Den and Breakfast: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Honeycomb Falls Book 1) (7 page)

Then he pistons back into me, firm, confident, picking up speed, all the way in, then out. I can breathe again, but not really - all I can do is gasp, straining for breath, to try to ride this wave that is threatening to sweep me away into oblivion. Blake is moving above me, his gorgeous mountain-man body covered with a sheen of sweat as he fucks me, his massive cock obliterating any concept I'd ever held of what sex could be. This is on a whole new level. All I can do is turn my head from side to side, whimpering and crying out, my whole body shaking as he slams into me, over and over and over again.

"Fuck," he gasps. "You're perfect. This body. So good. Tight. Oh Rachel, where have you been all my life?"

I want to answer, say something sassy, something, anything, but I can't think. Can't formulate basic words. Blake slides his arms under my knees and lifts me so that my hips leave the bed, leaning back on his heels as he continues to fuck me, the angle such now that he's sliding up and along my g-spot.

I'm sorry. There is no way any one mortal human woman can handle this kind of fucking.

I come, my scream echoing within the shed, but the orgasm keeps building. Like a tidal wave, it mounts, and mounts, and when it finally does crash it sweeps away all civilization, all conscious thought. And Blake's still fucking me, taking my orgasm to a level I've never experienced before. It rolls on and on, wringing my body like a wet cloth. Then I hear Blake roar, his whole body tensing, my body lifted so high I'm only resting on my shoulders, and his searing hot come jets into my depths, his rigid cock throbbing as my pussy clenches him tight.

The moment seems to last forever, and then Blake relaxes, and we fall back onto the bed. I hold him tight, his body searing hot. My stomach is trembling with the aftershocks. He slides his cock out, and I almost gasp at the loss.

"Oh. My. God." It's the best I can do.

He grins, his eyes bright. "You are so fucking sexy. I don't think I can wait."

"Wait?" A flutter of panic passes through me. "For what?"

"To take you again." He pushes himself up.

"Again?" My voice is weak with disbelief.

His grin is pure wolf. "What part of 'all night' didn't you hear?"

I'm still catching my breath. This can't be happening. This can't be real. But as Blake leans his head down to kiss me, I realize, oh yes. Yes, it really is real. And my night's just getting started.

Chapter Seven

I'm on cloud nine. The morning sunlight streams into the kitchen, clear and bright, all the windows thrown open so that I can smell the woods. Pop music playing on the old radio I've found, yellow kitchen gloves on as I tackle the oven. Then the doorbell rings. I stop, realizing that I've actually been enjoying myself. Because this is my house now. This is my kitchen. And because I'm sore in all the right places from last night's activities. I peer out the window, trying to catch a glance of Blake, but I don't see him.

Did last night really happen? It now feels like a blur of sinful, soul-searing moments, nothing coherent, just an endless orgy of decadent passion. I smile dreamily and rest my chin on my palm, gazing out at nothing. Good lord. And there's another night coming after this day is over. And another tomorrow. How will I hold up?

The doorbell rings again, and I blink and stand up. Whoops. Peeling off the gloves, I head through the house to the front door, which reveals a prim, older Asian lady. She looks severe, like a schoolteacher who has spent her whole life dealing with little monsters, and I almost gulp when she levels her laser eyes on me.

"Can I help you?"

"Possibly. My name is Hui Wang. I have come to inquire about the posting for a maid." Her voice is precise, but not unkind.

"Oh." I don't know why I'm surprised. "Please come in." She nods and enters the hall, looking around with sharp curiosity. "I'm Rachel Wilder. I just arrived in town yesterday." Was it only yesterday? "I'm going to be turning Honeycomb Hall into a bed and breakfast, and I'm looking for somebody who can work every day."

Hui nods. "Very good. What would my duties involve?"

I quickly list them. Cleaning the rooms each morning. Maintaining the house. Laundry, and all the rest of it. I watch her carefully to see if she's fazed. I'm getting the impression that nothing will faze her.

"That sounds reasonable. Here is my reference." She pulls a folded sheet from her purse and hands it to me. I blink and open it. There is one address listed, a retirement home located two towns over, where Hui was apparently the head of the cleaning crew. "The Wilson Center closed two months ago. I was very satisfied with my position there, but now I need new work. I enjoy challenges. This is a large home, but I believe I can handle it alone."

"Well. Great." I can't help but be impressed. There's something about her manner. Her gravity. She has the bearing of a general in need of an army to command. "I'll make the call, but to be honest, I'd be happy to offer you the job. When can you start?"

"I am ready to begin immediately, if you are agreeable."

"Really? Even better! I was just getting started, but... it's a big job."

Hui looks around the entry hall once more, and then waggles her head from side to side. "Not so big. It just requires focused, sustained work."

I smile. "Well, unless I hear something surprising from the Wilson Center, welcome aboard." I extend my hand.

Hui looks at it, and then shakes it. Her grip is firm, no-nonsense. "Thank you. Are you already in possession of all required cleaning supplies?"

"I think so." I lead her into the house, to the closet where mops and cleaning bottles are stacked.

Hui shakes her head. "No good. I will go buy new supplies. You will reimburse me with my first paycheck."

My eyes go wide with surprise at her assurance, but I nod. "Sure. That sounds great."

"Very good. I'll go now. If you'll excuse me, Ms. Wilder."

"Sure thing," I say, though her asking for my permission seems almost strange. She's that authoritative.

We walk to the front door, and I open it just as Anita leans forward to ring the bell. She squeaks in surprise and almost drops a covered dish she's holding in her free hand.

"Anita!" I beam at her. "You came!"

"I - yes! Good morning!" She smiles nervously at me, then looks to Hui, who is giving her a severe look.

"This is Hui," I say, ushering Anita inside. "She's our new maid."

"Hui Wang," says Hui, voice formal. "A pleasure. Now, if you'll excuse me -"

"Actually, why don't you wait a moment?" I can't help but stare curiously at the covered dish. "Anita has brought a sample of her cooking for us to taste. Why don't you join us in the kitchen?"

Hui opens her mouth to protest, but then closes it with a snap and nods. "If you wish."

We walk toward the back. Anita is radiating excitement and nerves, and I know that any more small talk will only make her more anxious. We step into the breakfast nook and she sets the covered dish on the table.

"This is my grandmother's special dish," she says, looking at us both. "She would only cook it for weddings and birthdays. I'm sure mine's not as good, but..."

I'm dying with impatience to see. Even Hui is looking curious. Anita bites her lower lip and then uncovers the dish. Sitting in the center is a large tart, the crust undulating perfectly, the outer curves slightly browned, a deep crimson mix contained within and topped with a heavenly looking meringue.

"Strawberry rhubarb meringue tart," says Anita, studying my face anxiously. "Is that all right? I almost made my salted caramel chocolate tart instead, but I thought -"

I raise my hand and cut her off. "Be bold, Anita. You've made a choice. Commit! We're going to try your tart right here, right now. Hui, I expect you to be absolutely honest in your assessment. Anita, will you get forks from that drawer?"

She nods, face pale, and darts to the indicated drawer, returning with three silver forks. We each take one, and then they both watch me as I lower mine toward the tart. I almost hate to ruin the perfection of its shape. I restrain the urge to photograph it, and instead press the tines of the fork into the decadent meringue, its whisked peaks and raised surfaces richly browned like a cloud that floated too close to the sun. There's slight resistance, and then my fork presses down into the strawberry rhubarb mixture. It's the deepest, richest crimson I've ever seen. Down to the crust, which parts with a little crunch.

I lift a perfect segment into the air, scooping it up neatly. Anita is clenching her hands by my side, staring at me as if I were a fox and she a trapped hen. I examine the slice of tart in the clear morning sunlight. It looks amazing. Closing my eyes, I place it in my mouth and bite down.

Good
lord
. The flavors and texture are out of this world. I groan, cupping my hand to my mouth to catch any crumbs, bending over as the smooth, creamy richness of the meringue contrasts with the sharp tartness of the sweet rhubarb filling. And the crust! Perfection. It's like an orchestra of flavors, a symphony of deliciousness. My tongue luxuriates in the crumbly sensation of the crust, the heavenly meringue cream, the nubbins of fruit. I've sampled the best that NYC has to offer, from specialty cake shops to the richest desserts at the finest restaurants that Paul would take me to. None of them compare to this tart.

I hear a moan next to me and open my eyes to see Hui, her eyes wide with alarm, her jaw working, a fork held in one hand. Her moans seem to be coming despite her attempt at self-control, and her eyes dart from side to side as she's assaulted by the flavors. I want to laugh, I want to hug her. Poor Hui!

"And?" Anita can't wait any longer.

I compose my face. Swallow once, twice, then lick the fork clean. "Anita."

"Yes?" Her eyes are wide.

"This tart." I can barely form the words.

"Yes? What did you think?"

I take a deep breath and stare at it. "Having you as our cook is going to be a disaster."

"A - what?" Her face drains of color.

"I know I'm a curvy woman, but with tarts like these available in the fridge, I am going to lose all self-control. It's amazing. It's like -"

Hui speaks, voice distant, overwhelmed. "Like sex with food."

"Hui!" We both round on her, and she blinks, suddenly aware of what she just said, and blushes a deep red.

I laugh, but nod. "Yes! It is. This tart is
indecent
. It's amazing. Where did you learn to bake like this?"

"You like it?" Tears brim in Anita's eyes, and she suddenly sits, as if her legs have just given out. "Oh, thank you. Oh god." She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders hitching.

"Anita?" I set the fork aside and sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Anita? What is it?"

"I - I was so worried you wouldn't." She looks up at me, tears running down her face. "I made six of them last night. I almost didn't come."

"But - why?" I shake my head. "You're amazing. Why were you so worried?"

"I really need this job." Her voice shakes as she looks from me to Hui, who also sits. "I have to become independent. I have to make my own money, and - and I've never worked in a restaurant, or been to culinary school, and it's the only thing I know how to do. It's the only thing I love."

I nod, squeezing her shoulder. "And you're amazing at it, do you hear me? Amazing. You're hired." I turn to Hui. "Do I even need to say that out loud?"

Hui shakes her head. "No. It is a given."

"Yes. A given." I stare into Anita's eyes. "You're hired."

"Oh, thank god." Anita's shoulders sag and she smiles at me. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You'll see. I'll cook for you like nobody has ever cooked in the history of all - of all -"

"Cooking?" I say with a smile.

"Yes!" Anita grins.

Hui holds up her fork. "I am going to have more."

"Good idea," I say, grabbing my own.

I want to ask Anita what's wrong, what she's running from, but I hold back. She'll tell me in time, when she's ready. If she chooses to trust me. For now, the happiness that radiates from her face as Hui and I demolish her tart warms my soul. She doesn't join in, but simply rests her chin on her palm and beams as Hui and I groan and eat, licking the forks as we do. Thank god it's a small tart. I don't think I'd be able to stop myself from finishing it, no matter the size.

"Thank you, Anita," says Hui, rising to her feet. She presses her fingertips to her mouth, then nods to her. "That was delicious."

"You're welcome," says Anita, smiling broadly, eyes sparkling behind her librarian glasses.

"I'm going to go buy the cleaning supplies," Hui says. "I will return soon. Excuse me."

She leaves the kitchen, and I turn to Anita.

"Why don't you spend the morning putting together a menu for our guests? With a little luck we're going to be serving shifters, so you might want to talk to our gardener, Blake, about what they might like to eat."

"Shifters?" Anita's eyes go wide. "Like, werewolves? Werebears? Werelions?"

I nod. "Is that OK?"

Anita smiles dreamily. "Is it OK that I'll be feeding the hottest men on the planet every morning? I'll say."

I grin. "You're a girl after my own heart, Anita. Take some time familiarizing yourself with the kitchen, then feel free to hunt down Blake and start brainstorming a menu. Sound good?"

"Yes," Anita says, and then reaches out to take my hand. "Thank you."

I feel my heart squeeze. There is such sincere gratitude in her eyes. "No, Anita. Thank
you
. It's going to be very special to have you join the Honeycomb Hall family."

She smiles, tears brimming in her eyes, and I stand. "Now I need to get to work. There's lots to do!"

And there is. I spend an hour on the phone with Mr. Hanscomb, exploring the legal requirements of becoming a B&B, and he promises to bring over all the necessary application forms for certificates. I then get on my laptop and read through the sanitation and hygiene requirements for the kitchen and bathrooms, as well as all the other regulations I'll need to cover. I know the New York requirements like the back of my hand, but the Massachusetts ones are another story.