by Jade White
THE LION'S
SURPRISE BABY
A PARANORMAL PREGNANCY ROMANCE
JADE WHITE
Copyright ©2018 by Jade White
All rights reserved.
Get Yourself a FREE Bestselling Paranormal Romance Book!
Join the “Simply Shifters” Mailing list today and gain access to an exclusive FREE classic Paranormal Shifter Romance book by one of our bestselling authors along with many others more to come. You will also be kept up to date on the best book deals in the future on the hottest new Paranormal Romances. We are the HOME of Paranormal Romance after all!
* Get FREE Shifter Romance Books For Your Kindle & Other Cool giveaways
* Discover Exclusive Deals & Discounts Before Anyone Else!
* Be The FIRST To Know about Hot New Releases From Your Favorite Authors
Click The Link Below To Access Get All This Now!
SimplyShifters.com
Already subscribed?
OK, Turn The Page!
About This Book
Warning: This is a sex fueled paranormal romance featuring a curvy heroine and a hunky werelion. Please only read if these themes interest you. Only suitable for adults.
It had been a long time since Tara Phillips had slept with a man but a passionate night full of adventurous sex was just what she needed.
And it was just what she got when she met the smooth and handsome property developer Brenton Morgan whilst on vacation in California.
It was supposed to be a holiday fling which was why Brenton never revealed his secret shape-shifting lion side to her.
However, what was meant to be just one night would become much, much more 9 months later and life as they knew it would never be the same again...
Warning: This is a sex fueled paranormal romance featuring a curvy heroine and a hunky werelion. Please only read if these themes interest you. Only suitable for adults.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
“Are you glad you changed your mind about coming up?”
The insanely beautiful, excruciatingly handsome, breathtakingly muscled, long-haired man standing naked in the hotel suite with a huge erection as heart-stopping as the rest of him need not have asked the question. Tara Phillips was more than glad she had reversed the decision she had made after dinner at the hotel cafe and taken up Brenton Morgan on his proposition.
Looking at him in the low, dimmed and golden glow to which he had set the lights, his clothes at his feet, his erection fully clad in foreskin and descending towards his knees, and a smile on his shockingly boyish-handsome face that was a promise of everything he was about to do to her and how well he was going to do it, Tara was surprised both that she had initially turned down the offer and that he thought he had to ask if she were sorry. This was going to be one of those things that one would regret not doing.
It suddenly struck Tara that she was quite out of practice for this—about a year and a half out of practice. That was how long she had been a widow, and at the moment she was feeling every day of it. What she felt was not so much the grief as the gap—the eighteen-month gap in her sex life since George died. She understood that it could take a long time to grieve, to mourn, to get over the loss.
And for the last year of that gap, she had been mobile, traveling around, spending a week here and a couple of weeks there, and not wanting to form any intimate relationships. But her traveling was nearing its end, and now she felt ready. She had not been sure she was ready at first, but at the last moment she had reconsidered. Now, here she was—and there he was; all two hundred pounds of him packed into the awesome muscularity of that frame, and all nine and a half inches of him hanging down there, or so she guessed. And all of him was now stripped bare and about to come right at her after a widow’s “time out” of a year and a half.
Ready or not, Tara thought with a gulp, here he comes.
Tara was ready. She had to be ready. No way did she want to back out of this now.
She was sitting up against the pillows and headboard of the king-size bed in his suite. At this moment, Brenton was more naked than she was. She still had on her bra and panties. Brenton had shed everything. She sat perfectly still, like a little animal knowing that a predator had its eyes on her.
He climbed up onto the bed and began to move up the bedspread on all-fours, the predator closing in, not for the kill but for the conquest. That was the look that fixed itself on Brenton’s face—a look of conquest. Watching him crawl his way toward her, Tara knew she was about to be claimed, possessed—taken.
Brenton drew close to her, putting the rock-hard pillars of his arms on either side of her, enclosing her with his muscles. He brought his face to hers. The waves of hair that wreathed his head and fell upon his broad, sinewy shoulders were the color of golden straw, a subtle contrast to the sandy brown hair that tumbled onto Tara’s own shoulders.
His blue-green eyes shone like jewels into her own hazel pupils. He abruptly seized her mouth in a kiss that cut off the gasp of her reaction. Once their lips were together, she had no other reaction but to feel the tension flow out of her like water running into the drain of a warm bath. As he broke the kiss, she knew she was definitely ready now.
He ran the tips of his fingers over her shoulders. Tara had not neglected herself during her travels. She had conscientiously booked hotels that had gyms where she could work out, and she had used them as well as the swimming pools. She was almost as lean and tight and perfectly curved as she was on the night of her and George’s wedding. From the simmering smile on Brenton’s face, she could tell that he approved. His fingertips came to her cleavage, and traced the line where her bare skin left off and her bra began. His eyes lifted to hers again.
“Take off this f…ing bra and these f…ing panties,” he said, except he did not censor himself. He used a form of the word for what he meant to do to her. Brenton was going to be that kind of lover, the kind who brought the language of the bedroom with him to bed. Inside her chest, Tara felt her heart turn molten and pump fiery blood to her breasts, her loins—all of her. Brenton had been a gentleman at dinner at the hotel cafe. He would not be one now. Tara moved her hand to the hook of her bra, but at the last second Brenton took her hand and stopped her. “Never mind,” he said. “Let me.”
Tara relaxed as much as she was able to under the circumstances, and relinquished control to Brenton. Quickly and confidently, he released her breasts from her bra and tossed it over the side of the bed onto the floor. Then he did something that neither her boyfriends nor her husband had ever done. He backed up on the bed, took her by the thighs, and pulled her down from the headboard and pillows until she was lying prone. This time, she gasped audibly. Then she tingled all over as he continued a move that she had never experienced, and lowered his face to her waist—and took the waistband of her panties between his teeth.
Her eyes widening and her breaths deepening, Tara propped herself up on her elbows to watch Brenton pull down one side of her panties with his teeth, then the other. He worked his way down, from side to side, stripping away her final piece of clothing with the bite of his incisors, until he had her silken undergarment down to her knees. Then he sat up on his own knees and swiftly pulled her panties the rest of the way down her legs, and sent them the way of her bra, rendering Tara at last as naked as he.
&
nbsp; Brenton slid his hand up between her thighs, an unspoken command for Tara to open her legs for him, and she did, showing him her sex. His eyes appeared to sparkle all the more brightly in the low lighting of the suite. His smile broadened. His fingers reached the pink flower that awaited him at the junction of her legs. Brenton pulled open the petals of her flower and found her opening glistening for him. “Mmm, good and wet,” he said. “I’ll bet it’s tight in there too.” With his free hand he brandished the long, thick club at his own crotch. “Of course it’s always tight for me,” he added, and Tara knew it was no boast. “That’s why I like it good and wet, like this.”
Tara smiled an intoxicating smile at him. She felt giddy at his approval. She inhaled through pursed lips at the feeling of his fingers moving up from her entrance to her pubic hair, and sifting their way through it. “Nice muff too,” said Brenton. “Thick and soft. I love humping a soft muff. It’s going to be so good when I’m in you. But first…”
He descended on his elbows and lowered his face to her most private place. A new sensation, one she had gone without for all these months, washed over her; the feeling of his lips and tongue coming into play on her womanhood. The tension drained out of her body once again, and Tara fell back onto the bed, totally enjoying her helplessness against what Brenton was now doing between her legs.
She moved her head back and forth at the edge of the pillows, rocking from side to side with the licks of his tongue and the audible slurps of his mouth on her lady parts. He was sucking her deeply and drinking her nectar, filling her with delight at being sexually consumed. Tara reached down to his head and passed her fingers through the long, thick mane of his hair as he had done with her bush.
She gave out long, low groans of appreciation at the way Brenton ate her out. He was well- practiced at the art of orally pleasuring women, she could tell, and was bringing his full experience into play now. His tongue entered her channel and he French-kissed her sex, making her quiver. He sucked her folds, one at a time, then both together, then licked up and down between them, making her rise and fall on a series of waves of joy. He slid his tongue up between her folds and found her pleasure button.
A shock of delight surged through her, and Brenton seemed to sense it, for he flicked at it and teased it with the tip of his tongue, causing Tara’s whole body to vibrate. She clutched at his hair as if she were holding on for dear life, and felt as if she did not grab something the pleasure would make her go flying from the bed.
This went on, for how long neither of them cared, until Brenton took his mouth from her sex with a few final, savoring licks. He gazed up her body, at the dreamily ecstatic look on her face, and again used his bedroom language: “You taste f…ing good.”
Tara replied only with a long sigh, her body relaxing for the moment. She knew this would be only a fleeting respite.
“Lie there just like that,” Brenton said. “I’m going to feed myself to you.”
Her pulse quickened again with her understanding of what he meant. She spread her arms and lay otherwise still, letting him climb up her body and straddle her bosom. She took in the feeling of his full, round balls settling on her upper chest. With one hand Brenton lifted her head. With the other he moved the end of his erection to her face and pulled back the ample foreskin, exposing the round, blunt head and the eye that presented a bead of salty male sap. Tara put forth her tongue and licked the sap from his tip, and her eyes twinkled up at him, telling him that she liked the taste of him as well so far.
In the next moment she tasted all of him. He slid his length and thickness into her mouth until his instincts told him she had as much of him as she could take without gagging. In the back of her mind, as his pulsing head reached the back of her mouth, Tara was aware once again of how experienced Brenton was. He knew what to do with a woman. Now it was her turn to show him that she knew what to do with him.
All of her own bedroom instincts returned. She reached around his hips, grabbed his buttocks, and held on tight as he began to pump his hardened meat in and out of her mouth with exactly the perfect stroke. Brenton threw back his head and growled, “Yesss…grab my ass. Grab my ass just like that… Mmm… Uuuhhh…”
Tara synchronized her squeezing of his butt cheeks with the stroking of his tool between her lips and over her tongue. She was getting the full taste of him now, and had she not had her mouth full, she would have told him he was as delicious as he found her. She felt the parts of her being that she had put to sleep so long ago coming fully awake with the pumping of Brenton’s maleness in her mouth.
It was everything she had missed. It was everything she had almost forgotten how much she loved. Every perfect stroke, in and out of her mouth, back and forth, brought it all back to her. Brenton and his delicious, hard, thick erection were putting the last pieces of her life back in place. And from the way it throbbed on her tongue, Tara knew in what other place his own piece most wanted to be.
But that was not to be—yet. First there was one thing more. He slipped his length from her mouth and stared down lustily at her, commanding, “Suck my balls.”
Brenton leaned forward, braced himself with his hands against the headboard, and raised himself up higher on his knees, letting the man-fruits behind his member loom roundly into Tara’s face. He inched them closer to her, and she began by swirling her tongue broadly around their full and tender contours. They were soft and warm and lightly haired, and made her feel wonderful to put her tongue to them. “Suck ‘em!” he groaned loudly.
And Tara obliged. She took one fully into her mouth, to which he grunted, “Yes, suck it!” She caressed it with her tongue, then released it and did the same favor for the other. “Damn!” Brenton grunted on. “That’s it, suck ‘em!” And he hurled curses of rapture toward the ceiling, letting Tara consume the fruits of his sex as he had done the flower of hers. They were fleshy and delectable, and Tara squeezed at his buttocks while feasting on them, sending surges of pleasure into him to match the pleasure she took from him.
Carefully, tenderly, Brenton pulled himself back from her mouth and climbed back down her body. He spread Tara’s legs wide and positioned his moistened club of fleshy wood at the opening where he had licked and sucked. He moved the head of it up and down between her parted folds and over her pleasure button, sending Tara once again into waves of bliss. She moaned up at him, and in a smoldering voice he said down to her, “You want this in you? Hmm? You want me to stick this big hard piece of meat in you?”
Desperately, Tara intoned, “Yes…yes…” Oh, he was so wonderfully dirty-minded, more so than any other man she had ever known.
He continued to torture her sweetly, with the swiping of his hard-on up and down her glistening, quivering sex. “I knew you wanted to get screwed tonight. Tell me you want me to screw you. Tell me.”
Through a thickening fog of desire, Tara made herself moan, “Yes…please…please…”
Brenton obliged her. After one more sweep of his tool along her folds, he slipped it through them and all the way into her. He growled the “F” word yet again, filling her depths with his hardness. The sound of his voice mingled with her longest moan yet. Fully sheathed inside Tara, he lay atop her and completed his conquest.
He pinned Tara down by her wrists, making her the helpless captive of his hard, deep thrusting. Her barely restrained cries were not protests; they were pleas for more, for all that he had. And he gave it to her—every inch went into her with every thrust. It felt so uncannily good, it was all Tara could do not to scream—not that she could have screamed, with his lips hungrily and wetly capturing hers, and his tongue exploring her mouth where he had just been with what was now ramming hard and deep within her sex.
He banged Tara in a way that let her know what his tool and her opening and passage were meant for. He screwed her in a way that said to her that she was meant to be mounted by a body just like his and plunged into by a mass of meat like the one he gave her now. Tara bent and flexed her legs against
his thighs, moving with the rhythm of his fast, hard, almost brutal humping.
He tore his lips from hers and belted out a chorus of insanely ecstatic profanities, pounding on and on inside her. Tara imagined his length and thickness ramming its way in and out of her wet, tight, slippery tunnel. Her mind was as full of him as her sex was. Every stroke pushed her further towards a precipice of ultimate pleasure. Tara felt as if her soft skin were melting against the hard muscles of his body that pinned her down.
His muscles were as amazing as what was drilling her so hard and fast inside. Brenton felt like one enormous erection, lying atop her and pounding furiously inside her passage at the same time. That was what he became in her mind: one huge, breathtaking, conquering erection, pressing down on her, filling her with flesh and ecstasy.
Brenton’s instincts were unerring. He knew exactly how to bring it all to the perfect finish. With every stroke inside her, he now began to hold his crotch against her mound and move himself in circles against her tender little love handle. Tara whined and whimpered, knowing even in the frenzy of this hot and unbelievably wondrous humping what Brenton was doing to her.
