Secret Baby Lion: A BBW Lion-Shifter Romance (Shift Your Fate Book 2) (7 page)

“You’re breathtaking,” said Tristan in a husky voice.

He took a step towards her, but Olivia stopped him on time by placing her bare foot on his crotch. He moaned when she massaged his erection through his rough jeans.

“What else?” she asked.

Tristan laughed. She wasn’t going to be impressed by just one compliment, was she?

“Ravishing. Wonderful, amazing…”

Olivia pressed harder, making him bite his lip. “Those are just synonyms.”

“… manipulative goddess,” he moaned.

She smiled mischievously. “Really?”

“Yeah… you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“That. Is. True.” She marked every word with a hard stroke.

Tristan closed his eyes. His lion was thrashing underneath his skin, the female’s teasing too much for the powerful, stubborn beast. His animal side urged him to slap her foot away, climb on top of her, tear her dress and lingerie to pieces, and take her hard and fast, claim her as his mate. His human side, however, was more sensible. He had been the one to take control until now, and he was curious to see what would happen if he relinquished some of that control to her.

Olivia removed her foot and moved closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes now at the same level with his crotch.

Tristan shuddered when her nimble fingers started working on his belt and zipper. He looked down at her hands, then at her face. Her brows were slightly furrowed in concentration. Once the belt was off and the zipper was down, she reached inside and pulled his hard cock out. He moaned at the feel of her cold fingers on his heated skin.

Liv licked her lips, but took her time to enjoy the sheer size and weight of his manhood. She ran the tips of her fingers up and down his length, cupped his balls gently, then went back up and spread the small beads of pre-cum all over the engorged head. Unable to resist the temptation a second longer, she closed her eyes and licked the tip, moaning in appreciation of his unique taste.

“Olivia,” he whispered.

She ignored him. She didn’t care what he wanted, anyway. All she cared about was her desire to lick, bite, and swallow, even at the expense of having to wait until he could go again. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and slipped the thick, long cock inside until the head hit the back of her throat. He was bigger than any guy she had been with, but she relaxed her throat and took all the length in, slowly, carefully. She stopped for a second, moaned around the shaft, and smiled when she felt his entire body tense. She repeated the trick, then moved her lips up his cock, rolled her tongue over the tip, then started bobbing her head up and down, faster and faster, sucking harder, all the while massaging his round balls with her hand.

“If you keep doing that…” he said.

Liv squeezed the base of his cock and continued her ministrations. She could feel he wouldn’t last long. It had only taken her a few minutes to figure out what drove him insane, and now that she had the upper hand, she sucked and licked and massaged with newfound enthusiasm.

“Oh God… yes… that feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

Tristan grabbed the back of her head, his fingers digging into her rich brown hair. He struggled to keep his beast in check. It growled inside him, his chest trembling with concealed force, and he made sure to cover up the possible noise with his own moans and encouragements. The delicious pressure… he couldn’t take it anymore. He threw his head back and grunted as he shot long streams of seed down her throat.

Liv swallowed greedily, at the same time focusing on keeping up the pace until he was done. She cleaned him thoroughly, the tip of her tongue pushing against the tiny slit, as if she was hoping more would come out. To her surprise, he wasn’t going soft.

Tristan leaned over her, took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips and tongue. She moaned, opened her mouth, and allowed him to push her on top of the covers. In the process, he got rid of his jeans completely, then pulled his T-shirt over his head.

Olivia’s hands immediately started exploring his wide chest, pressing, caressing, following the ridge of every muscle. She could do this for hours and never get bored of his body. She let him peel the dress off her, then the bra and panties, with which he took his time. His hands and lips left goosebumps on her sensitive skin. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in his touches, licks, nips, and kisses.

He worshiped her curves patiently, and when he finally climbed back on top of her, not an inch of her skin had been left untouched. He claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Olivia let her hand explore lower and lower, until she found his cock, as hard and ready as ever. She broke the kiss and smiled up at him.

“Wow! So fast?”

Tristan laughed and kissed her nose.

“With you? Always. As many times as you want.”

She squeezed his cock appreciatively.

Gently, he turned her around. Olivia followed his lead and used her knees and arms to hold herself up. When he slapped her butt, she pushed her hips farther up to give him better access.

Tristan slapped her again and marveled at the perfect way in which her skin jiggled. His cock grew harder, and he couldn’t wait to be inside her, to stretch her pussy to the limit and pound her until he coated her walls with his seed. He took hold of her hips and held her in place as he entered her. She was wet and warm, and he moaned when he was finally buried to the hilt.

“Mmm… Tristan. Move.”

He complied, pulling out almost completely, then slamming back in.

They built a steady rhythm, Olivia meeting his every thrust, moving her hips as much as the position allowed her, her fists holding onto the pillow for dear life. Her moans and screams filled the room. She was so loud that she was sure the neighbors could hear her, so she bit down on the pillow.

“Don’t,” Tristan said between heavy breaths. “I want to hear you.”

She did as she was told, and soon the whole house was filled with the sound of their lovemaking. The bed was rocking so hard that Liv was afraid it might break. She screamed even louder when her orgasm hit her, almost taking her by surprise. Tristan kept going until she came back from her height only to rise up again. Her walls clenched and unclenched around his cock, the second orgasm more powerful than the first.

The way her pussy throbbed around him, the beautiful view of her hips dancing in the rhythm imposed by him, the sight of his own cock moving in and out of her… it was all too much. He came deep inside her, his hot, thick seed filling her passage.

Tristan fell on top of her, then rolled on his side, careful not to crush her frail body. She snuggled against his chest, and he squeezed her possessively.

“Mine,” he declared.

Liv chuckled. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

“Aww… You’re too hard to impress.”

“It wouldn’t be as fun if it were too easy.”

“Fair.”

He kissed the top of her head. She sighed and closed her eyes, the wine she had had earlier and the two orgasms finally taking their toll.

***

She tried not to listen, as she always did when Tristan was with a woman. She tried not to think about it, about them… not to think about him kissing her lips, her neck, exploring her body. It was useless. She couldn’t ignore what was happening. Why? Because this time, the woman wasn’t just a random fling to pass the time. Olivia was Tristan’s mate. Camille could sense it. She was sure he had sensed it too, and if he was too proud or stubborn to admit it, then his lion had surely made up his mind. She didn’t even have to use her witchy skills to confirm what her intuition had told her the moment she had met Olivia.

Camille was pacing the living room frantically, but her mind wasn’t there. It was impossible to focus on herself, on the present, when the woman’s moans and screams could probably be heard from miles away, let alone from the house right next Tristan’s. When Tristan had brought Camille to live with his pride, he had wanted to have her close. As close as possible. He had even entertained the idea of having her live with him, but then he had thought better of it and built her a small, comfy house next to his. Thus, he could always check on her, ask for her when he needed a certain spell performed, or when he got paranoid about his people’s safety and wanted her to reinforce the protection she had put on their community. Even at 14, when he had found her, Camille was a powerful, gifted witch. Her skills had been the reason why Tristan had been able to track her to the orphanage where she was living. She hadn’t wanted to come with him then. She had tried to run away countless times. Eventually, when he considered her old enough to tell her about shape-shifters, supernatural people, and the Assassins’ Guild that hunted them, Camille understood she was better off with him than with his enemies. For a while, things worked fine between them, then she made the one mistake that had brought about her slow, but certain ruin: she had fallen in love with him. Her captor, her protector… the only man who would never see her as more than a girl, a witch, an asset.

The box she had hidden in the cupboard when Tristan and Olivia had walked in on her was now in its usual, safe place. Camille went into her bedroom, knelt in front of her wardrobe, then pulled the drawer and removed the fake bottom. She took the box out and unlocked it with the key she always had on her. Carefully, she picked up the vial from between old notebooks and photographs. She held it into the light coming from the lamp on her nightstand, and shook it lightly, watching mesmerized how the transparent liquid moved and sparkled. The vial wasn’t full, but it didn’t have to be. Just a drop of the unique mixture she had managed to create after hours and hours of work in her personal lab was lethal. It didn’t matter to whom it was administered. Human, shape-shifter, vampire, fay… the victim would be dead within seconds. She had known how to produce the mixture for years, but she had never had the courage. Tristan had forbidden her, of course, but that was after he had learned about the properties of shifter venom. And that had been only a month ago. Camille had known since the day she had been introduced to the world of shifters and had started working with shifter blood to separate the venom. She had never told him, though. She was in love with him and there was nothing she wanted more than to tell him everything, but every time she had had the intention of revealing this particular secret, there had always been something that had stopped her, something inside her which kept whispering into her ear that might be the only leverage she had on him. Every time she had wanted to come clean, that inner voice had reminded her he didn’t love her. It was even more than that: he used her. Witches all over the world were controlled by the Assassins’ Guild, the Arte di Calimala, and Tristan Ward knew her value. He knew how important she was. So, he didn’t love her. He kept her safe, under his strict control, he made sure she had everything she needed, but he rarely showed compassion or understanding. After all, she was still a witch. As a shifter, he had the preconception that witches were naturally drawn to the Calimala, born to help the human assassins rid the world of supernatural people. He couldn’t have been more wrong, but Camille had never managed to convince him she was entirely loyal to him. If he didn’t trust her completely, then how could she trust him?

When she had started mixing the three types of shifter venom, Camille hadn’t been sure why she was doing it. Out of boredom? Just to prove to herself that she could? Maybe she was thinking the vial could be useful to Tristan at some point, even if he didn’t want it? It was a powerful weapon, more powerful than any spell or curse she could cast. She would keep it hidden from him until the time came. But now, studying the liquid in the dim light, she was beginning to think the vial could have a whole different purpose. Yes, she could use it for something that would benefit her and only her. Why not? Since she had become Tristan’s personal witch, she had barely done anything for herself. She had barely wanted anything more than to be around him, if she were to be honest. But now… Now she couldn’t even have that anymore. Not as long as his mate was around.

Camille squeezed the small vial in her palm, and sighed. After a few more minutes, she placed it back in the box. Who was she kidding? Tristan would never be the same if his mate was gone. And if she, Camille, dispensed of her by making her drink the contents of the vial, or by injecting her with the mixture, Tristan would never rest until he found out the truth about her death. And when he did… What would he do to her? It wouldn’t matter that she was the only witch he had, the only witch who could keep his whole pride hidden from the Guild and its army of witches. She locked the box and slid it back into its place, then stood up and started removing her clothes, intent on taking a shower.

The noise coming from Tristan’s bedroom was even louder in the bathroom. Camille turned on the water, but it didn’t help much. Olivia screamed again, then again, and again. Camille’s blood was boiling in her veins. Her heart ached, and her stomach threatened to make her throw up the gin and the little food she had had at the bonfire party.

“No. This won’t do,” she whispered.

She left the water running and ran back to her bedroom. Her phone was on the nightstand. As she picked it up and typed the number she knew by heart, her head started pounding. What was she doing? This was wrong. Yet, she couldn’t take it anymore.