The Moose Shifter's Fake Wife: A Steamy Shifter Rom-Com

by Candace Ayers

  Her body melted into me as I kissed her over and over, exploring her mouth. Her lips were welcoming. They parted on a sigh, and her arms tangled around my neck as I pulled her even closer, my palms spread across her back.

  Whether I deepened the kiss or she did, or we both did, I wasn’t sure, but Sam’s hands were in my hair and her chest heaved against mine. Her thighs squeezed around me while I held her head, loosening her hair until it tumbled down her back releasing the mouthwatering scent of strawberries.

  Sam was irresistible and sexy as fuck. Having her body entwined with mine sent my inner beast into a frenzy. Her scent. The column of her throat. The line of her jaw.

  She’s mine. She may not know it yet, but she is. Mine.

  “I want more of you.”

  “Do you?” She said it in a way that sounded surprised rather than flirtatious. I didn’t know why, though. I married her. Had it not occurred to her that I was more than a little attracted to her? That I fucking wanted her, all of her, everything she would give me?

  “Fuck, yeah, I do. Say yes.”

  She blinked. Her breath hitched.

  I felt a corner of my mouth lift the slightest bit. I knew she wanted me too. The desire between us was so thick it was almost tangible, but I was going to make her say it.

  “Are you gonna say yes? Or am I gonna stop?”

  Breathy and flushed, she finally answered. “Yes.”

  My mouth angled over hers again, taking my time, savoring her slowly and tenderly, my mouth capturing hers again and again until it was as though we had melted into each other.

  When a soft moan emerged from her throat, I drew her to me tighter. Her breasts pillowed against my chest. Oh fuck!

  I leaned back slightly and tugged her shirt over her head. She was wearing a thin, barely there bra that was damp from our water fight. Her darkened nipples were visible through the thin, now-transparent fabric. My cock leaped painfully as I cupped her breast and massaged my thumb over her puckering nipple, teasing the sensitive bud to a hard peak.

  Sam moaned, letting one of her hands slide over the expanse of my chest. Her feather-light touch sent shock waves to my groin. Everything about this woman was mesmerizing.

  My cock strained against the fabric of my jeans, aching for her, but it was going to stay behind its zipper. I wanted this to be about Sam.

  My fingers moved down to caress lower, and she broke away from my kiss, her breathing ragged.

  “This might not be a great idea.” A second after the words left her mouth, another sweet sound of pleasure escaped her lips as I continued to tease her nipple.

  “I think it’s a great idea. Let me make you feel good. Please.”

  Even as I said the words, I unbuttoned her denim cutoffs and slid them from under her ass and further down her legs until they dropped to the floor beneath her feet. She offered no resistance.

  Goddamn, she was soft and plump and curvy and delicious.

  Then I paused again, meeting her eyes. I had to make sure she was on the same page, wanting this like I did.

  “Okay?”

  She gazed at me from beneath heavy lids as I ran my fingers up her shapely thighs. “Yes, yes, okay. For god’s sake, don’t stop.”

  I stifled a grin. I’d never felt as alive, as turned on, or as fortunate as I did at that moment. Reaching beneath the crotch of her panties, I found her wet—her soft, slick folds practically pulling my fingers inside.

  I studied her reactions, her moans of pleasure, the blush of color that tinted her cheeks.

  My dick throbbed watching her face as I stroked my fingers back and forth, circling her clit with my thumb. When her body trembled, I sank another finger into her silky depths.

  She was so wet. So wet for me. Her breath came in short pants.

  Leaning forward, I caught her mouth again as my fingers continued their ministrations. I wanted nothing more than to bury myself deep inside her, to see how much wetter I could get her and for how long I could coax out those breathy little sighs that escaped her lips.

  Not yet, though. Another time.

  I set a gentle rhythm, my thumb continuing to make lazy circles over her clit. I was memorizing her, learning my wife, figuring out what made her moan the loudest and the most intensely.

  “Clint, that is so… That is so… Oh...”

  “Yes, it is, but I’d like to taste how sweet you are.”

  She moaned as I replaced my fingers with my tongue and laved her folds. I nibbled her clit and Sam arched against me, her fingers threaded through my hair. She pulled herself closer to me, and I let my tongue delve as deeply into her as it could go.

  “That…I’m…there—right there!”

  I knew she was on the edge of an orgasm, so in the zone that she wasn’t able to finish a sentence, and I loved that I was the lucky bastard that made her feel this way.

  Her trembling had become almost violent, the waves of pleasure sending her shooting toward orgasm. Then, she cried out, her body tightened and convulsed.

  She rode my face until her convulsions died down.

  I held her until her ragged breathing evened out.

  Sam didn’t meet my eyes. She seemed at a loss for words. After a minute or so, she put a hand to my chest and gave me a little nudge.

  I stepped back, and she slid off the counter. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she inched around me, running a hand through her hair.

  Yeah, sweetheart. We did just knock down a barrier. Get used to it because I’m planning to tear down a few more.

  Her eyes were slightly glazed, and her fingertips touched her mouth, caressing her swollen lips. “I, um, should get to bed. Big day of work tomorrow.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, mostly to force myself to keep them off her and give her time to digest what just happened. Then I took a step backward, toward the sink.

  “Yep. Goodnight.”

  She looked like she wanted to say something else, but eventually she merely turned and hurried into her room. At the sound of her bedroom door closing, I sank against the counter and whispered a soft curse. My wife was amazing.

  Abso-fucking-lutely amazing.

  Gilligan growled from the couch and I looked over to find him staring at me. I scrubbed my hands down my face, her scent still on my fingers.

  “I know, I know, Gil.” I let out a frustrated breath. “I’m way out of my league.”

  I finished the dishes that night with a grin. The vision of my wife with her head thrown back, her eyes heavy lidded, and her cheeks flushed as she climaxed, was the hottest thing I’d ever seen—bar nothing.

  I wished like hell Sam would come back out, wrap her arms around me, and tell me she wanted me to take her to bed and spend all night pleasuring her, but I knew it probably wasn’t going to happen. That was fine. Tonight was incredible, and I’d wait until she was ready for more.

  I took another look around the place and turned the lights off before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower.

  Before I settled into the hard, lumpy bed, I thumbed through Pappy’s old collection of LPs. A smile spread across my face when I found the one I was looking for—Jimmie Rodgers. I started the album playing at a song called “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine” and hoped she was listening.

  The next morning, I awoke to Gilligan’s sinister growl and his bad breath in my face.

  “Yeah, yeah, boy. I’ll let you out.” I stumbled through the house and pushed open the screen door to let him run—and by run, I meant lumber like Eeyore to a spot next to the house to take a piss then lay around the porch all day.

  It didn’t immediately occur to me that the front door had already been open and only the screen was closed until I had nearly returned to the bedroom. When I heard Sam’s soft murmurs, I turned back around and made my way to the front porch, rubbing my eyes and yawning.

  “Mornin’. You just get up?”

  “Nope.” She was seated in one of the old wooden rocking chairs, so I plopped down next to her. “
I’ve been out here counting the porch planks for hours. This is my fourth cup of coffee.”

  I scratched my head and squinted at her. She was wired. “The sun’s just coming up, woman.”

  She shrugged. “Still not used to the time difference, I guess. So, what’s on the agenda for today, Sheriff Grumpy Pants Taskmaster?”

  I grinned at her alert eagerness. “You have been awake for a while. Let’s see, we need to head to town for groceries. Nothing against your heavily carb-laden diet, but my stomach’s about to eat itself for protein.”

  I closed both eyes and leaned my head back against my chair, trying to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

  She laughed. “I want to do some work in the vegetable garden today. I took a look at it and it’s not bad, just overgrown with weeds. I…uh…could use some help making sure there aren’t any snakes in there looking for a fight.” She nudged me. “Come on, daylight’s beginning.”

  I ignored her, so she nudged me again. Dang, she had pointy elbows.

  Another nudge. I opened one eye. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

  I brushed my teeth and changed into work clothes before heading to the garden. Because it elicited more of her beautiful laughter, I made a production of checking for snakes, pretending to find one every so often to scare her. It didn’t take long for us to realize that we had fun together, when we let ourselves. I liked being with Sam.

  After making sure the garden was safe, I went back to scraping paint off the side of the barn, glancing over at my wife every so often because…well, because how could I not?

  It occurred to me that I was again living in the house I’d grown up in, and this time I was planning on being here for…good?

  I stopped what I was doing and studied Sam for a long moment. She was on her hands and knees plucking weeds. Marriage meant forever to me, but she was a Norm and had made it clear that her plan was for us to get divorced eventually. I wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  I was keeping her.

  Yes, I was going to keep her, and the two of us would grow old right here on this ranch, in the house, together.

  But for this marriage to work, I needed her to trust me. She was definitely keeping secrets. The woman was full of lies. It worried me. Should I be even more concerned? Probably. What the hell did she have to lie about?

  It could be something terrible.

  What was it she kept hidden beneath the surface? What had possessed her, a city girl through and through, to relocate here, over two thousand miles away, where she knew no one, to a work a rural ranch she knew absolutely nothing about?

  Something. Had to be something significant.

  Last night, she mentioned an ex. Was that it? Did it have something to do with a bad breakup?

  Variants rarely kept things from each other. It was hard to hide anything when we had the ability to easily detect lies and deception.

  “Do you think I could sell produce in town if I get the garden in shape?”

  Her question startled me. I had been so engrossed in my own thoughts, I hadn’t even heard her approach.

  “Um…yeah. Pappy often did that, actually. He’d sell whatever he grew that week at the farmer’s market on the weekend. It’s right behind Archie Bunker’s general store, Sidewinder Sundries.”

  “Archie… Okay, I can’t take it anymore. I need to know. What’s with all the names in this town?”

  “What do you mean?” I knew what she meant, but it wasn’t the time to explain yet.

  “Clint Eastwood? Betty Crocker? Gladys Knight? Archie Bunker? I could go on. Everyone I’ve met in this town has been named after a celebrity or a character on TV or in books. What gives?”

  I shrugged like I had no idea what she was talking about. “They don’t do that where you’re from?”

  “No.”

  “Must be a regional thing.” I lied like a rug. “Anyway, Pappy had a stall next to Donald and Daffy. You could take it over if you want.”

  Fortunately, my attempt to distract her worked.

  “Donald and Daffy? Aren’t they the town barbers? What do they sell?”

  “Er…” I went back to scraping the old paint off while I considered how to phrase my answer. “They, uh, they draw.”

  “Oh, they’re artists. What do they draw?”

  “They’re comic strip artists.” I cleared my throat. “Emphasis on the word strip.”

  It took her a second to digest my words and interpret their meaning. But when she giggled, I knew she got it. “Wait a second, are you trying to tell me that the double D’s draw dirty comics?”

  I started scraping again, avoiding her eyes. “X-rated. Pretty popular too.”

  At that, she outright roared with laughter. “Oh my god. What made them decide to do that?”

  “Well, as you know, our town is very secluded. In fact, the internet is a new concept around here, one that most people in town still don’t touch, and it’s only available at the library. Jimi’s trying to get coverage to the whole town, but it’s not an easy process. Donald and Daffy provide…a service, you could say.”

  She laughed so hard, she snorted. “You’re saying that in lieu of internet porn, there are pornographic comics?”

  I had to admit, the whole thing was pretty funny. I didn’t tell her that I had a few of their work myself at my place in town—a couple in the bathroom and one in the drawer of the bedside table.

  “This went in a direction I wasn’t prepared for.” She snickered a few more times as she continued to process what she’d just learned. “Okay, so there’s no internet. Except at the library. How do people in town google things? Their phones?”

  I smiled. “We don’t have cellular service out here. We have the original lines from…”

  “From what?”

  I scraped harder. “This used to be a military town. The government shut down the facility back in the eighties, and the military personnel and their families moved away. The phone lines you see are connected to a main switchboard. Aretha and Ringo are the switchboard operators. If neither is around to connect your call, they switch on an automated system. If they forget, which sometimes happens, you try again later.”

  “Clint, stop messing with me. That can’t be real. What if you need to call friends or family outside of town, do you have long-distance charges?”

  “Not many of us have family outside of town.” I dropped my tool beside the house and rolled my shoulders. “If you’re ready, let’s clean up a little and head to town to get some groceries.”

  Sam trailed along behind me, an amused and slightly perplexed look on her face. “This place is so bizarre, Clint. No cellphones, no internet, no Google, and everyone has strange names. It’s like I’ve entered the twilight zone.”

  She thought those were the bizarre things about this town?

  She had no idea.

  Chapter 16

  Shay

  After we returned from town with groceries, I spent the afternoon dusting, thinking about Clint fingering and licking me to orgasm last night, washing floors, thinking about Clint fingering and licking me to orgasm last night, cleaning the bathroom, thinking about Clint fingering and licking me to orgasm last night, and doing a few other household cleaning chores while I thought about Clint fingering and licking me to orgasm last night.

  Near the tail end of my cleaning jag, I headed to the porch to rinse and ring another load of laundry.

  I wasn’t sure where Clint had gone—to the barn, maybe—but I was glad he’d made himself scarce, seeing as how I could not stop thinking about his mouth on me.

  All day I’d done a decent job of squelching any awkwardness between us as soon as it started to rear its head, but my defenses were waning.

  My mind would no longer block it out, nor would my body. I craved more of him. My thoughts kept straying, replaying every second of our encounter.

  Gilligan growled as I stepped out on the porch. I patted the lazy dog’s head as I made my way to the old Maytag washing
machine that sat in the corner of the porch next to a garden hose. It had taken me a couple of days to figure out how to use the thing, and I was still scared of catching my fingers in the roller.

  The contraption had a tub with an agitator that had to be manually filled with water from the hose and then laundry soap, which looked to me like grated bar soap, had to be added along with the dirty clothes.

  I stopped the agitator, opened the lid, and began feeding the clothes one at a time through the wringer atop the machine, dropping each piece into a bucket of rinse water. After their rinse bath, I fed them through the wringer again before dropping them in a clothes basket.

  This…this…thing with Clint was not at all what I had envisioned when I’d come up with my brilliant mail-order-groom, marriage-of-convenience plan. In fact, I was now questioning the very sanity of the idea.

  With the basket balanced on my hip, I rounded the house to the clothesline out back.

  I’d laundered my undergarments first since I’d wanted to get them out of the way, and I figured they should be about dry. I’d always lived in the city and wasn’t used to hanging my laundry outside in broad daylight. I felt a little exposed having my lingerie quite literally flapping in the breeze.

  Fortunately, everything dried quickly in the hot desert sunshine, and as soon as I hung the wet clothes and pinned them to the line, I unclipped my lacy bras and panties and tossed them in the basket.

  When I heard a wolf whistle from behind me, I froze.

  “Well, I’ll be doggone. My oh my. Now that is quite a colorful collection of unmentionables you got there.”

  Clint’s teasing caused a blush to creep from my toes to the top of my head.

  It was quite a collection. So what? I loved lingerie, so sue me.

  No white cotton panties and simple, sensible bras for this girl. I went all out—lacy, frilly, sheer, strappy, transparent, light pinks, baby blues, dark reds, deep purples, black, shimmery, sequined, you name it.

  I remained frozen. Staring straight ahead. Mortified.

  Clint sidled up next to me, then angled himself and leaned forward so his face was right in front of me—right in my line of sight—and I had no choice but to see him.