Her First Time With A Bear (BBW Shifter Romance) (6 page)

Did she trust him enough?

He held her as she pressed against his fingers, her sex so tantalisingly close, and yet far beyond his reach. The heat from her, warm and moist against his probing fingers. Pressing them along the length of her slit he brought her to release, his thumb pressing against that sensitive button between her thighs.

Her lack of experience was evident, and he wanted her all the more for it. To show her the heights her body could rise to, and then to send her crashing over the edge would be a privilege he could never now let another man have. She was his, and he had to be patient and let her realise it on her own. No pressure.

He struggled with his inner demons; all he wanted to do was pressure her. His resolve hard to maintain when she was writhing against him and his cock pressed painfully to be freed to plunge deep inside her.

It took all his strength to pull back from her and release her.

“I think you had better go in,” he said, his voice thick with longing and emotion.

“Do you want to come in too?” she asked, but she kept her face hidden from him.

“No, sweetheart. Not tonight.”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Don’t you want me?”

Her voice was so small, so vulnerable it broke his heart. He had never had such deep feelings for a woman, for anyone. This was new to him, as much as her sexual awakening was new to Paris. It scared him; he had always been tough, resilient. What if the love he had for her made him weak? Made him as vulnerable as she was now. Because if anything happened to her he would tear the throat out of anyone who dared lay a finger on her, to hell with the consequences.

“It’s not that. You have no idea how tempting it is to come inside with you now, and do such naughty things to your beautiful body.” He kissed her neck, breathing in the delicious scent of her. “But you have school work to catch up on.”

“I don’t care,” she said, clinging to him.

“Yes, you do. I want you to go in and do your homework, and then think about what you really want. You need to decide with a cool head, not now when you're so...aroused.” He looked at her breasts, the hard little buds of her nipples still evident through her shirt.

“Wes, please.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.”

He got out of his truck and came around to open her door, helping her down. It was a good job he did, because she was a little unsteady on her feet, and she fell against him. This did his incredibly hard cock no favours. He wanted to bend her over his truck and show her what a real man he was, to make her beg him for mercy.

The thought of her virginity stopped him right there. The first time would have to be slow, and gentle. Not the way he usually took a woman. It would take all his strength to hold himself back. But he could do it for her, she would be worth it. Then, when he had broken her, he would show her what real love was about.

He shook these thoughts from his head, trying to keep his resolve firm. Paris seemed to recover herself, and pulled her key from her pocket. He watched her unlock the door, her hands shaking. Before she went in she turned to him, and he pulled her into his arms, feeling her warm round body against his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her.

“OK. I’m sorry if I’ve put you in an awkward position.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You know, work. If you want me to not come in, I will.”

“But you need the money.”

“Not as much as I need you,” she said.

He looked at her, seeing the truth of her words in her eyes. His lips pressed against hers, and he wanted more than anything to stay. Why not take her now, claim her as his mate? But was it fair when she had no idea what he was?

Paris shut the door, leaning against it for support. It was all she could do to stop herself following him back to the bar and offering herself to him. There was a hold he had over her, one that she had never known existed. She struggled to know if it was normal, to be consumed by a need for another human being.

If this was what her mom felt every time a man took a fancy to her, then she could understand why she abandoned everything to fulfil this desire. Her mom. This pulled her back to reality. She went to check the answer machine, still no message. She pulled out her cell and checked that too, in case she had missed a call. No. Nothing.

Paris headed to the kitchen and looked in the cupboards for something to eat. Not a lot, she wished she could have taken him up on the offer of dinner. She did not know how she was going to survive until she was paid on Sunday. When she got the cash, she would have to go straight to the store, and buy enough food for the week. It would take some careful menu planning.

Another chore to add to the list, but she did not mind because that was the only way she would ever get him out of her head for long enough to study. Damn, now she had let thoughts of him in, and all she could think about were his hands on her body. It was going to get harder and harder to resist him, especially now she could see no reason not to let go and give herself to him.

He was right. She needed some distance, and a clear head.

Paris pulled her books out and forced herself to do her homework, telling herself she could eat once she was halfway through. This gave her some incentive to work, because her stomach had started to growl.

It was slow going, but she finally buckled down and wrote half her essay. As a reward she made some tea and toast with strawberry jam on it, while she tried to make something tasty out of the bare essentials she had left. It looked like a pile of mush when she dished it up, but it tasted OK. The herbs she added helped.

Sitting alone at the table, she let her thoughts wander back to Wes. Whether he was busy, and if he was thinking of her. She also worried he might not want her, and that was why he had turned down her offer of coming in. He was better than that; he was trying to be a gentleman, something she had not expected him to be when she first met him.

The phone rang, making her jump. She got up and went to answer it, expecting it to be Wes checking up on her.

“Hello,” she said brightly.

“Hi, Paris. It’s Mom.”

“Mom. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you to ring.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I met up with some guys, they gave me a lift down to the south coast. We had a little party on the way.”

Sex. She meant sex. Paris screwed her eyes up, not wanting to picture her mom with men. She had lived with her mom's physical relationships from an early age. It still did not mean she needed to think about them.

“That’s great,” she lied. “Are you staying with them?”

“No. They took off, I told them all about you though, and they thought it was very brave of you, living on your own.”

“You told them about me?” Paris asked, unsure she had heard her mom right.

“Yes. They asked where I was from and all that, and I told them I had decided to take a break from my life.”

“And did you tell them exactly where we live?”

“I showed them pictures, of course. They were quite interested in me you know.”

He mom's voice had taken on that self satisfied tone. The one that she used to prop up her ego. It was usually followed by 'a poor me' having a daughter like you that does not know how to have fun.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come and join me? The beach is lovely and the water is warm. I might even have a job.”

“A job!” Paris stopped thinking about the trouble she might be in, if those men came looking for her, and concentrated on her mom's next bombshell. “How long are you planning on staying there?” Paris asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s nice, I like it, and you are welcome to come join me. We could have a good life here.”

Paris fumed down the phone. She had heard it all before, every time they moved her mom said this is it, we can settle here until the wanderlust took over again.

Trying to get back on track, Paris said, “I’ve taken over your shifts here, but I thought it would be a temporary thing.”

“Great. So everyone’s happy. I hope you get on well, Wes is a good guy, even if the customers are a little weird.”

“What do you mean weird? They've been OK, so far.” However, she there had been a couple of incidents that had been curious.

“Nothing, you'll be fine. Weekends are busy, and just watch yourself around the full moon.” Her mom made it out to be a joke.

“I think that’s your imagination talking,” Paris said, but her mom never really had much of an imagination.

Her mom was talking to someone else, someone in the room with her, and then she spoke to Paris, cutting the call short. “Mike here wants us to go to the beach. I’m glad it’s working out for you, Paris. See you soon.”

Paris was about to tell her it was not working out, when she hung up. There was still the question of who exactly she had spoken to about her daughter living in a fairly remote spot on her own too. “And she never even said she loved me,” Paris said as she put the phone down.

If it were not for Wes, she would probably be feeling more than a little lonely right now. All she had to do was struggle through the next three months, take her exams, and then get a better job. “Yeah, easy,” she muttered, going back to her homework, feeling a great weight sitting on her shoulders.

It was an effort to concentrate, but she got it done. Not her best work, but under the circumstances she had to give herself a break. Feeling terribly tired and drained, she went upstairs and turned the shower on. It would freshen her up, and then she could not wait for her head to hit the pillow.

The warm water ran down her skin, and she let her mind drift. Her mom's words came back to her. She wondered what she meant about the customers at Wes’s bar. They had been courteous to her overall, yet there was an underlying feeling she had about certain people who she had waited on.

She supposed that a Friday night, when they all let their hair down after a week at work, might bring out a different side of them. Perhaps then, she would know what was going on. On the other hand, maybe it was nothing.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she went to her bedroom and sat down, looking at herself in the mirror. Slowly and methodically, she combed her hair, the long strands hanging wet over her shoulders. It almost hypnotised her, and she felt herself drifting away when the phone rang again.

Starting, she quickly got up and went downstairs to answer it, thinking it was her mom again.

“Hello,” she said breathlessly.

“You sound excited, whatever have you been up to?” The deep tones of Wes came down the phone and into her ears, giving her body a wonderful thrill.

“Hi. I was expecting it to be my mom.”

“I am most definitely not your mom.”

She giggled like a child. She really needed to grow up.

“So are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, sure. How long are you going to be?” she asked, looking at her body wrapped in the towel and wondering what she should put on.

“I’m outside the door now.”

Silence. Paris stood mute. She could not open the door to him like this. Could she?

“Paris, are you still there. If you don’t want me to come in, that’s fine. I only wanted to know if you were OK.” He sounded disappointed, despite his words.

“No. It’s not that, it’s only...”

“Only what?” he pushed.

“I’m not dressed.”

“So, I bet you look equally desirable in your night shirt.”

“No. I’m not even that dressed.”

“I’m intrigued, open the door.”

“Wes, I can’t,” she insisted.

“Sure you can. I promise not to look.”

“I don’t believe you.” However, she found his promise disarming.

“I won’t look as long as I can touch.”

Paris felt her body flood with desire. As much as she did not want him to see her like this and presume she would fall at his feet, that was exactly what she wanted to do. Drop the towel to the floor and let his hands explore every inch of her body.

Without saying a word, she went to the front door, and opened it. He stood there his large muscled frame filling the doorway. His face was in shadow, so she could not see the expression on his face, but his breathing was heavier than usual, giving her some idea of how he felt.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked when he did not move forward.

“I don’t know if I trust myself now I’ve seen you.”

“Oh.” She really was disappointed.

“I’ll try to behave.”

“Oh.” Yes, disappointed again.

“You are so tempting,” he said, and came into her house, pulling her straight into his arms.

Her lips sought his, and they kissed, her hands still grasping the towel tightly to her breasts. Wes slid his hand down to cup her bottom and pulled her close to him, his hard length pressing into her stomach.

Her body shivered with anticipation, he was certainly aroused, and the thought of that hard cock of his inside her made her wet. Her sex remembered the feel of his fingers teasing her, and the heat grew inside her. Paris marvelled at the change in her thoughts towards sex since she had met Wes.

Perhaps that was the type of person she was, unlike her mom who liked lots of men, she only liked one. He was all she would ever need, and right now, she wanted to show him that need.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to be skin to skin with a man, to feel his need, and to know he desired her as much as she desired him. She did not expect love. Hell, Paris did not even know if she believed in love. Her mom had never been truly loved, and what she deemed as love towards her various partners had always been short lived. So she held no misguided beliefs that this was what her relationship with Wes would turn into, none at all.

His lips were still sensuously moulded to hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, making her body tingle with anticipation. She released the towel, letting it slip to the floor, and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him.

With an agonising groan, he lifted her up and carried her to the sofa, placing her down carefully, and then pulling the towel completely apart. He knelt before her, his head level with her breasts, and began kissing her very slowly and very thoroughly, covering every inch of her skin. His attention focused in on her breasts, one hand cupping each and pushing them up and together so he could take each nipple in turn and suck it into his mouth. Rolling his tongue over one, and grazing it with his teeth before turning his attention fully on the next.