Matthew (BBW Country Music Bear Shifter Romance) (Bearly Saints Book 1) (96 page)

“Oh!” I gasped.

He pushed into me steadily, sliding his whole length until the head of his cock bumped against the bottom of my womb. His breathing turned into growls, sweat from his body falling onto my back as he rammed home. His heavy balls swung forward, crashing against my clit. 

I jerked forward each time he pounded into me. The wet sounds of our coupling seemed to fill the whole glade. Like two beasts, we mated under the moonlight with no care of Heaven above nor Hades below. He bent forward, his hand groping my breast roughly, squeezing my poor abused nipple.

Then I felt pressure at my asshole, and without warning he popped a slick finger into my aft. In and out, he filled my pussy and ass. I felt another wave coming, this one sure to swallow me body and soul. The feeling of him mounting me, filling me, was too much to handle.

My arms gave out and my face fell forward onto the leaves of my makeshift bed as I came. My legs shuddered, my pussy spasmed. The only noise I could make was a long squeal as the typhoon crashed home. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t smell. I could feel him inside me, coupled with me.

He thrust once more and howled, his cock exploding inside me. His pent up seed finally freed, it shot into me, gushing like a geyser. His balls tensed, pulling up against his body. My pussy overflowed with our cum, and I savored the feeling of his hot stickiness filling me up.

He collapsed off of me, panting and looking up at the sky. He looked at me as I crawled over and lay my head on his chest.

I played with his chest hair, twirling them around between my fingers. “You’re an animal,” I said, half purring. Soon my eyes became heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.

THE WITCH AND THE WEREWOLF TITLE

The Witch And The Werewolf

by

Becca Fanning

THE WITCH AND THE WEREWOLF

“Jessica, wake up you hooker!” Mia said from the hallway. Her incessant knocking didn’t stop.

“Leave me alone! I’m trying to die in here,” I moaned. I wanted to throw up. The whole room was still spinning somehow. I shut my eyes. I thought sleeping was supposed to help with hangovers. But I guess potions are a little bit different.

My coven leader’s words came thundering back to me: take this seriously or it can seriously take you. Witchcraft was nothing to be toyed with. The power stems from ancient bonds with the earth and the stars. Blah, blah, fucking blah. 

Old people were always full of shit, especially old witches. Bitter because all the magic in the world can’t help with saggy tits. And they always had some sappy sad story about the love of their life they had to let go. Love potion in hand, they’d flake out at the last minute instead of taking what they wanted.

I laughed, immediately regretting it as thunder exploded in my skull. Ok, they weren’t always full of shit. Sometimes, sometimes they knew what they were talking about. I opened my eyes a crack, making sure the room had stopped spinning. Sure my nausea was under control, I opened my eyes a little bit more, letting more horrible light through my retina and into the wincing animal that was my brain.

“We better not be late because of you,” Mia said from the hallway before stomping off.

Late? Late for…

Shit.

The ski trip. Weeks earlier, drunk off my ass on tequila and frogsbreath, she kept yelling in my ear about skiing. She knew I hated hiking. She knew I hated swimming. She knew I hated skiing. But she had this amazing mundane power. Despite not having any occult inclination, she cold make anyone accede to her wishes through the sheer force of her whining.

I was drunk so I agreed to shut her up. Well, that’s part of it. I also wanted to fuck the cute guy who brought the acoustic guitar to the party. Don’t judge me.

So, technically I guess I agreed to go skiing. In my defense, she somehow hadn’t mentioned it again since that party. All this time, not a “Hey Jessica, what are you wearing?” or “Jess, won’t it be fun when we tear down the kiddie slope?”. Nothing.

I groaned and sat up, my arms going out to my sides on the bed. Propping myself up, I shook my head, trying to shake the fogginess away. I tried to think back to my books, and how to dispel the potion I’d drank last night. 

What potion had it been? I reached down next to my bed and blindly groped until I found my purse. I brought it up to the bed and unzipped it. Though a mere nine inches across, I’d transformed this deluxe Italian designer handbag into a magical Bag of Holding. Inside, it was the size of a huge duffel bag. I pushed aside several stacks of clothes, emergency club replacements when guys got too rough.

I found my alchemy chest and opened it. Inside were a few dozen small vials, each one carefully labeled. Labeled years ago by some other witch. Since they’d been passed on to me, I’d been too busy filling them up to worry about labeling them appropriately. I mean, when you just want to get messed up, it probably doesn’t matter if you drank an eye of newt shot or a lizard tail smoothie. But of course, now I needed to know.

A shocking amount of the vials were empty. Damn, maybe I have a problem. I wondered if there were Alchemists Anonymous meetings. I shut the chest, zipping up my purse. There’s always the tried and true method.

After years of training, countless hours spent in meditation, the young witch learns the masterful technique. Only through this secret knowledge can one rid themselves of any poison of the body or mind. I quickly lunged to the bathroom to conduct the ritual.

My left hand went up and hit the flusher. I dry heaved one last time, and spat to get the taste of bile out of my mouth. I felt so much better. I stood up, washed my mouth out and then brushed my teeth.

“Fucking skiing,” I mumbled to my reflection in the mirror. It winked back at me. Stupid acolyte enchantment. Whoever came up with the Snarky Mirror spell needed a punch in the broom closet. The only way to get rid of it was to break the mirror, but I wasn’t cleaning that up.

“You clean up so well,” my reflection said. “If you keep it up, one day you’ll be a real head turner.”

“You’re two dimensional!” I screamed, stomping out of the bathroom.

My life was hell.

Ever since I came out to my roommate in college that I was a witch, I knew I would regret it. Mia was a nice girl, but she didn’t have much common sense. She didn’t understand what my power meant, where its limits were. She had absolutely no concept of witchcraft ethics, and that every time you bent Magic to your will, you risked a backlash. 

She thought having me next to her was like having a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It didn’t really work like that, but it didn’t stop Mia from using me to get her way at almost every instance. Or so she thought. 

If she wanted to nail some guy, she didn’t need my help for that. But she’d beg me to cast a spell on him. I’d tell her that in order for the spell to work, she’d have to unbutton her top a little more. Bam, worked every time. Men were the easiest thing in the world to figure out.

I grumbled, packing a few more clothes in my luggage. I’d agreed to go, so I would go. I wouldn’t like it, but a woman has to live up to her word. It would be something like a four hour drive up to the resort. I made sure my MP3 player was fully charged, loaded with an audiobook I was super excited to listen to.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked to my bedroom door. “My life is hell,” I said.

“You sound so smart today!” my mirror said from the bathroom.

I slammed the door behind me and walked into the kitchen. Mia was done up, head to toe in 90’s snow bunny gear. Leg warmers, moon boots, and a jacket that was somehow puffy down yet still showed off her slim waist and magnificent rack. I looked down at my outfit and felt positively frumpy.

“Hey slut!” she said warmly. “Made you a pick me up,” she said, handing me a hot mug.

I took a sip of the full mug, brimming with thick black coffee. It was about eight shots of espresso. I put it down, wanting to sleep some time in the next decade.

“Skiing. Yay,” I said.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” she said. Then she started laughing, cracking up at her own joke.

“I said I’d go, so I’m going. But I’m not going to have any fun,” I said. I didn’t care that I sounded like a toddler.

“Cheer up, Jess. You’re going to have a blast. Steep hills, hot mugs of cider,” she said, pressing her body against mine and whispering into my ear, “Cold bodies and warm fireplaces.”

“I can get cold here! Just open a window: it’s January,” I said.

“You are so fucking crabby when you haven’t been laid. Your pussy dries up and you just get drunk and grumble about it,” Mia said.

“Hey, I’m just fine in that department,” I said, lying. 

“When was the last time?” she said.

“Three weeks ago, the guy with the guitar,” I said, hoping she didn’t call my bluff.

“Bullshit. Melanie sucked that dude off in the bathroom and he came in her ass in the back of her Civic,” she said. “Look, be as miserable as you want. All I’m saying is that if you see a big, hard cock maybe you should trip and fall on it. Accidentally, of course, and with no pleasure.” Her pocket buzzed and she pulled out her phone. “They’re here.”

I snapped my head around. “Who’s here?”

“Jess, you can’t back out now! You said you were going, and you keep your word!” Mia said, her tone shifting to upwards in tenor. She was ready to unleash the power of her whine if need be.

“I’m going, alright. Who’s here?” I said, my head beginning to throb. I rubbed my temples with my fingers.

“Joey and Craig,” Mia said. I could hear her wince as she said it. 

“God. Damn. You,” I said, rubbing my temples furiously. Before, this was going to just be a waste of time. Now it was going to be a painful experience.

Joey was this guy Mia had the hots for. She’d been pining after him since she met him in college. He was an average looking guy, with average interests and an average job selling insurance or something horrible like that. For some reason, he’d been rebuffing her for months, and she couldn’t take it. The more he rejected her, the more she wanted him. It made no sense: she was actually way out of his league. One night when Mia and I were drunk, I told her I thought he was gay. She looked like she was going to commit suicide.

Craig was Joey’s friend. Craig was a slob. How he’d managed to get to his mid twenties without someone instructing him on hygiene was beyond me. Why didn’t someone sit him down and tell him that it wasn’t normal to smell like old bread and sour milk? That food stains on clothes were something to be avoided? He also had this horrible neckbeard, a tentacled mass of throat pubes that sometimes snared small birds that got too close. 

“You promised!” Mia said. “You’re going to have a great time. Joey is a great skiier and Craig, well…” She was lost for a compliment. “He’s got money!”

It was well known that he was a trust fund baby, so he was an adult that got an allowance from his parents. How ambitious. “Let’s just get this done with. With any luck, I’ll slip outside and fall into a coma that lasts 72 hours,” I said.

“Looks old,” Craig said, getting out of Joey’s SUV. He squinted up at the massive ski lodge in front of us. It had a definite 1970s vibe, but that was part of the charm.

I stepped out of the SUV, thankful to be free from that shared prison. Halfway through the trip Craig had pulled out tupperware dishes and started eating a three course meal. It blew my mind. Monday could not come soon enough. “It’s not old. It’s classy,” I said. “The newer ones are all poured concrete. They look like Russian gulags. This is actually picturesque.”

It really was. The massive wood cabin structure was three stories tall. The sloped roof had a few inches of snow stacked on top, and a huge chimney reached up to the heavens. Smoke coming from the chimney signaled how warm and inviting it was inside. Perched on the edge of a steep hill, it must’ve offered an amazing view from the bedrooms.

“Eh,” Joey said, totally unimpressed. That was a common sentiment for him. Nothing was worth comment or opinion. You’d get stronger emotions from a handful of snow.

“This place has amazing reviews,” Mia said, pulling her suitcase from the back of the SUV. “I hope it lives up to the hype.” She headed up to the wide double front doors.

“There’s a mug of hot cider with my name on it in there,” I said. Despite my best effort to stay grumpy, I was quickly warming to this place. I grabbed my suitcase and followed Mia.

As I stood in the lobby, I was overwhelmed with the awesomeness of the place. There was a huge eight point buck head mounted over the front desk. Off to our right was a lounge with couches and a huge fireplace. To our left ran the halls of guest rooms.

Bright wood beams ran the length of the building overhead, huge pieces cut from single trees. Hardwood floors were peppered with rugs, giving guests with slushy boots some much needed traction. This place was built to last, and I had to admire that. 

“Not bad,” Joey said, closing the door behind him. That was as close to praise as I’ve ever heard from him.