Shifter’s Baby (Alpha Fantasy Paranormal Billionaire Shifter BBW Romance) (95 page)

Chapter 7

              The brush of Grace’s warm breath against his ear, made every muscle in Art’s muscular body tighten. Grace could feel it as she pressed against his arm. She could hear his breath beginning to come faster.

“Grace…Miss. Grace…I can't…” He said breathlessly.

“You can.” She said, planting a soft kiss on the side of his face beside his ear. Art shook his head ever so slightly.

“It's not proper…” He said, his words trembling.

“I don't want to be proper.” Grace said, this time reaching her hand down to the crotch of his blue jeans and sliding her palm across his bulge.

“Ahh…Grace…no, we can't…” He continued to protest.

“I will stop if you want me to.” She said against his ear, her palm rubbing over his hardening cock. “Do you want me to?” She asked, praying that he would say no. Instead he said nothing, rather, he reached down and pressed Grace’s hand firmly against his throbbing erection.

“Mmm…” Grace placed her feet flatly on the floor and took a step back. Then with both hands, she took hold of the button on his blue jeans and pulled it open. Art blinked slowly as his breath shuddered. He listened as Grace slowly pulled down his zipper. And then it came, he felt the warmth of her hand sliding inside his underpants and cupping his width. Grace licked her lips hungrily.

“I want you, Art.” She said. “I want this…” She squeezed the thick shaft of his cock and pulling his underwear down with her free hand, she released his cock. As she wrapped her hand tightly around him, sliding it up and down his shaft, she listened to him breathing faster and faster. Art reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders. Then taking a step forward he guided her backwards toward the hay bale bleachers. Grace willingly went, stepping back until the hay pressed up against the back of her legs. Art gently pushed her backward, urging her to sit.

Releasing her grip on his cock, Grace sat down on the hay bales, her eyes transfixed on the thick cock that bobbed before her. She had heard of other girls taking men in their mouths and she wondered if she dared be brave enough to try it herself. She was still pondering this possibility when Art took a step back and slowly slid his hands underneath her dress. As his fingers crept up along the insides of her legs, she felt a tightness in her stomach that she had never felt before. It felt like when Art had cupped her breast but ten times better. His fingers slid up, past her knees, then sliding to the outside of her thighs as he grasped for her underwear.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, glancing up at Grace’s sparkling emerald eyes. She nodded hungrily. He didn't hesitate. Tugging on the sides of her panties, he slid them down, over her knees, over her ankles and finally over her shoes. He dropped them on the hay bale beside her. Art lifted the skirt of her dress, his hands returning to the inside of her knees, gently pushing her legs apart. He could already smell her sweet musk and Grace could already feel the wetness growing between her legs.

Grace watched as Art stood up, his body now wedged between her legs as she watched his cock bounce with his every move. She no longer just wanted him, she needed him. She needed to satisfy the want that had been ignited within her. Art locked his eyes on hers as he pushed forward, forcing her thighs apart until the tip of his throbbing pink tipped cock touched her soft nest of pubic hair. They both gasped simultaneously and each gave a soft smile, before Art slid himself down to tease her entrance.

“Ahh!” Grace gasped as he barely pressed up against her. He stilled.

“Are you okay?” He whispered as his body trembled between her legs. She smiled and nodded at him. With confirmation that he wasn't hurting her, Art pushed gently forward, the tip of his cock now flush with her opening. Grace could feel his width pushing her apart, stretching her in a way that felt both incredible and painful at the same time. Her breath came in short quiet gasps as he pressed on. Then it came – an almost audible pop as the full head of his cock entered her completely.

“Ahh!” She gasped louder. Art reached down, grasping her hips with his hands as he inched his thick cock forward. Burying himself inside of her, Art’s brow furrowed as he felt her warmth enveloping him.

Grace reached down, her fingers wrapping around his wrists as he pulled her gently to him. Seconds later, Grace could feel his flesh pressed up against her. His full length was now swallowed inside of her tightness and she had never imagined that anything could feel quite so incredible. Grace watched Art’s face relax as he slowly pulled back and then thrust himself gently forward once again.

“Mmm…” He moaned. Grace smiled.

“You feel so good!” She gasped as he pulled back and once again thrust forward, this time finding a rhythm and continuing the motion. “Mmm!” She hummed with each thrust deep inside of her. She could barely remember to breath as he filled her with his cock. She felt herself getting light headed as every muscle in her body seemed to clench tightly. A rush of tingles passed over her body, lifting her momentarily from her own reality. Then, as the tingles passed, she found herself gasping loudly as every muscle in her body simultaneously released. “Oohhhh!” She cried out as her tight pussy suckled at Art’s thick cock, begging him to join her in her orgasm. Just seconds later he relented. As Grace’s perfect pink pussy suckled him rhythmically, Art’s cock throbbed with each jet of his warm creamy cum that filled her. With each suckle of her pussy, his cock spilled another stream of his seed until they both stilled.

“Mmm…” Art said, panting as he gingerly stepped back, sliding his cock from inside Grace. She smiled at him, completely spent.

“Art, that was incredible…” She whispered. “I've never felt anything so amazing in all my life.” He smiled at her as he tucked himself back in to his underwear and straightened out his pants.

“It was pretty incredible.” He said.

When he had finished redressing himself, Art picked up Grace’s panties from beside her and slid them over her feet. When he got them to her knees, he offered her his hand to help her stand. It was little help when her entire body was trembling like it was, but he managed to prevent her from falling as he pulled her panties up. Fluffing out the skirt of her dress, Art stood back with an admiring grin.

“There…good as new.” He said. Grace giggled and as she did, she realized how much she sounded like those girls that had surrounded Everett in the barn and just about everywhere else. Quickly, she clamped her hand over her mouth. “What is it?” Art asked. Grace shook her head, she didn't want to begin to explain how much time she had spent studying Everett D. Roosevelt and his bird-like followers. “Well, whatever it is, you should laugh more.” Art said. “You look beautiful when you laugh…well, you always look beautiful to me, but when you laugh, your whole face lights up.” He went silent, figuring it was better to quit while he was ahead before he really messed things up. Grace leaned in and pressed her lips against his cheek gently.

“Thank you, Art.”

Chapter 8

Art reached down and Grace slipped her fingers between his, their warm palms brushing against each other as they walked.

“I tell you what, I wish we didn't have to walk home.” Grace said. “My legs are very wobbly.” Art laughed loudly.

“That would be my fault, Miss. Grace, I'm terribly sorry about that.” Grace shook her head.

“Oh no, I wouldn't dream of making you apologize for that.” She said flashing him a contented smile. “I would dream of asking you to stop calling me Miss. Grace, however.”

“Oh? And what should I call you?” Art asked as they walked along the dusty path towards Grace’s father’s home.

“Just Grace is perfectly fine.” She said with a confused look on her face.

“Just Grace it is then.” Art said, making a mental note to replace the word ‘Miss’ with ‘just’ the next time he addressed her.

“Art?” Grace asked as they left the noise of the barn behind them and sunk in to the ambient noise of the chirping crickets.

“Yes?”

“Do you suppose it’ll be a very long time before you build your farmhouse?” Grace asked without looking at him. Art seemed to think on this for a little while.

“Well, I suppose I might could start it tomorrow if I found the right place.” He said. Grace couldn't imagine having enough money to make such a significant decision. Her daddy had worked twenty five years, saving every dime he made, before he could afford to build their house. Then, here was Art saying he could not only buy property tomorrow, but that he could also start building his own home then if he wanted to. Suddenly she began to feel a great divide between them. “Why do you ask?” Art asked her. Grace shook her head.

“I was just wondering.” She said innocently. She wasn't going to mention that she wanted to live in the big farmhouse with him. She definitely wasn't going to mention that she was ready to move in with him right away. After all, she couldn't seem desperate…but then again, she had given him the ultimate gift already, so what else could make her seem more desperate than that?

“Oh…” Art said quietly. “How far is your daddy's house from here?” He asked, looking up ahead in to the darkness.

“It's not far.” Grace said, giving in to the awkward conversation. “Just up over this hill. You’ll see the lights once we get over the hill, then it's not far at all.” After a few seconds of Art not saying anything she added: “Are you tired already?” Art laughed.

“No, just making conversation really…and wondering how far we had to go.” Grace could have cringed at just how stilted their conversation had become since she asked about the farmhouse. It was as if he knew what she had been hinting at and was trying desperately to avoid addressing it. She couldn't help but wonder now, if she had given away her virginity to a man with no intention of proposing to her at all.

“Oh…well, it's not far.” They took a few steps more. “Thank you for walking me home.” She said weakly. Her mind now racing with all kinds of regret and worry.

“I couldn't let a pretty lady like you walk home alone…besides, it's my pleasure.” Art said, a little warmth finally coming back in to their conversation. Grace squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers back. “Do you think your daddy will be sleeping?” He asked as they created the hill and a few flickering lights appeared in front of them and off to the left.

“He may be, but I don't think so. He usually stays awake until I get home.” Grace said.

“Does your sister live with you too?” Art asked, more as a matter of interest than anything else.

“No…well, no and yes.” Grace said without elaborating.

“Well that's slightly confusing…” Art said, raising a single eyebrow. Grace laughed quietly.

“Well, my sister has a home with her husband, but right now she stays at home with me and daddy a lot.” She said. Art nodded, finally able to make sense of the situation.

“Ahh, that's a shame.” He said sympathetically. Grace shrugged.

“It would be if Tom was the same man she married. Lately though, he spends most of his time drunk and doesn't come home at all, so it's kind of nice for Winnie to have somewhere to go.” She said.

“I think so too. I hope that my children always know that they can come home again.” He said. “They say you can never go home again, but I don't think that's true.” There he went talking about children again.

“I think you're right.” Grace said.

The two walked the rest of the way in silence. Grace engulfed by her image of Art and his twenty plus children running around the biggest farmhouse imaginable, and Art consumed by the fear of meeting Grace’s father.

Chapter 9

Art let go of Grace’s hand long before the two approached the front door of the small wooden house. Grace had understood why, but the absence of his hand in hers had made her feel a certain degree of emptiness that she wasn't particularly fond of. It was as though since giving Art her virginity, he had become inexplicably bonded to her.

Grace walked up the two small wooden steps up to the front porch while Art stood at the bottom of them waiting. Grace gestured for him to follow her, but he shook his head and remained where he stood. Grace knocked lightly on the door before opening it just a crack.

“Daddy? Daddy, it's me, Gracie.” She called quietly. There was some noise from inside the house and Grace beckoned for Art to follow her as she stepped through the front door. He had no choice now but to follow her in to the dimly lit house. “Daddy? I have a visitor.”

“Who is it?” An old man’s voice snapped gruffly. Art immediately felt his whole body stiffen.

“It's Arthur Monroe, he was kind enough to walk me home from the dance when Winnie had to leave early.” Art heard movement and then steps coming towards them.

“That no good piece of shit!” The old man grumbled.

“Daddy!” Grace said quickly.

“What? He is a no good piece of shit! I don't know why she ever married him in the first place!” Grace’s father muttered before holding out a wrinkled hand to Art. “Frank Purdue.” He said. Art shook his hand firmly.

“Arthur Monroe.” Art said.

“Monroe…hmm…any relation to the president, Monroe?” He asked.

“No, sir, I'm afraid not.” Art said politely.

“Oh. There's a fella in town related to Roosevelt, you know.” Frank nodded knowingly.

“I had heard that.” Art said.

“He's about as loaded as my shotgun, you know.” Frank gestured toward an old shotgun standing in the corner by the front door. Art felt a shudder pass over him.

“I had heard that too.” Art said.

“You got any money?” Frank asked, squinting his eyes as he examined Art.

“Daddy, why don't I go through to the kitchen and make us all some tea?” Grace interrupted. Her father shrugged.

“If you like.” He said.

Art found himself desperately hoping that Grace wouldn't leave him alone with her father, but she did. Frank continued to eye Art.

“Well?” He asked. “I said, you got any money like that fella Roosevelt.” Art glanced at the shotgun nervously.

“I do quite well for myself, yes, sir.” Was the best Art could manage.

“Hmm…what business you in?” Frank asked gruffly.

“Well, sir, I own that land out there where Mr. Roosevelt is drillin’ for oil.” Art said and suddenly Frank became much less hostile.

“Oh? Good man, good man.” He turned around and beckoned for Art to follow him. “Come on through and have a seat.” He said as he began to shuffle back through to the living room. Art followed him cautiously.

“Actually, Mr. Purdue…I was wonderin’ if I might ask you somethin’” Art said as they entered the small pokey living room and Frank eased himself in to a recliner. He gestured to an old sofa across from him and Art took a seat.

“Oh? What could a man like you have to ask a man like me?” Frank asked curiously.

“Well, sir, it's about your daughter.” Art said quickly, hoping to get everything out before Grace came back in to the room.

“Winnie?” Frank asked.

“No, sir, Grace. I wanted to ask for your permission to ask for her hand in marriage.” In the brief silence between Art asking the question and Frank answering, there came a loud crash from the kitchen. Grace had heard every word.

Frank stared at the doorway, waiting for Grace to say something, but when the normal kitchen noise resumed, he thought nothing of it.

“And what, Mr. Monroe, can you give to my daughter as a husband?” Frank asked. Before Art could answer, another question came at him. “Are you a drinker, Mr. Monroe?”

“No, sir.” Art said.

“And you have money, you say?” Frank asked. Art nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“And a home of your own? You can't be livin’ here with me.” Frank said.

“Yes sir, I live in my late father’s home, but I hope to build my own farmhouse soon.” Frank seemed stunned in to silence.

“I built this place, you know.” He finally said. Art nodded.

“Grace was telling me, sir. It's a very beautiful home.” He said, looking around the tiny room. Frank nodded.

“Damn near killed me.” Frank laughed a raspy laugh that ended in a coughing fit. After he regained his composure, he nodded at Art. “You buildin’ it yourself?” He asked.

“Sir, I'm not sure I'm qualified enough to build a house as fine as yours, so I think I'd be better off hiring some professionals.” Art made sure to word himself very carefully so as not to sound incapable. Frank nodded.

“Smart boy. Damn near killed me buildin’ this place.” He said again. He eyed Art for what felt like forever before he finally nodded. “I suppose you can ask her. Don't know that she’ll say yes - she's as stubborn as a mule, just like her mother was. Believes in all that gooey romance stuff.” Frank said, wrinkling his nose. Art couldn't help but chuckle.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

In the kitchen, Grace released a breath that it felt like she had been holding for forever. Suddenly the strange way that Art had been acting on their walk home made sense.