Cain sat back from playing with the fire, and set his arm along the back of the couch.
Linnie shifted a little closer, such that their shoulders rubbed against each other.
“Cold?” Cain asked, and Linnie shook her head to answer in the negative; the firelight had kept the cottage warm, despite the chill of the night.
After a pause, Linnie spoke. “Thanks. For the fire, I mean.” After a pause, she added, “And everything. Like saving my life.”
Cain simply shrugged in response.
Linnie sighed. “I wish I had your calm. Your confidence.”
He shrugged again. “What does worrying get you? Does it help? Nah, I’d rather be focused.”
Cain brought his hand down from the back of the couch, onto Linnie’s shoulder. She felt her heart skip a beat, as his thumb rubbed at her upper arm.
Cain stared into the firelight. “But it can make it more difficult, at times. You need to be this unmoving rock,” he said. “It’s tough to keep that up all the time.”
Linnie watched Cain’s face, and she gently raised her hand, setting it on his chest. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt right. It just felt right.
Linnie felt her eyes and her heart flutter as he leaned in. Linnie couldn’t help but pucker her lips as Cain paused, just a half-inch from her face. Linnie parted her mouth and Cain’s face surged forward. His kiss crushed her lips, seizing on her half-opened mouth. Cain’s kiss was hungry, and his tongue pressed insistently into Linnie’s mouth.
She murmured, and let Cain push her back into the couch; he shifted his weight, and Linnie felt his body weigh hers down. Linnie’s tongue ran along Cain’s, curling and teasing to tempt Cain’s tongue into her mouth, nodding just a little to spur him on. She felt his hand slide down along her thigh. Her right hand rested on Cain’s left shoulder, as she traced her fingernails along his shoulder blade. Linnie felt wonderfully warm, between the heat from the fireplace and Cain’s hot lips.
He pressed her back against the couch, bringing some of his weight onto her, and she was more than happy to obliged. His right hand travelled from her left shoulder to pull her hair out from under her, and then to stroke down; through her top, she felt Cain’s fingertips tracing along her skin. His left hand, towards the outside of the couch, squeezed at her right thigh.
Already she wanted her leggings off, and Cain’s pants, as well; she could feel herself growing hot and damp, anticipating his touch. “Cain…” Linnie murmured.
He grunted into their kiss, his hand rhythmically squeezing at her thigh, tempting and pulling at her. He cupped her breast, and felt the weight of it, as his thumb teased across her nipple. The sensation caused Linnie’s hips to flex upward, seeking out Cain’s own, and she felt a generous bulge between Cain’s legs press against her.
The feeling of Cain’s cock rutting against her sex set Linnie quivering. “Oh, wow. You’re huge,” she murmured, and Cain chuckled in response. He adjusted his hips, so that the thick shaft pressed against Linnie’s tights, and she felt her cotton panties, soaked with her juices, press into her slit. Hooking her fingers over Cain’s shoulders, she pulled on him, trying to bring him closer to her, but she was nowhere near strong enough to make him so much as budge.
Cain gathered Linnie’s shirt in his hand, allowing his fingers to press forcefully across her breast for a moment. Linnie moaned, and then gasped as Cain tugged at her shirt, blowing all the buttons off. The cool fall air and the heat of the fireplace both traced across the skin of her chest, as Cain pulled her shirt open.
Beneath Cain’s weight, Linnie writhed, biting her lip, stretching her arms over her head and nodding. Cain shifted, pulling himself back, half-standing over the edge of the couch, reaching down to undo his belt. Linnie nodded, and pulled her arms out of what was left of her shirt, before reaching for the lower edge of Cain’s sweater.
Cain reached his arms out, and allowed her to pull his sweater from him. His body was powerfully built, but his muscles were partly hidden beneath a light layer of plush. Linnie ran her hands across his chest, through the thick hair there, pressing against his firm yet pliable flesh.
Cain finished undoing his belt, and allowed his pants to fall to the ground. Linnie gasped as Cain’s shaft leapt to attention. Linnie gingerly reached up to take hold of Cain’s cock. It was thick, thicker around than she’d been with before, as thick across as her three fingers, and longer than she’d had before. The head was a dull purple, soft and spongy. She ran her hand up from the base of the shaft to the head, pressing against the frenulum with the pad of her thumb.
Linnie looked up at Cain from her seated spot on the couch, and he brushed the hair out of her face. With one hand, she cupped Cain’s heavy testicles, while the other wrapped around his shaft at the base. Linnie leaned forward, parting her lips, and gently directed the head of Cain’s cock into her mouth. Her tongue teased around the edge of the mushroom-shaped head at the end of Cain’s shaft, and she felt the cock swell beneath her grasp., growing just a bit thicker. She murmured, and Cain groaned in response.
Linnie’s hands reached up to Cain’s hips, her fingernails tracing along his skin. His hands cupped her head, one on either side of her jaw, gently holding her in place, as his hips flexed involuntarily under her touch. She felt her pussy throb, pouring her juices out, soaking through her panties and dampening her tights.
Cain’s cock tasted like he smelled; a deep and manly scent, one that was delicious and alluring. Deep and earthy. She craned her neck forward, taking more of Cain’s shaft into her mouth, and he groaned approvingly.
“Enough,” he grunted, and Linnie felt herself start to smile. She tried to move her head down, but Cain would have none of it; he pulled her head from his shaft, and pushed Linnie back onto the couch.
Linnie gasped, and Cain reached for the waistband of her tights. He pulled them from her, yanking them down with a single smooth and forceful motion, causing Linnie to groan, setting her hips rocking. Cain slipped an arm under her, and pulled her into the air, setting her back down with her knees on the floor, her face buried against the back of the couch.
Linnie’s hands dug into the cushions of the couch, firmly taking hold. She spread her knees, even as she brought her ankles together, to best display her naked and glistening slit to Cain.
She felt Cain’s hands settle on her hips, squeezing tightly, and pulling her backward toward him. His left hand left Linnie’s hip to take hold of the back of her neck, thumb on one side, two fingers on the other, and Linnie felt the rounded head of his shaft press against her treasured opening.
Cain rubbed at her neck with his fingers, and Linnie gave the slightest nod, as she moaned, “Mmmm…oh yes, please.”
Cain pressed forward, and Linnie felt her world catch fire.
Cain didn’t pause, or give her body time to adjust; his forward thrust was urgent, needing, almost desperate. Like a primitive beast needing to mate, every motion of his body was just to take her and claim her as his.
Linnie could feel the leather of the couch against her face and chest, warm and supple and wonderful, it’s smell filling her nose and overwhelming her senses. She could feel the head of Cain’s cock, buried more deeply inside her than anything had ever been before, and her thighs shuddered for it. She moaned, and nodded, urging Cain forward. “More,” she begged.
Cain drew back, and as he thrust again, he pulled back on Linnie’s hips, bouncing them against his own, bouncing her buttocks against his thighs. She heard her lover snarl, and felt his right hand clench her hip more tightly; in response she only nodded. Her left hand crushed the couch-cushion as she bit on the knuckle of her right thumb, the feeling of Cain’s cock making it’s way in-and-out of her sheath overwhelming her senses, building her towards an eruption, an explosive climax that might undo her.
“Yes!“ Linnie moaned, nodding. While one hand dug into the leather, the other slid down, under her body, curling around her hip; she stretched two fingers down, through th
e peach-fuzz fur above her wet slit. Her clit throbbed; Linnie’s index finger traced along its hood, rubbing and teasing, moving back and forth in sync with Cain’s thrusts.
Cain’s growls behind her built, building in volume as his thrusts built in forcefulness. Cain’s right hand pulled Linnie’s hips back, while his left pressed her down towards his hips, bending her body into the correct shape for him to best fill her with his seed.
Linnie felt her body swelling, her nerves growing taut, her pussy pulsing and pulling at Cain’s shaft, trying to coax him towards his own eruption.
“Linnie,” Cain said, his voice deep. He spoke her name with a deep rumble, throaty and heavy with lust.
Linnie felt the head of his cock swell, felt his shaft twitch, and felt the hefty vein that ran along his marvelous dick throb. Linnie angled her hips up as the fingers that rubbed at her clit became a blur of motion.
Cain gave a final, forceful thrust. He plunged his cock as deep into Linnie as he could, the soft head of his impressive shaft bumping against Linnie’s cervix. The tight bundle of his sac smacked against her sore clit.
Linnie cried out as pain and pleasure mixed, deep inside her body. Linnie whimpered as one, two, three thick jets of cum tore out of Cain’s cock, soaking the walls of her inner sanctum. She worked her hips back, feeling Cain’s cock throb and pulse, depositing shot after shot of his hot, sticky seed inside her, filling her; she felt full, as if she was ready to burst. Feeling Cain’s hot cream within her was too much, and it pushed Linnie over the edge; Linnie felt her climax carry her away.
Linnie’s pussy pulsed around Cain’s member, squeezing it as tightly as it could, milking and tugging and desperate for every drop of Cain’s cum. She felt her fingertips press along the leather of the couch, felt the fires of her pleasure surge through her body, rushing out from her clit and her cunt and setting her muscles on fire. Her thighs shuddered, and as the sensation passed up her spine, she felt Cain’s cock continue to pump her full of his seed.
The climax stole Linnie’s breath, and she felt a wonderful, velvet darkness tease the edges of her mind. Cain gave her another thrust, and then gently picked her up from the floor. She gave a gentle moan of pleasure, as she felt Cain’s great strength lay her on the couch, and felt him tenderly lay a blanket atop her, as he slid in around her feet.
At long last, sleep came easily to her.
The morning sun seemed brighter, the morning after the storm. Linnie roused herself slowly, glancing around the cabin, finding that Cain was nowhere to be seen, but the smell of coffee filled the room, creeping forth from a pot that sat atop the warm coals of the fire.
A few minutes later, Linnie slipped outside, into the brisk morning air, following the steady “thump” of Cain, chopping wood. She stood a moment on the porch to watch him as he rebuilt their woodpile after last night. Seeing her standing there, he paused a moment, and walked towards her.
She leaned over the edge of the porch to speak to him. “I’m going to testify.” she said, and he nodded. “It’s what’s right, isn’t it?”
Cain was quiet, and let her speak. She nodded to herself.
“You’ll be with me, won’t you?” Linnie smiled. “To see it through to the end?”
“You’re not going to be able to get rid of me, I’m afraid.” Cain said, putting his hand over hers.
Linnie smiled, the first carefree smile she’d had in a very long time.
THE HONEY POT TITLE PAGE
The Honey Pot
by
Becca Fanning
THE HONEY POT
“Woo! Yeah! Go on, Robert! Snap his goddamn head off!”
“Holy hell...” muttered Elle, eyes springing wide, and her hand flying back from the door. This wasn't, by any means, the sort of welcome she'd been expected in coming here. And now, more than ever, her reservations about entering rose to a peak. Her heart caught in her throat, and sweat rolled down her face as she wrestled with two very opposing instincts. A pair of options, containing no positive outcomes either way. She cursed herself, her boss, the situation she was in.
She was a baker's apprentice, for crying out loud! How the hell was she supposed to deal with a situation such as this, without a word of warning or preparation? She didn't even have a clue what it was she was walking into. Much less what her options would be once she took the plunge, stumbled into the thick of it. Based on this single, violent line alone, what could she expect once she stepped through the door?
Her mentor and boss, Konrad, allegedly delivered to this location on an almost routine basis. Although, she'd never been along with him on the occasions that the deliveries took place. But if this was a den of violent criminals, of psychopaths, he would have given her some word of warning, wouldn't he? She'd thought, for the most part, that she could trust Konrad. Or at any rate, she'd at least had no notion that the man would have any desire to put his delicate young apprentice in danger.
“Maybe I'm at the wrong place...” she muttered to herself. But alas, as she took a step back and looked at the sign above the door, it was painted with a logo for The Honey Pot. That, she knew, was the precise name of the pub which Konrad had specified. There was, it seemed, no means of backing out of this on any legitimate basis, other than, of course her fear...
She swallowed hard, and began to sweat through her clothes, bristling... The tumbling, crashing, tearing sounds continued to emit from inside the facility. Roars of cheer and sympathy boomed out from a sea of enthusiastic, presumably drunk men. She'd heard them before she'd even come this close to the door- before she'd even made her way into the clearing for that matter.
They'd given her pause for consideration from the get-go. They'd gotten her to second guess what it was she'd gotten herself into. But the shout of jubilee, encouraging decapitation, well... That was, for her, about the last straw...
She took a deep breath, and prepared to turn around and depart, the bread basket still in her hand, when she thought of Konrad's reaction. He would scold and chasten her, perhaps even fire her for her insolence, her unwillingness to cooperate, to oblige his every wish. It felt as though she had no choice in the matter.
She couldn't, no matter how she may have disliked it, get fired from this job...
She needed to make this delivery, even if it killed her- which, from the sounds of the debacle behind the door, it might do.
She decided to test the waters first, and see what it was she was getting herself into. She took in another deep lungful of air, holding it this time, as though she feared making a sound. As though any of the rowdy, drunken men inside the bar would be able to hear her above the din of their own antics.
Then,as silently as she could manage, she slid open the door. She prayed she would go unnoticed, and peered through a crack toward the scene unfolding inside The Honey Pot's four walls.
“Oh... My... God...” It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming, and she put a hand over her mouth just to ensure that this temptation remained at bay. Still, though, she was so winded by the sight that she doubted whether she could have mustered up the ability for such a sound had she tried.
The men were, as she'd heard them, standing around, cheering. They seemed quite rowdy with intoxication. Under more predictable circumstances, it may have been the sight of men standing around a television set. Drunkards watching a boxing match unfold...
The principle, she realized with horror, was the same, she supposed, if far more brutal, more terrifying...
Two fully grown grizzly bears stood in a corner. Stood? No, that wasn't right. They weren't standing, frankly, but wrestling. Tumbling, clawing, biting at one another. Attempting, as per the request of one of the bar patrons, to “bite one another's goddamn heads off.”
Oh my God... Oh my God... Oh my God... The thoughts swirled around in her head, sending shivers across her body. She'd known that, in some barbaric parts of the world, bear bating was a murderous sport. But this- this was nothing she could have imagined, could hav
e expected in any way. To have these two grown monsters, tearing at one another... Lunging forward with murderous intent... And without even having any restraints, no means of ensuring that they didn't set their sights on the crowd. Nothing to keep them from slashing open the men who stood around encouraging their destruction... Of course, it would have served them right, or at least a good mauling to set their heads back on straight- but that was beside the point.
The Complete BBW, Shifter, Paranormal Romance Reader Page 14