Buying a Mate (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Quick & Furry Book 8)

by Celia Kyle

  Because the bulge at the juncture of his thighs told her he really wanted to treat her like she was a present on Christmas morning.

  And it was a very big bulge.

  “No, there won’t be any presents. If you’ll follow me, I reserved a table in the back.”

  Taron barked out a laugh. “Sweetheart, this isn’t the kind of place that takes reservations.”

  She ignored him and turned on her heel, shoes clicking against the hard floor as she strode toward their booth.

  Their reserved booth.

  She easily slid into place and turned her attention to him, raising a single brow. She flicked her eyes to the small paper sign on the table and then back to him, a silent challenge.

  “I stand corrected then,” he murmured and settled in the seat across from her. “You’re one of those women who always gets her way, aren’t ya?”

  River carefully unrolled her silverware and then placed the napkin across her lap. She smoothed it into place, taking a moment to answer the imposing male. He was a shifter. He could scent her lie if the Internet was to be believed.

  So, she went for a partial truth.

  “Yes.”

  Yes, she always got her way… After she destroyed every ounce of opposition. Being a bastard Browning meant two things: 1. she was constantly challenged and 2. she learned the only way to conquer her challengers was to be smarter—and meaner—than her competition.

  That was why she always got her way.

  And in this negotiation, she had no doubt she’d win.

  She just had to remind herself jumping his bones as a signing celebration wasn’t allowed.

  Dammit.

  * * *

  Liar. Taron let the word roll through his head but didn’t say it aloud. She looked like she was ready to bolt any second and he needed her cash more than he needed her pussy.

  But hell, did he want it.

  She was temptation personified in that straight-laced dress and jacket with her hair done up all prim and proper. She looked like business-class, cast iron bitch all the way. They’d see how long that lasted. He bit back the lazy smile that wanted to crawl over his lips. She was the sort of challenge he liked. Especially when the deck was stacked in his favor.

  1. She needed an unsuitable shifter husband, and he was about as unsuitable as they got. Even down to eyeliner...hell, he’d worn worse before. The eighties...

  2. She was short on time. He was right here, ready and willing for anything she wanted. Anything she wanted.

  3. She was his mate, which meant he had to play this right.

  Wait, what? Dammit fuck. She was his mate.

  As soon as she’d entered the bar, which apparently was her idea of a clandestine meeting in a rough area of town, he’d known. Her scent wound around him like the steel jaws of a trap, holding him rigid as his dragon fought to be free. It roared in triumph, every instinct demanding he grab the female, hightail it out of there, and get her somewhere high and safe where they could claim her.

  Claim. Bed. Married. He had to shake his head to get the dragon back on track. After a few seconds, he’d been able to move, but still the damn thing wanted a look out his eyes at her.

  “Mr. Jones?” Her velvet-smooth voice brought him back to reality. She lifted her hand self-consciously to her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”

  He’d been staring.

  “It’s Taron.” He shook his head and then smiled to take the sting out of his brusque answer. Sometimes the dragon came through a little too much. “And no, not at all. I was over-awed by the vision of loveliness in front of me.”

  Her lips did this funny thing. Compressed then wiggled, like she was trying to hold in a laugh. Her eyes, honey-brown he realized, flashed with amusement. “Tell me, does that line work often for you?”

  Business-class with a high level of perception.

  “No,” he grinned, flicking her a glance out from under his hair. Automatically he tilted his head to the side so the white stripe, the only outward sign of his shame in human form, was in shadow. “I’m a dragon, we’re blunt. I’ll try and curb it.”

  She smiled, seeming to relax a little. “No. Blunt is good. We know where we are then. Stay blunt. Okay, what are you ordering? The menu looks good.”

  She actually seemed interested in his answer. He hid his surprise by pretending to study the menu. He already knew what he planned to order — the biggest steak they had. Maddox had advanced him some cash so it wasn’t like his expensive tastes would hit her in the wallet. If he was on his own, he’d have ordered three.

  He looked up, caught her with his gaze and let the dragon through a little. “You don’t want me to be as blunt as I want to be.”

  Her breathing caught, hitched a little, and the deliciously sweet scent of her arousal flooded the little booth. He bit back his groan and took her hand, feathering his thumb over her wrist. “Because right about now all I want to do is pull you into my lap and find out how much of a facade that suit is. I’m betting you’ve a healthy dose of naughty secretary under the cool-headed CEO thing you got going on there.”

  “Wh—”

  The look on her face was priceless. Shock. Outrage. Hunger. Desire.

  “So guys,” the bright bubbly voice of the waitress broke through their little moment. “You ready to order?”

  He watched as River snapped back, rebuilding the walls around herself he’d been busily tearing down. She snatched her hand back and looked up at the girl.

  “Yes, please. I’ll have the grilled chicken salad, no fries, no dressing. Taron?”

  He smiled, ignoring the hot look the little blond waitress was giving him from under her lashes. Give it up, doll. I’d snap you in a heartbeat. “The largest steak you got, doll-face. Just show it the flame and slap it on a plate.”

  “You got it, handsome.” She leaned forward, giving him a good view of her silicone-enhanced cleavage in what she obviously thought was a come-on. “Listen, I get off in an hour, if you’re not busy…”

  Fuck’s sake, humans were so self-centered and fucking rude at times. And the females could be more vicious than dragons. He could taste River’s distress as she pretended to study the dessert menu as though the other woman hadn’t practically spread herself over the table in offering.

  “I am very busy.” His voice was cold and hard as he reached out to snag River’s hand again. “I’ll be taking my fiancée home.”

  Both women’s eyes widened and the waitress flounced off. Her muttered comment about his parentage and sexual predilections was easy for his shifter-enhanced hearing to pick up. At least she hadn’t made a comment about River. She could insult him all she liked, but a word about his newly discovered mate would have to be dealt with swiftly and ruthlessly.

  “Dragons also tease,” he advised her softly, totally ignoring the scene with the waitress, and lifted her hand so his lips were against her soft skin. God, she smelled so good it made him wonder how she’d taste. His dragon felt the same and he lapped at the soft flesh between her knuckles, forked tongue teasing the sensitive spot. He didn’t miss the way her fingers clenched or the hitch in her breath. She wasn’t unaffected. Good.

  With reluctance, he let go of her hand. He’d pushed hard enough and it was time for a tactical retreat. “So, boss, you tell me, how we playing this?”

  Chapter Three

  How were they playing things? River had Taron standing in her entryway, duffel bag at his feet, and she still didn’t know. She hadn’t quite gotten past the drooling stage, and yet, two days after meeting, she somehow found herself with a dragon in her penthouse condo, ready to move in.

  Hell, since his whole life fit inside one duffel and said duffel rested on the gleaming marble, he’d already moved in.

  To her condo.

  With her.

  All the sexy. In her condo.

  But she wasn’t going to touch. She had to remember that. Even if everything in her begged to cue up “Let’s Get it On” by Marvin
Gaye.

  One year of marriage. One year of celibacy. One year of nights spent with her battery-operated boyfriends.

  One year. One year. One year.

  Right. She could do this.

  “Boss?”

  Her attention snapped back to Taron and she realized she’d been staring at his, uh, package. “Uh, what?”

  Like only the sexiest of men could do, he quirked a single brow and then added one of those smirks that had her panties growing wet, and she jerked her gaze from his.

  “Just wondering how this is gonna play out. We talked about me moving in.” He slowly came forward, his heavy boots thumping against the stone floor. River shuffled back, attempting to keep space between them. “But we didn’t talk about where I’m sleeping.”

  “Uh…” The color of his eyes slipped from one to the next, changing hues as his dragon slithered forward and then retreated. She continued her backpedal, not wanting him to get too close. If he got his hands on her, if he licked and tasted her again, she’d be lost. Lost. With a capital L and a lowercase I will mount you like a pony.

  Which, now sounded a little weird in her head and she refused to latch onto the imagery.

  Taron continued his approach as she shuffled away. At least, until her ass collided with the lovely accent table in the hallway, cutting off her retreat.

  Then he was there, heat bathing her front without truly touching her. Oh, he was close, all that warmth a mere inch from her body, but they didn’t come into contact. “I was wondering where I’ll lay my head at night.” He leaned forward and placed one hand on the table. “Am I crashing on the couch?” He placed the other on her opposite side, bracketing her. “In a guest room?”

  Taron lowered his head, lips hovering over hers and she had absolutely no desire to jerk away. “In your bed?”

  They shared air, drawing each other’s scents in. She didn’t have the abilities of a dragon, but there was no missing the cinnamon and heat that filled his every breath. It touched her, resonating deep within her body and it answered the call with a low, internal whine. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t a solid identifiable place inside her, but that didn’t stop the need, the… desire.

  Yes, she desired him. Him. Taron Jones. The… man she hired to marry her.

  She should pull away. She should push him away.

  She would… in a second. Just one more moment, just one more breath of closeness that would have to carry her through a year of loneliness.

  “How about inside you?” he whispered the words, deep and husky and with more than a hint of his own need.

  River licked her lips, mouth dry at the idea of having him deep within her. Her tongue flicked his lips, a taste. Yes, cinnamon sweetness with a hint of his musk. She salivated at the idea of sampling more of him, of nibbling him from head to toe, of having his mouth on her body.

  “I don’t think…”

  I don’t think I want to.

  I don’t think this is a good idea.

  I don’t think I can resist you.

  Taron didn’t back off, and in fact, remained in place. His heat bathed her, his ever-changing eyes boring into hers. He finished closing the distance between them, his cloth-covered body snug against hers. Chest to chest, hip to hip, his cock pressed tightly to the juncture of her thighs, hinting at the pleasure she could find with him.

  Normally she’d tell a man to go to hell, to get out and never call her again. Who did he think he was? They hardly knew each other and here he was trying to…

  He wasn’t trying to do anything. He was doing.

  He was kissing her; tongue lapping at her lips and then she opened for him, letting him inside. He tasted her, caressing her mouth, and she couldn’t stay still. She returned the favor, teasing and tempting him with her attentions. Her nipples pebbled as her arousal blossomed, body yearning for Taron. Begging for more and whining that it wasn’t enough.

  Taron’s bulge was hot and hard, branding her with his desire, and she couldn’t have stopped her next move had she tried. And well, she didn’t try. She wanted the friction, the extra caress that came with rocking her hips. She rolled them, teasing him with the small movement, and taunting herself as well. Her pussy clenched, mind imagining the feel of him inside her, stroking her sheath with his long, thick cock.

  He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her plump flesh, and controlled her movements. He encouraged her to shift this way and then that way, increasing the pressure only to have him ease away. They imitated what she desired so desperately. Fucking. Hot. Slow. Fast. Burning… He made her burn.

  Perhaps the place for him wasn’t on the couch or in the guest room. It was beside her—inside her. Over and over again.

  Her pussy clenched, body telling her that was the perfect answer. Her clit twitched and he seemed to know she needed more pressure there. He tore at her pencil skirt, snatching the fabric and tugging until the small slit at the back parted and gave them more space.

  River found herself perched on the decorative table in the entryway, Taron easing between her spread thighs, hands snatching, pulling and tugging at her skirt. His cloth-covered cock fit snugly against the barrier of her panties, but there was no missing the wetness on the bit of silk and lace, nor did she miss the insane heat that unfurled from his body.

  Heat. True heat. Proof of his dragon’s presence and she… loved it. Relished it. Reveled in it. The parts of her that called for Taron screamed she should go further, take more from him, take all of him.

  And River…

  “Oh. My. God.”

  River wanted to kill the owner of that voice.

  * * *

  His gorgeous curvy mate’s sudden stiffness and the harsh scent of distress flooding the air were the only things that kept Taron in place. His need to protect and shield her overrode his first instincts. His dragon roared in fury, wanting to turn, transform just enough of his body and roast whoever had interrupted them.

  He didn’t. Instead he changed his position slightly so River was mostly concealed behind his body and whispered his lips over her neck.

  “Friends of yours, baby girl?” he rumbled, making sure to add enough dragon in his voice so his status as a shifter was unmistakable. At the same time he allowed his scales to ripple over his skin and spread down his arms to coat his human flesh.

  She’d wanted to parade an unsuitable mate in front of everyone, so he was going to make damn sure she got it.

  “Yes!” she squeaked, then… “No! Family. Kind of.”

  He paused enough to scent the air. The scent was close to his mate’s yet off a little. “Sisters?”

  “Half,” the voice behind them announced, the tone cool and imperious — totally at odds with the level of her sexual interest he could scent in the air. Not that he cared. He had his mate in his arms and once a dragon found his mate, all other women paled in comparison.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, River? In the hallway of all places. Where anyone could see you?”

  “Theresa,” River started, but he cut her off with a chuckle, rubbing his chest against her breasts. Those hardened nipples branded him through the thin cloth covering his chest and the knowledge that he’d aroused her satisfied his dragon. Deliberately he nuzzled the soft spot under her ear and slid his hand up her thigh. He stroked the lace edge of her panties.

  Yeah, they were in the hallway. Inside the hallway of River’s condo.

  “Come on, baby girl. She could only have gotten in with a key and maybe she’s into watching…”

  River squeaked, a red flush hitting her cheeks hard and fast as his fingertips slipped under the damp fabric of her panties. The first brush of his fingertips between her slick pussy lips almost unmanned him. His cock throbbed, straining against his jeans. He wanted nothing more than to free his dick and sink into her pussy in one fierce thrust. He was caught by his own deception, desperate to get the sister gone so they could finish what they started.

  Fuck. Claim. Mine.

&nbs
p; She simply didn’t know it yet.

  “Who the hell is this… person, River?” Theresa demanded.

  He looked over his shoulder to find a stuck-up looking woman framed in the doorway with her arms folded and a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp.

  “This is…” River wheezed and he stroked her again, teasing around her clit. Her slick cream coated his skin and he ached to taste her, have her juices flow over his tongue. “Ohmygod, Taron...stop it!” she hissed, glaring and trying to move his hand. Not happening. He’d found heaven. He sure as hell wasn’t leaving now. “This is Taron...my…”

  He grinned and stroked again, wanting her off balance. Wanting her nice and hot and wet. Screw the sister. She could watch if she wanted. He had to claim River. Now.

  “TaronJonesmyfiancewe’regettingmarriedinthreedays,” she said all in a rush and pushed him. Hard. Her glare warned him he’d be sleeping on the couch, perhaps the balcony, if he didn’t behave.

  He absorbed the shove without effort and pulled his hand away. Taking a half step back, he turned, still concealing River with his body so she could put her clothing right and looked down at the stuck-up bitch currently trying to look down her nose at him. Kinda hard to do when he was over a foot taller than her.

  He brought his damp fingers to his mouth, lapped at the digits, and moaned with the salty sweet flavors that slid over his tongue. His dick throbbed, straining against his zipper and he was this close to turning back to River and stripping them both. He’d sink into his mate over and over again, her half-sister be damned. But the soft rustle of cloth reminded him his mate probably wouldn’t appreciate a rough fuck against the wall and the scent of her distress was unmistakable.

  Which meant he had to draw the woman’s full attention.

  “She liked it so much she plans to put a ring on it,” he grinned. He didn’t see the stuck up Theresa as someone who’d let loose with a little Beyonce, and the confusion on her face told him she was definitely lost.

  “You...she…” Bitch-sister blinked, obviously struggling with the reality she now found herself in. “You’re a dragon.”