ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (110 page)

                         He wants to wrap himself around her, so he does.  They walk over to the bed and she stands before him, taller than he is for once.  Her small, soft hands reach under his shirt and slip it up over his head, and he marvels at her confidence, so long beaten down.  She tilts her head down and kisses his neck and chest. He did not think this through; he did not imagine her in any way except vibrant and alive.  He did not think of her as sexy, except now there is no denying that that is what she is.  When she closes her mouth around one of his nipples, he groans aloud and then looks away, embarrassed to be undone.  She stops, reaches up and holds his face between her hands.  Her hazel eyes lock on his green ones, and he finds that he would be happy to stay just like that, looking deep into her, forever.

                         “If I have nothing to be ashamed of,” she says, “then you most certainly do not, either.”

                         They lay side by side, she in her underwear and he in his jeans.  He strokes the silken skin of her arm and lets his fingers drift slowly across her collarbone, across the mounds of her breasts, feels the goose bumps rise on her flesh and he strokes her, over and over, feels her grow more excited underneath his caresses.  She makes little noises above him as he bends his head down to kiss her stomach, and then, after he removes her bra, he scoops one of her breasts up in a palm and lavishes it with the attention of his tongue.  She sounds soft and feminine, like a cat being stroked just right, and when he slides the elastic of her underpants down her hips and runs a hand through the small forest of hair she’s got between her legs, she gasps aloud and his heart almost stops.

                         Minutes later, he is poised above her, parting her at her entrance, and he notices that she has her eyes shut.  He stops, because that is not right.

                         “Alexandra.”

                         She opens her eyes.

                         “I want you to look at me.  I want you to see this with me.  I am not going to hurt you, ever.  I want you to jump with me, and I want your eyes open for the ride.”

                         She cracks a smile at the last, and into the full force of that smile, Dave enters her, sliding the length of himself into the warm waiting cavern of her accepting body.  And this is when Alexandra surprises him.  He knows now that he will never cease being surprised by her, by the way she throws her legs around his hips and urges him to go deeper, the way she wraps her arms around his neck as he pulls in and out of her, the way that her voice licks at his ear as he drives her to the height of passion, over and over again.

                         When it is over, it is still not over.  Their pleasure still wracking their bodies, they lay curled in each other with the full brunt of the thunderstorm audible above their sighs.  As she lays with her back against his chest, he reaches over and strokes one pink-tipped breast gently with his finger.  He wants to hold all of her, now and forever, from her ten perfect toes to the dimples in her buttocks, to the freckles on her chest.  He pinches the nipple softly and she laughs aloud and turns to face him, her bruised face peaceful and lovely.

                         “What are we going to do now?” she asks him, sounding as if she does not want to break the spell, but cannot help it.

                         “We’re going to do this again, that’s for sure.”

                         She laughs out loud, but he can tell she is still concerned.  Hours later, after they have made love over and over again, exploring the newness of each other’s bodies, after she has stroked his tattoos and scars, after he has put his mouth on her in places she has never had it before and has smelled her secret woman’s scent and had it seared across his senses for the rest of his life, they drink coffee by the weak light of the sun breaking in through the clouds.

                         For a while, they say nothing, but before the cups are empty, Dave and Alexandra form a plan.

*                       *                       *

                         First it drops its wheels, then the rest of the body comes down on the tarmac; who knew that steel birds could be as majestic as the real thing?  Dave has been watching them for hours now, and he thinks that as the time has worn on, he’s either gone crazy or achieved a new state of enlightenment that he now has to share with the world.  Too bad he’s fairly antisocial.

                         She left the morning after.  He did not know how she was going to explain her all-night absence to the guy at first, but she assured him that she was not going back to him; she’d stay by her mother and send someone to take her things from the apartment.  He begged her to leave her things behind; he didn’t trust the guy, but she told him not to worry.  He touched the place on her back that he now knew like the back of his hand and that was riddled with bruises, and the two of them fell silent.

                         The plan formulated quickly, gelling in the early light of the morning, after the hormones had some time to settle down.  They would be moving to London in exactly two weeks.  Dave would call his buddy there who owned a car repair shop, the only other friend he trusted; it wasn’t a bike place, but his friend had assured him many times that the differences would be negligible enough that they’d be able to go into business together.  Alexandra was hesitant—yes, they needed to get to a place where the boyfriend would never be able to find them again, but leaving behind her parents?  Her friends?  Her natural vivaciousness had left her with many contacts, and Dave was so new in her life.  He took her hand when she said this, held it up to his mouth, and told her that the decision was entirely hers, it was just up to him to offer options.  He would follow her anywhere.

                         She said yes.

                         Two weeks later, it is four hours before the plane is set to leave.  Dave has not heard from her in two weeks; it was too risky for her to call or message now that the boyfriend had access to her phone and Facebook.  They didn’t want him to catch wind of their plans, but the thing was was that Dave hadn’t been able to shake off his doubts about Alexandra.  He wanted to be with her in a way that he had never wanted to be with any woman before, but he knows a thing or two about emotionally and physically abusive relationships.  He knows how guilt can overtake someone for leaving a person who used to mean a lot to them, how it can come crashing down in waves because you know that the other person is not in control of themselves; if he understands anything about Alexandra, is that she’s extremely loyal.

                         It’s those damn dates, though, that they had, that leave him in a state of perpetual wondering.  What if she changes her mind at the last minute?  What if something happens and she realizes that this is all impulsive and crazy and her practical nature keeps her from coming?  Dave doesn’t think he can bear it, this exposed part of his soul being rejected.  He has simply not slept for a week straight; Alexandra’s silence has eaten away into his very being, and he just wants to go someplace where he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore.  He arrived at the airport too many hours too early.  Sitting there with the pair of tickets in his hand, Dave came to his final decision.  He was leaving with or without Alexandra, because he didn’t think he could face his city again knowing that she was in it, close but endlessly far away, never his to have or hold.  The decision weighs so heavily on his heart that he knows without the thought firming fully that he will sit and wait for her until the last possible second; if need be, he will block the gate from closing.  He hopes it will not come to that because he never wants to be that guy.

                         Dave’s thoughts are heavy, and his eyelids follow suit soon after; if you were to look at him from the side, you would understand that this man, with the lined face and shock of dark hair across his forehead was exhausted, that something had tuckered him out to his core.  An hour goes by, two, and Dave sleeps, blissfully oblivious to the world for the first time in weeks.  For the first time, he is not troubled by dreams of lonely London; he dreams instead of Alexandra bringing him beer in a home of their own, of gardens, of images for which he has no name or place—he knows only that they make him happy.  Around him, the world spins on; passengers stand in long weary lines to board planes, international businessmen power-walk, swinging their briefcases in everyone’s faces.  The world spins and Dave sleeps.

                         When he wakes up, it is twenty minutes before boarding.  With a nasty jolt, he glances at his watch and realizes that he is as alone as he was when he fell asleep.  He realizes that he will be catching the redeye to London alone.  Crestfallen, he crumples his face into his hand and groans aloud.  The man next to him gives him an odd look and gets up to switch his seat; Dave’s eyes follow him, glance over Alexandra, and land on the seat.

                         Alexandra.

                         Feeling quite as if his breath has left his body fully, Dave looks at Alexandra, sitting across from him in the airport terminal, a cheeky grin on her face, a duffel bag at her feet.  And quite suddenly, just like that, they have all the time in the world.

                                              THE END

Falling for the Billionaire

The young girl sat there for what seemed like forever and stared up at the huge building. It was one of the skyscrapers that she had always dreamed of working at. She finally graduated this past year and was off to her first interview as an educated young woman. Although it was not her dream job after studying for four long years to get her bachelor’s degree in criminal justice, becoming a paralegal at the firm Paterson & Dunbar would definitely bring in a lot more income and freedom than waiting tables at the pizza joint down the street. Paterson & Dunbar was an outstanding firm that was renowned for the cases they took. They didn’t take your run-of-the-mill, slap-them-on-the-wrist cases. The firm only took the ones that nobody else could handle, the really big crimes. One thing that she did find out though, was that they were very selective in what cases they chose to represent. They almost never did serial killers and only took the case if they believed the person to be innocent. In the newspaper she had read how James Paterson had once said they were in it to prove the innocence of victims, not for the money brought in from the case.

Jason Paterson and Matthew Dunbar didn’t need the money that they brought in from the cases. They were both born with silver spoons in their mouth. They had apparently grown up together in Ivy League and went on to law school together. Their paths had been set out way before they entered into high school. They both had known what they wanted to do when they joined the debate club in sixth grade. That is where they met and began a friendship that would stand through time. They didn’t know what it was like to struggle and work for rent or to buy groceries. They were the kind of people that Melissa Jones generally stayed away from. They were the frat boys in college who teased her about her big boobs. They were the football players from high school who put frogs in her locker. They were the type of men she couldn’t stand. They were the reason she had stayed away from dating for the most part. She had a few dates and she was definitely no virgin, but she would rather stay home with her Haagen Dazs and watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns on her couch any day.

Melissa wasn’t exactly fat by any means, but she didn’t have what today’s society would call a perfect figure either. Her stomach was a little rounded and she didn’t wear a single digit size in jeans. She hated shopping, which she knew was unlike most women today. When she had to go into the plus-size section for shirts, she often hid between the racks. Her breasts were well above average size and she was often teased in school about getting a black eye. She never wore anything low cut because she knew she would just fall right out of the shirt.

Today she wore a straight black pencil skirt that reached her knees. It wasn’t skin tight, but it didn’t look frumpy either. It was her favorite one because it made her look thin. She paired it with a light purple button down blouse. It wasn’t anything too fancy but it did compliment her dark hair well. Her hair was her best feature she thought. It laid in dark waves down her back to her waist. She had cut it once when she was in middle school just to see what it would like and she remembered the horrible experience. It made her already round face look like a balloon. She hated it and waited impatiently for it to grow back out. Today she had on her favorite heels as well. They were about 3 inches tall which helped enhance her height, as she measured only 5’4”.

Melissa took a deep breath and started forward into the building and the waiting interview. She didn’t know who she would be meeting with, but she knew the position was for a low level paralegal to one of the 6
th
floor attorneys. She walked through the front doors to see a long counter that stood for the desk. It was beautiful and marble topped. There was a young pretty blonde that sat behind the desk who smiled at her as she walked forward.

“Hello welcome to Paterson and Dunbar. How can I help you?”