attractive? Her looks, her wit, her laugh, hell, even her temper drew him in. She wasn’t immune either. Every time he got near to her, what had started out scenting as mere interest had quickly blossomed into full arousal. It mirrored his own, but she’d never know.

  His eyes slid to her ass as she bent over at the kitchen island and unplugged the popcorn popper. The noise that had only seconds ago filled the air died down, and she turned to him with a smile, carrying a large bowl of popcorn.

  “Now comes the fun part,” she beamed and set the bowl on the table by him before going to the stove.

  He watched her as she cut up a stick and a half of butter and put it into a large pan. A half cup of oil followed and then one and half bags of marshmallows. She smiled as she stirred and stirred.

  His eyes kept dipping to her ass forcing him to shift uncomfortably on the seat when he got a boner.

  “Get ready,” Grace called excitedly.

  Oh, he was ready. Slowly getting to his feet, Baymac eyed the bowl of popcorn. “Ready for what?”

  She was carrying the hot pan of melted goo to the table and then she was pouring it over the popcorn. She jerked her chin toward a jar on the table. “Dump in half that jar of salted peanuts and then that bowl of sugar gummies.

  He’d watched her cut up the candies earlier and wondered what she had planned. Doing as directed, he poured the nuts into the bowl followed by the candy. He watched as Grace used a long wooden spoon to mix it all up. It was obvious that as her concoction cooled, it became more difficult to stir because Grace’s pace slowed and her little tongue peeked out.

  “Let me.”

  He took the spoon from her and she breathed a relieved, “Thanks.”

  She sprayed some crap on some pie pans and then told him to spoon her popcorn goop into each pan. He did then watched as she sprayed her hands with the cooking spray and mashed down each pan so it was packed tight. When she finished the last pan she grinned, “Voila. Popcorn cake is done!”

  He eyed the table skeptically. “Uh, you realize you made seven pans of this and there are only two of us?”

  Shrugging her shoulders up to her ears, Grace broke a piece off from one of the pans and shoved it into her mouth. “We’ll eat one and leave the rest for Kris and Mary.”

  Fifteen minutes later found them in front of the fire place. He’d helped Grace wrap all of the cakes but one, which she’d cut up and dished out onto two saucers before filling two mugs with coffee and a godly amount of creamer. She placed them on a tray and carried them to the sitting room. Baymac followed, eyes glued on the sway of Grace’s hips and nose flaring as he drank in that mouth watering scent of her.

  Claiming a seat on one of the sofas, he was equal parts relieved and disappointed when Grace sat on the couch opposite him instead of beside him.

  “So!” She sipped her coffee and then bit into her cake. “What’s new?”

  He grinned, canting his head to study her a moment before his eyes narrowed. “You nervous being here alone with me?”

  “No!” she responded too quickly and then shoved more cake into her mouth.

  He noticed she did that a lot when she didn’t want to have to explain herself. He was surprised she wasn’t larger in size. His eyes dipped to her hips. Perfect size for me! When
he looked back up, Grace was watching him warily. Slowly, she lowered her plate of cake to her lap and tried to use her arms to shield herself from his view.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Grace.” Where in the fuck did that come from? Baymac sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “I mean I can see why you ex was attracted to you.”

  She gave a soft snorted and reached for her coffee, eyeing Baymac over the rim of her cup as she drank. When she leaned forward to put her cup back on the table, his eyes slid to the collar of her shirt as it fell forward with her movement. He caught just the briefest flash of cleavage before she was leaning back again.

  “He wasn’t attracted to me. Not after the first few weeks anyway.”

  “Then why’d you stay with him?”

  “I thought he was safe. I thought we could work things out. I’m not naïve. I know all relationships take work. I didn’t want to just throw in the towel over what started out as petty stuff.”

  “Petty stuff. Like what?”

  Her cheeks bubbled as she drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Let’s see. He was always taking off, hanging out with his friends. He’d tell me he was coming home and I’d prepare dinner and he’d no-show. Then he’d get mad at me for being pissed about a wasted dinner. Things escalated pretty quickly after that.” Her eyes took on a far off look. “Looking back now, I’m not sure what I ever saw in him.”

  “At least tell me the sex was good.”

  Grace quickly looked away. She was staring into the fire avoid his eyes. The blush on her cheeks, which he knew was the result of embarrassment, drew his attention. He imagined her cheeks flushed like that from other more carnal exertions, and it made his dick hard.

  “No,” she shook her head sadly and pulled him from his thoughts. “Something is wrong with me. I’ll own that.”

  That had his brows spearing down. “What do you mean?”

  Her cheeks flushed even brighter, and she dragged her eyes from the fire to look down at her hands, fidgeting nervously with the saucer in her lap before leaning forward and setting it on the table between them. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t ever good at sex and it pissed him off.”

  “What?” He sat a little straighter.

  “I couldn’t ever…you know. He thought it was because I wasn’t attracted to him. I just… I just couldn’t ever. He would get frustrated with me, command things. I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He’d get rough like he could force it out of me. I hated being intimate with him because I always felt like a failure. He’d always look at me with such disgust afterwards.”

  That admission made Baymac want to find this fuck-tard and punch a hole clean through him. He had to take several calming breaths before he could ask, “Do you touch yourself, Grace?”

  “What?” she blushed impossibly brighter and flicked him a glance before looking down at her hands.

  He repeated, “I asked if you ever touch yourself.”

  For long moments she sat staring at her hands before quietly responding. “Everybody does.”

  “And do you get yourself off?”

  She turned her head away so he couldn’t see her face. Her reply was so quiet that he nearly missed it. “Yes.”

  “Look at me, Grace.”

  When she didn’t immediately do as he commanded, Baymac couldn’t help himself. He was off the sofa and to her so damn fast that she gasped and startled hard when he wrapped his arms around her and settled on his knees between her legs where she sat on the couch.

  “Look. At. Me.” He commanded again, and Grace complied. “If you can make yourself come, Grace, but a man can’t, then the problem is with him, not you.”

  She shook her head. “We were together for three years, Mac. Not once in all that time did I…”

  “Come,” he supplied. “You can say it Grace. We’re both adults here.” A frown darkened his features. “And what do you mean, he’d get rough? What do you mean he’d try to force things?”

  “Not like that. He never made me do anything I wasn’t willing to do. He just… He’d get frustrated if I wasn’t close, which I never was, and he’d,” she peeked up at him.

  “He’d what?”

  “He’d pinch my nipples too hard or press to hard on other parts of me. He’d slap my ass or pull my hair, and I knew it wasn’t the ass smacking or hair tugging that accompanies some sexual encounters. It was like he was punishing me for being a failure. The actions were hate-filled.” She closed her eyes. “I’d concentrate so damn hard, trying to will myself to finish with him.”

  “That shit ain’t your fault, Angel, and you’re not a failure.” He was surprised at how easily that particular endearment kept slipping past his lips. But Grace’s belief that something was wrong with her was twisting something inside him and had him wanting to soothe her.

  She looked away again and whispered quietly, “I am. It wasn’t just him. I’ve never… I’ve never had an orgasm with any man. I’m broken. It’s my fault. Something is wrong with me.”

  “The fuck it is,” he snarled reaching for the button of her jeans.

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY!” Grace slapped at his hands until he stopped moving and looked up at her. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m going to show you that you’re wrong.” He had to. She had to know that she was perfect and that some shit-head’s failures in the bedroom were no reflection of her.

  “The hell you are!” she pushed at his shoulders trying to get him off her, but failing. “I’m not looking for a pity fuck, Baymac!”

  “Good. ‘Cause I’m not giving you a pity fuck, Grace.”

  She relaxed a little, releasing her hands from where they gripped his shoulders. “Good,” she sighed in relief. “For a second I thought you were…”

  “I’m going to fuck you last, and there’ll be no pity involved. First though, I’m going to lick you, taste you, penetrate you with my tongue.”

  Grace’s eyes rounded in shock. “No,” she breathed. “No, you are not!”

  Chapter 12

  Grace was on the verge of having a panic attack. She wiggled against Baymac’s body that had her pinned to the couch, his arms on either side of her hips and his thick chest pressing into the vee of her legs as he looked up at her with stark determination etched in his features.

  “Grace,” he began but she didn’t want to hear it.

  “No!” she snapped shoving at his shoulders again. This wasn’t happening. Even though she wanted Baymac like she’d never wanted anything before, she wasn’t about to humiliate herself in front of him. She was broken, and she knew it. He wouldn’t be able to fix her. And when he couldn’t, he’d look at her like Otto always did, with disgust and loathing. She’d die before she ever allowed that to happen. “Get off of me,” she begged.

  “I know you want me, Grace. I can smell it whenever I’m near you.”

  She pinched her eyes closed. “Yeah, well I want something else more.”

  “And what’s that?” he prodded.

  “To keep my dignity intact. I’m not going to show you how right he was. It’s embarrassing, Mac. Now please, get off of me.”

  When he pulled back, relief tore through her only to die an untimely death when Baymac grabbed her arms and hauled her up tossing her over his shoulder.

  “It’s Christmas time, Grace. I am going to give you this gift.”

  She struggled in his hold. “Damn it, Baymac! Put me down!”

  He did, but not like she’d hoped. In their room, he tossed her on the bed and stared at her with dark eyes as he ripped his shirt over his head.

  “Hey!” she snapped, pointing at the shirt he dropped onto the ground. “Put that back on!”

  He began toeing off his shoes and when his hands went to the button on his jeans, Grace was scrambled away from him. His hand shot out and caught her ankle before he dragged her back to him.

  “Easy, Grace. I promise you, I’m not going to force anything on you.”

  The way hi
s hand still collared her ankle made that hard to believe. When she finally spoke, her voice was trembling as she eyed him warily. “L-let me go, Baymac.”

  He did, his brows dipping into a frown as he squatted at the end of the bed and gently settled his hands on her knees. “Hey.” He spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not gonna hurt you, Grace. You know that right?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’d never hurt you in any way. I just wanted to help.” Pulling back, he buried his hands in his hair as he turned and gave her his back. “I scented your arousal. I thought you wanted this too, and then when you told me about that asshole you used to be with, I… I wanted to show you he was wrong.” He turned to look over his shoulder at her. “I wanted to show you that you are wrong.” He turned to face her again and squatted in front of her, his hands going back to her knees where he squeezed her gently. “I swear on all that is sacred that I wouldn’t ever take anything you aren’t willing to give. I was trying to show you that I’m not like the other males you’ve been with. I know the gift of a woman’s body is like the music you always talk about. Boys take a woman’s body and fool around, merely content that they got the chance to play with it, but a man, Grace. A man can make a woman’s body sing. A man who is willing to practice, to learn, to be meticulous can turn a woman’s body into an instrument. A man like that knows his body is part of the magic too. When you share something like that with someone, it is beautiful. No one’s ever shown you that. I want to be the one who does. I want to be the one to produce all the beautiful things you’re body has kept hidden. I want to show you that it’s there, Angel, for a man willing to work for it.”

  Grace swallowed hard at his words. His hands were still on her knees and now his thumbs were running little circles on the inside of her thighs. The touch drew her attention and she felt desire dump into her belly. She wanted Baymac as badly as he obviously wanted her, but she still wasn’t convinced that he knew what he was talking about. “Baymac, I’m not like other women.”