She transformed then and his fingers found themselves among the long strands of black hair that cascaded down her back. Her naked form stood before him: round, ivory breasts accented with rose-pink buds which grew hard in the cold air.
Between her legs, a strip of groomed black hair leading Nash’s eyes to the delicate pink that just poked out from between her lips.
“My God,” he said, his eyes caressing her. “I still don’t know where to start with you. I want my mouth on every part of you at once.”
“So start with my lips,” said Cecile.
Nash kissed her tenderly, his hands slipping around behind her and settling on her lower back, pulling her in towards him so that he knew she could feel his hardening length press against her.
The tiger shifter knelt in front of Nash and slowly, gently opened his jeans and pulled the elastic waist of his boxers down, revealing first the round, engorged head of his cock then his impressive shaft. She looked up at him and her expression reminded him of a child who’s just discovered the first snow of the winter.
“You look pleased,” he said. His mind was reeling at her aggressive behaviour; her ability to take control at all times. From the first day he had seen a confidence in her that he’d never known in a woman, and though he knew that she had uncertainties in her own life, he worshiped her for her knowledge of herself; of what she wanted.
“I am pleased,” she replied before landing a soft kiss on the sensitive tip. “I am.”
More kisses, and occasionally her tongue licking at him, gathering the drops of clear liquid that signalled his desire. Nash stood, holding his shirt up, watching her stroke him with both hands. He could feel his balls tighten under her gaze and knew that this woman could make him explode in seconds if he allowed her.
“This isn’t right,” he said.
“I strongly disagree,” she replied, her tongue landing on him now in long strokes. “This is the most right of anything I’ve ever seen or done.”
“I need to get at you.”
Nash stared down at her naked body, her white breasts jutting out, soft orbs with delicate pink buds. He reached a hand down and delicately squeezed the left one, his fingers making their way to the nipple, which he pinched and pulled, lengthening it as Cecile moaned.
Her mouth was wrapped around him now and he felt her suck, her full lips enveloping him utterly. Nash reached down and offered the same treatment to her right breast, knowing that he was probably making her pussy very wet. He could tell from the reaction of her tight nipples that they were sensitive, and from her voice that he was on the right track.
“I feel like you were designed to be fucked,” he said. “Your body was made for sex.”
Her light eyes made their way up to his face. “This,” she said, grasping his cock, “was made for sex. It was created to be inside me. Remind me to write a thank you note to whomever was responsible.”
“My parents will be delighted to receive your thank-you card.”
Cecile laughed as Nash slid his hands over her arms.
“Come here,” he said. “Stand up for me.”
She obeyed, reluctant to leave her new toy behind. And as she stood, Nash allowed his hand to trail down her soft belly. She pulled it inwards, and he said, “Don’t. Never. Your curves are perfect.”
Now it was his turn to kneel, and he did so, his hard cock sticking out directly in front of him as he landed kisses on her white flesh. He began with her belly, kissing his way to her right side and then back to her left, and gently nuzzled her breasts with his nose. She gasped, and took her right breast in her hand, offering it silently to him.
Nash understood immediately and straightened his body, taking her firm nipple between his lips. With his right hand he moved down her torso and flicked it gently over her soft pink lips as his left slid over her left nipple, hardening it to match the right.
“God, the way you make me feel…” she said.
Nash let out a groan as his cock seemed to grow ever harder. The word “horny” didn’t even begin to cover this. This was beyond sexual desire; beyond carnal pleasure. This was a craving for another being. A need to engulf, to consume, to be one again.
“You are mine,” she continued, her voice strained as he ran his tongue over one nipple then the other, “I feel like we were meant to be together, Nash. I know it now, even.”
“Yes,” he said, coming away for a moment. “We were. I’ve known since early on. And I’ve fought it, Cecile. Because of your father and your life.” He stood and took her in his arms. “But I can’t and won’t fight it anymore. Everything I’ve done is to get closer to you. To prove myself. To win you.”
“I know.”
Cecile found herself pulling at the buttons on his shirt, virtually tearing it from his body as she revealed his muscular form to her own eyes. Each time she beheld him was just as wondrous as it had been in the valley the first day they’d met.
“There,” he said, “Now we’re even. Both naked. But I need to do something.”
He guided her by the hand to the cot and sat her down, then knelt once more before her. He thrust a hand between her knees and spread her thighs apart. Cecile cried out in pleasure and in pain. Nash, it seemed, nearly had her doing the splits.
“You are so gorgeous,” he said, his eyes fixed on the glistening pink between her legs.
Cecile put her hands behind her for support as Nash dove in, his mouth first kissing the white of her upper thighs and then teasing her, briefly landing on her clitoris before moving off. Each time he did this she let out a soft cry. It was as though he’d found new nerve endings that no one else had ever revealed to her.
She watched as his tongue settled in, extending from his mouth and stroking her slit, then flicking from side to side over her delicate clit. Looking down, she saw her full breasts and rock-hard nipples frame the image of the perfect man eating her out. She was trapped in this cabin, and yet this cabin was heaven.
At first Nash stroked lightly, reminding Cecile what it felt like to be treated with gentleness, and then his motions became more urgent. With his right hand he found her opening, sliding a finger in before pulling it out again. Cecile felt him suck on her firm pink bud and she let out moan after moan as she watched, wishing that the man could be inside her and eat her at once.
Then his finger began to explore its territory, locating the delicate opening below her slit and easing its way in. No one had ever done this and the act struck Cecile as so intimate as to be almost unbearable.
“Oh my God,” she moaned as she felt him inside her. “That’s so good.”
Nash let out a soft groan of his own as he let two more fingers slide into her pussy. Cecile wanted to cry out as he penetrated her in two places at once, his tongue easing its way around her swollen flesh. She didn’t know what felt better: the tongue, the fingers or the combination.
“I feel so selfish,” she said, her chest heaving. “I never want you to stop.”
“I…never…want…to…stop,” he replied between sucks. He pulled away for a moment. “You’re my breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack. I would eat you for years, you delicious, sexy thing.”
With that, he proceeded, a gentleness to him that was astonishing. The very tip of his tongue landed on her clitoris, stroking it as though it were a cloud that would dissipate if he touched it too hard. His fingers remained inside, occasionally reminding her of their presence with a gentle thrust, but it was his mouth that worked its magic on her now. At times his lips would come to meet his tongue and he would squeeze her softly, his tongue issuing a flick that made her body leap with pleasure.
Cecile sat, her head back, eyes closed, sometimes opening them to look down. Her nipples were pink stones framing the perfection between her legs. She could see Nash’s muscles, tight as he worked her. And yet he looked relaxed, and this relaxed her in turn.
With her right foot she explored the area around his legs, searching for his body. And finally, she found it: his long, thick
cock, lying in wait, hard and eager. Her toes stroked it gently and she heard him groan as he ate her. And as she felt its size her pussy tightened and ached in anticipation of what was surely to come.
Nash began to rhythmically thrust his fingers into her, with a slowness which matched his spiraling tongue. As he did so, Cecile sat upright, her fingers going to her sensitive nipples and flicking over their tips in recollection of the feeling of his mouth on them. If only he had four or five mouths, like he’d talked about, she thought. And yet this man didn’t need them. His one was perfection.
She could feel herself grow wetter as he went at her, the sensation of his mouth making her ever more eager for him to find his way inside her and to entwine himself with her at last.
It was this thought that finally sent her over the edge, her body convulsing in waves of pleasure as his fingers pushed deeper inside her, feeling her contractions as she let out a series of quiet murmurs. “I’m coming, sweetheart,” she whispered as he ate, his greedy mouth drinking her in as she convulsed under his touch. “I’m coming.”
Finally when her tremors had almost ceased, Nash pulled his fingers out and landed one final, delicate kiss on her clitoris.
“Are you happy, sweetheart?” he asked, his gorgeous face looking up into hers.
Cecile couldn’t help but laugh. “How could I not be? You just sent me to Heaven and back, Nash.”
He rose slowly and said, “Good. I like being there with you.”
As he stood before her his perfect cock showed her that it too was okay with this.
He laid her down on the cot, kissing her mouth as he did so, her knees bent and her body inviting him in as she parted her thighs.
“Oh wow, you beautiful thing,” he said, his hand sliding up the inside of her left thigh. “You’re perfect.”
Cecile chose to believe him for a moment. She was perfect and the perfect man was on top of her. She felt sorry for the rest of the world.
It was only a moment before she felt his cockhead tease her opening, and he looked down at her face as though to ask silently for permission to enter.
“Please, Nash. Please,” she whispered.
He pushed into her with a deep thrust, and she cried out. Had there been anyone nearby in the woods they would surely have heard it. But each of them felt like there was no one else on earth in that moment; only the two of them.
Nash was long, yes, but it was his thickness that made Cecile squirm with pleasure. He filled her up so well, her lips enveloping him so that she could feel each throbbing vein, each slight variation in surface. As he began to move in and out of her, his arms holding him above her, she closed her eyes and allowed her lover to watch her face contort in pleasure and the odd moment of delicious pain when he thrust especially hard.
He pulled out almost completely, allowing himself a series of short thrusts that seemed designed to once again tease her delicate opening, and then he pushed his pelvis forwards, his entire length penetrating her. Each time this occurred, Cecile cried out, wanting more and more and more.
Nash leaned down and kissed her mouth, their tongues entwining as his thrusts became more rhythmic, more consistently deep. Cecile felt him twitch within her, as though his blood was somehow still finding a way to his cock, hardening him still more.
“That’s for you,” he said softly. “My cock is for you. I am for you.”
She looked into his eyes now.
“And I am for you.”
This seemed to push Nash over the edge and he began to move faster and faster into her, his body slamming against her thighs. Cecile continued to stare into his eyes, determined not to look away until he exploded as she had in waves of perfect pleasure. She wanted to see what he looked like in that moment when his body took over; the Nash who was usually so calm, so seemingly controlled.
“Baby, I’m getting close,” he said. “I’m going to come inside you again.”
“God, yes. Come in me. Come for me, my perfect lion.”
With that his eyes shut tight and he slammed into her a final time, the pulsing between Cecile’s legs increasing as his cock shot its searing heat inside her. Nash’s mouth was sealed tight, and yet it took only a moment for his lips to part and emit a sigh of utter ecstasy as his eyes opened again.
He looked at her face with a sweetness that Cecile imagined only angels possessed.
Still inside her, he leaned down and kissed her lips gently.
“I adore you,” he said. “My white tiger.”
“I know.”
Nash laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Well, let’s see,” Cecile said, laughing in turn as she looked at his bronze body on top of her ivory one. “Yes. It’s that obvious.”
She kissed him now. “And for the record, I adore you too. Even though you kidnapped me and you hang out with the scum of the earth.”
“Everything…everything I do is to make the world a better place for you.”
“I know.”
With that, Cecile put her arms around him and pulled his body down, his arms finally giving way. She held him against her, never wanting to let go. Never wanting the peace of this moment to end.
In the morning the two separated their bodies, shifted and dressed in preparation for what was to come. Cecile wrapped the overcoat that Nash had brought with from her father’s house around her, covering herself as much as she could; her other clothing was too torn up to wear again.
Nash dutifully attached the metal cuffs around her wrists as he’d been asked to do. It was no accident that he “forgot” to click the clasps in place, but he managed to make them look secure nonetheless.
It was around ten a.m. that they heard the SUV approach and eventually car doors and voices.
The door opened. Nash had waited all this time for this moment. The boss would finally be revealed. Who was he?
But the only people he saw were Cecile’s father, who looked unkempt and a little battered, Fargo and Larry, the shifter with the multi-coloured eyes. Brick seemed conspicuously absent, after being such a meat-headed presence the day before.
“What’s going on?” asked Nash, his impatience kicking in. “I thought his holiness, the lord commander was coming.”
“He’s here,” said Fargo.
Nash looked at Conrad Malcolm. “So it is you,” he said quietly.
Malcolm raised his head and looked into Nash’s eyes.
“Far from it,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I don’t understand. You said…” Nash looked at Fargo.
“I think I can help you out,” said Larry, stepping forward. The wounds that had been on his face from the grizzly attack seemed to fade in front of Nash’s eyes. Then he pulled his shirt off, then his pants, and shifted into the form of a large grey wolf with light blue eyes. The same wolf Nash had seen attacking the calf, what now seemed like an eternity ago.
“Holy shit,” said Nash.
The wolf morphed then into something else: a jaguar. And then a bear; a grizzly with a drooping lip. And then Brick stood before Nash.
“I wanted to have a look at Conrad Malcolm’s daughter,” the man said. “But not as myself. This oafish body seemed appropriate.”
Then he shifted again, finally, into a lion who looked very much like Nash himself.
“So you’re a changer,” Nash said. “And the leader.”
“Nash, meet Lawrence Donner,” said Fargo.
“You knew this whole time?” Nash asked, his tone accusing.
“No. I didn’t. Believe me, this was a surprise.”
Cecile winced when she heard the name. She remembered it from her childhood; this man who had been arrested. She had hoped with everything in her that she’d heard the last of him. She remained seated on the cot, anxiously looking at her father for traces of injury.
“Why,” she asked quietly, “are you doing this? What do you want with my father?”
The lion changed then, and a naked, muscular man stood before her. He picked
up his pants off the floor and pulled them on.
“Well, my dear,” he said, “Let’s just say that I’m paying a debt.”
“What do you mean? Dad, what does he mean?” Cecile was growing nervous now.
“He doesn’t mean anything,” her father muttered. He seemed disoriented and his voice made Nash think he’d been punched, if not kicked, in the gut.
“No. Nothing,” said Lawrence. “Aside from the fact that this man, your beloved father, stole my wife.”
Cecile stood now, and stared at the two men. The strong one, who looked as young as she was, and the one who now seemed so weak, bent over, his grey hair messed up, his clothing disheveled.
“What? Your wife? That’s not possible. My father has been single since my mother died.”
“No doubt. Well, in all likelihood he’s frequented some houses of ill repute—you’re not naïve enough to think he hasn’t had sex, are you, young woman?” Lawrence seemed to alter again now, his face aging a little, but remaining similar in structure. It was as though he’d only been concealing his years behind the façade of youth and vigour.
“When I was younger I had a few businesses back in Riverside. Your father worked for me. He was good, too. Very clever, very good at sales, if you want to call them that. Good, too, at intimidation. He was a big strong tiger, wasn’t he? Weren’t you, Conrad?” he asked, turning to Cecile’s father and putting a hand under his chin. “Yes. You were the best. And you were a handsome thing, too. The ladies certainly loved you.”
Malcolm let out a quiet sort of a grunt. Cecile wanted to run over and to protect him but she knew that she needed to wait. She had to find out the truth behind all of it. Maybe, at last, she would come to understand why her father had been lost to her.
“One lady in particular enjoyed your father,” said Lawrence, looking now into Cecile’s eyes. He approached her and as he did so, his own eyes changed colour, to a very light blue like her own. He put a finger under her chin as he’d done to her father and held his face only inches from hers. Cecile saw Nash take a step forward, prepared to strike should this man threaten to hurt his mate.
To Lie With Lions: A BBW Shifter Romance (Wolf Rock Shifters Book 4) Page 12
