Caitlin And The Cowboy (Western Night Series 4) (53 page)

I love it when the big strong bear gets all mushy,
the doctor thought, barely able to hide her amusement. A while ago, this kind of attitude would have turned her off. Commitment was not something she had wanted out of a partner.  But this man… she was willing to go all the way with him, and whenever he’d show her a vulnerable side, it didn’t bother her. And the sex… the sex was beyond incredible, whether it was with him or with Jasper. Or with both at the same time.

“Don’t be silly, my oversized teddy bear,” the doctor finally answered, planting a passionate, chocolate flavored kiss upon Rick’s lips. “Joining up with the Raging Ursine was the best decision of my life.” Her husband now appeared somewhat relieved, but Kate didn’t let the first sign of success discourage her from continuing what she wanted to say.

“Honey, before I got here, I was a mess. Sure, I’ve worked for an impressive paycheck, and I’ve obviously eaten well, but I had next to no idea about what I wanted to do with my life. Besides colleagues, I had no real friends and I couldn’t connect with anyone romantically, and I filled that hole with one-night stands.”

Softly, she caressed the beard that Rick cultivated on his chin before continuing “Something was missing from my life, and I didn’t know what it was. Now I’ve learned, but not by myself. You showed me; you and the rest of the Raging Ursine tribe.” Letting her husband think about what she said, Kate took the last piece of ice cream with her spoon, placing it into her mouth and letting the wondrous sensation lead her to enjoyment.

When she was done, she turned toward Rick and, right after kissing him again, she resumed her story. “I was not made for what they had over there. The coldness, the rules, the emotional distance; all of it had killed me. But you… you’ve succeeded at reinvigoratingthe shell that civilization had left behind. And now here I am, yours to do with as you please.”

“Mine and Jasper’s,” Rick finally replied after a somewhat long silence.
Ah, yes,
Kate reminded herself. He was never keen on the Primacy rule, but followed it regardless. The pack leader had Primacy over everything that the other members of his pack possessed. They had to share it, and even act as if it was their pleasure to provide. The pack leaders themselves were subjected to the same rule by the tribe’s Alpha. Some of the bears enjoyed it. Rick didn’t.

“But honey, isn’t that your way of life?” Kate asked, trying to calm her man’s bottled fury. Sometimes, it appeared as if the reserves of rage within the man were endless, though.

“It is, Kate. It most definitely is.” He looked through her now, his mind having left the moment and flew far away into the future. She didn’t like it when he did that. Rick was fierce, loyal and wild, but also way smarter than he seemed. As much as it seemed that she was misplaced in her world, sometimes her husband seemed like a stranger here.

“Know another thing about our way of life?” He finally spoke, grim determination coloring his voice. Slightly worried about what it might mean, the doctor nevertheless felt herself getting aroused by its primal tone. Not waiting for her to respond, he met her gaze with his own before speaking again “Pack leaders do get challenged from time to time. Especially older ones like Jasper.”

His attitude surprised her. Jasper was old indeed, but everything about him always appeared so spry and virile. There was no way he was going down easy. Unintentionally, Kate smiled.
He might not have been made out for this, but Rick has adapted just fine.

“You’re not implying-“

“I’m not gonna do a thing,” Rick cut her off. “Not now, not soon. But one of these days, months, years, the old man is going down.” Fiercely, he rose, extending the palm of his right hand to Kate, just as he did when they’ve first met. “And then, my love, you will be mine and mine alone.”

Wild, aggressive, and smart to boot,
Kate thought, pleased at the jackpot she hit. Not saying a word, she extended her hand in response, allowing her man to demonstrate his power by helping her up.

Oh, I’ll test your strength in numerous other ways tonight, lover boy,
her wild side roared within her as she rose to her feet.

As you and your pack leader will test mine.

THE END

BONUS BOOK 1

Beware The Bear

BBW Romance

By: Jodie Springer

Beware The Bear

It was well past four in the morning.

For most decent folk, this time of day existed only in theory, caught up as they were in getting their necessary dose of sleep. Others worshipped this short period as a time of freedom, an eye-blink during which they were away from the prying eyes of others. Then, there were people like Mary. For her, four in the morning meant that work was just about to get serious.

Employed as she was in the Dame of Hearts, one of the sleaziest strip joints around, working late was a necessary requirement. From dusk ‘till dawn, girls and women of all ages put their bodies up for show, all for the amusement of various gentle, and not-so-gentle-men.

And when the show ended, their jobs did not, for while the striptease itself provided a decent paycheck, the best way to make real money was and remained in the private chambers. In there, away from distractions, the feminine employees of the Dame of Hearts were to cater to the needs of patrons with more explicit tastes.

Mary used to relish the opportunity to take part in these private shows.
Money is money,
she thought, and life was easy and good for a time. Then, when it all got old, she kept doing it anyway, until a time came when the whole thing started disgusting her. Now, halfway between the ages of thirty and forty, “Rose,” the stripper that used to enflame the passions of the Dame’s patrons like no other, only performs public dances, and even they bore her to no end.

Although her age hasn’t harmed the woman’s looks in a significant way, the hassles and obligations of keeping her appearance up to par with that of the recently arrived girls was starting to get more than annoying. Rose’s necessary repertoire of exercises expanded significantly every year. As if in response, the list of foods she could consume, as well as their quantity, kept shrinking. Worst of all, year after year, that horrible question she tried her best to ignore kept lashing out again and again: Will she have to invest in plastic surgery soon?

As always, Mary eliminated that thought as soon as it reared its ugly head. Unsurprisingly, none of the patrons managed to notice what she was wrestling with as Rose performed her dance. From the very second the stripper stepped onto the stage, her body exploded with energy. Every small and large undulation was immaculate, practiced to perfection within years of passionate and committed practice.

I used to think that the dirty dance gave me power,
she though, tilting her head back in order to put her ample bosom and backside into greater prominence, all for the enjoyment of the eager clientele. “Rose!” They kept cheering, “Give us some more sugar, baby!”

But only now, after so much time do I finally see,
Rose was about to conclude, as her hands found their way to the forward clasp of her bra,
that they are the ones with power over me.

In one motion, Rose unfastened the garment that concealed what was left of her modesty from the world, exposing two substantial globes of jiggling flesh for all to see. Unsurprisingly, the move was met with ovation, and the stripper knew that it was time to kick it into high gear.

It’s completely pointless,
the thought wouldn’t leave her head as she rotated her body in such a way that her impressively sized breasts moved around in a perfect circular motion.

As was usually the case, the money came raining down then. A layman would consider this to be a crowning achievement, but all working girls knew that those bills were often of the lowest possible value.
Everyone is always cheap when it comes to the public show,
she reminded herself.

Still, a girl has to make her living,
Mary thought, knowing that in order to eat tomorrow, she needed to knock the crowd out of their seats while they were still vulnerable. In a swift motion, the woman rocked her bottom in a suggestive way, removing the thin, leather cloth that served as her thong faster than anyone could react.

The crowd’s roar quickly turned into a silence, before coming back in all its loud glory a moment later. Again, money came pouring in from everywhere, unfortunately still mostly in one dollar bills.

I hate the whole cheap lot of you,
Rose though as she brought her number to a close, posing provocatively for a couple of seconds while moving her breasts and bottom enticingly.
I’m knocking my ass off here- literally, and you all give me peanuts.

Regardless, Mary diligently and swiftly picked up the money that the Dame’s patrons have so generously dropped for her. Wearing a fake smile, she wiggled her tender buttocks for all to see every time she would bend over to pick up a bill.

A minute later, the woman was out of the staging area and back in the preparation room. Silently, she passed by the other performers, not greeting a single one, before sitting down in her designated spot. Having placed the pieces of the costume she had removed on the small table on her left, Rose turned toward the mirror and beheld her reflection.

Staring back into her soft green eyes was a shining ode to the female form. Her face was oval and her complexion flawlessly pale, reminiscent of the pin-up models of the sixties. Under a straight, thin nose lay a pair of flawlessly made-up, puckered red lips that immediately evoked desire in whoever would laid their eyes upon this divine creature. Framing this heavenly beauty were locks of coal-black, curly hair of medium length that kept swaying over and around her eyes in a provocative way.

Proud at what she had to show, Mary stared into this illusion for a while, posing for herself, before she finally grabbed a nearby rag and made it all disappear in one swift motion. Gone was the heavenly figure that stared back from that position just a moment ago, replaced by a similar yet unworthy imitator.

Although the overall shape was the same, the previous display was possessed of a degree of polish and energy that the current one just didn’t have. The contrasting palette of colors that used to accentuate every good feature has left in favor of a pair of tired eyes and colorless lips, framed by a small set of barely visible lines.

Goodbye, Rose,
the woman silently told herself.
Hello, Mary, you stupid old slut.

She didn’t have to remove her guise that fast, the stripper knew. Just as easily as she waved the magic away, she could have gone on to the private booth instead, where horny patrons undoubtedly still awaited her presence. A bit of wiggle here, a bit of tugging there, and she’d be set for the week.

But I refuse!
Mary wanted to scream at herself for even entertaining the thought.

Bringing an unused side of the cloth up to her eyes, the woman vigorously started rubbing what was left of the make-up off of her face. The faster she finished, the faster she’d be out of there and away from the temptation. Private shows were simply not an option anymore.
I will not whore myself out again.

It took a while, but by the time it was done, Mary was well on her way to feeling better. Although the face that stared back at her from the reflective surface was without a doubt attractive, the patrons of the Dame of Hearts didn’t come there to shag a woman well on her way toward middle age. They were there for the illusion, something that wasn’t there anymore.

The woman was safe from the private chambers now, and in knowing that she felt a sense of relief. Unfortunately, an uninvited guest would always follow: a slight, yet still greatly unpleasant certainty of her own ever-decreasing value.
No one wants an old stripper,
Mary thought, all while knowing that with each passing day she was well on her way to becoming one.

Regret and disappointment, my two old, yet rarely absent friends.
Slowly, Mary grabbed her own pair of panties, plain white ones, slowly sliding them over her legs and up into their place. The touch of the fabric was pleasant, much more enjoyable than any touch she was forced to endure in recent history.
You’ll never hurt me, will you, Mr. Panty?

Next up was the bra, a fittingly white one. Swiftly, with all the experience of someone who had earned a living by removing her own lingerie, the woman locked every piece in its place faster than the time it took her to draw a single breath.

Then, having risen to her feet, Mary quickly put on what was left of her casual wear: an ordinary, not too tight fitting pair of jeans and a red tank top. Completing this comfortable look was a short jacket following the similar style of her jeans, along with a simple set of regular white loafers.

Now ready to leave the place, the woman who was known as Rose picked up her handbag, placed it over her left wrist, and casually strolled out through the backdoor. If anyone of the girls had anything to say about her, good or bad, Mary didn’t care. The job was done and she was well on her way home.

The drive was uneventful, save for the occasional swear word she directed toward her car; an old, rickety thing whose best trait was its low gas consumption. Slowly and loudly, the thing rumbled as it traversed the road, as if to remind Mary of her impressive list of bad choices.

Those new girls… Every single one of them must think she’s queen of the world. I know I did. Oh, how wrong I was…
For a short moment, the woman allowed herself a brief smile before letting it fade into nothing.
They’ll all learn, eventually, and by then it’ll be too late.

“As it is for me,” Mary finished her thought aloud.

Oh, stop it!
If her hands weren’t busy, she’d have slapped herself.
My life wasn’t that bad,
she told herself. In fact, that statement was true.

However, it was apparent that everything was about to take a turn for the worse. Mary had become jaded, fallow, uninterested in her job, human relationships and everything else. She didn’t save any money, so quitting the private shows she began to loath has hit her harder than it should. Every night was a hustle to make ends meet, and by the looks of things, nothing indicated that it would get better, soon or ever.

Doesn’t matter, it’s still better than being a glorified prostitute,
she reminded herself.
And the minute one of the employers I’ve contacted gives me a positive response, I will leave this nightmare behind me.
The contractors, however, never replied, not positively nor in any other way. She was a dancer way past her prime, with no real talents other than an impressive high school and track record.

Ah yes, my track record… How I thought we would do great things together!

Indeed, high school had been a time of glory for her. Sharp, beautiful and athletic, there was not a teacher who wasn’t certain that their beautiful female student would go on to change the world. She believed them fully, for a time. Sadly, things change, people leave, and a part-time job one takes for some easy money becomes a gilded cage from which it becomes more and more difficult to escape.

Almost two decades later, Mary was in the same place, working the same degrading job, lesser in every way but in age. Due to her occupation, she had trouble finding intimacy and didn’t marry, and every time she planned to move away was followed by a streak of horrible luck that sucked her right back into the Dame of Hearts.

Maybe I should have went with one of the guys from school.
There were so many of them, she recalled. Andrew, with his flowing locks of blond hair and infinitely sunny disposition. Hugh, whose gentle gaze never seemed to wander far away from Mary’s general direction.John, the school’s jock superstar, who refused to talk to her again after she refused his premature marriage proposal. The list went on.

One after another, the images flashed in her mind’s eye. They were all so beautiful and she missed them so much, but her actions have driven them away, as they did everyone else. Whether they were good for Mary or not was irrelevant at this point. She rejected all of them in different ways, and now they were gone from her life.

“You go, girl,” she told herself, without a hint of mirth in her voice.

The building she lived in now well in her sight, Mary steered the car to the usual parking spot. Locking it out of principle, yet still refusing to believe anyone would go out of their way to steal that hunk of junk, she entered the derelict, but somehow not yet condemned building.

A couple of minutes of hurried stair-hopping later, she found herself in front of the familiar door to her apartment. The key clicked, the lock opened, and the fading stripper was home.

Home, sweet prison,
the woman thought while hanging her jacket onto the rack to her right. Another step into the place, she almost tripped on a badly placed, cheap little carpet.

Having turned on the lights, it was apparent that Mary’s apartment was in no better shape than her mind was. Everything was everywhere, not having been cleaned up for weeks. In fact, the only neat spot in her entire home was a small, square-shaped piece of the floor that the woman used for her daily exercise routine. Aside from that particular detail, the place was more akin to an animal’s lair than something fit for a human being to live.

In as much of a straight line as was possible, Mary paced toward the fridge. Having opened it, she greedily inspected its contents for something to sate her hunger. Grudgingly, she settled for a slice of yesterday’s stale pizza.