PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Bear Naked Satisfaction (Fantasy Shapeshifter Alpha Male Romance Book 3) (Contemporary New Adult Billionaire Steamy Romance Short Stories) (3 page)

              “I will.”

“Okay.” He angled his head to the side a bit and pressed his lips against hers, parting them. He pulled away the next instance and walked around her, toward Fernando.

Andrea, a little stunned with a lustful kind of warmth, turned and watched the two men whisper angrily to one another. Distantly, she wondered if Reed would be so willing to defend her the moment he found out what she was truly doing.

Resignation and determination encased her. She hadn’t turned back yet, and she refused to now, no matter what the cost.

Chapter 3

              The next hour went by in a rushed, disorienting haze. She had said her goodbyes to Reed before the guards led him into a different room, and then someone injected her with…something, or maybe multiple things.

She hadn’t lost consciousness right away, but her sense of awareness warped into something dream-like and distant; a couple of times, she had been convinced she was sleepwalking in one of the most elusive daydreams about bear-shifters she had ever had.

              When she woke up, she was sitting across from Fernando in a jet. The room—containing comfortable furniture and a bar—thrummed, and outside its windows, adjacent wisps of clouds whizzed by.

              Andrea blinked sluggishly at the stoic billionaire in front of her, her body slouched to the side in a tall leather chair. The chair’s straps hadn’t been fastened tightly enough around her, and they now rested over her chest and armpit. Too sore and fatigued to care, she pushed herself up into a proper sitting position. Her fingers slapped against the straps several times until her muddled brain helped her figure out how to unfasten them. Once that was accomplished, she pushed them to the side.

              “How’d you sleep?” Fernando asked, sounding bored.

              “Wonderfully,” she grumbled. She smacked her lips together, a sour taste on her tongue. She knew, deep down, she should be more uneasy about this situation—that she should at least feel
something
about this situation—but she was just tired. She turned to the jet’s window, only a few inches away from her seat. “Where are we going?”

              “That’s confidential.”

              “Of course it is. Paranoid bastard.”

              Andrea blinked hard, shocked at her own unprofessional behavior. She rubbed her temples and murmured an insincere apology. She needed to sober up before she made another mistake.

              “It’ll be hours before you’re completely sober,” Fernando said.

              Andrea stiffened, her nails clawing into her arms. Could bear-shifters read minds?

              “No,” Fernando said, groaning a little. “You’re speaking aloud. It’s a side-effect.”

              “Of course it is. Paranoid—”

              “Listen,” Fernando said louder.

              She paid a little closer attention to him. He was resting his elbows on the armrests, his head leaning back against the seat. He looked like an official authoritative figure, his posture stiff and his eyes cold.

              “It’s obvious how I feel about you,” Fernando continued. “But do you know why?”

              “Because you’re a paranoid bas—?”

              “Because my life has been one of fear, of pain.” His tone was steely and quiet, as if it hurt him to speak. He still appeared bored, but his voice betrayed him. “You can’t know what it is like to fear what you are and to fear others like you. You can’t understand what it is like to be constantly hiding—constantly afraid someone is going to see something they shouldn’t and report it. I lived in a world of violence, dominance, and rejection, and I was always being followed by journalists who didn’t know anything—who kept pushing boundaries and asking questions that got some of them killed.

              You, Ms. Watson, can’t understand any of that. Oh, no, you are so focused on your career to care about any of that. Or maybe it’s a false sense of integrity? Do you think that my business is the world’s because I inherited a great deal of money? I don’t care either way. Either answer is asinine, especially give the true nature of this dilemma. And even though you know this, you still…” Fernando let out a growl, his jaw tensing. A hatred slowly grew within his eyes, and they somehow began to burn their way into Andrea’s conscience. “I never knew someone as heartless and stupid as you. Whatever happens to you on this little adventure of ours, it is not my responsibility. The fact that you used my friends is beyond forgivable, but Reed…cares, and I can’t do what I truly want to do to you. But I’ll be damned if I go out of my way to protect you.”

              The speech left Andrea breathless, her lungs constricting as her entire chest pulsated with agony. Everything was suddenly too vivid—too painful to tolerate or adapt to. She blinked hard again, her eyes stinging and her psyche scorching. His words, the truth of it all…God, even she hadn’t caused herself this much pain.

              “You got nothing to say for yourself now?” Fernando said, snorting and shaking his head. “Unsurprising.”

              Rage burst inside of her, and it somehow blinded her to her shame while fueling it. “You drugged me! Forgive me if I’m not all there.” Her nostrils flared, she panted and snarled like she was choking on her own anger. “You are a sick, hateful man, and I’m sorry for all the things that happened to you to make you this way, but blaming me for the world’s screwed up nature isn’t going to accomplish anything.” Tears pouring from her eyes, she grinded her teeth together and glared out the window beside her. Every atom of her seemed too sensitive to the air around her, as if the oxygen was chafing her; she was on the edge of screaming. If Fernando said or did one more thing that pushed her…

              Luckily, he didn’t. He remained quiet for the rest of the trip.

Chapter 4

              It was dark by the time the jet landed, the city’s light pollution making the starlight dulled, if even visible. Fernando had the guards carry their luggage, so Andrea stepped out of the aircraft and down a metal staircase empty-handed. Sober now, tension seized her as she moved. She could practically feel Fernando hovering over her—glancing at every little twitch, every little hesitance. It reminded him of what he had said to her about his past, and sorrow settled upon her and made her sluggish. Worse, it made her compliant.

              Without asking any more questions, Andrea let Fernando manhandle her into a dark car. A couple of guards entered the car, as well, and once they all had their seatbelts on, someone drove them through the city.

              She turned to the window and observed every little thing they drove by. Her eyes widened when she saw a sign that read “Welcome to New Orleans.”

              “We’re in New Orleans,” Fernando said a few seconds later. He sounded peeved yet a little amused. “If you haven’t noticed.”

              “I noticed,” she said, her tone not as harsh as she wanted it to be. She cleared her throat and came back to herself—reminded herself that she was doing a job here, not trying to get an award of morality from this guy. “So are we seeing an alchemist tonight, or are we actually seeing a witchdoctor?” When Fernando didn’t answer her right away, Andrea turned to him and frowned. “Well?”

              “I don’t like witchdoctors,” he said. He shifted his gaze to his side of the car. “And we won’t be seeing the alchemist tonight, so we’re going to a hotel.”

              She nearly laughed, bitterness evident in the sound. “You make it sound like this is your typical family vacation. I’m surprised you would even let me have my own room.”

              He snapped his eyes back to her. “Who said I would?”

              A nauseating kind of heat wormed its way through her. It must have shown on her face because Fernando rolled his eyes.

              “Relax,” he said. “I don’t find you that appealing.”

              She blushed, nearly flinched. “Gee, thanks.”

              “Even if I did, I don’t sleep with journalists. Bad taste.”

              “I said ‘thanks,’ I don’t need the details.”

              “Isn’t that’s why you are here?”

              “No,” she said strongly. Frustrated yet determined, she dared to lean toward him a little. She noticed the guards reach for their weapons, but she ignored them and stared deep into Fernando’s dark eyes, flickering discomfort and skepticism. She gave him a toothy smile. “And I will find a way to convince of you that, even if takes all night. I’m not afraid of you.”

              “You should be,” he whispered, swallowing.

              She smirked.

              The two of them stayed like that for a few minutes. She noticed various emotions flickered over his face, but she couldn’t quite read him. She licked her lips slowly, just to see what he would do, and he did nothing.

              “We’re here,” the driver said.

              Andrea glanced at the driver before turning to the window beside her. Sure enough, the hotel’s entrance stood right there. The establishment didn’t look cheap, but it wasn’t nearly expensive as some of the other places the Billionaire Trio normally visited. When she turned to look out the other window—to look at the parking lot—she saw a minivan with a canoe strapped to its roof.

              “Let’s go,” Fernando said, nodding toward her door.

              Obediently, she opened the door and got out.

              The hotel room Fernando got them had two full-sized beds with tacky butterfly covers on them. As Andrea walked toward one of them, her face conveying distaste, she heard Fernando and the guards follow her inside. Andrea turned around, her eyebrows raising when the guards ran their hands over the walls.

              Fernando pushed by her and went to stand beside his own bed.

              Incredulous, Andrea glanced between him and the guards, who had gone to their hands and knees to…inspect the floor? She wasn’t entirely sure.

              “Are you kidding me?” she asked, glaring at Fernando and motioning toward the guards. “You think I planted bugs in here?”

              “No,” Fernando said condescendingly. “You are not the only threat against me. Don’t be so egotistical.”

              “I’m egotistical?!”

              “Extremely. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. You would think your giant head would cast giant shadows.”

              Flabbergasted, Andrea opened and closed her mouth. Her stunned state—her silence—gave her time to think more about the circumstances before her. She needed to get Fernando on her side, not argue with him again. She took deep breaths and tilted her head, her lips spreading into a warm smile.

              Fernando back away, his expression guarded. “Don’t do that.”

              “What?” she said, moving toward him.

              “You know what. Stop it. Now.” He looked at his guards, and that was warning enough.

              Andrea clenched her teeth. “You’re making this possible.”

              He chortled. “Manipulating me? I sure hope so.”

              “Liking you.”

              “Bullshit. Stop lying to me—I hate being lied to.” He strode up to her, his eyes blazing and his fists quivering. “Just tell me the truth already. Why are you really here?”

              “I want to help you!”

              “Stop lying! Why are you really here?!”

              She sighed, leaning back and losing the tension in her form. She was so tired of this—it was hopeless. There was no way she would get this psychopath to trust her, and if she couldn’t do that, then she wouldn’t be able to stop him from ending the curse. The thought disheartened her, and she turned to walk away—to get away from yet another confrontation.

              But then Fernando grabbed her arms and forced her to face him. His lips were curled downward, his eyes going black. “Just tell me! Stop using me!”

              Andrea didn’t blink—didn’t breathe—processing everything and nothing. The strange thing was, even though Fernando’s strength and demonic eyes terrified her, he had sounded like he was pleading with her. Though panic had iced her blood and made her certain of her own doom, pity also managed to bloom inside her heart.

              “Fernando,” she choked out.

              He shook her, tears in his eyes. “Tell me!”

              She gaped at him as he huffed and puffed. Her pity morphed into guilt, then into self-loathing, and it was acidic in her veins—in her torso.

              Claws poked her flesh through her clothes, and another wave of panic crashed down on her. Her heart pounded too hard, too fast, her mind going blank yet also screaming at her to escape.

              “Andrea!”

              “Fine!” she shrieked, shaking violently and crying. “Fine! You were right about everything. I just wanted to write the story of a lifetime. There is a whole other species out there living beside us and no one knows about it! I wanted to expose the truth and show people how the world really is!”

              A breath shuddered out of her, a conflicting sense of relief and dread making her dizzy. She was half-expecting to be killed now, yet she couldn’t help but believe herself deserving of a fate.

              She had slept with people to get information out of them. She had lied and used people, and now she couldn’t even say it was for a good cause. Now, it had all gone to waste.

              Andrea swallowed thickly, tears dripping from her jaw and chin. When nothing happened for a moment, she shut her eyes tight and snarled, “Whatever you are going to do, just do it and get it over with.”

              “I don’t need to do anything,” Fernando said, sounding much calmer now. “I know all that I need to know, though I did suspect this all along. I knew this is who you really were.”

              She reeled back. Seeing Fernando’s wet face expressing indifference that somehow seemed smug—rage overwhelmed her senses.

              “You sick bastard!” She grabbed his shirt, her nails clawing into it as she sneered at him. “You are so obsessed with hiding that you manipulate and lie and hurt people just so that you feel okay! It doesn’t matter how anyone else thinks or feels, so long as you are fine! Hold up in your mansions—acting as if you’re this world’s greatest victims—letting people get murdered by your own kind and not doing a damn thing about it?! Manipulating people like Hank and Reed—your friends—to help you! You may have been right about me, but don’t you act like you are any different than me!”

              She felt his claws again, his face twitching as too many emotions overcame it. She could feel the heat radiate off of him—from his flesh, from his eyes. Andrea refused to be afraid though—not now, not when she had nothing left to lose but her measly life. She raised her head a little higher and kept eye contact with him.

              She did not expect him to kiss her.

              As quickly as Fernando had moved toward her, his kiss was hesitant—his lips barely brushing against hers and then hesitantly pressing closer to them.

              An excited thrill shot through her. His gentleness mixed with her searing rage created a static-esque feel of pleasure inside of her. It was so startling—so good—so new—she kissed him back with fervor.

              His grip on her softened, his claws disappearing, and he rubbed the stinging ache away from her arms. The light yet erratic massage eased her tension while created a hotter tension, and she moaned loudly.

              He pulled away a little, and she shamelessly followed him—leaned toward him with her mouth open.

              “Get out,” Fernando growled.

              Andrea jumped, opening her eyes. She was about to shout at him again when she noticed he wasn’t looking at her but at his guards.

              “Now,” Fernando told them.

              The guards nodded dutifully—like watching their boss make-out with a potential threat happened everyday—and then walked out of the room.

              When the door clicked shut, Fernando’s mouth was on hers again. She rubbed herself against him and nipped his lower lip whenever she had the chance. He moaned and growled in response. A delighted smile graced her lips on its accord, and she couldn’t hold it back even if she tried.

              Mindlessly, she pawed at his chest and his big arms. She hungered to feel him—to see him fall apart before her, to see him exposed.

              Fernando ran his hands down her arms until his hands clutched hers. He ran his thumbs over them while breaking the kiss. His lips pressed against her cheek, and then her jaw, he helped her unbutton his shirt. It was an awkward process—their fingers pressed together so tightly that it hurt—but as they got lower and lower on his shirt, she trembled harder with growing need.

              He rubbed his face against hers, his teeth occasionally grazing her. She could also feel him smile every once in a while, but each time this happened, he bowed his head so that his forehead was pressed against her jaw.

              Soon, he was shouldering off his shirt and jacket, both of them falling to the floor. Their faces were still so close together that she couldn’t see his torso, but she was quick to press her hands against his abs. He was so warm, so soft. She ran her fingers upward, toward his nipples, and she reveled in the way he shivered. When she pressed her palms against his pecks, he reached for her jacket and tugged at it.

              With her hands still touching some part of his flesh—his chest, his shoulders—she allowed Fernando to awkwardly undress her. She bowed her head and kissed his neck as he worked. Eventually, she felt her own clothing slide off of her and fall to the ground.

              Fernando kissed her, his tongue prodding against her lips until she parted them again. As he tasted her, he groped her breasts. His fingers curled around the edge of her bra before trailing up its straps.

              She panted against his mouth, a gentle kind of heat making her awareness fuzzy. A little to eagerly, she pulled down her straps—and then her bra—until it was wrapped around her stomach.

              Andrea arched her chest toward him, her eyes entranced by the hunger in his expression as he stared at her breasts. He grabbed them again, his fingers sliding against her nipples and hardening them. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back a little.

              He released her breasts and grabbed her rear, and she gasped. Then he lifted her up and hurriedly lowered her to the nearest bed, her body all but crashing onto the mattress. When his lips wrapped around her left nipple, her body bucked on its own accord. Pleasure shot through her—tantalizing her—and she released a whiny moan of desperation.

              “Fernando,” she breathed, gasping when his tongue drew a circle over her nipple. “God, Fernando, please. So wet now…” She spread her legs wide for him. When he kept sucking at her nipple—the wet, smacking sound become sloppier and making her wetter—she bounced herself, her waist pushing against his for a brief moment.