Her First Time With A Bear (BBW Shifter Romance) (13 page)

When she looked at Wes, his face creased in worry as he watched her, she only hoped she was worthy of his love.

“Can I get you something to eat?” he asked.

At first, the thought of food made her feel nauseous, but then she realised that she had not eaten for hours, and her stomach was empty. It would also give Wes something to do, other than standing guard over her.

“Yes, please.”

“What can I get you?”

“I really don’t mind. Anything warm will be great, but don’t go to too much trouble.”

He disappeared out of the door, leaving her alone to study the room she was in. Functional was the best way to describe it. No feminine touches, which put her mind at rest where any other women in his life were concerned. If any women stayed here, they did not do so often enough to leave so much as a tooth brush.

Closing her eyes, she tried desperately to relax, but the fear that had consumed her kept pushing into her brain. She tried instead to concentrate on the noises coming from the kitchen, the sound of Wes moving around reassuring her. He was close, if she needed him she only had to call, and he would be there. “But you can’t live your life like that,” her brain whispered. “One day at a time,” she told it.

It was no good, she wanted to be with him, to see him and touch him to make sure he was real and there for her. Ducking under the water, she wet her hair, and then reached for the shampoo. As quick as she could she washed, and rinsed. Grabbing a towel before climbing out of the bath.

A robe hung on the back of the door; she put it on, tying it around her. There was no way she was putting her clothes back on. She could not anyway, when she looked they were gone, he must have picked them up and taken them out. Very domesticated, she thought. He would be easier to live with than her mom was.

Again, Paris closed her eyes and tried to shut out all thought of her mom. Maybe it was unfair, but she could not help but lay a large dose of the responsibility about what had happened to her at her mom's feet. Suddenly overcome with emotion she sat down on the edge of the bath and cried, big gulping sobs escaping her. Trying not to let Wes hear she put her hand over her mouth, stifling her emotions.

Too late, he had heard her. He came into the small room, his body a bundle of tension. Coming towards her, he knelt before her, and wrapped her in his warm bear hug. She put her head on his shoulder and he held her while she sobbed it all out. His hand rubbing her back, calming and soothing, but he did not tell her to stop.

She cried herself out, eventually, her body hiccuping, as slowly she came back to herself. Only then, did he lift his head and look at her, the pain on his face heartbreaking. She tried a weak smile, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’ve had a hell of a shock, it’s much better if you let it out, let go of it.”

Paris wiped her eyes on the sleeve of his bathrobe. When she looked at him again, he was smiling. “This looks good on you, I could get used to you wandering around in it.”

“Easy access,” she smiled, and all at once, the heat in his eyes pushed everything else into the background. She reached up and stroked his cheek, and then leaned in to kiss him. He pulled back away.

“Paris, give yourself some time.”

“Don’t you want me?” she asked, her heart at breaking point. Had what happened changed his feelings towards her after all? “Nothing happened, I’m still only yours.”

“Paris! No! That’s not what I meant. I want you to rest, the way I feel right now, I might not be able to hold myself back if we...”

“Then don’t,” she said, opening her robe enough so that when she took his hand and slid it inside there was plenty of room for him to stroke her breasts. She closed her eyes, his touch chasing all fears away, making her feel connected to him and safe.

“Paris,” he growled, a deep guttural sound, a reminder of his other nature.

His mouth covered hers, and his kisses were rougher, more urgent. The robe was torn from her body, and his hands covered her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples, which became hard and taut instantly.

With no more words, he picked her up and carried her out of the bathroom, his mouth still working on hers to arouse and tease her, his teeth nipping her sensitive lower lip before his tongue pushed inside her mouth to claim her. This was what their lovemaking was about, he had to reclaim what was his, what had been taken, Paris realised this, and also the degree to which he was losing control.

He placed her roughly on the bed, his body covering hers, his mouth and hands everywhere at once. She writhed under him, and her hands instinctively reached for his belt in an attempt to free his thick cock. However, her fingers did not want to cooperate, she fumbled with the buckle, until eventually he brushed her hands away and stood in front of her so she could watch him strip.

Quickly, every movement economical as he tried to get naked as quickly as possible. His jeans hit the floor, and he kicked them off, allowing them to fly across the room. Then his shirt was balled up and thrown in the same direction.

Paris once again felt fear, but fear of a different kind. He might hurt her, but really all that mattered was that he wanted her, and a thrill of anticipation ran through her. Tonight she was a woman, and she intended to meet him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust.

His thick fingers touched her between her legs, running along her wet sex, drawing her juices up to lubricate her clit, which he stroked until she was squirming beneath him. His thumb replaced his fingers, and they turned instead to pushing inside her, massaging her sex. She knew he was trying to hold himself back, making her ready for him.

“Condom,” he muttered, and for a brief moment he left her, rummaging through the bathroom cabinet until he found what he was looking for. Then he returned, fitting the thing as he walked, wasting no time.

She must have let her apprehension spread over her face, because he hesitated before joining her on the bed. He lay on his back, his cock standing proud and erect, she didn’t know what he wanted of her, did he want her to suck it? She moved to cover him with her mouth; instead, he grasped her elbows and practically lifted her to straddle him. Now she had the idea.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, feeling like that little naive virgin again.

“I’ll guide you, don’t worry, but this way you will have some control, which I am in every danger of losing.”

She knelt up, trying to figure out how this was going to work, she would need to hold his cock, surely, and then sit on him.

Grasping him firmly, she ran her hand up and down his thick shaft, feeling him raise his hips to thrust into her hand. The condom felt strange, covering his skin, but she ignored this, and eased herself down so that the head of his cock pressed against her outer lips.

Closing her eyes, she sank down on him, feeling her inner walls yield to him. Down a little bit more, he filled her, but she was in control. Up a little, and then further down, she rocked on her knees, feeling every inch of him inside her. The friction of him sliding into her consumed her senses, her whole being concentrating on this one part of her body and the intense feelings she was experiencing.

Lowering herself down a little more, until she felt incredibly full, as though she would split in two. However, she found she could still take more of him, and she did, until she was sat on him, completely impaled on his thick length. For a moment she had to pause, and adjust herself, it was only then that she opened her eyes, seeing the strain on his face.

His hands gripped the sheets, balling them up, and his lips were pressed together, tension evident in every part of him. Paris smiled, she wanted him to lose control, he deserved to have her in any way he wanted, she could take it. At this moment the child that Paris had always felt she was had gone, replaced by a woman, and he was her man.

Slowly, gaining confidence with each movement she circled her hips, hearing him grunt in approval. It felt so good, his cock buried so deep inside her, filling her with its hardness. Paris began to experiment, lifting herself off him, using her knees to raise her body, allowing him to slide out of her. Then she sank back down, delighting in the fullness, before rising again.

She found a rhythm, slowly and steadily she took herself to the edge of her climax, feeling him begin to thrust upwards when she lifted herself up. His excitement was growing too, she was giving him pleasure, and she looked down at him, watching the expressions play across his face.

As she rose up, she leaned forward, and kissed him, this broke his control once and for all; his hand fisted her hair, pulling her down so his lips could press against hers. His hands went to her breasts, cupping them in his large palms, then he used his mouth to suck on them, her body tensed, and her sex gripped him tightly.

In one swift movement, he changed their position, and she lay under him, her legs spread wide, her knees raised, allowing him to thrust into her hard and deep. If she thought he had been buried up to the hilt in her when she was on top, she was wrong. He went deeper, so deep it felt as though he would rupture her internally.

The strength of each stroke pushed her up the bed, until she could go no further. Still he rammed into her, Paris put her hands on his chest, feeling his muscles working, and then rubbed his nipples as he had done to her. If it was possible, this seemed to drive him even wilder. He put his hand behind her knee, holding her body close to his and pushed into her, circling his hips to stretch her inner walls.

It was Paris's turn to lose control. His body rubbed against her clit as his hips circled, and the edge of her climax hit her abruptly. She cried out, her sex pulsing around his cock, setting off a chain reaction, and his cock spurted his seed inside her. He thrust harder, the muscles in his arms straining to support him as he jerked hard and fast into her.

All at once, he collapsed forward, pushing deep into her, the feeling of being filled by his seed making her orgasm begin all over again. She raise her hips, pressing herself onto him, her hands going around him and stroking his butt feeling his muscles bunched with strain.

Then it was over, with a wild cry he finished, and slumped down beside her. His breathing hard and laboured. It was only when they lay in each other’s arms that the sounds of the bar reached her ears. She paled, and then had to ask him, “Did they hear us?”

He raised his head to look at her, his brow beaded with sweat. “They would have to be deaf not to.” He smiled the horror of it covered her face. “Don’t worry about it. At least they all know you’re mine now.”

“Yours.” She found she liked the sound of that.

“Uhuh. Mine, no one will dare so much as look at you in a suggestive way. No more wandering hands, not if they want to keep them.”

“Is that right? You’re the big bad bear.”

“Only when it comes to protecting you. Nothing will ever happen to you again Paris. I promise.”

“I know,” and with a sigh she lay in his arms, until the most delicious smell reached her nose. “What did you cook in the end?”

“Oh, it'll be burnt.” With that, he jumped out of bed, and she grabbed the robe again, making her way out to the kitchen to see what he had cooked. She found she was famished, her appetite had well and truly returned, and she sat down to eat with him. It felt so natural, so right. This was where she was supposed to be. Now she knew this, she realised she would not be giving part of herself up to live with him; she would be gaining a part of herself that she had never known existed.

Spent. That was the only word he had to describe how he felt. Emotionally, physically, and now sexually. Today had been one hell of a day; he had been so close to losing Paris, now he felt closer to her than ever. Something in her had shifted, and she had given herself to him fully.

He watched her sleeping, the exhaustion of the day taking over her, and now thankfully she dreamed peacefully, something it would take him a while to achieve. The events of the day played through his mind. His visit to Ted's garage, his phone call to Tom, at the police station. The desperate attempt to track Paris down, he could not have done it without the wolves. He was indebted to them, something he always hated, but he would have given them anything for their help in rescuing Paris.

Now here she was, beautiful and warm, her breathing soothing to his ragged nerves. He could faintly hear the sounds from the bar, it would be closing soon, he ought really to go down, but he could not leave her. He could not let her out of his sight, not yet.

However, the phone had other ideas, and reluctantly he got up and padded out to answer it, his body feeling chilled once away from the heat of the bed. Feeling grumpy, he answered it, expecting it to be Frank with a problem, so he was surprised to hear Tom's voice. “Hi, Tom, what can I do for you?”

“Just checking in. Everything OK with Paris? I drove past her place but there's no one in, I guessed she was with you.”

“Yes, she's going to stay here for a few days, or more...” He did not have to spell it out; Tom knew how these things worked, even if he probably did not wholly believe in telling outsiders their secrets. Tom was pack leader, and also on the council, the people who tried to control the shifters and other supernatural beings that were drawn to Knotted Oak, and the surrounding forest and villages.

It had been a magnet for the them, now they worked together tirelessly to keep this corner of England from being developed, it was one of the only places where the ancient trees still grew, and the land was worked in harmony with nature. It probably helped there was a strong community of witches who liked nothing more than a good fertility spell, but also were not above putting hexes on anyone who threatened their way of life.

“I understand. The elders on the council just wanted me to pass on a message.”

“Here goes,” thought Wes.

“They know that Paris found out by accident about your other nature.”

“Do they?” Wes’s tone had hardened just a degree, and he knew Tom would be able to hear it.