Mail Order Tiger Bride Wars: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance (2 page)

2

The native girl was
totally human and totally unaware he was a tiger shifter. She writhed under him, panting. Her wrists were tied above her head and her legs were splayed beneath him.

Cole
Devereaux grinded his cock into her. His hips bucked and his brow was beaded with sweat. He grunted with each heave. He had a lot of energy in his hips and he could go on for a long, long time. His cock pulsed as it pushed and pulled in and out of her narrow pussy tunnel.

She was tight, just the way he liked it. And she was also bound and helpless to whatever he wanted to do to her, which was just the way he liked it as well.

“Ahhhh!” the girl cried out.

Cole escalated his fucking intensity. He was so deep inside her that the crown of his cock was practically slamming against the mouth of her cervix.

“Ohhhhh!”

The girl’s eyes were rolled back, and he could see their white rims. Her whole body trembled, especially her legs. She was in the throes of a violent orgasm.

Cole Devereaux had fucked many women – both human and shifter. He liked to observe the different ways he could get them to orgasm. Some women were clit creatures. Lick and fondle their clits, and they would explode. Some women could climax only when fucked. A few lucky women could do both. And there were some other women who could cum only when they were taken in the ass.

I
t was an interesting study.

Cole didn’t really like women, actually. He thought that they were too emotion
al to function strategically and efficiently. Their brains were too wired towards emotional notions like ‘falling in love’ and ‘getting married to live happily ever after’.

Cole didn’t believe in ‘happily ever after’. Sex was nothing but a biological need.
A physiological function necessary to procreate and to carry on the species. It was something that fascinated him, and after he finished this dig, he might consider doing a paper on it. Like Masters and Johnson.

“
Ahhhhh!” The girl’s screams were deafening. One would think she was being tortured with the way she was carrying on.

Footsteps outside the tent.

Uh oh.

The tent flap opened.

“Mistah Devor, you all right?” It was Mobutu, Cole’s assistant, who could never pronounce ‘Devereaux’ despite the Republic of Congo being previously French-held.

Mobutu gaped as he took in the
torrid procreative but essentially biological scenario. (OK, maybe the bondage didn’t have any biological function.)

Cole waved a hand.

“It’s OK,” he panted. “Everything’s OK.”

Mobutu’s eyes bulged out of his head as he took in the girl’s tied wrists.
“Uh, Mistah Devor, what you doing?”

Great.
Now Mobutu taught he was a pervert.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Cole a
ssured him. “It’s all part of the sex. She’s enjoying it. See? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He addressed this last to the girl.

“
Ahhhhhhhh!” she screamed again.

Cole groaned. His penis was softening with all the caterwauling. He had no choice but to pull out
his wet, condom-covered rod of flesh.

“
Mistah Devor . . . this girl . . . she favorite daughter of Chief Usala.” Mobutu looked frightened. “He no like you ferk his daughter.”

Nobody likes it if I
ferk their daughters, Cole thought. That’s why I never do it in front of them.

Cole hastily
ripped the frayed rope off the girl’s wrists.

“I wasn’t doing anything you thought I was doing,” he said.
“Honest. See? This is all consensual. She likes it. You like it, don’t you?”

“
Ohhhhh,” the girl moaned, rubbing her leaking pussy.

Right.
He forgot she didn’t understand any English. Their communication was limited to kissing . . . and licking and sucking and fucking.

It occurred to Cole that they were both naked in front of the still frozen Mobutu.
He should be trying to cover the girl up or something.

And fuck. He didn’t remember her name.
Who was her father again? Was it someone he should be wary of?

He quickly grabbed the thin blanket and
threw it around the girl’s breasts and pussy. The girl was actually beautiful. Slim and shapely with big breasts and huge chocolate areolas that took up most of her breast acreage.

The girl got up, clutching the blanket. She stared at Mobutu.

“Tell him you’re OK,” Cole said urgently, “and that we were just fooling around with the rope.”

The girl said something
to Mobutu in Kikongo, one of the official languages of Congo. Cole’s knowledge of Kikongo was limited to ‘food’ and where’s the toilet?’

Mobutu said something back.
She said something else. Cole darted his head back and forth. He had a voice-to-text translator on his cellphone but damned if he was going to find it now.

Then Mobutu said in English, “I better bring her back to her father,
Mistah Devoh. He not like if she missing.”

“Well, she isn’t a virgin, if you’re asking . . . so she must have gone ‘missing’ a couple of times before this. So don’t sweat it and pin the blame on me, OK?”

He could tell this went over Mobutu’s head.

“OK,
Mistah Devor.” Mobutu said a few words to the girl and stepped outside.

The girl quickly got dressed. She flashed a dazzling smile at Cole, showing white teeth, and stepped out of the tent.

Cole heaved a sigh of relief.

OK, he needed to cum. He hadn’t climaxed, and his sap was still running high in his loins.
He hoped there weren’t going to be any more interruptions after this.

He started to masturbate.
He gripped his cock and started to rub it back and forth very swiftly – much swifter than if a woman was to do it. He found his mind drifting to all the women he had fucked this past month. They were local women in most part. Mostly human, but one was a shifter.

One did not openly declare they were shifters
in front of humans. Though species tolerance was a lot better than it had been in the last decade, the humans still had a long way to go towards acceptance. People in general didn’t like what they couldn’t grasp. They didn’t like anything or anyone too different from themselves. Even today, LGBT marriages were not legal in most American states and most parts of the world.

The existence of shifters
was the world’s largest open secret.

Cole didn’t openly tell anyone he was a shifter.
Half-shifter to be exact. His mother was human. His father was an alpha male tiger shifter in a clan which was dying – their numbers produced each year were so few. If they didn’t watch out, they’d be extinct soon.

All these thoughts were interfering with his ability to climax, and so Cole blanked out his mind.

Come on. Shoot already.

He could feel the tendrils of pleasure
building in his loins. His cock was rock hard.

Back, forth. Back, forth.

Squeezing his crown.

Come on.

His satellite phone rang.

Damn it!

Cole totally lost the momentum.

The phone rang and rang again. Where was that damned thing?
From the sound of it, it was under the pillow of his bed. Feeling limp, Cole groaned and threw off the pillow to reveal the offending article.

The display showed:

‘DAD’.

Cole groaned loudly again.
He had to take the call, as much as he didn’t want to.

He picked up the phone.

“Hello, Dad?”

His spirits sank, along with his previously impressive erection.
He knew what this was about.

“Cole?” The voice was stentorian.
Razor sharp.

Cole winced.
“What can I do for you, Dad?”

“Have you found a candidate yet?”

“I’ve sent out feelers.”

“You don’t send out feelers, son!
You actively go out there and pursue your quarry! Did you go through my list?”

“Dad, I can’t just call a girl out of the blue and introduce myself. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Did you go through my list?”

No.

“Yes,” Cole lied.

“And?”

“I didn’t find any of them to be suitable. I mean . . . there’s one who lives in Papua New Guinea.”

“Who happens to be the descendent of a very famous shifter
cannibal. You don’t have the right to be choosy, son! Our species is dying out. We have to arrest this . . . soon. You think those Chinese zookeepers wait for pandas to naturally procreate?”

All Cole could think about pandas right now was that they eat shoots and leaves.
And there was something about punctuation. Eats, shoots, and leaves?

“No.”

“Good. Do you think those werewolves wait to be mated? No. They hold large clan Gatherings and choose their mates during raves. That’s why there are so many of them. And vampires too.”

“Vampires don’t mate, Dad.”

“There’re still plenty of them. Plenty!” his father thundered. “You know what happens when you don’t find a wife, son?”

Another Big Bang
? The planet will cease to exist?

Cole rolled his eyes.

“You’ll cut me off,” he said.

“What’s that again?”

Cole cleared his throat. It didn’t help that he was standing there in his tent, stark naked. “You’ll cut me off.”

And
I can no longer fund my dig.

“I’m going to have to give you an ultimatum, son. It’s for your own good.”

Yeah, and you’ve been telling me that since you made me eat raw rabbits with their fur when I was five and told me it was for my own good.

“You need a little push in the right direction. I’m tired of waiting. Your mother is tired of waiting.
Your grandmother and grandfather are tired of waiting.”

Cole sighed.
Maybe you should have more children then, Dad, since I’m such a disappointment. But yadda, yadda, I know Mom can’t have any more children because she got salpingitis right after my birth, and so you’re stuck with me.

“If you don’t find a
legitimate bride by the midsummer Solstice, I’m going to cut you off for real. See how far you get with your mummies then.”

“I’m not excavating mummies, Dad
. I’m in the Congo basin, not Egypt. I told you, I’m – ”

The phone clicked off.

Cole stared at it.

This was real.

His dig. He was soooo close to finding the ruins, he was sure. Already, the top layers yielded evidence of a lavish shifter civilization. Possibly a secret one, dating back many centuries when shifters were hunted and persecuted. And so they were forced to hide in seclusion. What better hideout for half-animals than an actual African jungle, right?

He stared at the
golden urn he had found five feet under the topsoil. It sat on his desk – a reminder of all the possible history that lay beneath his feet. The urn wore carvings – a man with a lion’s hind legs and tail. A woman with a bird’s beak and wings for arms and a totally female midriff and legs.

If he was right, this would be the shifter discovery of the century. It would be the oldest
shifter civilization ever unearthed – dating back to the time of the Romans. He did not have any carbon dating equipment here, and he was waiting for the next courier batch to send the urn back to the University of Pennsylvania, where he hailed from.

Nobody believed in his hypotheses. Nobody believed in his dig. The university wouldn’t fund it, and so he had to dig into his father
’s considerable money.

And now the rug was about to be pulled from under his feet.

But wait.

He hadn’t been exactly inactive in this
initiative. One month ago, he had emailed the Shifter Tribune classifieds and put up an ad. Of course, he had promptly forgotten about it as soon as he found the urn. But now the ad came back to him again, like a light bulb moment.

Damn.

He scurried for his laptop. He had one of those satellite Internet devices as well, using his phone for a modem. Which cost a fortune – all part of his father’s generous money. He checked his emails on his private account – which he hardly ever used. But he had to create one just for this purpose.

A total of ten new emails appeared in his Inbox.

Ten!

Wait. Most of it was spam.

‘Penis elargement’.

Natch
. He didn’t need any penis enlargement. His penis was fine was it was, thank you very much.