Wolf Rock Shifters Books 1-5: Five BBW Paranormal Romance Standalone Novels (46 page)

T
he SUV didn’t return
to the motel; instead it veered off the road into a wooded area and drove down a long dirt road between arching trees. It was only after fifteen or so minutes that they arrived at a small cabin which looked long-deserted, nestled in a dense pine forest. The cabin’s wood had darkened with age and its small windows looked as though they’d been painted over from the inside. Nothing about it was remotely inviting.

Fargo got out first and unlocked the building’s door, then signalled the others to follow. Brick pulled Cecile out of the car, and she didn’t offer much resistance, though she scowled.

Nash followed behind, watching her to make sure that Brick wasn’t too rough. Though he knew that she could take it.

Inside, Fargo turned on a single light bulb which hung from the ceiling. The place was sparsely decorated, like a jail cell; it contained only a cot, a wooden chair and a small bathroom off in one corner. Bars covered the windows from inside. Clearly whoever had built the place hadn’t intended it for romantic getaways, unless he was a little freaky.

“Well, this is nice,” said Cecile.

“Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards, princess,” said Fargo. “We ordered silk sheets but they haven’t arrived yet.”

“Fuck you.”

Fargo walked up to her and stood inches in front of her face. Cecile scowled again. This little man was so fucking repulsive.

“Settle in, honey,” he said, getting closer to her. “You’ll be here for a while.”

For a moment Nash thought the weasel might kiss her, lick her or worse. He knew that no way in hell could he hold back the lion if that happened. Fortunately, Fargo had just enough sense not to do it. He backed away.

“Okay, big guy,” he said, slapping Nash on the shoulder. “You know your job. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He turned and winked at Cecile, who wanted to dry-heave. “There’s some food in the fridge,” he said to Nash, indicating a small beer fridge in the corner. “Call me if anything happens. I’ll be back tonight to check in. By then her father, the high lord white tiger should’ve gotten word that his precious daughter’s being forced to live in a shack.”

“Fine,” said Nash. “I’ll call if anything happens.”

“And remember. Nothing stupid. Your parents seem like nice people. For now they’re nice
living
ones. Let’s keep it that way.”

Inside Nash, a giant lion leapt at a weasel and tore his head off.

“Of course,” he said through a clenched jaw. “But aren’t you going to take off her cuffs?”

“If you think you can take on her cat, then sure, we can take ‘em off.” Fargo nodded to Brick, who approached with a key.

“I’m quite sure I can handle her cat,” said Nash, looking sideways at Cecile, whose mouth twitched against her will.

When the door closed, Nash heard it lock from the outside. They were both trapped now, though no doubt a tiger and a lion could find a way to take the wooden walls down, had they wanted to do so.

“So.” Nash looked at Cecile, who was standing in the centre of the room.

“So,” she said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to claw it out of you?”

“Sit,” he said. “I’ll tell you.”

She perched on the edge of the cot, her body taut in the anticipation of hearing things she didn’t want to. She wanted more than anything to think that Nash was everything her instincts had told her he was. But she had to prepare herself for the worst.

“I didn’t tell you, Cecile, because it would have put you in danger. But fuck it, you’re in danger now. And I will do everything in my power to protect you and your father. Know that first of all.”

“So what the hell, Nash? Why are you going around threatening people? Shifters? How could you do it?”

“I’m trying to find out who the mastermind is. The only way to him is from the inside. These guys, these idiots. They’re just lackeys. We need to stop this business and brute force isn’t the way, for once.”

“But you’re putting yourself in danger. And everyone in town is beginning to hate you, let alone fear you.”

Nash stood in the middle of the room, looking down at Cecile. Her icy eyes were fixed on him and for the first time that day he saw sadness in them, rather than anger.

“I don’t care what they think, as long as I’m helping to keep them safe. There’s only one person whose feelings I care about.”

Cecile looked away them and Nash saw her flush. He liked the flash of pink on her ivory skin. He also liked that he’d made her blood change its route through her body.

“I don’t hate you, Nash. I could never hate you. I’ll admit that I was upset when my father told me…”

“Of course he did. He would like nothing more than for you to think that I’m the devil incarnate.”

“He’s misguided. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“What’s best for you?” Nash turned his back and stormed to the other end of the room. “What’s best for you is to be with someone who wants you. Who craves you. Someone who can’t live without you. Someone who would lay his life down just to protect you,” he said as his right hand clenched into a fist. He wanted to punch it through the wall. “Your father doesn’t see it because he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t see that you’re for me.” He turned to face her again. “And I’m for you. I was built for you. I was born for you.”

Now the blood in Cecile’s body began to flow in every direction, uncertain of whether to gather in her fingertips, her nipples, her lips. She wanted to walk over to him and to touch him at last.

“Do you really feel that way?” she asked, standing.

“Yes. You know it, too. I know you don’t need to ask. You’ve known it since you met me.”

“I’ve known how I felt. I’ve known I wanted you. At first it just confused me; I thought it was a crush or an infatuation. It wasn’t until I went away that I knew that you were mine. I’m new to this.”

“This?”

“Love. No, not love. Finding my mate. Finding the one I’m meant to be with. I’d heard how shifters do this but I’m cynical. My mother died when I was young. I never got to see how this all works.”

“I did. My parents have it. They found each other and they held on. They know. I suppose I just never felt like I’d find the one for me.”

Cecile stood. “You have now,” she said.

Nash stared at her. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to walk over and to bury his face in her, to take in her scent. To taste her.

Cecile crossed her arms over her front and pulled her sweater up and over her head, revealing a white torso which she’d always thought of as too thick, too soft, and a black bra whose delicate material did little to conceal hard, pink nipples.

Rather than seem imperfect, her stomach had the fertile roundness that Nash loved in a woman; a softness that he wanted to envelop in his arms. He found himself imagining kneeling before her and immersing his face in her warmth.

His cock grew with each second, and he found his fingers pulling at his own jacket, stripping it off before pulling his own shirt over his head.

Cecile inhaled deeply as his form was revealed. So many times she’d envisioned this moment; seeing his shape again. The memory of his muscles, of each shallow curve, was carved into her mind but over the days it had faded into a mist of images. She wanted the tangibility of his flesh; to see it. To stroke it lightly with fingertips and to feel the carved outline of his perfection.

Still she held back, though, and as she stood opposite him she unbuttoned her jeans and slowly pulled the fly downward, teasing Nash’s body with her own. She could hear him breathe now and felt that over it, she heard the beating of her own heart. Finally, in this place, as his prisoner she would be coupled with him. She would take him inside her body.

Her fingers pulled at the front closure of her bra, unfastening it to peel it back, revealing her white skin to him as he let out a perceptible groan.

She moved towards him now, as her full breasts drew him towards her and forced the blood to rush ever-faster to his cock. He stayed still, though, allowing her to control the situation.

Cecile put her hands on his chest, feeling his racing heart. She lifted her chin and kissed his mouth, which greeted hers with gentleness; almost shyness as though awaiting the go-ahead for his tongue. He received hers gratefully, and brought his to meet it. She tasted as good as he remembered; better, even. Her lips softer, her body warmer. Her breasts were against him and he felt his growing length press against his jeans, unrelenting in its insistence that contact be made, and soon.

The tiger shifter inhaled deeply when the kiss ended. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to know you’re the man I thought you were. So many times I’ve doubted myself. I’ve doubted you, but something in me insisted that you were good deep down.”

“Of course I am,” said Nash. “All I’ve wanted since I met you is to be with you, to protect you, to free you from feeling imprisoned.

“I want to free you,” she said, her hands moving towards the front of his jeans. Slowly she unbuttoned them, working his fly down as his firm cock pressed forward, eager to escape its own cotton prison.

“Are you ready for this?” asked Nash. “I don’t want to rush you.”

Cecile laughed. “I’ve been ready for this since I walked into your stable. You’re like the carrot that’s been dangled in front of me for weeks. Only,” she added, squeezing him through his boxers, “This is a hell of a carrot.”

Nash smiled. “It gets overgrown when my mind goes to you.”

“Overgrown?” Cecile’s fingers could barely circle the thick shaft. “It’s a whole other species.”

“Designed for you.”

“Baby,” he said, for the first time speaking to her with nothing but a possessive softness which made her skin break out in goosebumps, “I need to be in you. I need to bury myself inside your body.”

“I only wish,” she said, “that I could be in you, too.”

“You are in me. You have been since the day you were born.”

Nash kissed her neck, his lips dwelling for a few seconds on her skin. He licked her softly, and even allowed his teeth to caress her, threatening at times to sink into her white flesh.

But they didn’t. Instead, his mouth moved downwards, as did he, until he was on his knees before her. He cupped his two hands around her left breast, sliding his palms forwards until they covered all but the hard tip of her nipple, which he took between his lips. Cecile felt a warm wetness between her legs; her body was inviting him to enter her. But her mind wasn’t yet ready. She needed to feed her eyes with the vision of him adoring her, exploring, tasting.

She watched him. His eyes were closed as though focusing on the task of sending gentle shocks through each nerve ending in her reddening nipple. His face was beautiful, she thought. This was what he would look like when he slept: at peace, happy, calm. Not the angry or sometimes violent man that he was.

The joy of a man with his mouth on a nipple.

The ecstasy of a woman whose nipple is being tended with such delicacy.

His mind, she knew, could read each tiny reaction in her body and his tongue followed suit, so lightly slipping along the very tip of her small pink pebble, causing light gasps to erupt from her mouth.

Nash let her breast go and took the right in the same way, taking his time. They had hours, Cecile thought, to spend together. He would make use of them. But her body was growing impatient, panicking that she wouldn’t get her chance to take him into herself, and she felt a throbbing ache between her legs now.

Patience, Cecile
, she told herself.

Nash pulled his hands away from her chest, his mouth alternating between licking, nibbling and sucking on each of her sweet nipples. Cecile let her hands glide over his sculpted shoulders. They reminded her of the mountain range which surrounded them. Peaks, rock-hard yet changeable. Every rise and fall of his flesh represented a new territory to explore and to conquer.

Her favourite part of him was the beautiful definition around his hips; the diagonal lines which led the eye towards his cock, as though they were designed just for that in the way that a landing strip on a woman naturally led a man’s mouth towards her pussy.

But now her fingertips slid down his arms, then over his pectoral muscles. The hardness of him made her feel all the more soft, but as she felt him there was gratitude for her own womanly flesh. As much as she loved his carved body, she imagined that he loved hers for all the same reasons: she represented a female. A real, proper woman. A body to worship, to fuck, to hold. Warmth, shelter. Home.

Nash stood and pulled his boxer shorts off completely, revealing himself utterly to Cecile. The last time she’d seen him naked, his cock had impressed her with its size, but he hadn’t been aroused then.

Now he was.

Inadvertently, Cecile emitted a brief gasp and her lips curled up in a smile. Her fingers, of their own volition, stroked his shaft gently as he sighed.

Nash, it seemed, was out of patience too. He picked Cecile up, one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, and laid her gently on an old carpet on the floor.

“Is it okay, baby?” he asked softly.

“Yes. More than okay,” she said as her thighs parted for him.

Nash smiled as his eyes moved downward to the pink between her legs.

“Beautiful,” he said, dipping his head down, and Cecile watched as his face settled, his breath hot on her wet lips.

She felt his tongue slide the length of her aching slit and swirl around her clitoris before he landed a kiss on her hardening bud. Her entire body convulsed softly, moving as though to meet his motions.

“I want you in me,” she said. “I want to come for you…but I want you inside.”

Nash put his head up now, kissing her thighs as he moved towards her.

As he pulled himself over her, he looked into her eyes.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said. “Everything about you is paradise. And I would eat you for years on end.”

Cecile put a hand up and brushed away the lock of hair that always seemed to want to make its way into his eyes. Then she took control again.

She turned herself over under him, pulling her body up onto her knees and parting them slightly. Nash saw before him the ripe fruit that had tempted him on day one: the beautiful ass that beckoned him and begged to be approached. He knew what to do.