The Billionbear's Bride: BBW Bear Shifter BWWM Paranormal Romance (11 page)

"You might have to give me a minute," she murmured, and felt silent laughter shake his body. The weight of his body over hers was a pleasant pressure. Her fingers skimmed over his ribs in lazy exploration, feeling each bone and the surrounding muscle.

As he shifted, she felt his cock grind against her inner thigh. Giggling, she rolled them over so she was straddling his thighs. His thick, reddened shaft was standing up in its bed of dark curls. There was a pearly bead of liquid at the tip.

Violet scooted back until she was between his legs. On impulse she bent over and traced her tongue along the slit. The salty, slightly bitter taste of him filled her mouth. She felt rather than heard the sharp intake of his breath, and loved it, loved that she could make him feel this way. Parting her lips, she sealed her mouth around the swollen head of his cock and sucked.

Shy, but wanting to see him, Violet looked up at him through her lashes.

He propped himself on his elbows and was looking down at her with something like amazement in his eyes. His throat worked as he swallowed at the sight of her. She bent to take him in deeper, and her hair fell around her like a curtain. Bruce's fingers weren't quite steady as he pushed it back, his fingers not pushing or taking control, but stroking her face. She memorized the sight and tucked it away to remember—a moment of weakness no one but her would ever see, it was something to cherish.

Violet swirled her tongue around his cockhead and felt his hips jerk in response. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft—she couldn't quite get all the way around, he was so large—and began to stroke in a rhythm with her mouth. She sucked gently, bobbing her head, with the sole focus of giving him as much pleasure as he'd given her.

It wasn't more than a minute before his fingers tugged at her hair. She pulled off his cock with a soft, wet
pop
and gave him a questioning look. A flush had crept down his neck and onto his chest, and he was panting.

Bruce led her up, pulling her against him and kissing her. This kiss was messier, more desperate than the others; she felt it, too, along with the hard rod of his shaft sliding against her hip. He tugged her shirt the rest of the way off and cast it aside, uncaring. When she was completely naked, a smile played at the corner of his lips and he cupped her hips in his hands.

“Violet,” he murmured into her throat, the words hot and longing. “My mate.”

The words crackled between them.
Mate
was a word that spoke to the bear inside of him, and the bear’s mate inside of her. They belonged together, like two pieces fitting into a whole. Violet straddled him, bringing their bodies together, and guided him inside.

She sank down on him slowly, savoring every inch, and braced herself with her hands splayed against his chest. The heat of the fire had made a light sweat spring up on both their bodies.

Every time she moved, the heat inside her built further. The slide of his cock felt amazing; it rubbed her in all the right places. His hands ran all along her curvy body, pressing against her breasts, stroking her thighs, and every touch fanned the flames higher.

Bruce rose, closing the distance between them, and the changed angle made her moan and speed up the movement of her hips. Nestling her face into the curve of his neck, she felt his hand dip between them and his thumb stroke over her nub.

It only took that little touch to bring her to the peak again. This time her orgasm was more drawn-out; she held him close as her whole body shuddered and clenched around him, making every movement sweeter.

He thrust up from beneath her, his strokes long and powerful and ravishing her sensitive walls. He finished with a groan of her name. “
Violet
…”

She gasped at the sound of her name and felt his climax spill into her.

She tucked herself into his side, laying her head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her and held her tight. His other hand played with the ends of her hair, twisting it and turning it around between his fingers. She listened to the crackle of the fire and their soft breathing together.

“Bears mate for life, you know,” he murmured into her hair.

She traced aimless patterns on his chest with her fingers. “Yeah? And I’m your mate?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“You’re my mate,” he confirmed, his voice easy and confident. “This was a mad scheme, getting married. I’ll tell you why I had to, sometime. But I’m so glad I found you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it now.”

“Me either,” she said softly. “I love you.”

His hand touched her face. “I love you, too.”

They shared a brief kiss, before he sprang up and knelt next to her with a half-nervous, half-excited smile. “We should make it official, shouldn’t we?”

Violet rolled over on her side, an excited flutter in her belly. “Haven’t we already?”

His smile didn’t fade, but it turned serious. “That was a business deal. This is something else. Something real.”

Sitting up, Violet tugged off the ring that had already begun to feel natural on her finger and handed it to him, watching. Completely naked, he got on one knee—even though she was on the floor—and held the ring out. The diamond caught the firelight and sparkled like it was a living thing, but Bruce’s gaze captured hers.

“Violet, will you be my wife—for real this time, in sickness and in health, till death do us part?” The side of his mouth curved up, but his gaze was intense and locked on her.

Violet blinked, an unexpected heat rushing to her eyes and making them prickle. The moment was unexpectedly tender. “I do. I mean, I will.”

They laughed, and he slipped the ring back onto her finger, where it belonged. Then he leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes half-closed in bliss. A light kiss brought them together.

“Good morning, Mrs. Davis,” he whispered against her lips.

She locked her arms around his neck. “Good morning, Mr. Simmons,” she teased.

“Would you like some coffee?” Bruce looked down at himself. “Or maybe I should put some clothes on first.”

Violet smirked, running her fingers over his chest. Her
husband’s
chest—and she could use that word without it being a lie, or a technicality. And a very nice chest it was, too. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Epilogue

Violet

Jana’s hands were tucked behind her back—she was hiding something. “I got you a housewarming present.”

With a flourish, she produced it. It was a little plant, one of those transplants you could pick up at Home Depot. Violet had often gazed longingly at them, things she didn’t have room for and couldn’t grow. This one looked like a tiny pine tree with multiple stems.

“It’s rosemary!” her sister explained, exuding excitement from every pore. “Remember? From the pie?” She was watching Violet, waiting with bated breath for her response.

“Of course I remember.” Violet pinched a leaf between her fingers and took a sniff. A warm, woodsy scent wafted out. A familiar scent.

“Bruce said you were starting a garden in the back, so I thought I’d get you something.”

“It’ll be the first thing I plant,” Violet promised. Her eyes stung as she hugged Jana. Every little thing was making her emotional these days—even, apparently, plants. She blamed the hormones.

“But,” Violet added, putting on her stern
big-sister
voice, “you should not be thinking about getting me presents. You should be recovering from your surgery!”

It had been three months since Jana’s kidney transplant—three fear-filled, love-filled, rollercoaster months. The doctors had given Jana the all-clear; the surgery was completely successful, and her baby sister was looking better than she had in a long time.

Jana rolled her eyes. “They let me start lifting things heavier than ten pounds weeks ago,” she said, with the long-suffering of the put-upon.

“Okay, so it’s probably two ounces soaking wet,” Violet conceded. “But it’s my prerogative to worry about you. Come on, come inside.”

It was the dead of winter, so everyone was gathered inside around the fire in the den. The room was warm and cozy, filled with people she loved and who loved her.

Bruce caught her elbow gently as she passed, and she turned to tuck herself into his side, laying an absent kiss on his shoulder.

“Jana got me a rosemary plant,” she said quietly, holding it up. “I’m trying not to cry. I hate crying.”

“I solemnly swear that if someone starts humming that Sarah McLachlan song, I will take them out,” her husband promised, stroking her back.

Just
thinking
about those stupid sweet little dogs and the accompanying sad guitar chords almost turned on the waterworks, to her consternation.

“Everyone’s here,” she said, nudging him. “Shouldn’t we make our big announcement?”

Bruce cleared his throat, and everyone hushed—not completely, but enough for it to be noticeable. Violet took a moment to admire how effortlessly in command her husband was as the alpha of his clan.

“So this isn’t just an ordinary family gathering. Violet and I have been married for six months now, and we have an announcement to make.”

Before he could continue, a voice came from the corner of the room. She wasn’t sure who it belonged to. “You’re going to have a baby, aren’t you?”

Silence fell throughout the room, followed by a nervous titter.

“Oh, let them make their announcement,” Ava reprimanded, but a smirk played at the edges of her mouth as she looked between them.

Bruce looked outraged that his thunder had been so thoroughly stolen. Violet took one look at him and burst out laughing.

“Sorry, sweetie.” She stroked his arm, trying to contain the giggles. “Yes, I’m pregnant,” she confirmed to the room.

Someone whooped, and there was a smattering of applause and cheering. Ava came up to Violet and hugged her. Violet tried not to spill dirt on her.

Ava’s eyes were suspiciously misty as she pulled back, taking Violet’s hands in hers. “A grandchild, can you believe it? Oh, Violet, I’m so excited for you and Bruce. And for me, too,” she added with a trace of mischief.

“Thank you, Ava. I’m excited, too.” Her mother-in-law’s approval meant a lot to Violet. Bruce had told her about Ava’s initial discontent with their marriage, about how she’d arranged for them to join another clan, but that seemed to have disappeared in the months since the wedding.

“Don’t let me forget”—the older woman held up a finger—“I have to tell you all about Bruce when he was a baby. There are certain pictures you simply
must
see. One of them involves a trampoline.”

“Mom …” Bruce said, while Violet giggled.

Ava tutted, cutting him off, and waved them away. “Now you two go enjoy the party.”

They did. Later, when it had quieted down, Violet took the rosemary plant and looked for a suitable window. South-facing, where it could get some sun. It couldn’t be put outside yet, not before the danger of frost was over. There was a perfect spot in the room they had decided on for the nursery, on the windowsill. Violet set it there and ran her fingers over the leaves.

The familiar fragrance made her smile. The plant was a touch of color against the gray, wintry sight outside. A green thing, a new thing. Violet ran her hand over her stomach. She wasn’t starting to show yet, but she would soon.

The door creaked behind her. Bruce slid his hands around her waist.

“A penny for your thoughts?” he offered, brushing a kiss over her hair.

She laid her head against his shoulder. “If you’d told me six months ago that today I’d be married with a baby on the way, and that I was
excited
about it … well, I don’t know what I would have said, but it wouldn’t be nice.”

Bruce’s chuckle ruffled her hair. “Are you ready to rejoin the party?”

Violet considered this. “Are there any more fried pickles?”

“There better be. I had strong words with them about leaving some more for you.”

“Then I’m ready.” With her mate, she was ready for whatever came her way. Even the lack of fried pickles.

A note from Zoe Chant

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Page down to read a special sneak preview of
Loved by the Lion
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The cover of
The Billionbear’s Bride
was designed by Augusta Scarlett.

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