Bucking Bearback (BBW Shifter Cowboy Western Romance) (Bear Ranchers Book 5)

by Becca Fanning

  “I thought it was like ten and a half hours to Tahiti.”

  “It is if you flying commercial,” he said, looking over at her. “We ain’t flying commercial.”

  “No, we’re definitely not. So, like, whats up with this?” she asked, tapping the logo on his headset.

  “Oh. These…” he said, sighing. “It’s what Maxwell calls brand management. He thinks that some paparazzi is going to snap photos of me in the cockpit, so he thinks I should be wearing my Dragonwings when I fly.”

  “Dragonwings?”

  “Yeah…hey I didn’t come up with the name. It’s a little…” Dragon said, looking down.

  “A little…nerdy?” Iyesha asked, a grin forming.

  “Nah fuck that. I ain’t no nerd! Think I’m sittin’ in a basement with a bunch of twenty-sided dice or some shit?” he said, obviously perturbed.

  “Wait, what?” Iyesha squealed, “Twenty what?”

  “Never mind, just…never mind. I’m hungry. Why don’t you do something useful?” he said dismissively.

  “Umm, ok,” Iyesha said. Guess I found a nerve. Iyesha unbuckled herself and stood up, walking to the back of the cockpit. “What should I make?”

  Dragon’s upraised hand shooing her away was the only response she got.

  Iyesha stood in the jet’s kitchen. No expense was spared in the equipment. She only knew what half of these devices and utensils did, but anything she thought was associated with food was here. Gas range, refrigerator, oven, blenders, mixers, and a large device with copper tubes that looked like a mad scientist’s lab device.

  Iyesha was left with another problem. The shit I make comes out of a box and goes into a microwave. That was the one thing she expected that she didn’t see anywhere: a microwave. She opened the steel door of the refrigerator and was met with ingredients. Bundles of fresh vegetables, fruits and meats. There was even a drawer full of herbs.

  “Goddamn it,” she said. I can’t fuck this up too. I’m supposed to be caring for him, and so far I’ve helped him come into a sink and called him a nerd. Pushing some stuff around, she found a small brown package and unwrapped it. Inside was some pasta, fresh and soft. Ok, I can do spaghetti. I can fucking do spaghetti!

  “I can do spaghetti!” she cheered, thanking her good luck. She put the bundle of pasta on the marble countertop. She went through the cupboards, hoping to find a jar of tomato sauce, but no luck. Ok, I’ll have to improvise. She thought back to the countless mornings she’d lie in bed watching the daytime cooking shows, too lazy to change the channel. But she couldn’t think of any actual recipes. Nothing had stuck. If I could masturbate to those shows, I bet I’d have a damn catalogue of recipes in my head! Frustrated, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  The opening line of one of the cooking shows kept going through her head: keep it fresh and keep it simple. Keep it fresh and keep it simple. The first part was easy, everything around her was fresh. But simple…what could she do with that? She went back to the fridge and looked around. There were tomatoes, but turning those into a sauce would probably be disastrous. She looked at the door of the fridge and saw a few small bottles of oil.

  The first bottle she picked up had a handwritten label that identified it as olive oil from Spain, and that it had been cold pressed a few weeks ago. The other bottle was much smaller. It’s label also identified it as olive oil, but from Portugal. South American olive oil. Maybe it tastes better? It had more writing on it but her mind was made up. She put the smaller bottle on the counter. In another drawer she found a bunch of small bundles of cheese, and she sniffed each one until finding one that smelled like the powder in the green shaker bottle in the grocery store. This must be the parmesan.

  “Keep it fresh, keep it simple,” she said as she put a pan of water on to boil. Once the water reached a nice boil, she dropped the pasta in. Once it was done to her liking, she strained it out and put two small portions on plates. She opened the bottle of oil and poured it over the noodles, noting a fragrant musky odor. Portuguese olives are stinky! Grating a bit of the parmesan cheese over the plates of noodles, she found forks and walked the plates to the cockpit.

  Stepping into the cockpit, she saw Dragon fold a display panel down and slide it to the left. “I hope you’re in the mood for Spaghetti di Iyesha,” she said, holding out a plate to him. He hit a switch and the control stick pulled away from him. Large green letters blinked across the cockpit window: AUTOPILOT ENGAGED. He stood and took both plates, motioning her back out of the cockpit. “No food in the cockpit. We’ll eat in the lounge.”

  Back in the bar area, Dragon placed both plates on a table. He went to one of the chairs and pulled it out, looking at her expectantly. She scurried to stand in front of the chair and Dragon pushed it in for her. “Thank you,” she said.

  Dragon walked over to take his own seat. “Look, I’m sorry I blew up on you. Doing all this shit with the label and the clothing line has me on edge. But none of that is your fault. You didn’t deserve that,” he said, gathering up his fork and twirling a bundle of noodles onto his fork. He hefted them into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction.

  Iyesha beamed with pride. Yay! “It’s an old family recipe,” she lied. “Well, I had to improvise a little.” She began to eat her noodles. These are really good! I should open up a pasta place. The small portions on their plates didn’t last long. She grinned across the table at Dragon. Mmm…now that the appetizer is out of the way, time to have something more substantial.

  She pushed her seat back and ducked under the table. On her hands and knees, she crawled over to Dragon’s side of the table. She felt lightheaded, drunk on lust for this man. She looked down at his leather shoes, the supple brown calfskin and bold stitching along the sides. The white shoelaces were a stark contrast and were blazingly white.

  Her hands closed over his ankles, feeling the skin under his pants and the light curly downy hairs. Her fingertips brushed their way up his pant legs. She pulled the fabric of his pants taut and she saw the outline of his manhood pressed against his leg. It pulsed and grew half an inch while she watched. Her hand went to it, softly gripping it and giving it a squeeze through the thin wool of his pants. Her thumb stroked it near the base.

  A soft, lusty chuckle came from above her, Dragon obviously enjoying the after meal activity.

  She brought her mouth to his other leg and gently bit him. She smiled as she heard a sharp inhale up above. Her head swam. Must be the altitude. She nibbled her way up his thigh, her hand squeezing his cock every so often. Her face right in front of his crotch, she unzipped him and brought him out. His engorged length was still soft and pliable, and she brought him down to her waiting mouth.

  His head passed easily between her teeth, and she pressed further down until she felt his cock lodging itself against the back of her throat. She pulled back out, letting his spit covered cock hit the cool air of the lounge, which made it twitch towards her. “It knows where it wants to go. Must have a mind of it’s own,” she said before engulfing him again. Her hands massaged his balls through his pants, and she felt those tighten up after a few moments.

  She sped up her tempo, her mouth pulling back and jousting forward along his shaft.

  Dragon couldn’t hold back any more. With a grunt, his hips pushed upwards, bringing Iyesha’s head along for the ride. The top of her head bonked against the table, but before she could rub it, Dragon was flooding her mouth his with cum. He pulsed and pulsed, shooting hot sticky ropes all over her tongue. She swallowed it all, then squeezed him from the base of his cock to empty him into her hungry mouth. She kissed the head of his cock softly and crawled out from under the table.

  Standing up, Iyesha had to brace herself against the table. Down was up, up was down. She looked down at Dragon and saw him looking back at her. Their eyes locked. Iyesha felt her legs go weak and she needed to sit down. Her chair was impossibly far away, all the way on the other side of the table. Instead she just sat down in Dragon’s lap and nu
zzled his neck. She felt his half hard cock strain against her ass, but it was out of commission for the moment.

  “Damn girl, you are trouble,” he said, softly kissing her forehead. “All any man wants in this life is a good meal and a good nut. I’m going to have to be careful around you,” his hand idly stroking her leg. “I feel fuckin’ faded. Any more of that pasta left?”

  “Nope. We ate it all. I used that whole bottle of oil, though I guess the bigger bottle is still in there.”

  His hand on her leg stopped. “Wait, which oil did you use?”

  “The South American one,” she mumbled. Why is he still talking? This is snuggle time.

  “South American? Huh?”

  Iyesha sighed. “The small one from Portugal,” she said.

  “The one with the long label talking about dosages?” he asked, his temper rising. “Goddamnit!”

  “What? Who cares?” she said, forcing her eyes open.

  “That was dank oil. We’re high as fuck right now!”

  Iyesha tried to stifle a giggle but couldn’t. “Yeah, I guess we are. About thirty thousand feet high!”

  “And I have to land this plane.”

  Iyesha’s giggle died in her throat. Shit! “Well, it’s better than being drunk, right? We’re going to be fine, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing to smoke a pound of kush then land a twenty eight million dollar jet. Fuck!” He said, lifting her off his lap. His hands went out to brace himself on the table. He breathed in and out deeply.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” she said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. “I just wanted to make something nice for you. I should have paid better attention.”

  “Just kill that cryin’ shit right now. It won’t help,” he said, regaining his composure. “Like you said, it’s better than being drunk. Landing while faded is fucked up, but we’ll be ok.”

  “Yeah, it should be smooth sai-“ Iyesha began, but some kind of alarm buzzing from the cockpit cut her off. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Think its good?” Dragon mumbled, standing up and walking down the hallway back towards the cockpit.

  Iyesha followed, the hallway swaying in front of her like one of those carnival attractions. She closed her eyes and leaned up against the wall, feeling the smooth cold wall against her forehead. This is so comfortable. I should just take a nap. As her eyes closed, Dragon shouted from the cockpit.

  “Get up here now Iyesha! No fuckin’ around!”

  She pushed herself off the wall and stumbled into the cockpit. Her chair looked so nice. She just wanted to plop down into it, pull a blanket over her head, and wake up next year.

  Dragon was looking at the foldout display next to him. It looked like a weather radar.

  “That looks like a weather radar,” Iyesha said. “Holy shit, that’s a huge something.”

  “Yeah, a huge tropical storm,” Dragon said, rubbing his eyes and looking back at the screen. “Where the fuck did this come from?”

  “So, just go around it?”

  “It’s formed around us. The shortest path is to go through it,” Dragon said, massaging his temples. “Ok, I’m going to need your help. Sit down and buckle in,” he said, buckling himself in to his seat.

  Iyesha straightened and buckled herself in. Out ahead, she could see the clouds growing darker far below them. It didn’t seem problematic to her. We’re all the way up here. Who cares if there’s a storm below us? The whole jet dropped several feet, the restraints pulling Iyesha down into the seat. Back behind them, in the lounge, she heard their plates break and some other things fall.

  “Oh God we’re going to crash!” Iyesha screamed, her fingers digging into the armrests.

  “Calm the fuck down, it’s turbulence. It can be a huge deal, but that was nothing. Ok, you see that dial in front of you with the red outline?”

  Iyesha opened one eye and looked for the dial. “Yes, I see it.”

  “That’s the altimeter. What does it say?”

  “28,345 feet,” she replied.

  “Ok, you let me know if that goes below 28,000.”

  Iyesha shrieked as the jet began shaking and jostling back and forth. She clamped her eyes shut and let out this shrill moan.

  “Iyesha, open your eyes. I need you to pay attention.”

  “I just want to get safely back on the ground. Fuck planes forever. I’m taking a goddamn boat home!” Iyesha said, gritting her teeth and opening her eyes. “The stupid thing says 28,200.”

  “Damn, we losing altitude fast. You’re sure that’s what it says?”

  “Yes, I can read some goddamn numbers!”

  “Ok, ok, chill. I just needed to make sure,” Dragon said, easing the control stick into his hands. The large blinking autopilot notice stopped flashing on the windshield. “Can you blame me? You shoved a two thousand dollar towel into the trash chute. Ok, we gonna hit another patch soon. It’s gon’ get bumpy.”

  “Oh no, no, no, no. Please, please just get us there safely,” Iyesha mumbled, wiping tears out of her eyes. I don’t want to die like Richie Valencia and the Big Dipper! Wait a second. Something Dragon said nagged at her.

  “Hold on, wha-“ Iyesha began, but clamped her mouth shut as the plane dropped again. She looked at the dial. “Shit, it’s under 28,000 Dragon. 27,955. That’s bad?”

  “Yeah, that’s some bullshit right there,” Dragon said, pulling back on the control stick. “Hold on to your ass.”

  Iyesha’s hands resumed their kungfu grip of the armrests as the nose of the jet tilted up. The cockpit was rocked from side to side, like a small girl in a mosh pit. More things back in the body of the plane came loose and crashed to the floor. But then, as the jet climbed higher, the shaking stopped.

  Dragon let out a long howl as the jet leveled out. Glancing across his lap to the display, the tropical storm was now behind them. “We did it,” he said, smiling his perfect smile at her.

  Iyesha let out a cheerful holler and tried to embrace Dragon. She got about two inches closer to him before the buckled restraints yanked her back into her seat. Growling, she released the buckles and leapt over to Dragon, throwing her arms around him. She planted kisses on his neck and face. “Thank you thank you thank you,” she rapid fired.

  “Whoa, whoa, relax. We did it together. And we still have to land this thing, don’t forget that,” he said.

  She stopped kissing him when her old question came back to her. “Hey, before you said I put a towel down the trash chute.”

  “A fuckin’ expensive towel.”

  “Yeah…how did you know that?” she straightened and looked him in the eyes. He was spying on me! “You were spying on me!”

  “Hold up girl,” Dragon started.

  “Wait, that’s the little glass bubbles all over the jet? Your little spy cameras? You watched me in the bathroom?” Iyesha gasped, hoping she wasn’t overplaying her hand. “You watched me shower?”

  “Uhh…look the cameras are just there, they always on. I…” Dragon sighed.

  “You pervert.” Iyesha said.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

  “You horny little pervert,” she said, her hand going down to his groin. She grabbed his cock and gave it a squeeze. “You watched me clean my body after you used me like your little fuck doll and you were sitting up here, playing with yourself!” She felt his manhood throb at her accusatory language.

  “I wasn’t touching’ myself,” Dragon said, but he groaned as she squeezed his cock even harder. “Shit, ok, I was watching’ you. And I liked what I saw. Fuck it.”

  “Aha!” Iyesha exclaimed triumphantly. “What should we do with you, you little pervert? You just sat there earlier while I serviced you under the table. I think one good turn deserves another,” Iyesha said, sitting up from his lap. She spun around away from him and bent over, bracing her arms against the co-pilot’s chair. “Time to have your cake and eat it too.”