Mail Order Tiger Bride Wars: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance (5 page)

“At least it isn’
t frostbite.” Terry smiled back.

I can’t believe it!
Ellen thought.
My sister intends to steal my mail order husband from directly under my nose!

She should have seen it coming.
The moment Mobutu started telling them about how rich Cole was, her sister’s cogs started turning. And after seeing Cole in the handsome flesh and ascertaining that he really was an archeology Professor (a.k.a. good and smart gene pool), Terry had decided – in probably a flash – to ditch her current fiancé and gun for Cole instead.

Cole said
lightly, “So you’re saying you can get out of your engagement?”

Ellen couldn’t put a read on him. Was or was he not interested in Terry? But then, most guys were interested in Terry.
They definitely wanted to get into her pants, even when they found her self-absorbed and high-maintenance. So it was safe to assume Cole was interested in Terry too. Especially since his eyes never wandered away from checking her out – her hair, her sizzling teeth, her boobs.

Ellen felt as inferior as a
dormouse in a circus tent full of elephants, and she wanted to shrink and hide under the table.

God.
She wished Terry was an elephant.

Her prospects with Cole were as good as f
inished.

9

The truth was – Terry had always been je
alous of her older sister.

It started when they were both kids. Ellen was the older by two years, and
she had always been smart. Like, she could read and write before she was two. Terry absolutely hated people like that – the kind who were so smart you didn’t know if brains grew on either side of their asses.

She was certain – as certain that the sun rose above New Zealand first – that her parents preferred Ellen. Ellen was always so sweet and tractable and
docile. Her nose was always buried in books and she could do arithmetic like Kate Upton could do cleavage.

All the mind sciences came easy to Ellen.
It was a good thing too, along the way while they were both growing up, that Ellen’s eyesight started to go bad.

Terry was gleeful.

Ellen’s eyesight went downhill pretty fast. Soon, she was adding on the Diopters like pounds. The more Ellen improved her mind, the faster her eyesight went – as if a cosmic joke was being played on her.

Ellen generally considered herself to have bad fashion taste,
especially when they were both teenagers. And so she let Terry pick out everything for her – her clothes, her glasses, her bedspread and wallpaper.

T
erry chose the worst and most garish selections possible. Ellen let her . . . simply because she was clueless about everything.

It was fun
going shopping with big sis.

“I think those big red glasses totally look so retro. And retro is so in right now . . . or forever. So you should totally get them.”

“You think so?”

“Hey, I’m the fashion expert here. I know what suits you and what doesn’t. I’m telling you . . . those big red glasses? They’ll make you look like the Queen.”

Or:

“
Trust me, this purple turtleneck looks good at you. It sets off your blonde hair perfectly.”

“But . . . it’s kind of bright purple. I’m not really sure . .
. ”

“Purple is the new black. It says so in all the fashion magazines, and
I
keep up with the trends, remember?”

Or:

“You should cut your hair. You look good with short hair.”

“But you have long hair.”

“That’s because you wear glasses, and
short hair goes well with glasses. Ask Principal Atler. She wears glasses and has short hair . . . and . . . she’s the Principal!”

“She’s also a dyke.”

“What kind of feminist statement is that? Just because she has short hair, she’s a dyke? And what have you got against dykes anyway?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“There you go.”

So Terry kept her sister geeky and awkward and dateless, as only a good sister could. It was retribution for being the lesser loved sibling all her life, even though she was prettier and shapelier and more beguiling in every single way.

There was another thing Terry could
wreak havoc upon – and that was on her sister’s metabolism. Because, for a smart girl, Ellen wasn’t too keyed up on her own nutrition. She was too engrossed in Math and Science and everything else in between.

“Burgers are sooo good for shifters like us.”

“Yes, I
know, that Southern fried chicken is to die for. Have another piece. With the skin on.”

“You should totally have a huge tub of ice-cream every day to reward yourself
every day after a hard day’s work.”

“Exercise is for humans. We shifters don’t need any, even though we don’t shift as often as pureblood shifters do.
It’s our genes, you see. I read about this in
Shifter Cosmo
.”

“Binging on cakes and cookies is good. It stimulates
endorphins in our brains, and it will boost your brain power.”

As a result, Ellen got real fat, real quick. Which suited Terry just fine. When they were teenagers and looks and boys started to play a bigger role than parental affection, Terry came up trumps.

She didn’t even have to get Ellen to talk funny. With Ellen’s insecurities and
psychological issues, she did that all by herself.

*

Cole Devereaux’s ad was a lark. It was Terry’s way of making fun of her sister yet again.

“Sure, answer the ad. Be a mail order shifter bride,” she flung at her sister as a sort of dare.

Who knew that her sister would muster up the guts to actually go through with it?

Terry wanted a vacation
anyway. She had just finished college and the prospect of working terrified her. So she had latched on to the first eligible man who wanted her. Billy was a purebred tiger shifter who was handsome and good in bed. He came from a fairly well-to-do family. He was also a stockbroker up in Toronto.

But Cole!

He was a different league altogether. Now that she had ascertained he was handsome and rich and smart (how else would he pull off an elaborate stunt like a whole archeological dig, right?), Terry decided he was a better bet than the just-starting-out Billy.

She meant every word she said about wriggling out of engagements.
Hell, she could even wriggle out of a marriage if needed be.

Cole
had arranged a tent for Ellen. So he didn’t presume to sleep with Ellen right away. Terry didn’t think Ellen would even consider sleeping with a guy she just met, and Cole obviously thought the same. And since Terry was the tagger, it meant she had to share a tent with Ellen.

Bummer.

Once they were alone, Ellen rounded up on her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Terry took in the face of her fat sister and pitied her. Like, who would want to fuck someone like that? It would be like fucking a cupcake.

“Exactly what I said to Cole back there,” Terry declared.
“I’ve decided he’s quite a catch.”

“A catch?
You’re talking about him like he’s some sort of Big Fish. He’s a tiger, dammit . . . no, that’s not what I meant to say. He’s a person! Not some sort of halibut spearing competition!”

Terry crossed her eyes.

“He is, for your information, a fish. And all bets are off now. It was
I
who saw the ad first.”

“But I wrote to him first!”

“Only because I egged you on.”

“I
– ” Ellen faltered.

“There you go . . . you admit it.” Terry was triumphant.
“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have offered yourself up to him in the first place.”

“I didn’t offer myself up!
I just replied to his ad! It’s like two minds meeting. It’s like . . . Samson and Delilah.”

“I really don’t see you as a
Delilah, Ellen. You’re more like an Oprah, but not in the billionaire talk show hostess success way. If I were you, I’d just roll over and give up.”

Ellen opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish.

“That’s right,” Terry said. “You can just think about going home. You don’t even know the guy. You’ve barely met him.”

“
You’ve barely met him too,” Ellen spluttered.

“I saw him naked first.”

“That doesn’t count!”

“He has quite a package.”

“That still doesn’t count!”

“
Men are my specialty. I practically graduated with first class honors in them. Let’s face it, you’ve never gone against me before and you want to know why?”

Ellen shook her head
.

“I’m going to tell you why anyway. Because
you just can’t win. I’m younger, prettier, sexier, and everything else you’re not. So deal with it, OK? Take the next flight back to Omaha.”

Terry
turned heel and headed out of the tent into the dark, tropical night.

“Don’t wait up!” she called as a parting shot.

There was still no sound from Ellen, and she allowed herself a smile.

10

Ellen could only stare at tent flap opening for a long, long time, her mouth agape.

Unbelievable!

Did what just happened really happen?
Her sister . . . her own sister! Now she has become the competition!

But wait a minute – what exactly
were they competing for? The affections of a man they’d just met? And suddenly, he’s the most desirable tiger shifter on the planet?

(OK, maybe he is.)

But this was stupid! They didn’t even know the guy! And suddenly her sister wanted him – based on his paper credentials? The guy could still be a serial killer!

Ellen remembered how Cole’s
brown eyes lighted up as they crinkled in amusement. Somehow, she didn’t think he was a serial killer.

But it wasn’t fair!
She wrote to him first!

Since when was anything in this world fair?
her inner voice told her. If you want something, you’ll have to fight for it.

But did she really want to fight for a man she’d just met? She – who never fought for a man before? What assets did she have?
What feminine wiles did she possess? She – whom all her life had never been looked at twice by a boy who didn’t want to make fun of her?

Ellen pursed her mouth.
It was decision time.

It was not about fighting over a man anymore. It was about fighting her
sister
.

Are you going to be her
doormat all your life?

11

Terry
walked confidently to the direction of Cole’s tent. There were flaming torches at strategic positions at the camp so she could see her way. The moon was a ghostly ball in the sky, and the constellations were different here from what they got at home.

She was dressed
in a sleeveless plaid shirt and shorts for the heat. She quickly unbuttoned the shirt to expose her breasts – well, as much of them as she could. She always did have a nice set of tits on her slim rack. The only thing unsexy about this whole tropical archeological dig thing was the amount of mosquito repellant she had to use.

But it was OK. She and Cole could use
that outdoor shower.

Together.

She thought of her stricken sister languishing alone in their shared tent and smiled.
Well, that tent is going to be all yours, big sis. I’m moving into the big chief’s one
.

There were some men about, speaking softly in whatever language they were speaking in and smoking cigarettes.
They looked up as she passed and made some remark, followed by laughter.

She didn’t care. They probably never saw a white woman with nice tits before.
She wondered if the local women went about naked here. That was a nice thought. Her going naked and exposing her tits. Wearing little else but a skirt and tribal jewelry made out of animal teeth. Her breasts bouncing as she walked up and down the ridges,
au naturel
.

Cole’s tent was dark underneath the flaps.

She pushed the flap open and went in confidently.

12

Cole was in the middle of a
dream.

In his dream, he had reverted to his tiger state – something he was wary to do in the present company of his
men, as they did not take to shifters in general. He was prowling the jungle in his natural state. A tiger in Africa. Fancy that. Tigers only roamed in Asian jungles, but he was an exception here.

What other predatory beasts were there around him?

He was hungry. He needed to hunt. The blood lust filled his nostrils. The jungle sounds were rife around him – the calls of birds overhead, the cricket chirps, the rustling of dried leaves and undergrowth as smaller animals ran away from him in fright.

He could sense a warm creature
near him. A biped, nestling in the undergrowth.

Biped?

This biped was bold, suggesting that it might be a human. With possibly a weapon to hunt him. He had to be on the alert.

He lifted his head to sniff the air.

The human came into view. It was in silhouette, and the night was very dark with barely a moon to guide them.

“Cole,” she said.

She was a female.

“Cole. I need your
cock inside me.”

Huh?

Cole woke up with a start.

Someone was in the tent with him.
On his bed. Putting her hands on his bare torso. He always slept with only boxer shorts on.

“
Arhhhhh!” Cole leaped up in fright.

As with
most shifters, his entire body started to transform as a fight or flight response. He felt his bones compacting and his fur sprouting, as well as his tail.

No, no, no. Not here where it’s taboo!

“Cole,” said the female, “It’s me, Terry.”

Oh, shit.

“You gave me a fright,” Cole said, his heart racing with a million beats. “Don’t do that. I’m wired to transform. I might hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.” H
er voice came out in a purr. She was a cat all right.

She cupped his genitals under his boxers. Oh double shit. He had an erection. It happened quite frequently in his sleep, especially when he was dreaming about
prowling around in his tiger state.

But wait.

Why was he feeling guilty?

There was nothing wrong with his situation. Here was a beautiful tiger shifter female, willing and available. OK, she wasn’t the one he initially wrote to. But she was here. And available, despite her dubious engagement plans. Availability was good. He thrived on available women – single or not.

He found his body responding to her touch.
Her
grope
, to be more exact.

This was a
sham marriage he was going through. He knew exactly why he was going through it. It didn’t matter which tiger shifter sister he took. He might as well take the prettier, younger one. She was likely to be more fertile. And she would certainly be great to fuck, especially with the lights on.

Let them both sort out their rivalries between them.

He grinned in the dark. It was nice to be wanted and fought over.

“Let me take this off,” Terry said suggestively.

Her hand pulled down the waistband of his boxers, exposing his erect cock. It popped out. He wondered if she liked being tied up. But maybe it was too soon to introduce her to his deviant sexual practices. He might end up scaring her off.

“Y
ou sure you want to do this?” he said.

She was taking her own clothes off.
Her buttoned down shirt. Her shorts. Her shoes.

“Oh yes,” she said breathlessly.
“We have to find out if we are sexually compatible.”

“W
hat about your sister? Is she OK with this?”

She was pulling at his cock.
Massaging it. Making the blood rush into it and engorge the crown.

She said as she knelt down to take
his cock in her mouth: “Fuck what she thinks.”

Her mouth sealed around his cock, and th
e wet sensations swarmed him, sending him into paroxysms of pleasure. He loved being sucked. He loved the way his balls contracted each time a woman drew her cheeks over his cock.

But wait.

Something niggled at him.

She sucked
and sucked his cock, and he moaned softly. But his mind was still whirring.

It occurred to him that h
e did not really like this woman’s behavior. The fact had occurred to him since dinner. She was the definition of high maintenance, and she had a sense of entitlement that was bizarre.

He didn’t
think he would like a wife like that at all.

*

When Cole was ten years old, he saw a smaller kid of about five being picked upon by his bigger and obviously older brother.

“Give it to me!” the older kid said, trying to pull a
skateboard from the younger kid who was clutching it to his chest fiercely.

“No!
It’s mine! Dad gave it to me.”

“You’re supposed to let me use it.”

“No. You’re too heavy for it. You’d only ruin it.”

“You fucker.”
The older kid tried to club his brother in the ear. He was bigger and older than even Cole, and he was on the plump side.

Cole felt a heat
shoot up his throat, like he was having a reflux. He walked up to the pair.

“Hey,” he said. “You’ve got a problem here?”

“What are you? A cop?” the older kid said rudely.

“I was asking him.”

“Mind your own business.”

“If someone bigger picks on someone else, it’s my business.” Cole was as tall as the other kid.
Just barely.

The big kid clenched his fists.
“Fine. I’ll make it your business.”

He raised his right fist and shot it straight into Cole’s nose.

Cole was ready for it. He ducked.

The
fist swiped cleanly over his head.

It was his turn to raise a fist
to the kid’s abdomen. Only it wasn’t a fist anymore. It was a tiger paw. With claws.

He had mastered the art of semi-transforming even when he was a kid.

“Oh shit!” the big kid cried. “You’re one of those things!”

“You bet I am.”

The big kid dropped the skateboard and ran away, howling, “They’re here, they’re here!”

“Yeah, and I do zombie impressions too!”

The little kid looked up at Cole in wonder.

“Wow. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

Cole grinned. He bent over and gave the little kid his human pinkie.

“This will be just our pinkie
secret, OK?”

“Pinkie secrets are tight.”

They locked and twisted pinkies, and then did a fist bump. Or rather, fist-to-paw bump.

“Cool,” the kid said, smiling.

“Cool.”

The kid ran away too, and he turned after he crossed the street. He flashed Cole another big smile.

Cole felt so good about the memory of saving an underdog that he kept it with him for a long, long time.

*

Terry was sucking his cock, and his gut roiled even as the erotic sensations in his groin engulfed him. It was dark in the tent. He liked to sleep in total darkness. Any sort of light kept him awake.

He laid his hands on her head.

“Um, Terry . . . ”

“
Mmmmmm.”

Moist, sucking noises.
In, out, in, out – she pumped his cock with her wet, slippery mouth.

“We should stop,” he said.

He gently eased her head away. Her mouth slid off his cock.
He could sense her discontent in the dark. It radiated off her dark body in waves.

“But why?”
Her voice turned petulant and whiny. Like a kid being denied a skateboard, came the unbidden thought.

He should tell the truth.

I don’t like the way you treat your sister, and probably everyone else.

I don’t like the way you treat your fiancé, like he’s a spare wheel to be discarded when you get the new
Michelin Super Sport model.

I don’t like the way you complain about everything, as if every
one around you owes you the air you breathe.

And even though I’m
only doing this so that my father won’t cut me off, I think I deserve a better marriage-of-convenience
.

Aloud, he said, “
Your sister wrote to me first. I feel like I owe her.”

Terry’s voice was aghast. “You owe her a fuck?”

“I owe her . . . the chance to get to know her better first.” That came out a little grammatically strange, but it was exactly how he was feeling.

The dark form of Terry scrambled to her feet. He could see her picking up her clothes in the dark. OK, there was some groping.
He felt like he should offer her a light, but he didn’t want to see her face right now.

“You’re picking her over me?”

There was no way out of this.

“I’m not picking anyone. I’m just saying she wrote to me first.”

“This is not grade school!”

“When you go to the bank
as an adult, there’s still a line.”

“What?”

“It’s true.”

“But s
he’s fat and ugly!”

“She’s not fat and ugly. OK, she’s a little fat
– ”

He groaned.

You did not just say that to her sister.

“So you think she’s fat. Everyone thinks she’s fat. You can clearly see how fat she is.”

“Being fat is not the most important thing in the universe. There are other things. Like . . . the environment. And saving the whales.”

He groaned. This was getting from bad to worse.
He was naked, he still had an erection, and he was having an argument with a woman he had just met today who had just sucked his cock – but not to completion.

He strode to the switch to turn on the lights.
The bulbs overhead sputtered and lit. Light flooded the tent, throwing shadows everywhere. Terry stood before him, dressed but still barefoot. Her shirt gaped at the middle, showing off her cleavage down till her belly button.

“See what you’re missing?” she said, opening her shirt so that he could see her well-shaped boobs.

“You’re a beautiful woman, but . . . that’s not everything.”

“And the environment is?
And the whales?”

He paused. His erection was waning, thank goodness
, with all this talk of whales.

He said,
“Yeah, really. There’s a lot more to your sister than what she appears to be . . . and you should be the one telling me that. Not the other way around. You should be the one telling me how good she is and how special she is and how much I should look beyond her BMI. That’s what sisters
do
.”

Great.

Now he was getting heated.
It was like back when he was on the high school debate team and screwing the rival school’s head debater in the backseat of his father’s BMW.

“Oh, so you’re now taking her side?” Terry gaped. “What – did she get to you before me?”

“Yes, she did. That was what I was trying to tell you.”

“And you actually
prefer
her? Or are you saying all this out of a preference of . . . who’s first in
line
?”

That came out odd too. But
then this was an odd conversation. And he was still naked.

“Um . . . as a matter of fact, I do prefer her.
But you wouldn’t understand why. You wouldn’t understand a lot of things – such as how people really are and how you should treat them if they’re family, and even when they are not family.”

“You presume to tell me what I understand and what I don’t understand? How dare you!
You’ve just outraged my modesty!”

No way.

He stared at her exposed cleavage.

“No way,” he said aloud.

“I think I’ll scream rape.”

“You came to my tent and put your mouth
around my penis . . . and you want to scream ‘rape’?” he spluttered.

She stood there, blazing and mutinous. She was truly beautiful, and yet he could see the
seething ugliness inside. It was like a tinge of black coating her aura.

He gazed at her steadily. “Go home, Terry Moss. Go home to your fiancé and pretend none of this ever happened.
”