Amir (BBW Bear Shifter Moonshiner Romance) (120 Proof Honey Book 3) (49 page)

Kyle was counting on her. The whole valley was sure, but Kyle’s faith was the one she didn’t want to lose. She wanted to be his hero. She wanted to make him happy and have him hold her and whisper a lot of sexy nothings into her ears. Valerie realized that what she wanted more than anything in the whole world was for Kyle to love her, and she would do anything to get that. She would lose her job over this—no actually she would quit. Submit the final report and quit.
 

But that was the problem right? That final report. What if she didn’t submit it? They would just send Calvin down anyway and he would submit it no problem.
 

And then it hit her.
 

“Of course! You can be so stupid you know?” she yelled at herself and punched the air. Of course, why didn’t she realize it before. The report, that final piece of red tape. That was going to save them. And not by some strange clerical error, or by Valerie not doing her job properly, oh no! She was going to do her job by the book and to the letter.
 

With a huge grin she began to type.
 

Three hours and multiple cups of coffee later, Valerie met with Kyle, Ryan, Wyatt and Jess at The Lemon Drop Café. The storm had left puddles on the sidewalk and there was a chill in the air even though the sun was shining.
 

When she came in and sat down next to Kyle they all turned strained faces to her. Jess looked haggard and spent. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed like she’d been crying. Valerie smiled and placed a hand over hers.
 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said.
 

“How?” Ryan asked in his calm measured voice. “Have you done something?”

Valerie beamed at them. “It’s not a fix. I have to tell you that outright. But it will buy you, us, some time.” She took Kyle’s hand in hers.
 

He squeezed her fingers.
 

“What did you do?” Wyatt asked.
 

“Nothing, my job,” Valerie said.

“I’m lost,” Jess said. “How does you doing your job solve our problem? I thought you doing your job was the problem?”

“So did I,” Valerie said. “And then I realized that if I did my job to the letter, then this process would take a lot longer.”

“What did you do?” Kyle asked smiling.
 

“I sent in the report,” Valerie said, “A copy goes to Mr. Petersen, and one to Mr. Snow and then another to the council. In it I have raised concerns about the land, what it is intended for and how that will affect the fauna and flora, some of which I suspect may be endangered, or at least in need of conservation.”
 

“Hold on, you’ve gummed up the works with your report?” Jess asked.
 

“Yup,” Valerie smiled as Kyle kissed her temple and put his arm around her shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly and Valerie felt her heart flutter in her chest.
 

“They will have to do a full environmental impact survey and those take time. I’ll send a copy of the report to your grandpa, Kyle, if you give me his email address. That way if they do anything without that report you can report them to the authorities. It won’t hold them off for long, but maybe it will buy enough time.”
 
She shrugged.

“You can send it to me,” Kyle said. “Is this girl a genius or what?”

He turned to her then and took her face in his hands and kissed her. She melted into him as all his friends made the usual mocking noises, but she didn’t care at all.
 

It was cold outside, but warm inside by the fire. Kyle had invited Valerie over for a celebratory dinner. She arrived at his cabin at seven pm, having traded in the stupid sedan for an SUV and followed his hand drawn directions.
 

“You really should draw better,” she said with mock anger. “I wasn’t sure which one of the bazillion giant trees to turn at.”
 

Kyle pulled her into his arms when he opened the door. Valerie felt her jacket slip to the floor.
 

“I brought wine,” she said holding up a bottle of Merlot.
 

Kyle took it, looked at it and put it on the kitchen counter. The whole cabin, apart from the bedroom and bathroom was open plan and heated by a huge fire roaring in the grate. The night was clear and crisp with frost.
 

Closing the door Kyle buried his face in her hair. “You smell good enough to eat,” he said.
 

“Well,” she said and smiled.
 

It was all he needed.
 

Kyle kissed her. Valerie closed her eyes and felt herself sail off on a sea of pleasure. He tasted of salt and something sweet and tangy. His lips were soft and met hers with a hunger that mirrored her own desire to have him.
 

The kisses moved, all down her neck and shoulders. Where clothing got in the way it was removed so that the lips could continue their exploration of her. Kyle was in no hurry and although Valerie could smell dinner cooking away merrily on the stove, she felt no desire to eat it. All she wanted was Kyle.
 

He lifted her into his arms and placed her backside on the kitchen counter. His lips were finding her again as her shirt and bra fell to the floor. He ran his fingers over her breasts, playing with the nipples.
 

Valerie reached up under his shirt and felt the tight, hard muscles of his chest and abdomen. His skin was silky smooth and he had fine chest hair that she twirled her fingers in. The volcano was building again, deep within her and Valerie was afraid it would consume her.
 

Then Kyle took one of her nipples into his mouth and his hand slid down her body to her jeans. He undid them and pulled them off her discarding them on the floor. Valerie wanted him so badly she was aching for him. She fumbled his jeans open and pushed them down, her mouth finding his in a blind need to have him inside her.
 

Off the counter now he carried her to the bedroom and threw her gently onto the matress and then he was on top of her. Gently he eased her panties down and off and then slid his hand back up her thigh.
 

Two fingers slid into her and sent electric shocks through her whole body. Had it really been this long since someone did that? Valerie knew it was. She bore down on his hand rocking back and forth as he slid his fingers in and out of her.
 

She slid her hand into this boxers and found him hard and waiting. She took him into her mouth and licked and sucked him, working the shaft with her hand. He groaned and laced his free hand in her hair. They moved and his fingers slid out of her. Valerie felt a pang of disappointment but she kept on pulling sounds of desire from his lips.
 

Then suddenly Kyle pulle himself out of her mouth and lifting her up placed her on his lap. She felt him slide into her and all she could do as the joy filled her was hold on to him for dear life. She was sinking in a sea of lust and desire for this one man and it was going to consume her. She felt lightheaded, out of control and it both excited and scared her. There was no telling where she ended and Kyle began in the writhing mass of hair and skin and sweat that they were.
 

She was on her back now, him above her. And then she was on top, riding him like a stallion, pulling every groan and moan of pleasure from his throat as she moved.
 

But it was all coming to a head too quickly. She was going to explode. Kyle seemed to know this he flipped her over entering her from behind. She felt him deeper than before and it only served to make her more excited.
 

And then it came like a volcano erupting. The orgasm leveled cities and laid waste to her mind, tossing her emotions into a choppy sea. Utterly spent they collapsed together on the rumpled bed sheets and panting crawled into each other’s arms.
 

After a while Kyle kissed her and then said. “So about that dinner?”

Valerie laughed, “But we just had desert.”
 

“Nope, ma’am we did not,” Kyle said shaking his head. “This was the appetizer.”
 

Oh, boy!

As Kyle rose, naked, and went to get them each a glass of wine, Valerie lay back and smiled. She felt so free and loved, happy in the moment. But she knew it was only a moment and that all too soon the wolf would literally be at the door again. But for now, for this precious moment, the wolf was in chains and she was free to love this man.
 

Luke

Bearly Saints III

by

Becca Fanning

Candace Chance ducked into the alley, just as a black limousine passed a third time. She had no reason to believe the people in the car were looking for her, but she had no reason not to believe it, either. The temperatures had dropped with nightfall, and she had started to shiver uncontrollably. It had been raining off and on all day, and though the precipitation had stopped for now, the streets were wet. The alley smelled horrible—a mix of the stench coming from an overflowing dumpster, oily refuse, and things better left unidentified—but with nowhere else to go, and the limousine continuing to drive by on what seemed like an endless loop, she had no choice but to hole up here and hope things looked up in the morning.

Happy birthday to me
, she thought, as she sank down behind some wooden crates.

The ground near the wall was littered with flattened cardboard boxes, which, while wet, at least provided some insulation between her and the pavement. It was cold, though, so very cold, and she huddled in her fleece sweater, wishing it were a full-length down coat. She had never had to think about people living on the street before. Raised in a sheltered environment, home-schooled, and protected, she hadn’t spent much time thinking about the outside world. She hadn’t needed to, though she now realized she should have insisted. Much of her schooling had been online, and perhaps she should have looked beyond her lessons. But she’d known her online access had been ruthlessly monitored. She hadn’t thought of the “why” of it—there’d been no reason to—but now she knew, first hand, the “why.”

Candace had been born in a bordello, the product of her mother’s miscalculation and an unknown, faceless john. She’d often wondered why her mother had kept her, but she’d never asked, and had never been told—until yesterday. The Manager, as he was known to everyone living and working there, was used to paying for abortions for his “girls,” though he resented the need for them, and the girls under his management felt his fury, when they slipped up. Candace’s mother had been too far along for an abortion by the time she’d had to admit her pregnancy, so the Manager had made her a deal. She would be allowed to have the baby in the safe confines of the House, but the child would belong to him.

The irony of a white woman selling her white baby to a black “manager” had been lost on her mother, or it had at least been ignored in favor of the opportunity to remain in the high-class establishment. If Candace had wondered over the years about why she was treated differently from the other girls, many of whom were only young teenagers themselves when they’d arrived, she hadn’t thought to question it. The Manager had always scared her a bit, in spite of his well-dressed, soft-spoken, polite appearance, if only because all the women in the house obviously feared him. Still, shouldn’t she have questioned the clothes? The comportment and music coaching? The exercise regiment? The schooling?

Of course, I should have,
she realized now, when it was too late.
Though in a different way, I was as much a fool as my mother.

This time when she shivered there was more than the cold behind it. She would never forget that last conversation with her mother.
Had it been only this morning?
Her mother had come to her at dawn to tell Candace she had to get ready. She would turn eighteen at midnight, and the Manager would be coming for her.

Why, Mama, why?

Because he owns you, baby.

How could you do this to me?

Because he owns me, too.

The deal had been struck the night the Manager had found out about her mother’s pregnancy, but he’d become even more interested when he’d learned Candace’s mother was carrying a girl child. He’d paid for everything over the years—her education, her health, her physical training, her musical training, her dance lessons—everything that would make her a prize worth a great deal of money to a certain kind of man who would be willing to pay top dollar for such a commodity: a genteel young lady, all packaged in a beautiful, untouched body. Candace had begged and pleaded with her mother, but in the end, she had been locked in her room. The sound of a bolt sliding home on the outside of her door had left Candace paralyzed with fear, knowing there was nothing for her to do but run, if she could only find a way out.

A quick search had uncovered the fact that most of the windows in her room had long been painted shut, but she had found one chance. There was a very small hexagonal window in her bathroom, high in the wall across from the vanity, that could still be opened for ventilation. It was doubtful anyone would have considered the possibility that Candace could fit through it, or would even try, since her room was on the fourth floor, but desperation had lent her both strength and courage. She’d had to wait until after dark, and she hadn’t been able to take anything with her other than the clothes on her back, but thanks to rigorous physical training—which she now realized had been intended to keep her physically attractive—she’d had the strength and agility to squeeze through the tight window and climb down the side of the building. The old Victorian house had had plenty of dormer roofs and decorative trim to hold onto, and her light weight, slender hips, and yoga practice made it physically possible. She’d dropped lightly to the ground just as the neighborhood church bell tower had rung the hour at eleven p.m.