Breakwater: Hyde (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) (Star Bears Book 4)

by Becca Fanning

  "Once. I was out with my ex- my fiancée- and some guys started on us at a bar. They followed us out to the car, and one of them pulled a knife, so…" he shrugged. "I didn't hurt anything of them, but I scared them away pretty good. And terrified the living fuck out of my girlfriend."

  "Did she not know about it?" Rosie cocked her head at him.

  "No, she knew, she just hadn't seen it before," he explained, a flash of pain passing across his face. "I think that's part of the reason she cheated on me, in the end. She couldn't bear the thought of having kids that were like me, kids that she could be scared of."

  "And you think…?"

  "Yeah," he nodded. "Not that I'd ever tell anyone that. It's not the kind of thing people want to hear- yeah, she cheated on me, but then I'm a bear sometimes, so I guess it balances out."

  "That's really…" she searched for the words, but they escaped her. "I don't know. That doesn't seem fair."

  "I guess it doesn't really come down to what's fair and what isn't," he pointed out. "You know that. It happened to you."

  Rosie frowned, and it was her turn to look away, hoping to hide the discomfort she felt at his words. Not because he was reminding her of one of the hardest experiences of her life- but because what happened to her seemed so pathetic in comparison to what happened to him.

  "My ex cheated on me because I was shitty at relationships, not because one of us was a bear," she parried. "It doesn't measure up. You couldn't help it, I could."

  "No, he's the one who could help it," Win shot back. "You've got nothing to do with it. Some people are just built that way, no matter how good the relationship is."

  "I guess," she shrugged, trying to brush off the comment. It was almost habit now, trying to avoid conversations on the topic of her ex-boyfriend, but for the first time, there, then, it didn't actually hurt.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rake it up," he apologized softly, moving to put an arm around her.

  "No, it's fine," she replied, actually meaning it. "Seriously. I don't care about what he did any more."

  "Really?"

  "You're right. It's stupid to get hung up on the crap he did when it had nothing to do with me, especially when…" she gestured towards him without thinking, and then blushed. "Fuck, I didn't mean-"

  She was suddenly very aware of the weight of his arm around her shoulders, how close they were sitting on the bed.

  "I really don't mind if that is what you mean," Win answered, his voice gentle. For the first time since she'd sat down on the bed, Rosie looked at him- really looked at him- and found a warmth spreading out across her chest. Refusing to give her brain any more time to overthink what she was about to do, she leant forward, and kissed him on the cheek. She felt his stubble up against her skin, the roughness of it, and lingered there for a moment before she leaned back.

  "I think I'd like that," she murmured, and, just like that, Win was on top of her.

  It had been so long since she'd felt the weight of a guy on her- the heat of him, the closeness- that it almost took her by surprise. He was rough and quick and needy, slipping an arm around her waist and pressing her down on to the bed in one swift motion. His mouth found her's quickly, and she felt as if her heart was going to punch straight through her chest when she felt his tongue slip past her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt wanted like this, desired so potently. She tentatively placed her hands on his back, and pulled him closer, marveling at the feeling of the muscles beneath his shirt. She had never thought- never, in a million years- that she would actually feel good enough about herself, about everything, to hook up with someone at this wedding, but in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her. She practically blushed at her own thoughts- with Jacob, she had never found herself so consumed by lust, so utterly taken over by her need to have him, but with Win, she could barely wait. He pulled back, ran a hand through his hair, and closed and opened his eyes, as if trying to clear his head.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

  Before he had a chance to continue down that line of questioning, Rosie had yanked him back down, kissing him with a fervor. She didn't know how much time they had, and she knew she needed relief- taking his hand, she slid it up her shirt, his cool fingers skimming across her breasts and making her gasp.

  "Okay," he grinned, his breath coming a little short, as he quickly unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it apart. She had small breasts, and was glad she had chosen that day not to wear a bra. Any extra fabric between them felt rather extraneous to circumstances. His hands were deft and quick, feeling as if they were everywhere at once as they moved across her torso, down her belly and towards her pants.

  "Take off your shirt," Rosie panted, surprised by her own forwardness, but he quickly did as he was told. She realized that ever since she'd seen him there- naked, bloodied, still somehow as powerful as he was in his bear form- she'd wanted to get her hands all over him. He sat up on top of her and threw his shirt aside, and she ran a hand from his neck all the way down to his jeans.

  "Stay like that," she ordered, and slid out from underneath him, drawing her legs up coyly so that she was in front of him. He looked down at her, one eyebrow cocked, as he tried to figure out what she was going to do next.

  Hooking her fingers through the loops in his jeans, she tugged them down, exposing a pair of tight black boxers that accentuated the shape and strength in his legs gorgeously. She tentatively reached out, massaging his erection through the fabric, and looked up to take in his expression- his eyes were closed, his teeth resting ever-so-slightly on his bottom lip. Rosie felt suddenly powerful, and took her new surge of confidence a step further by pulling down his boxers and taking his bare cock in her hand.

  Wriggling herself flat out on the bed, she lay so that her head was at the same level as his cock. Slowly parting her lips, she stuck out her tongue and rolled it over the head of his erection. He groaned, loud enough that she could hear it, and she smiled to herself- she'd never realized she'd had this in her, but she was enjoying the new sex-kitten version of Rosie. Tossing her hair to one side, she opened her mouth a little further, and took him as far as she could into her throat. She just wanted to feel him inside her, to taste him, to have him. He wove his fingers into her hair, and guided her up and down his erection- his pace was slow, much to Rosie's relief, as he was bigger than she was used to and took a little acclimatization.

  Once she had grown used to the feeling, he flexed his hips a little, pushing himself further into her mouth, and she did her best to work the underside of his cock with her tongue, wriggling against his seam. Realizing she had hands to spare, she slid one down to cup his balls, and the other into her jeans- she was almost taken aback by how wet she was, by how much relief her touch gave her. It had been a while since she'd masturbated out of anything other than habit, and the feeling was revelatory- she circled her finger around her clit a few times, moaning slightly, and looked up to make eye contact with Win-he was staring down at her, almost delirious with desire. She ran her nails across his balls gently, satisfied with the gasp he let out, and slid two fingers on either side of her clit. Part of her wanted him to finish in her mouth, but she knew she wouldn't be satisfied until she'd felt him inside of her.

  She slowly slid her mouth off of him, licking her lips theatrically and glancing up at him with wide, as-innocent-as-she-could-muster-given-the-situation eyes.

  "Fuck me?"

  "God, yes," he growled, and in one motion, flipped her on to her back. He kicked off his jeans as she hurriedly wriggled out of her's, her body now aching with need for him. He reached into his bedside cabinet for a condom, and quickly sheathed himself.

  "Always be prepared," he quoted the boy scout's motto, and she giggled, unable to focus on anything other than his proximity and how much she wanted him. He pushed her leg back slightly, positioned himself at her slit, and eased himself into her.

  The feeling was exquisite- almost new, it had been so long, but strange
ly familiar. They both let out long, contended sighs as he pushed his way into her for the first time, stretching her, and she placed a hand on his chest, urging him to go slow. He obliged, moving with almost painful care in and out of her, until she raised her hips to meet him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he pushed into her hard, and she let out a small cry- this was better than she could ever have imagined, feeling him in her, the relief it gave her, the pleasure. She sank her nails into his shoulder, pulling him closer, and their lips met once again, tongues frantic with passion against each other.

  "Good?" He breathed, gently biting on her lobe, and she squirmed beneath him.

  "God, yes," she murmured in response, repaying him in kind. "Harder."

  Win was quick to fulfill her request, sinking his fingers into her ass as leverage and fucking her hard. She could feel her orgasm building- it had been so long since she'd come with someone else, but now she wanted it more than anything in the world. She frenetically ground her hips up against his, trying to match his pace, craving more of him, as much as she could get. She reached down and slid her fingers against her clit once again, her own pleasure taking control of her every movement.

  And then it hit her- wave after wave of it, shuddering across her body like some kind of nuclear explosion. She let out a small cry, and her body went limp under his for a moment. He tilted her head towards his with his hand, and kissed her- kissed her as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body, as she came back down to earth. Moments later, she felt him finish inside her, their mouths still hard and hot against each other's.

  They lay there for a moment- still kissing, but otherwise still- before Win withdrew, sliding off her and lying next to her on the bed. Outside, the storm was still raging, and he reached over to place a hand on her stomach.

  "I really, really needed that," he smiled at her.

  "Me too," she grinned back. More than you could know.

  They lay there in silence a little longer-listening to the sound of the wind and rain battering the window outside. There were jolted from their post-coital reverie by the sound of a knock on the door. Rosie lazily pulled the covers across her naked body as Win draped himself in a robe and went to answer it.

  Rosie looked after him, admiring his form for a little longer- but as soon as he opened the door, something changed. He conferred quickly with whoever it was on the other side, and then turned back to her, closing the door and running a hand through his hair.

  "What is it?" She demanded, sitting up straight and tucking the covers around herself, even though she knew damn well what the news was. Win took a deep breath before he answered, and she could have sworn there was a little shake in his voice when he did.

  "The wolves. They're here."

  Breakwater: Custer

  Star Bears III

  by

  Becca Fanning

  Delphine came to slowly, blinking as the light hit her oversensitive eyes.

  The edges of her vision were fuzzy and there was a bitter taste in her mouth, barely detectable under the dry, cottony feeling coating her tongue. She didn’t bother trying to move, recognizing the signs of being sedated and feeling the cool metal restraints around her wrists and ankles.

  She was sitting in what was, as far as she could tell, a cargo hold. The chair she was in was apparently strapped to a wall, and there were at least three other people in the room with her. A slight, black-haired woman stood next to a tall brunette, leaning into him. The two were talking to someone out of her line of sight and Delphine didn’t want to turn her head, feeling nauseous. Thanks to the dossiers she had been provided, she identified the people in front of her as Zoshanna Kane and Richard Chapel. The third person sounded feminine, which would make her Anyanka Heathcoat.

  Delphine’s vision cleared slowly, enough so that she could see Kane’s eyes widening as she noticed her captive was awake. She tugged at Chapel’s sleeve, pointing.

  “Annie, get the captain,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “She’s awake.”

  “About time,” the third voice, now confirmed as Heathcoat, huffed. “Shoot her if she tries anything.”

  There was the mechanical swish of a door opening and closing. Delphine ignored it, wondering if she could break through her cuffs. Two of her three primary targets were in the room with her and the third would be on his way down shortly. Even if she didn’t get off the ship alive, she could complete her mission.

  She ran over what she knew about the two. Kane was a former street rat, surviving mainly due to her abilities as a thief. No kills that anyone was aware of, favored escape over combat. An easy target. Chapel posed more of a risk; Delphine was fully aware of her own capabilities, but if she couldn’t neutralize him before he shifted she would be at a disadvantage. If she was going to kill them, she needed to do it swiftly, starting with Chapel and finishing before Captain Ingram reached the bay.

  The only thing in her way were the fucking cuffs.

  She tugged at them, but even with her genetically enhanced strength they held. The chair creaked under her but didn’t give.

  Chapel smiled at her. Or, he moved his lips in a way that revealed quite a few of his teeth. The expression held precious little warmth, which confirmed the suspicions the dossier had provided Delphine with that he and Kane were romantically involved. The bruise on the thief’s cheek was ugly and mottled. Delphine wouldn’t have been surprised if her blow had broken her cheekbone.

  “Good morning,” Chapel said in a pleasant tone, the kind that generally came before a significant amount of pain. “We have a few questions for you.”

  Delphine remained silent, years of experience keeping her face in a neutral expression.

  “I can see you don’t want to talk to us,” he continued. “That’s understandable. Unfortunately, we can’t really let you just sit there either. See, if it were up to me, you’d have a blaster bolt turning your brain into about three pounds of superheated mush. But since we don’t want a repeat performance of what just happened on the docks, we need you to tell us what we want to know.”

  Mistake, mistake, mistake. If Delphine were further from the fog of the sedatives they’d used on her, or less well trained, she’d laugh in his face. Letting your prisoner know they weren’t going to be getting out alive was a misstep. People wanted to believe there was a chance they could live, and removing that made them less willing to talk. What would the point be? Obviously, they were threatening her with torture if she didn’t cooperate, which was another mistake. Even with her training, Delphine was fully aware that everyone, including her, eventually broke under torture. That didn’t mean anyone in the crew had the capability to reach her threshold. She’d read all their files. They were smuggler, thieves, and, when the situation called for it, killers. They weren’t seasoned interrogators.

  As it were, she merely remained as she was, still and expressionless.

  “Rick,” Kane said quietly.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Chapel responded, his voice suddenly soft. “But she hurt you, Zee, I’m not inclined to be nice to her.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to be cruel, either,” Kane said. “I know you’re upset, but it’s just a bruise, and I already feel horrible. I don’t want to watch you become someone you aren’t just because I messed up.”

  She was surprisingly gentle for a girl from Lytos.

  Whatever Chapel wanted to say in response to that was interrupted by Heathcoat reentering the bay with Captain Leo Ingram in tow.

  He was, Delphine had to admit, much more impressive than the photo that had been in his file. She’d known he’d be broad-shouldered and square-jawed, with tan skin and curly black hair, but in life he seemed more vivid. She began to understand why people talked about him like they did.

  His anger was harder to ignore than his first officer’s, but still nothing like the trainers Delphine had grown up with. She wondered if he was going to try and intimidate her, or if he knew enough about the people trying to kill him to
know that was a futile endeavor. He stared at her, jaw clenched.