Riding Me Bear: (BBW Biker Mail Order Bride Group Shape Shifter Paranormal Romance) (Shifty Singles Book 5) (2 page)

By the time I could see buildings on the horizon, the sky was purple and the first stars made their shy appearance, like long sleeping fluorescent lights waking up.

That’s when I heard the howls. 

At first I didn’t think much of it—I may be a city girl, but I’m not easily startled, even by wildlife. But the howls came closer. They seemed to fill with hungry intensity as they converged on my position. At some point, the town still a mile or so away, I broke into a dead run.

I’d been teased—the moment I started to race off, the wolves appeared in front of me. There’d never been a chance. Heck, they could’ve been—may have been—watching since I left the bikers’ compound.

But I don’t give up easily. The wolves padded softly in front of me on the lonesome blacktop. Forging ahead was out of the question. So, I sprinted to my right, into the desert.  I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I had to run.

Yet, even with my life on the line, I could only run so far, and when my steam gave out, the wolves were right there, beside me, ready to circle around, closing ranks, tightening, squeezing.

That maniacally pleased grin was plastered on each of their faces, sleek slender canines stuck out, like melting pearls.

“We are so thirsty,” one of them hissed.

“So hungry.” Another one.

“You look as good as a Thanksgiving roast.”

“Slow or fast, gentlemen?”

My stomach dropped so hard and fast it was down with the anglerfish in the Marianas Trench. Still, I kept a stiff upper lip. Noses like theirs, they could probably smell my fear, but I refused to show it. Let ‘em do their worst.

Then the night was rent asunder by the a bellowing roar that shook me to my core. To my right, in the dark, I could only see the bulk of a body raised up against the cool blue landscape. It was…a bear! It rushed forward, slamming into the wolf nearest me, sending it tumbling through the sand.

The others snarled and spread their feet defiantly in the ground. They launched at my bear savior, their jaws snapping the air and clattering terribly. It was to no effect—their whimpers replaced their snarls as they rolled unconscious on the ground.

One, two, three, four, and five—all done, all collapsed in the sand. The bear has charged the rest, giant paws swiping at their delicate snouts, shattering their jaws, and leaving them to soak the sand crimson.

When it was all over, the bear stood up tall releasing his rage into a roar that shook the skies. It seemed to release the animal in him as well. I watched—with less surprise and more wonder—as the hair receded and the chest took on form and all left a man standing before me.

“Zac,” he said with a nod. “Remember me?”

The latent adrenaline left me quivering. “Yes! Oh god, thank you!” I stumbled over to him and threw my arms around his hard-muscled waist.

He put a hand on my head and held me close, his thumb stroking comfortingly through my hair. “Would you like me to take you to the bus station now? You might still be able to catch the last one out.”

Maybe it was just the jarring cataclysmic confluence of collocated chemicals, or maybe it was truth with a capital T, but his arms felt
right
.  I felt safe there, and justified in that safety.  And, stranger still—I felt
loved
.

“You’re the one,” I said.

“What?”

“You, I want you.”

He looked down at me, brushing my hair back. “You’ll have me.”

“I feel…” I grasped at straws—I didn’t have the words.

“You feel the bear,” he said softly. “You feel the soul of our union. It’s as solid and certain, yet mystical as the shapes of the stars.”

I looked up and traced Ursa Major with my finger and laughed quietly. “I don’t want to go to the bus.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Do we still have to do the ritual?”

When he sighed it was like a mountain crumbling. “Yes.”

Something yet stranger happened: I felt a tingle just bellow my belly.  Maybe it was knowing that I had found my man, that all was decided, that ultimately I would be safe with him—but I was suddenly aroused by the idea.

“Don’t worry though,” said Zac. “We all carry a psychic pair bonding. They won’t ever love you quite the way I do, but they will all always care about and for you. You’re not just mine, but you’re a part of a family now.”

Without my conscious volition, my mouth had gone dry and transferred all of that moisture to the space between my legs. I chewed my lip and thought about those gorgeous men from earlier, crowding around me, preparing to use my body, and eager to let me use them.

There was no risk in it—I knew who I’d get at the end of things.  I could just revel in the heat of sex, be taken over by it, give myself to it.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Hop on,” he replied with a grin. Zac fell to his hands and knees, becoming a bear in the instant of time from standing to landing. I jumped on top of him and wound my hands through his fur.

“Is this okay,” I asked. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“You’re fine,” said his distinctly human voice. “Hold on tight!”

With that we began to race out across the desert, the glow of the village and bus stop fading under the blacktop horizon. It only took us a little over an hour before we were back at the compound. Fiona was at the table playing cards with Marcus and the rest. She smiled at me, and without a word she and Marcus stood up from the table and left the room.

The energy there seemed to shift. The raw lustful hunger in their eyes bore into me and I found myself eager to bare myself to them. My stomach was fluttering as they approached. I wondered if I should tear off my clothes, or let their desire take care of it for me.

‘Let’ them. It’s kinda laughable, in retrospect. I never had a choice. Their hands were upon my willing body, feeling me, their strong fingers running over every inch of my flesh, feeling me out. They lifted me up between them and it was like I was floating without gravity as I was explored. The whole of the experience was organic. In a smooth moment I had been pulled out of my shirt—I didn’t even feel it happen.

I was whirling in a dream-state, twisted and turned and traded between those men—and Zac ever present, guiding, controlling (did the others know?). First shirt, then buttons at my waist, my pants peeled down as I’m arched between two sets of firm hands, a tongue arcing along the small of my back and up the valley of my spine. My shoes are, and my socks. My bra goes floating away from me as hands come up to cover my breasts and masse them, the pads of an unknown man’s fingers teasing at the nipples. I feel hot breath between my legs, warming the cotton of my panties—I’m distracted from this as I’m rotated, teeth sinking into my backside—the panties are gone, the last I feel of them is a flick of fabric at my ankles.

I’m spread like a starfish—there are mouths tracing their ravishing lust over my electrified flesh—kisses along my arms, lips closed over my neck, teeth pressing in and sending a lighting shock through me, curling my toes which have their own attendant lover. And, finally, a man with his scruffy five o’ clock shadow wedged between my thighs, his tongue flashing out to lash at my eager cunt, my engorged clit whipped by an agile tongue, and I am no longer fish, but all star, going nova.

I go rigid in their lofting grip and the man between my legs is encouraged, closing his mouth over my sex and drawing me deeply into him. He slides his tongue broadly over my lips, then slips it up like a spear to dash at my clit and rock me with another jolt of ecstasy. He alternates, teasingly, between attending the button and plunging into my depths, tasting me at my core, his thick tongue filling me up and darting in and out of me like a nimble cock.

His arms reach up around my hips so that the whole of my body’s weight is rested on his face and he pulls me even deeper into him, his tongue reaching preternaturally long inside me, with more strength and skill than seems possible. His thumbs came down as his tongue worked inside me and began to massage my clit between them.

I rocketed over the edge, caught between the tongue in my pussy and the mouths moving luxuriously over my calves, my thighs, the small of my back, the nape of my neck, out to the tips of my fingers. It’s blinding and smooth, hot and cold, solid and soft—like the sun twelve o’ clock high over freshly fallen snow.

They let me down carefully, laying me out on the table in the center of the room. My knees are guided up and back. I feel the coolness of the room on my scorching sex. I’m still coming down from my orgasm and every single solitary nerve ending is on high-alert. The coarse wood grain of the table—I sense its every curve and knot and the way my skin and sweat fill its sweeping valleys. I smell lingering beer in the air—some spilled and stale, some fresh and wafting from unwashed glasses. The men are almost uncomfortably silent, focused.

I’m shifted again, so my hips are right at the very edge of the table and when I look up I see that it’s Zac pulling me towards him. He towers over me, arms swept beneath my knees. His cock is rock hard and ready. He doesn’t need to touch it—it knows precisely where it wants to go. All he needs to do is take one, small step forward.

His hips tilt and the head of his monstrous manhood comes into sizzling contact with me. It slips effortlessly between my soaking lips. He keeps it there, unmoving, a monolithic tease.

Then, Zac begins to rock. He is moving slowly, steadily into me. Every detail of his thickness—I feel it: the parabolic widening from tip to glans; the well-defined edge where I meet the gradual swell of the shaft; the veins like webs, like art, like a bas-relief of the world’s surging rivers filled with rushing blood.

His pubic hair, a soft cushion, presses into me. He has nothing left to give—but neither have I. We’ve met, sex for sex, and matched like key and lock. He unwinds his arms from my legs and places his hands, one after the other, on either side of me with deliberate care. He’s above me, leaning in, close and closer, sweat and smoke and soap filling me along with his cock and then his kiss.

As we kissed he began to thrust, his powerful cock sliding out to the edge and easing back in. I felt the raw flesh of his godly cock pressing at every inch of me, right to the very end, stretching me perfectly. Flawless rhythm, speed, force. This was more than a man, more than an animal—this was a machine, finely tuned to the service of pleasure. Maybe that was one of the benefits of a spiritual pair-bonding.

My eyelids fluttered and my toes clenched as the next orgasm began to build in me. I swung my legs up around his waist and pulled myself against him. My fingers wove through his hair and clawed at his shoulders. His technique was relentless though.

He pounded me with his cock indefatigably, a man who knew precisely how to give me absolute and perfect pleasure.

He wasn’t hurting for it either. I felt his cock growing inside me and that fueled me further. I clamped down on him, my pussy squeezing and milking as he throbbed and thrust.  We wrapped all around each other and held on for dear life as we both erupted against each other.  Zac flooded me with his cum, shooting jet after hot, thick jet of the good stuff deep into my womb.

We collapsed there on the table for a moment. It felt longer, but it must have been quick. Zac rolled off to give the others a go.  There seemed to be an understanding in the room—perhaps it was there before we even started—that the decision had already been arrived at and the rest was mere “formality”. Well, so be it.

Zac was respectful of tradition and stepped aside while the others gathered around. They, too, were respectful of tradition, particularly in the acknowledgement that after tonight, they would never have another crack at my cunt. So they certainly made the most of it.

Their golden eyes shimmered with a lascivious hunger. I imagine that my baby blues matched theirs, appetite for appetite. This was my last go ‘round on the ol’ carousel. If I was married off to Zac tonight, there’d be no new dick ‘til death do we part. And I sure as heck ain’t cheating on a half-man, half-bear.

The men fully released the animals inside them. There was no care or love in this action now, and I loved them for it. I was yanked back into position at the edge of the table and turned on my side. One leg dropped down the side of the table, my toes just barely catching the ground to steady myself as one man unceremoniously shoved his cock hard and long all the way into my pussy, slamming up against the very end of me.

Another man wrapped his hand through my hair and forced my mouth around his cock. He fucked my face, and then my throat, ramming his hard, precum-leaking cock along my tongue and down into my throat.

Someone’s hand slapped my ass hard and I cried out around the cock in my mouth. There were hands on my ass, squeezing and kneading and finally prying the cheeks apart. A thick tongue found its way into the in between and came up against my tight, virgin rosebud. He swirled his tongue around my asshole as the other cock thrust in and out of my pussy at a hard angle, so as not to slap the other with his balls.

Around and around the tongue went, like a power drill, slowly slipping inside my ass. He pulled my ass apart and shoved his face against my tight hole as hard as he could, snaking his tongue deeper and deeper into my ass. I groaned against the cock at the back of my throat, in love with the sensation of having someone tongue my ass.