Bearly Begun (BBW/Bearshifter Romance) (Bachelor Bears of Yakima Ridge Book 1)
Read Bearly Begun (BBW/Bearshifter Romance) (Bachelor Bears of Yakima Ridge Book 1) Online
Authors: Isadora Montrose
Tags: #General Fiction
Bearly Begun
©Copyright Isadora Montrose 2015
Cover Art by Resplendent Media ©Copyright 2015
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Isadora Montrose.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers.
Books by Isadora Montrose
Bear Cubs for Christmas (available only in Bear Fursuits Books 1-5 Bundle)
Bear Skin: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance
Brides for the Bachelor Bears Books 0-4 Bundle
Bearly a Bride (available only in Brides for the Bachelor Bears)
So Lenny had some major problems with his courting. His mate didn’t seem to know she was being wooed. Joe was observing in the shadows, howling with laughter, but not interfering. One of his apprentices approved of his courtship and the other disapproved.
Almost for certain, Cord would try his clumsy best to assist in marrying off his sister, while Hunter would try to derail the process. He was pretty certain that it would be helpful Cord who did the most damage. He was such a sorry, screwed bear.
His Uncle Pierre had always said that when a Benoit man found his match, he had all night for his courting. He had chuckled hugely at his joke, but refused to be specific. Over the years, cousins had hinted at the power of bear love, but of course no Benoit would ever discuss his sex life. Some things were sacred. And a man’s mate was high on that list.
But maybe it was time to try a little Benoit magic? What was the worst that could happen? His mate would not dream of him, nor he of her. Which was pretty much life as he knew it.
When he went to sleep he held in his hand the tiny carving of Erin he had made from a peach pit. She had eaten the peach right at his table and sucked the flesh from the seed before putting it on her plate. He had managed to slip it into his pocket unseen while the table was being cleared. It was just her face, because carving her naked body—even for his personal pleasure—struck him as downright unseemly.
He had showered and shaved and combed his hair before bed. He didn’t know if that was necessary, but he figured if he was going courting he would have, so that’s was what he did. Of course, he would have put on his best clothes to take Erin someplace, but for this he figured his birthday suit was best.
He ran his hands over his hairy chest and down as low as his thighs. He was hoping she liked him the way he came, because shaving his face was one thing, but that waxing business was a joke. For a guy like him that was hairy pretty much everywhere it would be a never ending torture. He was prepared to die for Erin, just not by inches for no purpose.
He drifted off with the little talisman clutched in one giant fist. Wishing he had given something of his to Erin to make the magic take.
* * *
Erin had gone to bed in the living room. Even though the boys were sleeping at Len’s house, she was used to her spot on the couch. She had splurged and gone to the hairdresser after work today. First time in nearly six years. But she was feeling flush since Len had refused to let her contribute to the boys’ grocery bill.
The stylist had insisted on hacking off nine inches of ragged split ends. Which had permitted the rest of her hair to regain its natural wave. Loose it looked richly blonde instead of mouse. She had felt pretty afterwards, for the first time in a long, long while. Not that Len had noticed her soft new hairstyle.
Hunter and Cord had. Cord had gushed and drawn Len’s attention to her hair. Only then had Len complimented her. Hunter had said nothing but he had scowled. She suspected he had held his tongue because of Len’s presence.
It was nice to have a little free time, and nice to have a little spending money. But she had to keep socking money away because these good times would soon be over. Len and Joe would fix up the house and sell it and go back to French Town and life in their woods. And she and the boys would be alone again. She was afraid she was in for some major heartbreak, because she had tumbled into love with that big lummox who wasn’t interested in her. Which was just another example of how dumb she was.
She was wearing the oversized tee-shirt Cord had on the last time he came home. Some nonsense about borrowing it because all his own shirts were dirty. She had washed it, of course, but instead of giving it back to Len, she was sleeping in it. She inhaled and thought she caught a whiff of Len, some essential essence of alpha male. Laughing at her wayward heart and hormones she drifted off to sleep.
Big hands gently fondled her starved, long neglected flesh. A deep rumble in her ear explained to her exactly how lovely and enticing her abundant curves were to the male who was caressing her. Erin moaned in her sleep and adjusted herself so the delicious sweep of rough palms could find her secrets. The rumble deepened even more and assured her she was the most alluring of all women.
The hands were replaced by a worshiping mouth that kissed its leisurely way from chin to toes and back again. Erin moaned and panted and the mouth delicately tasted first one plump breast and then the other. A big tongue swept across her tender, straining aur****s and laved them until they were stiff and aching.
The tongue left her nipples bereft to explore her navel. The warm damp lips first kissed and then blew hot arousing breath into the little hub. Erin jumped and the deep rumble became a laugh that vibrated to her core. She was clenched tight, her s*x was wet, but the kisses stalled at her b**h. A tender puff of air and the voice favorably compared her scent to the headiest of perfumes and the lips moved on.
Erin’s legs fell open but, although big hands lightly squeezed her thighs and she felt a brief kiss where they met her p***y, her dream lover did not touch her s*x. He moved his big hands down her legs telling her all the while how perfectly formed they were for love, for him.
She squirmed when the warm mouth enveloped each toe. And by the time her lover had dried them with a strip of velvety fur she was bathed in sweat and begging for release. The deep voice in her head was regretful. She was of all women the most desirable, and soon, very soon, he would claim her. But not tonight. The fur flicked swiftly over her tight, hot b*d and was withdrawn.
Erin woke to find Len’s tee-shirt up around her neck. Her body was tender and frustrated and as slick as if she had really taken a lover. Her nipples were aching peaks and she was pulsing with unsatisfied need. She looked around, but she was in her empty apartment, the street lights shining through her curtains.
Fantasy time.
BEARLY BEGUN
Book 1
BACHELOR BEARS OF
YAKIMA RIDGE
by
Isadora Montrose
CHAPTER ONE
“I tell you, Joey, we’re turning into cranky old men, and we’re not even thirty-five,” Leonard Benoit said to his twin. His big hands were expertly shaping a small block of maple with a fine bladed knife.
“Speak for yourself, Lenny,” Joe returned as he let tiny curls fall between his feet from his antler. “I’m still having myself a good time.” His muscular hands held his little etching blade with surprising delicacy as he concentrated on carving the tiny eyes of a miniature wolf.
Leonard dusted wood chips off his burly thighs and looked pityingly at his brother. They were fraternal twins but they shared the same high cheekbones and broad faces and big noses of their Métis forebears—the French voyageurs and Native Americans who had intermarried when America was the New World. They looked astonishingly alike.
Their dark brown hair waved in the same way, although Len kept his closely cropped while Joe had allowed his to grow to his shoulders and tucked it into a bun at the back of his head Salish-style. Their massive frames and long limbs attested to their bear-shifter heritage.
“Look at us,” Len said, “Sitting around whittling and carving on a Saturday night. We had a beer with dinner, wiped up the kitchen, and came out here to play with our tools like two toothless old men.”
Joe’s pleasant face managed a momentary unhappiness. “I’m still pretty tired out from all the ruckus last weekend,” he said mildly. “So we like things shipshape. So we like to make stuff.” He squinted slightly at the little figure in his hand and adjusted the flow of fur with a deft stroke of his knife blade. “It’s not too late to go into Hanover and have a beer,” he reminded Lenny.
Len snorted. “We could. But we won’t. And it’s not because of the wedding last weekend either. We’ll just sit here till the light fades, then turn on the halogens and work until ten or so, and then we’ll sweep up and you’ll go home and I’ll go to bed.”
Joe frowned again. “It’s a pretty good life,” he protested. “We’ve got our own houses. We have nice trucks. We can go hunting and fishing and trapping whenever we want. Have to admit I don’t feel much like hell raising these days, but a man’s gotta grow up. It’s not the same as growing old,” he said obstinately.
“We have houses that are polished to a fare thee well. And for what? So we can have a nest for our mates. And here we set, broody and lonesome, shining them up but never bringing home a bride.” Len’s normally upbeat voice was disgusted.
“What we need is mates like Will and Jack’s women,” Len went on. “Martha and Hannah are just about the most luscious ladies I’ve ever seen.” He whistled. “Lovelier even than Doug’s Maddie, and that’s saying something.”
“Better not let our cousins hear you drooling over their mates,” Joey advised his twin. His voice was deadly earnest.
“Not drooling,” Len said comfortably. “I like Martha, Hannah, and Maddie. But they are mated and married up and I don’t chase mated females. Specially not females mated to kin.” He shook his dark head in a strong negative that definitively dismissed his cousin’s brides.
Joey nodded gloomily. “Say that again. All the women we know, if they aren’t married up already, they’re kin.”
“What we need is incomers if we don’t want to marry girls that smell like our sisters.” Len resumed his whittling.
“We don’t have any sisters,” Joe protested. “There’s only the two of us brothers.”
“And yet all our cousins smell like sisters, and all the women hereabouts are cousins.” Len reminded him.
“Benoits been living in Kittitas County for a long time, marrying up and intermarrying. Most folks around here are related to Jacques Benoit and the Salish Woman, same as us. Plenty of bear in French Town and around here that means we’re kinfolk. No shame in it.” Joe’s voice quietly became more stubborn.
“No shame, unless we let it waste our lives, Joe boy. I’m telling you, we need to go a hunting if we want to find us some wives before we just shrivel up and grow old alone.” Len held his carving up to the light.
“You know that online mating thing didn’t turn out too well for us,” Joe reminded his twin. “None of those city women were what I would call keepers.” He too went back to his wolf.
“Dougie says we should have been on the dating sites instead of mating sites,” Len pointed out.
“Didn’t want dates. We wanted mates.” Joe said setting his big square jaw.
Len shrugged. “I gotta better idea. Madeline has herself a gym just for women.”
“I know. Seems like that would be a poor way to make money, but Dougie says she’s right successful. Those city women must have a lot of time on their hands,” Joe marveled.
