Michael grunted, his hips swinging forward to collide with Nicole’s ample ass. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body. Sweat trickled down his chest and mixed with the creamy combination of their juices.
Nicole could feel him tense up as he bent forward, his face pressed against hers. His lips found hers, and they kissed passionately as he pushed himself inside her one last time. His hands held her hips like a vice as his cock spasmed.
She felt herself explosively cum as he filled her with his hot sticky seed, his cock sending pulse after pulse of thick fluid into her womb. Lightning shot through her body, her mind a storm of pleasure.
Panting, Michael pulled out of her and collapsed, face up on the rug.
He lay beside her and stroked her hair. “You are something else. Here I was rehearsing my apology.”
“Apology for?” she said, curious.
“How I acted when we first met. And to thank you for not exposing us in the article.”
“Telling the world was never an option.”
“When you left I didn’t know what to think or expect. Very few people would know this and not spill.”
“Very few people can be practical like me. I can imagine what you go through every day hiding from the world,” she said, looking over at the couch where she’d lived the past two weeks. “I can imagine it quite well.”
He squinted. “What if I hadn’t shown up tonight to do my best John Cusack impersonation?”
Nicole laughed. “I would have gotten my shit together. Eventually. But I’m glad things didn’t go that way.”
“Not everyone would give up a ton of money and a career boost like that. You could have sold me out to the highest bidder but you didn’t. Instead you wrote a hell of an article on our band. My family.”
“You read it?”
“A few times. I loved it.”
Nicole beamed. “I’m glad you did.”
“I usually don’t bother reading things that groupies write…” he said, the dim light in the room revealing an impish grin.
“I forgot, when you Shift do you turn into a Bear or a giant asshole?” she said.
“Usually both. Come here.” he said and kissed her.
I could get used to this, she thought and kissed him back.
YOGA BEAR TITLE
Yoga Bear Menage
by
Becca Fanning
YOGA BEAR MENAGE
“Just concentrate on your breathing,” Dominick said from the front of the class.
The length of mirrors running down the wall showed faces of calm serenity, all calmly doing the Standing Bow pose. Hands pointed forward like nocked arrows, legs and feet arched back at high tension angles. Balanced between power and grace, my classmates were killing it.
Then I saw my own face. Sweat cascading down my chin. A grimace of strained pain on my face. I teetered forward, barely catching myself before tottering into my neighbor. My legs wobbled and my knees couldn’t decide if they wanted to lock into position or bend. My hands were too sweaty to grip my ankle properly, so it kept slipping. If this class had an ugly duckling, it was me.
“It’s all in your breathing. Everything starts with the breathing,” Dominick said, doing a quick demonstration at the front of the class. He took in a deep breath and reached to the ceiling with one hand. “Then, reach forward and kick back. Equal force.” He smoothly bent forward, his rear foot rising up and over his head. His golden eyes glimmered as the room filled with orange light. They didn’t call this the sunrise class for nothing.
I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he was focused on me. You could never be too sure with Shifters. They didn’t really directly look at you for too long. I read online that they thought it was impolite, because they had the eyes of predators. Something in our ancient human brains didn’t like that stare, and most Shifters knew that.
But I couldn’t shake it. He was still looking at me. Not staring, not gawking. But he was watching me. Like he was willing me to succeed. Like he wanted me to succeed.
It wasn’t just his eyes that intrigued me. He was stunning, Shifter or not. A warm olive complexion, hazel eyes and a long mane of untamed black hair. Six and a half feet of lithe shredded power. He had full, high cheekbones and lips that easily curled into a smile.
We were doing hot room yoga, so no one wore more than they had to, including Dominick. His skin tight black shorts could have been boxer briefs for all they left to the imagination. I’d read that Shifters were different about sexuality too: it was more casual in their society. Now that they’ve begun to integrate with human society, there were still little culture shocks. Or, in the case of what lay trapped in those boxers, huge culture shocks.
“Three, two, one. Release,” he said.
Forty two gasps of relief filled the room as we all released the pose. Blood flowed back into constricted limbs. Some bent down to grab their water bottle.
“Lay down for dead body pose,” Dominick said.
We all lay down on the towels stretched over our yoga mats. We were half way done with the session, and the towels were already completely soaked. It was like lying down on spongy damp carpet. Not pleasant, but after the torture of that pose, it was heaven.
Sweat poured down my brow and off my ears. The air in the studio was oppressively humid. It cloyed at my skin, clung to the inside of my mouth and coated my lungs. The only thing that made it bearable was the reminder that the yoga poses were worse. It was all about perspective.
Dominick stepped off the small platform in the front of the class and began to walk around the class. “Close your eyes,” he said. “Take deep breaths. This is the time when you relax, when you reap the benefits of what you just sowed.”
I closed my eyes. I imagined him walking around, his eyes locked onto me. My body in a wet leotard, my legs slightly open. I knew I should concentrate on my breathing, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Stalking me through the woods like prey. Drawn in by the scent of my lusty thoughts.
I’d heard one of the women in the locker room remark that Dominick was a Bear Shifter. Bears were notorious for their sense of smell. I tried to shut that out of my mind, but I knew I was getting turned on. I knew that he could smell my desire, and that just turned me on even more.
I felt his footsteps grow closer. I heard him breathing hard. He was walking directly towards me. I curled my fingertips into the wet towel, needing to do something with my hands. My hard nipples pressed against the damp fabric of my top.
He stopped right next to me. My mind went wild. I could smell his masculine virility, his need to mate. I knew none of this made sense but I was caught up in a moment of fantasy.
“Everybody up. Next pose,” he said as he walked up to his platform.
With a groan, I opened my eyes, pulling myself up to endure the next bout of torture.
—
“Cynthia,” Renee said, ducking into my office “We’re making up the board for the break room. Did you want to join the contest?” Her red glasses sat on the very tip of her nose.
Every year, our office holds a weight loss contest. One of these new initiatives that HR was always chasing, trying to improve the quality of office life. I’d never participated before, but this year felt different. Years had gone by since I felt good about my body, and now I was going to make a change. Those years had passed in the blink of an eye. It was time to make a stand.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m in.”
“Heck yeah, girl!” Renee said. “You’re doing yoga now, right?” she said, pointing to the mat rolled up next to my bag.
“Yeah. Hot room yoga,” I said. “It’s intense!”
“My sister in law does that. You do it in like a hundred degree room, right?” she said.
“Yeah, and they crank up the humidity. It’s like a sauna,” I said.
“Damn. I think I would pass out. Where do you go for it?” she said.
I hesitated. “That new gym on Broadwick,” I said, looking away.
“The Shifter gym?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yeah,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks.
“What…what are they like?” she said, coming into my office and quietly closing the door behind her.
“They’re not too different than you or I, really,” I said.
“Are they all covered with fur? Huge fangs?” she asked, her eyes wide. “I’d probably pee myself. I definitely couldn’t work out around them.”
I laughed. “No, nothing like that. They don’t change around us if they can help it. They look just like us, except…”
“Spill it!” she said, walking over to lean really close, like two girls discussing boys in hushed tones.
“Well,” I said, savoring the moment. “They’re uncommonly tall. Not like basketball players, but they’re all tall. And they…”
“They what? Come on!” she said, giving me a soft jab in the shoulder.
“They have golden eyes,” I said.
“What?” she said, her eyes bulging. “Like, really golden?”
“Gold, like take it to the pawn shop gold. And when they pass over you,” I said, pausing for drama, “you feel like they’re looking deep inside you.”
“Whew!” she said, leaning back into a chair and fanning herself. “I think I’ve got the vapors! I can’t take any more. Any of them single? Even single for a night?”
“You’re the worst!” I said, laughing.
“So your yoga instructor is a Shifter?” Renee said.
“He is,” I said, feeling myself blush even more.
“He? You’re bending into shapes like a nubile circus performer and sweating while this Shifter guy watches you?” she said, grinning like a mischievous cat. “My, my Cynthia. That’s wonderfully scandalous. I bet you give him something to think about later.”
It was my turn to jab her in the shoulder. “I’ll have you know I compose myself like a real lady! If he wants to think of me like some piece of meat while he pleasures himself, that’s his business.”
“Mmmmhmmm, sure,” she said. “Well, my doctor said I need to get my pulse up, and this conversation has certainly done that. You’ll have to keep me up to date about any developments with Mr. Yoga.” She got up and left my office.
For the next hour, I tried to focus on the email I was writing to the rest of my sales team, but I couldn’t. Talking and thinking about Dominick had me in a mood. The kind of mood where I wished I could lock my office door. It was impossible to try to talk to my team about pushing a new insurance product with him on my mind. One thing was about as unsexy as something could be, and the other was the embodiment of raw animal passion.
I decided I needed to stretch my legs. A walk around the office would do me good. I’d been sitting too long anyway. The yoga in the morning was great, but it colored the rest of my day. My muscles complained while I was doing it, then they complained when I wasn’t doing it. I couldn’t win.
I walked down the hall and turned to go into the break room. I saw two guys standing in front of a poster on the wall. It was the weight loss competition board. I froze when I heard them talking in hushed tones.
“…Like, why even bother?” one said.
“I don’t know, man. One or two of them, if I was drunk,” the other said, pointing at pictures of the women on the board. They were the profile pictures the company had on file. Mine was one of them.
“You’d have to be drunk enough to not remember it the next day,” the first one said, chuckling.
I turned away, walking back to my office. It was hard enough having to work on my weight, but to be mocked over it? That was low. I didn’t need that shit. I slammed my office door behind me and wiped at my eyes.
—
“Bend from the waist, grab the backs of your calves,” Dominick said. His voice was soft, but it carried through the whole studio. The only other sound was the grunts and breaths of the students.
I did as instructed, bending forward, turning myself into an upright sandwich. I grabbed the backs of my calves and pulled with all my might. This pose always gave me a strange sensation. My legs were being stretched up away from the floor, while my arms and chest were pulling down towards the floor. I knew my form wasn’t great: it was hard to get the forms right when you were heavier like me.
“Keep your grips tight. A solid grip is the foundation to every pose,” he said. He paced back and forth on the platform, watching all of us. He had a way of speaking that addressed the room but made you feel like he was speaking just to you.
I glanced to the side and saw one of the other ladies in the class. Heidi. Her pose was perfect. Immaculate. She smiled into her shins, sweat pouring down. She was thin. So thin that her body never got in her way, no matter how she bent, twisted or contorted. I thought back to the break room, those two assholes and their comments. I bet they wouldn’t have to get drunk to get with her.
My grip slipped, and before I knew it I was tumbling forward. I had enough good sense to tuck my head in, but my momentum had me roll into the neighbor in front of me.
He fell down sideways, hitting the person to his right. “Shit,” he said.
“Sorry!” I said. “I’m…”
The whole room was looking at me.
“Sorry,” I said, bending over to grab my mat and towel. They pulled up with a loud wet sound, and I fled the room in embarrassment. The cold blast of air from the foyer hit me like a wall.
A round open room with light wood panelling on the walls, the foyer was off a hallway from the main gym where the weightlifters and treadmill rats were. While the yoga studio was still part of the gym as a whole, this made it feel more private. Ferns were spread around the room, giving the space a warm and secluded feel. It helped to be in the right mindset before bending yourself into a pretzel.
I heard the door open behind me and turned to see Dominick, his concern plain on his face.
“Are you alright?” he said. Sweat dripped down his muscular chest, plastering his curly hairs to his chest.
“I’m fine. I lost my concentration, that’s all,” I said. “Don’t you have to get back in there?”
“I gave the class a bonus ten minute rest. They’re ecstatic. They’re probably conspiring to fall voluntarily now,” he said, grinning. He motioned to a bench, “Here, sit.”
I sat down and wiped my brow. “I don’t know, Dominick,” I said.
“Please, call me Dom,” he said, taking a spot on the bench next to me.
“Ok, Dom,” I said. Dom! It sounded so intimate. “You run a great class, and your instruction is very helpful.”
“I’m sensing a but coming,” he said.
“But,” I said, gesturing emphatically, “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“What do you mean, Cynthia?” he said.
My stomach fluttered when he said my name. “I just…the poses can be very hard. For someone like me. I don’t look like the typical yoga practitioner,” I said.
“I’m not here to teach the typical yoga practitioner. I’m here to teach my students. You’re one of my students, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. His legs fell open and his knee brushed against mine.
Dancing Bearback (BBW Shifter Cowboy Western Romance) (Bear Ranchers Book 3) Page 67
