Shifter’s Baby (Alpha Fantasy Paranormal Billionaire Shifter BBW Romance) (69 page)
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Authors: Faye Summers
Copyright 2015 by (Lisa Cartwright) - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
“That’s illegal. And ridiculous. Wills like that don’t have any legal basis.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that. Your father maneuvered his way through the legal problems very adroitly. He simply said that you had to get your life in order before you received your inheritance and left the definition of ‘life in order’ solely to the discretion of his lawyer. He gave strict, verbal instructions to the lawyer that included producing an heir within a year.” He pounded on his desk with two fingers. “You’re stuck, Nathan. You’ve got to find a wife before you get the gold mine.
The two men sat in a law office in downtown Denver. The man behind the desk was Winthrop Johnson, a lawyer in the firm of Johnson, McCoy and Whithers. The man in front of it was Nathan Burdette who didn’t like hearing Johnson’s words at all.
Nathan Burdette didn’t smile; at least, no one who had anything to do with him had ever seen him smile. It wasn’t just that he didn’t find anything funny in his life; it was that nothing ever made him feel a positive emotion. The same father who willed him the gold mine, left the family when Nathan was only twelve. His mother was sickly, and Nathan had to raise himself and his little brother and sister from that day forward. The responsibility made him center himself tightly in rigid self-discipline. Now, at age 26, his sister and brother were both grown and gone. Nathan had no one and didn’t have the social skills to get anyone.
Nathan was pleasing to look at. At six feet four inches tall, he towered over most other men in the mining town of Denver. His shoulders looked to the women who saw him to be broad enough to carry their needs anywhere they wanted. He’d worked in the mines since he was thirteen, and it gave him a thickly muscled upper body and sturdy legs. Women looked at him twice then saw his eyes and looked away.
Mr. Johnson asked, “What are you going to do?”
Nathan said, “I hire people all the time. I’ll do this the same way. I’ll put a notice in the papers and interview applicants. It shouldn’t be that hard.”
Nathan ran an ad that read:
Woman wanted for position of bride. Must be willing to live-in. No salary but generous room and board. Must be able to produce a child within a year. Efforts to create a pregnancy will start on date of hire. Wire Nathan Burdette, Denver telegraph station. Time sensitive situation.
Victoria Manning taught school in Kansas City, Kansas. She was tall and shapely and should have had suitors enough to keep her off-hours full to overflowing.
She never went out because she didn’t look like she’d ever smiled in her life. Her expression threatened harm to anyone who disturbed her.
She read the notice in the Kansas City Herald and wired Nathan immediately. Her wire read:
Applying for Bride position. I’ve never been married and don’t want the emotional encumbrances of the usual domestic situation. My doctor states that I am fit and healthy and fertile. In addition, I’ve been told that my shape is pleasing to men. My name is Victoria Manning. Waiting for your reply.
On the same day that Nathan received Victoria’s wire, Nathan’s secretary, Henrietta Donnelly, entertained Artimis Gordon.
Henrietta should have taught grade school. She had a child’s innocence and trust. Men liked her. She had a fine figure, tending toward generosity in her bust and hip and frugality in her waist topped by a pleasant smile.
She leaned on his bony chest. “We’re going to share a bed today aren’t we? It’s alright, as long as we get married, and we’re getting married fairly quickly. You said we would.”
Artimis had few discernable or available emotions. Victoria and Nathan kept their emotions in reserve. Artimis simply didn’t have any. He put his arms around Henrietta and said, “Next Tuesday is the day. By the way, you’re wearing far too many clothes if we’re to do anything physical.” He remembered to jack his mouth into a smile when he said it.
“Oh Artimis, you’re so naughty. Just stand there and I’ll get rid of these clothes.”
Artimis hated the word ‘naughty’. It sounded silly and weak to him. He knew his business, however, and needed the temporary help of someone like Henrietta. He just wished she was a little less like Henrietta and a little more like someone else. Preferably, a deaf/mute.
Henrietta stepped back from Artimis. “Stand there. I’ve been practicing this.”
She wore very little which Artimis appreciated because her attempt at a strip tease didn’t work. It didn’t matter when she’d taken all her clothes off. Her body was good enough to stoke his fires.
He stripped and took Henrietta in his arms for a long kiss. He counted the seconds in his mind. When his internal voice reached ten, he broke the kiss and pushed her to her knees in front of him.
It had taken some time to persuade Henrietta to give oral sex and more to teach her how to do it. She’d learned to use her tongue effectively and how to add more stimulation with her hands. She made a great deal of noise. Artimis had heard hogs at a trough that made fewer slurping and wetly, sucking sounds. It didn’t matter. Today was the final day.
He pulled her off her knees and stood her upright. He made his voice gentle and tender. “That was wonderful, dear. Now let me touch you for a few minutes. I do so enjoy it.”
He turned her around. Artimis wished she were taller. He liked to place his erection in the cleft in a woman’s posterior and move it up and down. Her rump was too low for him to use.
He buried his mouth in her soft, delicious neck and brought one hand around to hold and stimulate her left breast and slid the other between her legs. Thankfully, she wasn’t coy. No games for Henrietta. She loved being touched and showed it.
Artimis worked her body like a contractor building a structure. He rolled the little button between her legs and twisted and pulled the little bud on her breast until he felt her hips scrubbing against his finger and the nipple get hard and pointed like a tent. A few seconds later, she dropped her head back on his shoulder and moaned. He said, “Let’s slip into bed. It’s much more comfortable there.”
Once between the sheets, he positioned her on her back and laid down next to her. He gave her a kiss that lasted thirty seconds and stimulated the other breast. He put his hand to work between her legs and added a finger inside her sheath.
She always found his erection with her right hand at this point. Her soft hand was quite pleasant.
He stayed with the same procedure until her legs fell open and she began to writhe on the bed then he boosted himself between her legs and introduced the head of his cock to the opening of her sheath. He checked to make sure her eyes were closed then pushed his hips forward slowly. She liked the initial thrust. It seemed to affect her more than anything he did, and he wanted her relaxed and happy afterwards. He had a question for her that meant a great deal of money, and she had to be too exhausted to notice its importance.
She arched her back and groaned as the head of his cock expanded her opening. She gasped twice as his cock sank inside her and her entrance contracted around him.
He penetrated her slowly, but relentlessly, until he filled her completely.
She went through all of the way-points he needed to insure her arousal. Her chest reddened, and her hips lifted searching for more of his erection. Her eyes stayed half-closed, and she wasn’t looking through them.
He wanted more today. Her usual state of post-coital indolence wasn’t enough. He wanted to wear her out. She had to be careless afterwards.
He rose up on his toes and leaned into her. Her eyes sprang open in surprise. She gasped, “Artimis, you’re stretching me.”
“I know, my love. Today is special.” His push penetrated another inch. He did it twice more, moving her legs up to rest on his shoulders after the first one. She panted like a dog in the summertime after the second push.
He checked her pupils and found them completely dilated. He withdrew and plunged in again; slowly for the first few penetrations then faster.
He knew which parts of her body became sensitive and when it happened. After he began the dance, he needed to reach down and twist and pull her nipples; both at the same time. She held her breasts up to his hands. He waited for the next trigger point. She needed to arch her back again and groan.
That milestone came almost immediately. He settled his mind and concentrated. He wanted to bring her almost to orgasm and back off and do it again and again.
He sped up slightly to put stress on her little nub and moved his right hand to her nipple.
He got into a sustainable rhythm and rode it until she bucked against him and pounded her hands on the sheets. He backed off and slowed down to bring her back from orgasm. She groaned in disappointment. He put her through this procedure five times. By the last, she was sweating like a long-distance runner and pleading with him. She repeated the phrase “Oh please, Arty (he hated the word ‘Arty’), let me finish.” Her hips jerked up and down constantly.
He saw that he was going to lose her, that her orgasm would simply drain away if he didn’t act. He increased the tempo of his thrusts again and ground his thumb into her clitoris with increased force. The coup de grace came when he pinched and rolled her right nipple painfully and held it.
She erupted into a record-setting orgasm; rocking back on the top of her head and sending her eyes up out of view. Her arms and legs twitched and flailed without conscious pattern, and she strained to produce the grunts that matched the contractions in her sheath. It ran on for almost a minute. Artimis carefully judged how much more to do. He knew there was another one close, and she needed to have its full effect.
It ran her over like a stampeding horse. She’d settled down into the bed when abruptly she cried out louder than before. Artimis watched the muscles in her chest tighten. He knew the muscles in her back did the same thing at the same time. She struggled for breath, sucking sexually scented air painfully into her lungs. The skin on her chest and neck became mottled with red, pale and pink.
She curled up towards him as if she wanted something. She looked in his eyes for support and found what she thought was love and encouragement.
He stimulated her sensitive places until she lapsed back on the bed and brushed his hands away. She huffed like a steam locomotive going up a steep hill.
He carefully kept track of her eyes. If they started going quickly from side to side, she had another one coming.
Her pupils darted from one wall to the other, and Artimis grabbed her breast and stuffed a hand between her legs and worked her body. She cried out again. He made her body feeling every thrill and shiver it could.
She finally ran out. She let her arms and legs fall to the sheet and tilted her head back. She opened her mouth and breathed deeply and completely. She was done.
He adjusted his penetration so that it didn’t stress any part of her sheath more than another and brought himself to finality. He remembered to grunt and moan, as if in terrible pain, as he pumped his semen inside her waiting and welcoming sheath.
He collapsed down on her and they rested. If he turned his head slightly, he could see the clock on the night stand. He did quick calculations. He needed to keep her resting underneath him for another fifteen minutes. He needed to quell the forces inside her which wanted to mate again quickly and let her fall into the delicious fatigue and limp-muscled exhaustion that would dull her senses.
He rolled off her and used his arm to bring her boneless body against and on top of him. Her head rested on his chest. She wandered close to sleep.
He said, in a casual tone, as if he were a husband making conversation, “How was the office today?”
It took several seconds for her to gather enough acuity to swallow twice and begin to talk. Her voice was far off and reluctant. “Not bad. The boss wants a wife. He’s advertising for one. That’s silly.”
That was it. The bastard wasn’t going to contest the will. He was going to fulfill it.
Henrietta Donnelly had served her purpose in his little universe. He glanced at the clock. “Henrietta, you naughty girl. You’ve made me lose track of time. I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
He jumped out of bed with her clutching fingers grasping at him. He dressed in record time and leaned over to give her a real (for her) or fraudulent (for him) goodbye kiss.
She sleepily said, “Don’t forget. Dinner with my parents tomorrow. Marriage license the next day.”
He said, “Certainly, dear” and walked out.
