Breakwater: Rick (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) (Star Bears Book 2) (135 page)

She felt the blanket beneath her and Wyatt above. He kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, then slid his tongue down her belly and thighs. Then sliding a finger into her he began to work her to a frenzy with his tongue doing things that Jess had to admit were exceptionally yummy. She had never felt like this before. No one had ever taken the time to find every single sweet spot she had. But he was. Wyatt was consuming her heart and mind and body. And she was loving every spine tingling second of it.

Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and pulled his mouth up to hers. The kiss was furtive, long and deep. As though they were both searching for more pleasure in the taste of each other. Jess wanted him inside her in the worst possible way. She reached down for him and grabbed him, working him gently but firmly, feeling him grow even more in her grasp. Then she pushed him over and climbed on top of him, taking him in her mouth. Swallowing as much of him as she could. His groans filled her ears and suddenly he was sitting up, pulling her mouth off him, taking her in his arms and lifting her easily onto his lap.
 

As he slid inside her, Jess gasped and moaned. This was it. This was love. It was the most wonderful feeling, like she was home and safe. They began to move together, riding the beast as one. Each thrust bringing them closer and closer together until Jess didn’t know where she ended and Wyatt began.
   

They rose and fell until fireworks went off behind Jess’s eyes. She had never felt a rush like that before. But Wyatt didn’t stop, he flipped her over onto all fours and took her firmly from behind, kissing her back and neck. Jess felt all new urges, as he then pulled out and sat back as erect as ever. She kissed him then, taking him in her mouth again. Sucking, licking, trying to draw the pleasure out of him. He moaned and whispered things to her, how much he loved her, how much he wanted her again and again.
 

She climbed onto him, running her nails down his chest, feeling him enter her again and this time she had more control, more time to play with. She squeezed him inside her, drawing moan after gasp from him, until he lifted her off his lap and slammed her on to her back on the blanket, taking her breath away.

It was a bit rough, animalistic. She didn’t care. His hunger, his desire filled her and they writhed, and moaned together as the sun slid behind the trees and the world turned. Wyatt licked her neck, gently biting her nipples as he massaged her breasts. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, delighting in every rock hard inch of him.
 

He thrust harder and harder, his breath coming in gasps and groans. Wyatt began to moan and Jess found that she was moaning too, the air forced from her lungs in puffs. Together they found a rhythm, a steady pace, and as their desire rose, they clung to each other, moving in unison. Jess buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, licking him and tasting him. Then she felt him shudder, felt the warmth as he filled her with his love, and in that moment a miracle occurred. Never before had Jess seen the fireworks more than once in an encounter. Never had anyone taken her to these heights, to such pleasure. Her throat opened, the pleasure and release filled her and escaped through her lungs as she roared her happiness to the world in a primal scream.

Wyatt held her then, breathing heavily, his face buried in her hair. She clung to him, aware of her own heaving breaths, and when her heart rate slowed she kissed him. Again and again and again.

They lay together under a dimming sky as the stars began to come out and dance across the veil of the heavens. Jess didn’t know what the future held, but she was quite certain that Wyatt would be in it with her.
 

Bearly Sheltered

Big Paw Security Book III

by

Becca Fanning

Silence pervaded the streets, broken only by the whistling of wind between the trees and the skittering of dry leaves blowing across the pavement. The moon was full, but hidden by thick, dark clouds. A car's headlights shattered the gloom a few blocks ahead, but it turned away before reaching the silent police cruiser sitting by a row of abandoned houses.
 

“Miller, you know I'm the only friend you have left in the precinct,” Sergeant Brock Franklin muttered. He sounded exasperated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance over at her, a flash of moonlight illuminating half his face. “Miller. Emma. Listen to what I have to say.”
 

“I'm listening, Brock,” Emma replied, without looking over. She knew most other officers weren't on a first name basis with their sergeants, but with Brock, it was different. They were more than just partners. They were friends. She couldn't count the amount of times she'd been invited to join him and his family for Christmas or Thanksgiving. His wife and kids had treated her as another member of their family. For someone with no family, Emma knew she was lucky to have a person like Brock she could depend on. It's why we're such good partners, even if I don't always like what he has to say, she pondered.
 

“After you reported the police corruption, and the murder, the rest have turned against you. Hell, they've turned against me for refusing to hang you out to dry. You realize how serious this is? You could bring down the whole station, from Chief Radmacher on down. They will not go down without a fight. Radmacher is only a few years away from a sweet retirement plan. He will not give it up.”
 

“So what can they do? I've submitted my case to the DA. All I have to do is sit back and wait while the case is built. Besides, it's not like they will take me out to stop the case,” she said, giving a nervous laugh.
 

Silence. Emma turned to Brock, shivering. They wouldn't do that, would they? They're the ones that are in the wrong. They were the ones who murdered an innocent man and tried to cover it up. Exposing them was the right thing to do.
 

“I don't know. Some of the guys...” Brock paused. “I've caught whispers in the precinct. Some of the guys – Forman, Martin, Anderson – they're planning something. Just keep your head down. If things get bad around here, I know somewhere we can lay low for a while. Long enough for the prosecutors to finish up the case. It should happen any day now, but you can never be sure.”
 

“Lay low? I will not go into hiding for doing the right thing! You can't just kill someone in cold blood because you're an officer! It doesn't work like that!”
 

“Emma,” Brock said, resting a hand on her arm. “I know. We will bring these guys down, but to do so, we have to play it safe. Now, listen –”
 

The radio squawked, cutting Brock off. “Sergeant Franklin, do you copy?”
 

“10-4. This is Franklin, go ahead.”
 

“We have a reported 11-6 at the corner of Rogers and 25
^th
. Requesting backup.”
 

“We're are on our way.”
 

Brock turned the key over, the engine roaring to life and the lights coming on. They were roaring off before Emma even had her seat-belt buckled. Emma shook herself, trying to forget the previous conversation. A possible discharge of firearms was a lot more exciting than busting drug addicts and teenagers in these old houses.
 

“Emma. I want you to listen loud and clear. You let me go in first, check out the area. If everything is okay, I'll give you the go ahead to assist me.”
 

“What? Brock, you can't just make me watch the car. If there's someone out there shooting his gun, I want to help bring him in! He could be dangerous and you will need all the help you can get.”
 

“I don't think there is someone, Em,” Brock said, pulling out a piece of paper from a pocket and putting it in her hand. “This is the address to where we need to lay low. If things go bad, call Tammy and have her meet you there. You'll be safe.”
 

Emma looked at the paper, mouth nearly dropping over when she read the address. A thought flashed through her mind: He's crazy. But Brock had always been straight. If he was giving her this address, then the situation was much worse than she'd originally thought.
 

“Brock? You're scaring me. These guys are...”
 

“Shifters? Yeah, but they're the best at keeping people safe around this place. I've been talking with them these past few days.”
 

“You know what we've learned about shifters. What we've seen,” Emma said. She could still remember the one time she'd had to arrest a shifter. From what she learned in her training, they mostly kept to themselves but for whatever reason, this one had committed armed robbery. When she'd arrived with the other officers, he was outside of the store shaking with rage, the gun discarded on the ground. The image of him shifting and coming straight at them was something she'd never forget. She could remember knowing she would die. Luckily, Brock had kept a tranquilizer gun in their squad car for situations like this. The bear had dropped inches from Emma. She never wanted to see another shifter again.
 

“Most of what we learned about shifters is a lie. Do you really believe everything about them that you hear from Radmacher? I've met some of these guys. They're good people.”
 

Emma mulled it over, but said nothing. From what she'd seen, heard, and experienced, shifters were dangerous individuals. Wasn't dangerous the perfect term for someone who could shift into a bear at will? Still… Brock had never steered her wrong before.
 

The police cruiser flew down the dark streets, lights illuminating the night. Emma looked over at Brock, seeing the red and blue lights flashing over his face. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him look so shaken up. This is bad. Things are
really
bad.
 

They reached their destination in record time. The Leary Strip Mall had been one of the most popular strip malls in the city nearly 20 years ago, way before Emma's time. It had finally gone out of a business two or three years ago and as far as she knew, no one had missed it. The parking lot was overgrown with weeds and deserted except for an empty police car parked on the back side of the building.
 

Brock pulled up beside it, glancing around. There was no sign of any of the other officers or the suspect. Dark shadows roiled across the deserted loading docks, clouds still blocking the moon. Brock leaned forward, peering at the back of the other police cruiser.
 

“That's Forman's and Anderson's cruiser. I need you to stay back. Don't let them see you.”
 

Slowly and silently, the two officers moved away from their vehicle. Brock drew his gun immediately and Emma followed his lead. She realized she was nervous. No, nervous wasn't the right word. I'm scared, she thought, her heart hammering in her chest. They were trying to be quiet, but she was sure the other officers could hear her heart thumping.
 

Without a word, Brock ushered her to stop and get down. Emma moved behind an old, burned out street light pole, mostly covered in darkness. Brock moved forward in a crouch, gun aimed high. He had gone perhaps another 40 yards when a voice echoed out from somewhere in the darkness.
 

“This is Sergeant Franklin! Identify yourselves!”
 

Two men strode towards Brock, guns pointed at the ground. In the darkness, it was hard to make them out, but Emma was sure it was Forman and Anderson. The two men walked close to Franklin, who lowered his gun. She could tell he was still tense.
 

“Officer Forman. Officer Anderson. Any sight of the suspect?” asked Brock, loud enough for Emma to hear what he was saying. Anderson answered, but he was unnaturally quiet, a stark contrast to his loud and boisterous personality.
 

“Why does that matter? Officer Miller has the night off.”
 

More words, this time a little louder and angrier sounding. Emma thought she heard, “Bitch,” but she couldn't be sure. Anderson took a step towards Brock.
 

“Where is she? Where is that bitch?” he bellowed, right in Brock's face. Brock held his ground, towering over the smaller man. Still, the situation wasn't good. It's almost irreversible, Emma thought. Things are about to reach a tipping point.
 

And then it did. Anderson pulled a gun on Brock, yelling. Forman pulled his pistol. Brock whipped his gun up faster than she thought was possible, aiming it at Forman, who was the better target. Emma got up, aiming her gun, but then she remembered what Brock had told her.
Don't let them see you.
I have to help, she thought. I can't stand back and do nothing!
 

With a crack that split the silence, Brock dropped to his knees. Emma watched in horror as he fired at Forman twice. Anderson had his gun up, firing at Brock. She counted the gunshots.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Despite everything, she screamed.
 

Anderson looked up towards her, immediately running towards her. Forman and Brock lay on the ground, not moving. Emma raised her pistol, firing at Anderson.  Emma heard him yell but wasn't sure if she hit him or just scared him. She turned and ran, tears running down her face. She felt her emotions overwhelming here: fear, sadness, and shame for not helping Brock. Not helping her friend. No. Not helping her
family.