Breakwater: Hyde (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) (Star Bears Book 4)

by Becca Fanning

  Elle was lightheaded again as they kissed, and this time the honey beer had nothing to do with it. He pulled her into himself. She could feel him growing hard, thick, aroused for her... His heat, his solidity, making it known on no uncertain terms how he yearned for her love in that moment... And who the hell was she to deprive such a passionate lover of that which he craved so dearly?

  It was all moving so very, very fast. Elle was not the type of girl to give into such impulses. Her relationships never made the progressed this fast. But he was ravishing her, pressing his body against hers... Sliding his hands all over her, squeezing her breasts right out here in the open, and she was starving for his flesh as his kisses ran down along her neck.

  The tit grabbing was particularly damning, as splendid as it felt to have him touch her in that way. She wondered whether the privacy of the forest better allowed for such rendezvous. Whether perhaps they enabled such unexpected dives into passion to take place without disruption. It was no big deal for shifters to walk around naked in one another's presence, after all...

  As swept up in the moment... As lost, in Nate's touch as she was just then... There was still that practical part of her brain taking over in the back of her head. And she forced herself to pull away from him in that moment. Not completely, of course, as his kisses continued to rain down along her throat. But enough for her to be able to reach into her pocket and fumble for her keys. Pushing them into the door and unlocking the thing with a tremendous effort... Then at last pushing it wide open, and whisking Nate inside, sealing the two of them into the private sanctuary of her home.

  They hit the bed hard, giggling as they bounced upon its soft surface. Elle still couldn't believe she was giving herself over to a man, a bear shifter, no less. But just then she found herself not caring all that much about propriety. Or pacing herself. Or anything at all, for that matter, other than giving into her deepest, most desperate carnal desires... Nate was stripping out of his shirt, his pants, his naked body now far more arousing now that it wasn't being torn apart by Roland. He was massive, powerful, draped with hair all over, in a manner that made him seem animalistic. And his penis, she now saw, was tremendous. Long and veiny, its erect form making her mouth water, and her skin burning as he proceeded to undress her in the moonlight.

  She loved the feeling of his hands, swimming across her body, her stomach her breasts, with the removal of her shirt and pants. He struggled with undoing the clasp of her bra. She helped him out, eager for things to get underway. He showed his gratitude for this act of kindness, then, by seizing her soft, silky breasts in his firm, large hands. He squeezed them, filling her with pleasure and making her crave more.

  He slid his hands down, down, down between her legs. He hooked his fingers beneath her panties, and causing her to gasp out in pleasure as he began to rub her tenderly. His grip was precise... Perversely skillful despite the apparent hugeness and clunkiness of his digits. His touch, however, was nothing. Or at least not compared to the moment when he slid her from those lacy little panties altogether... And then he surprised her one step further by sinking his head down between her thighs.

  Her eyes went wide, and then shuddered closed. She attempted to contain herself through the long, wet waves of pleasure. He licked her tenderly, sliding his tongue through her pussy. Lapping up her insides and licking her as though she were the most flavorful of delicacies. Her spine flexed and her limbs trembled as she let out light, feminine whimpers. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe as the pleasure swelled. Forcing her, in her ecstasy, to let her knees fall around his bobbing, lapping head, trapping him. Pulling him further, further, further in... Until at last she cried out in orgasm, body heaving with pleasure, and her head spinning.

  Gradually, her knees unbent. Her buttocks unclenched, and she relinquished her beautiful oral lover from her grip. He came away from between her legs with a smile on his lips, and then moved his face forward, planting a kiss on her panting mouth. She tasted herself on him, and somehow this filled her with a feeling of intense intimacy. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and began to squirm as once again he proceeded to finger her cunt. Sliding his grip along through her, limbering her up, getting her wetter and wetter and wetter... All in preparation for the glorious finale that was about to unfold.

  At last, she was ready, and he seemed to know, at the right moment. He slid his hands around both of her ankles. He pushed them upward, spreading them wide apart, and pinning her knees up around her head.

  He lifted his body up over her, mounting her, sliding his erect penis up and down against her a few times. He did this almost teasingly, and she bit her lip, readying herself as best she could. He took one hand from off of her knee, and used it to place his tip just inside her. Then she squeaked, as he began to plunge himself inside her. He buried his cock up deep, deep, deep into her pussy, sliding inch after inch after inch of himself inside her... Until at long, long last he was buried, his shaft wholly consumed in the tight wet pinkness of her folds, and she let out a tremendous sigh of passion. Stretched out, overloaded, and so wholly aroused in that moment that she could hardly see straight.

  And he began to hump, to thrust, to fuck her powerfully. His ass began to lift, to strike, to push in toward her body, his pelvis slamming forward into her. Their wet, fully aroused genitals smashing together... Building up a dreadful friction as he pounded her mercilessly. Each thrust was more brutal than the last, their bodies resounding with a series of booming claps!

  She was moaning, crying out at the top of her lungs, every muscle tensed as he destroyed her... His animalistic fury, surpassing even her wildest expectations... And every nerve in her body stretched to breaking with pleasure, when at last, with one final blow, he hurled himself down inside her like a hammer. Both of them, in a splendid moment of ecstasy, were sent spiraling over the edge.

  He began to cum wildly inside her, filling her with a thick, molten substance that was sweeter than honey beer by far. His seed spilled from her body in its thickness and its abundance. And Elle, then, was set alight with orgasm in return. Climax, gripping her from head to toe. Her screams ear piercing. Her fingers curling into the sweat soaked bed sheets, and stars flashing before her eyes... She drifted back down to Earth, and he at last pulled out of her, evoking an immense, trembling sigh of relief.

  The two of them tenderly drifted off, happy and content, wrapped up in the tightest of bear hugs.

  Bearly Tamed

  Big Paw Security Book I

  by

  Becca Fanning

  Linnie Foster felt like she needed a cigarette. She’d never smoked, but in the movies, this seemed like the sort of situation where you’d have a cigarette. It was a nerves thing. They calmed your nerves, right?

  The motel room she was trapped in seemed tiny, even though the police had upgraded her to a double. Pastel shapes covered the peeling wallpaper. Were they once flowers? This motel didn’t seem like the kind of place that rented rooms by the week very often; Linnie suspected they were usually leased by the hour.

  One of the two detectives, Parker, was a heavy set, wide-shouldered man. He was the one currently keeping watch at the window. Parker would pull the curtain back and glance out into the parking lot every time a set of lights drifted past the window. He seemed to suffer from a chronic digestive disagreement, often putting a hand to his stomach and grimacing. He did it with such a passive automation that he probably no longer noticed. His stomach gurgled again. “Hurg,” he said, rubbing his stomach like a genie lamp.

  The other detective, a woman named Longheim, had a severe, angular face. She sat in a chair beside the window with her elbows resting on her knees. She was trying to look focused, but mostly looked tired. She was fidgeting with a pack of worn playing cards, fanning them open and loudly shuffling them together. She never drew a card or even looked at them. Just fan, bridge, shuffle. Fan, bridge, shuffle.

  The image of two detectives protecting a valuable witness was what kept Linnie t
hinking about how much she needed a cigarette. It would complete the look to have a plume of smoke floating up from her cigarette. Maybe she could sit near one of the table lamps and dramatically turn it on when…what? What did she think would happen? The waiting felt like it had stretched from hours into long days; the quiet tension hung in the air.

  Linnie’s thoughts drifted to young Brandon, the image of him looking up at her as he clung to her leg. She could vividly remember the boy’s haunted eyes looking at her from behind his mother’s skirt. Brandon’s drawings were so disturbing; so much black and red, bodies with their limbs akimbo, often eyeless. He was a good boy. He was still a good boy, but for how much longer? How long can you be around that kind of family before it seeps into you, corrupting you from inside? Until all you know is an oath you’ve sworn and a ring you’ve kissed.

  She could recall conversations she overheard from the next room, dark and stern. Codes when they were careful and outright abhorrent things when they weren’t. That’s when the generous cash bonuses came. When she’d agreed to become Brandon’s nanny, she had never heard of the Accardi family. She had gone to school for early childhood education; she’d been excited to be hired as Brandon’s nanny. So much potential in that little scrunched up face.

  But that seemed like forever ago. By the time Linnie went to the police, she had learned more than she’d ever wanted to know about the mob and was terrified of what might come next. There was only one code in organized crime: you don’t snitch. Bad things happened when you did. Final things.

  The casualness of the process had thrown Linnie for a loop. She thought it would be like in the movies. Like a femme fatale in East Berlin, she’d pass an envelope to a detective on a bus bench. Then she’d be whisked away under heavy guard to some place safe and far away.

  Instead, she got called in to the station where a bored lieutenant filled out a form at the front desk. A guy next to her was screaming at the desk sergeant because he wouldn’t dispatch a patrol car to investigate a broken car window. A line formed behind her. A line, like it was the bank on payday.

  If justice was anything, it was slow. Slow, deliberate and full of paperwork. What came next seemed to be long waits in crappy motel rooms as the district attorney waited for a court date. And of course, it was an election year for some bureaucrat, so every action had to be weighed against political cost. The police hadn’t let Linnie out of their sight for three weeks, and that made for very few trips out of the motel room. She’d begun to go a little stir-crazy. These rooms never got HBO.

  Now, here she was, waiting to be handed off to another set of detectives. She sighed deeply, and Longheim looked over at her. The cards paused their endless dance.

  “You okay?” the detective asked, the fatigue heavy in her voice giving way to annoyance.

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” Linnie stood up and walked over to the bathroom. She didn’t have to go, but she knew she was sick of just sitting around waiting for the handoff to come. She closed the bathroom door behind her and examined her reflection in the mirror, and sighed again. She looked worn, stretched … and tired.

  Linnie heard a knock at the hotel room’s door. Through the bathroom door, she heard muffled voices; Parker and Longheim, and then … another voice she recognized. She sighed, and blinked at her image in the mirror, and then ran a hand over her face. The voice was Martin Clarke, the district attorney. Maybe there was finally a court date?

  When Linnie exited the bathroom, she found that there were now six people in suits packed into the small double room. There were Longheim and Parker, plus Mr. Clarke, but the other three were new. Compared to the detectives, their suits looked expensive, and tailored.

  One of the strangers swiveled his head to look at Linnie, and tilted his dark sunglasses to look over them at her. Linnie felt both a thrill and a chill pass through her, as the man’s glittering, golden eyes locked with hers from beneath a cowboy hat.

  She’d heard of them, of course; the Shifters who lived alongside and among humans. She’d never met a Shifter before, though. The sharp-dressed man’s eyes narrowed, noting Linnie’s surprise. Did he…did he just sniff the air?

  “Linnie.” Martin said. He sounded worn out, exhausted. “I’ve got some people here I’d like you to meet. This is Clive, that’s Cain, and this is Marcus.” He indicated the three well-built men standing between him and the door. Each of them was wearing long coats and dark glasses with somber expressions.

  Linnie nodded, without extending her hand. “Pleasure to meet you all. Martin, are we...”

  “There’s been a problem.” Martin said, his eyes darting around the objects in the room. He always did this, like one day he’d see a cobra on the nightstand and jump back in time. “Somewhere in my office, there’s been a leak.”

  Linnie felt her blood run cold and her stomach turn somersaults. “A…leak? What the fuck do you mean? How the hell does that happen? Oh God. Oh God…what does that mean?”

  “There’s a…good chance that members of the Accardi family have isolated our source.”

  Through the cold chill of her fear, Linnie felt the red-hot burn of anger. “You son of a bitch.” She resisted slapping Martin, but only just barely. She turned away, so that he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. “You told me my name would stay out of this. That when all of this, all of this would be over, and I could…”

  “The situation’s changed, Linnie, and…and I’m sorry.” Martin said, holding his voice steady. “But, the Accardi are obviously on edge. They’re afraid of what you might know. This puts us… honestly, Linnie, this puts us in a great operating position. They’re nervous, and their power structure is shifting. This is a great opportunity for us to…”

  Linnie glared at Martin, and he grew quiet under her withering stare.

  Parker spoke up. “So who are you guys?” he asked, gesturing towards the three men in dark suits that had entered with Martin. “You ain’t cops.”

  Martin half-turned. “Because of the…high-profile nature of this prosecution, and the unknown nature of this leak, we’ve been able to access some, uh, unconventional resources. These gentlemen are…third-party experts with regards to witness protection. They’re going to be taking over Linnie’s care, to ensure she stays safe. This is Cain DuMont, Linnie, and he-”

  Linnie shook her head in disbelief. “You people. So, I’m supposed to go with …”

  The man Martin called Cain interrupted Linnie’s sentence, interjecting to say, “Ms. Foster, I understand your concerns, and we definitely should discuss it. But now is absolutely not the right time.” Cain stepped, reaching out to take Linnie’s hand. Like a warm vice, his grip was strong and somehow comforting.

  Martin opened his mouth to say something, but a firm look from Cain cut him off.

  “Now” Cain continued “...is time for you and I to leave.”

  Linnie looked at her hand, held in Cain’s. His hands were wide and steady, and the feeling of him holding her hand reassured Linnie. She felt safe, or at least safer, with Cain holding her hand. And those eyes…God, those eyes!

  After a pause, she nodded, and Cain motioned towards the door with his head. He then turned, saying, “Clive, you’ll…?”

  “We’ll get everything squared away,” Clive answered, while Linnie and Cain headed out the door.

  A few wordless minutes later, Cain was pulling his black SUV away from the parking lot, with Linnie seated beside him. He moved methodically, practiced training making everything he did automatic.

  Linnie wondered if that was some kind of soldier training? Or maybe because he was a Shifter? She glanced out the windshield at the lights of the city. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. Is there any chance we could stop off at my place? I need some clothes, and…”

  Wordlessly, Cain shook his head no.

  “There’s things I need there! Shirts, maybe some…underwear,” Linnie said.

  Cain adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, a
nd seemed to ignore the question. He licked his lips and kept his eyes on the traffic. Not just the cars and where they were. He was looking at the people in the cars. Some cars he would just glance past. But any car that held a group of men earned his stare.