The Tiger's Secret Baby (4 page)

Moments later, the streets were filled with a bunch of naked men and women, having shifted back into their human forms, and now celebrating jubilantly over their victory. Panthers and tigers were shaking hands with one another, embracing, and God, was it ever a surreal vision to behold.

My eyes began to well up with tears, but it was nothing compared to the sight of Vincent stepping into the threshold of my door, naked and tattered, but largely intact. I ran to him, kissing him on the mouth, not caring anymore whether everyone in the world bore witness to our love.

“I do,” I mouthed to Vincent, our hands entwined before the priest, and the two of us leaned in, and kissed one another on the lips. The crowd around us cheered, both tiger and panther alike, celebrating a union they once would have despised, and making the scene feel like so much more of a victory than it already was.

It had been our love that had united our kinds, I had since come to know in the months since the victory over the invading lion shifters. When they'd attacked, Vincent had told the chief of his kind, who happened to be close friends with his family, about my pregnancy, and about the deep connection that the two of us shared. Then he'd driven the point home by saying that, if the lion shifters were willing to attack the panthers, what would prevent them from going for them next? It had taken some serious convincing, but eventually he'd managed to convince his people that our kinds weren't really all that different, and that at the end of the day, cooperation was far better than our long-standing and irrational antipathy.

And so they'd come to our rescue, preventing a potentially tragic fate, and bringing about a unity to our people that we might not otherwise ever have known.

It hadn't happened overnight, but it was now far more popular to be accepting of one another than hateful. There were now many other interspecies couples to be found among our ranks, and even my father had come around to reason after having fought alongside his fellow catshifters in battle. Now, of course, his prejudice was against all lion shifters, whom he regularly decried, but I supposed it was best just to take things one step at a time as far as Dad's social progression was concerned.

I was sixth months into my pregnancy when Vincent and I got married. I still had my fears, not quite sure what to expect of the future to come, but it was impossible to be too afraid whenever my beloved husband's arms were around me.

Our wedding night was magical.

He peeled me out of my lacy white dress, and laid me down on the surface of our marital bed for the first time. It felt so wonderful beneath my body, so much softer and ideal compared to the scratchy surface of the forest pressing up against my spine.

He peeled me out of my bra and panties, and my swollen, pregnant body lay ready and open for him, though I had to confess to feeling self-conscious about the state I was in, not sure whether I was appealing for him this way.

I would quickly find, however, that I had nothing to worry about, and that he loved everything about me just as much as he always had, perhaps even more so. He peeled out of his tuxedo, and climbed up on top of me, clearly excited, but careful with regard to my delicate state just then all the same.

He stared into my eyes, and he kissed me deeply, making me lightheaded, like it was our first time all over again. He kissed my neck, and my shoulders, and I closed my eyes as he ravished me, treating my body like something holy. He seemed especially pleased by my engorged breasts, loving the feeling of my swollen nipples in his mouth, and his ravishing of them feeling wonderful as the sensations echoed across my body.

For some time he caressed, and suckled, and then very carefully he mounted me, spreading my legs, and sliding inside. He pushed himself inside me, hot and thick and glorious as ever, and I sighed with pleasure, never able to get enough of this.

And so, the two of us properly consummated the love that we shared, him grunting as he pushed his way in and out of me, our bodies colliding, our flesh slipping and sliding against one another, the friction overpowering us, driving us absolutely wild.

Harder and harder, deeper and deeper, buttocks clenching and unclenching, my pregnant body on fire with ecstasy. And then that last push into me, holding, holding, bursting, overflowing, coating me with his love, and an orgasm of my own sizzling through my limbs, making me cry out into the dark night surrounding us.

And at last he pulled out of me, the two of us panting and satisfied, the feeling of skin against skin far too perfect for either of us. He slipped his body behind me, spooning me tenderly, his lips almost constantly on the side of my neck, and his arms wrapped around me, so that his hands lovingly cradled my swollen, pregnant belly.

We drifted, slowly, tenderly off into sleep, and for the first time in years, everything felt as though it was precisely as it should be.

THE END

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Bonus Romance

****Veronica****

This is exactly why you shouldn’t try online dating. No seriously, if you can’t find love in person, give up. I’m giving up. You should too. And don’t come for me or shame me with the whole bit of maybe it’s just you. When your date turns into a giant lion when he was previously a hot man hitting every spot you needed hit and fingering you to oblivion, you can’t say shit to me. Until then, shut the fuck up.

So let’s rewind about two weeks. There’s me, living in San Francisco, completely oblivious to the shoe that’s about to fall on my pretty and perfect life.  Shoe? You ask. Yes, the shoe that tells you when life’s gotten a little too sunny on your side. I had been promoted to Project Manager. Which may not sound like much but let me tell you when you have broken through the glass ceilings of receptionist, assistant and generally avoided having to do sex favors for your boss, you sing praises for Project Manager. It’s also a miracle that I did all this single-handed while never succumbing to the loud but never spoken rule to be blond, super skinny and in love with tanning. Gasp, who wouldn’t want to be a blonde bimbo tottering on red bottom skyscrapers. This girl. Me. I’m tall all by myself, 5’11. You know what a girl like me looks like in 6-inch heels? Desperation. That’s what. Or a second on an Amazon movie set. So, I am content in my bedazzled flats that scream thrift store. I prefer the word antique, it brings an air of elegant remembering versus the only thing I can afford. Also, it makes carrying around these extra 90 pounds a bit easier. I say extra because all my coworkers don’t look to weigh any more than 90 pounds. I think that’s the maximum allowed into their club of sun tanning and tanning lotion. I’ve never been invited because the way my melanin is set up, I’m brown enough. Am I still not making myself clear? I’m black. That’s right. Big black woman coming through and you can bet your ass I’m coming for you and your little dog too if you call me fat. I’m not fat. I’m clothed in more to love. Get over yourself. Just because some aspire to anorexia doesn’t mean we should condemn those who love food.

Now, as I said, my life was wonderful. I was flawless, reread the paragraph before if you can’t understand that. I had a great job, again, see the previous paragraph. I had a lovely apartment. It was the third floor, with an elevator and a doorman doubling as security, perfect view of the water, high rise. On just my salary alone, I’d be living amongst the living dead and crack whores of the street. But I was spared from such deplorable living by my roommate turned best friend, Casey. I liked Casey. She renewed my faith in skinny women. They ain’t all bitches. Well, she renewed it only to revitalize it once more. I’ll explain that in a sec. The last icing on the cake of my beautiful life was my boyfriend, Tyrone. I hear you already, suspicion. I agree, I too was suspicious. How could a black man with a name like Tyrone be any good? I mean, even Erykah Badu said to call Tyrone. But I gave him a chance. He’s a numbers guy. Sweet, but nerdy behind his black square glasses but smooth enough to know how to dance when in a nightclub. Not bumping and grinding, I’m talking actual fox-trot, meringue, and salsa. The brother could do a two-step and he wasn’t addicted to Call of Duty. I almost felt like he was a match made in heaven. Almost, because he didn’t want to introduce me to his family. I mean, I’m not bad on the eyes and I was an established woman, living on her own with a career. What the hell? After a year of courting, dancing, and real good fucking, I assumed he was ashamed of my weight and decided to give him an ultimatum the next time he came over.

I remember the day so clearly. How could I forget? It was the biggest clusterfuck I had experience in all of the 27 years I had thusly lived. First, I was accosted at my job. By whom? Just guess. Tyrone’s wife! Yup, she pulled up in a minivan with three kids in the back. She rolled down the passenger side window and asked, “Is your name Veronica?”

“Who wants to know?” I asked while walking to my car. Of course I was suspicious, this is San Francisco; she could be crazy. I wasn’t going to stop until I was sure I wouldn’t be kidnapped. To be fair, the windows were black tinted and so at this point I didn’t actually know that there were kids in the back.

“I do,” She said speeding the van up and then putting it into park. She jumped out, ran around the front to step in front of me. I wish she had stayed in the car. From this vantage point, I could see her weave did not match her leave out. She looked tired. If we looked up, the word tired in the dictionary the woman’s picture would have been beside the word and it made me pity her even more. “I’m Cocoa. And this is Titi, Candy and Tyrone Jr.” She said yanking open the automatic door of the minivan. “Say hi kids.” The one called junior looked to be about 7 or 8 and was playing a handheld game. He all but grunted and the one closest to the door named Titi was strapped in a baby seat and of the presumed non-talking age. Only the middle girl named Candy waved from under half laden eyes. She was shy.

To call my reaction appalled is not saying enough. I was shocked out of breath. “And what can I do for you?” I asked. This was by far, an out of this world crazy coincidence that this woman’s son’s name just happened to be the same name as my current boyfriend’s name. Right?

“Well, first you can stop sleeping with my husband.” If brains made audible sounds, I do believe my brain would have sounded like a car crash. All the thoughts I had churning smashed right into each other. “I’m, pardon?” I asked. I meant to say I beg your pardon and I’m sorry but as I said, they were smashed together.

“I said, first you can stop sleeping with my husband,” She said, pushing some button within the vehicle so the car door closed automatically and putting her hands on her hips.

“And how do you know I’m sleeping with your husband?” I asked bending forward to encourage more airflow. I would have put my head between my knees but as I said before, I did not know if this woman was crazy. If she started swinging, I wanted to be aware of it before I felt a knot growing on my head.

“You are Veronica Lewis, yes?”

I nodded lamely.

“I read my husband’s phone records. He calls you almost every day. He visits you as well. Over the past year, he has brought you lunches I prepared him, brought you to dance halls I suggested for our date nights and visited you nights he thought I would be working late, but never stayed the night.”

I had to hand it to her. She had done her research. I had questioned several times the truth behind his never spending the night and never introducing me to his family. Now I knew. Knowing lit an angry fire in me. “I had no idea.” I breathed easily knowing that if this woman proved sane, we’d probably be kicking some ass together soon.

“I’m aware. I didn’t think you knew. Which is why stop sleeping with my husband was the first thing I said to you.”

“What’s your second?” My phone vibrated in my hand.

“Tell me where he is.”

I glanced down at the screen, “gladly. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He just texted me. Apparently, my roommate let him in and he’s waiting even though he knows I usually don’t get off until two hours from now.”

“Well, I say we pay him an early visit. Shall we?”

“Yes. Let’s.” I said, prepared to do battle. “You mind driving me to my car?”

Drive me she did. Just like a bat out of hell. We barely talked, the ride was filled with Barney sung lullabies. Titi controlled what was played in the car or else nothing would be heard over her screams.

“I’m about thirty minutes away and we’re ahead of traffic.”

“Ok, I’ll follow you,” She said.

I wasn’t sure that bringing her kids to such an ordeal was the right thing to do. But Cocoa insisted. They’re her kids so I let them follow me into the elevator, Titi in a stroller, Junior walking and playing his handheld with Candy on Cocoa’s hip. Three floors up and into my apartment as soundless ninjas we looked around. He was not either in the living room or my kitchen. I would have known immediately as the floor design was open. Everything connected to each other. The living room flowed into the kitchen that flowed to the hall bathroom and then to the right, two doors. One being my room and the other being Casey’s room. Setting my purse on the glass table, I listened hard. It’s amazing how the senses perk up when preparing for battle.

I heard moaning. Now again, here you would think the dots would connect themselves, but they didn’t. I thought,
oh, Casey is entertaining a guest. So clearly Tyrone left. But where would he have gone?
Not Cocoa, though, because sister girl walked with purpose, striding with confidence to Casey’s door and pushed it open. The shock put me on two-second delay but when my brain caught up to my legs to carry me to the room, leaving her kids alone in the living room, I was again, having a car accident in my head. There was Casey, naked in a headlock between Cocoa’s elbows and Tyrone hurriedly dressing, not helping her may I add, screaming, “It’s not what it looks like.” Do you see my confusion? He was not even surprised to see Cocoa there. He wasn’t helping Casey, who was naked and turning red in the face or addressing me, silly me, standing there dumbfounded by the gall of this idiot.