Wild Men (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance Bundle)

by Shay Lynn

  Wild Men

  Shay Lynn

  Wild Men – Shay Lynn – Copyright – May 21st 2015

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  Easter Secrets

  Shay Lynn

  Easter Secrets – Shay Lynn – Copyright – May 6th 2015

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  TEASER

  “I’ll take you every day from now on, and when the transformations come, I’ll keep you locked up, for your safety.”

  He carried me upstairs, and as he did, I shocked myself by realizing how tantalizing his plan seemed to me.

  Maybe I was a monster too.

  WARNING: This story contains graphic depictions of hot, steamy sex. Reader discretion is advised.

  Dedicated to Jack.

  I never intended to be an adulterer. But one look at my neighbour across the street, and I knew I would need to have him inside me. And of all the weekends of the year on which to commit sin, I had to choose this one.

  Sorry Jesus.

  I didn't much care for the Holiday. Not at all, really. Even when I was a child, all I cared about were the chocolate eggs. I enjoyed putting them between my lips and petting them with my tongue, feeling them begin to melt against my touch, before I finally sucked them all the way in and chewed them against my teeth, sucking the sweet, dark sugary taste until it was nearly gone, and it was time to reach out for another.

  I loved this part of Easter, but almost nothing else.

  That was until the day that I met the strange young man across the street, who would soon captivate my attention like nothing else ever had. I would find it impossible to get him out of my head, and even if I could think of a way to do it, I wouldn't have wanted to. I enjoyed having him sitting ever present on my mind.

  He'd been interested in me right away, but I was engaged, and I didn't know what to do about his affections. Of course I wanted him; as I would grow to learn, he was in fact a billionaire, who only lived in the relatively small suburban house because he found it comforting. That kind of humbleness was better than anything you might find evident in my fiancé, which I know sounds like a terrible thing to say, but it's true. That man doesn't have an ounce of humility in his body, and he hasn't even accomplished all that much.

  Oh lord, listen to me, I must sound terrible. I don't know why I'm even with him, really, if I only have so much negativity about him. But really, what would I do without him. I needed him, if only because I couldn't make it on my own.

  It had occurred to me that my neighbour might take me in, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him something like that. We hadn't even slept together by this point, although it had become quite clear that we wanted to. And when we finally did fuck, it was unlike anything I’d experienced.

  Let me explain how this came about.

  He and I had been meeting occasionally to discuss gardening. He was often out front attending to a small garden of his, and I had one of my own as well. His was much nicer though, and so I had explained to my fiancée that I would go over and talk to him about how he got his garden looking so beautiful. That's the excuse I told myself at least. I’m pretty sure the gardening thing had led my fiancée to assume that our neighbour was gay. If he’d seen the way our neighbour looked me in the eyes, he’d know how silly that was.

  He always stood up from his work as I approached without needing to look to see that I was on my way over. I always wondered if this was a coincidence, or if he really could sense me coming somehow. In any case, I often waved as he turned to look at me.

  “Hey,” I said, “how’s it going?”

  “Not bad,” he replied, “yourself?”

  “Oh, pretty alright.”

  “Cool.”

  “So whatever happened to your plan to plant tulips?”

  “I’m saving my tulips for you.”

  I laughed, but I was also nervous. We were within sight of my fiancée if he decided to take a look out the window for a moment for whatever reason.

  “That was lame.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, “got you laughing though.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “So do you really want to stand out here pretending to talk about gardening again?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on,” he said, “you and I are on the same page, aren’t we?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Yes you are,” he said, taking off his gardening gloves and stepping closer to me, “when do you want to get around to doing it?”

  I decided to stop playing dumb.

  "The timing is a little awkward, isn't it?" I asked, "what with Easter weekend and all?"

  "You're religious?"

  "No," I said, and it wasn't a nervous lie or anything, I really wasn't, "I just have a certain level of respect for the holiday, is all."

  "I respect the holiday too," he said, "that's why I want to spend it celebrating with you."

  "I'm not sure that's the kind of celebrating that anyone has in mind when they think of Easter."

  "Seriously," he said, "when do you want to give it a try?"

  "I don't know," I said.

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow my fiancée’s parents are coming over for dinner."

  "Perfect, they can all distract each other while we get to it."

  "Very funny."

  "Okay then, if not tomorrow, then when?"

  "I don't know," I said, my tone suddenly growing more somber, "maybe never."

  "Come on."

  "I'm serious," I said, and I was, "maybe we shouldn't be thinking of doing this at all?"

  "You don't really want to miss out on this," he said, "we're crazy about each other."

  "I know, I'm sorry."

  His face-hardened then, "so is that the only reason you came over here? To tell me that you shouldn't anymore?"

  "Please don't be upset."

  "Samantha, you're being silly."

  "I need to get back to my house."

  "Where is this even coming from? One minute you're laughing and everything's fine, and the next -"

  "I have to get back. I think we should stay in touch," I said this hurriedly as I began to turn back and walk away from him.

  My fiancée’s parents were always relatively kind to me, more so than I had expected them to be, considering how much he complained about them. But as far as I could tell, they meant well, even if they did have an unfortunate habit of coming across as though they were always criticizing and critiquing you.

  I sat at the dinner table with them and my fiancée, smiling and accepting their compliments for the meal I’d provided, and ignoring the subtle jabs at the areas in which I might have done better. It was my first year cooking this much for a holiday. In previous years it had been my mother who would do it. I was never very religious, and so there hadn’t been much of an Easter celebration even when it was my mother cooking for me. But my fiancée’s parents were much more traditional in that sense, and so he insisted that I play along and learn and try to cook as well as I could in order to please them. I didn’t really mind that much, to be honest. It just bothered me a bit.

  You know, the more I describe them, the more I think that I really didn’t like my
fiancée’s parents.

  “David,” said my father-in-law, “how’s the new job going?”

  “Fine dad,” he said, “it’s going just fine.”

  “I got a friend that works down there saying he saw you walking around the yard pretty stressed out the other day.”

  “It’s going fine, I said. Let’s not talk about it.”

  “I think it’s fantastic that you finally got that promotion,” said my mother-in-law, “all that time in school ought to have paid off somehow.”

  My fiancée sent me a glance that seemed to say, “Good lord, kill me now,” and we each just smiled and continued to put up with it. How much longer would either of these two really be staying, now that dinner was almost finished?

  “David, where’s that scotch at?”

  “What scotch?”

  “The one I got you for Christmas.”

  “It’s gone, Dad.”

  “What? You drank it all?”

  “It was months ago Dad, seriously.”

  “Well, what the hell are we going to drink then?”

  “There’s some vodka in the cupboard,” I said, though I immediately regretted it. I hated the thought of how much longer they might stay if they were drinking. I could see in the glance that I received from David that he felt the same way.

  “Oh, by the way,” my Mother-in-Law began, “I hope you don’t mind, but we met one of your neighbours before we rang the doorbell.”

  “Oh yeah,” said David, “which one?”

  “A nice young man with a garden,” she said, “I hope you don’t mind, but we invited him over, in case he didn’t have anything better to do?”

  “What?” David asked, “You shouldn’t have done that. This is my house, and-“

  The doorbell rang and everyone was quiet for a moment. David glared at his mother for a second and then rose from his seat, going to the front door.

  “You don’t have to let him in.”

  “Well what the fuck am I gonna say now? Besides, it’s fine. Sam and him talk about gardening now and then, so we already sort of know each other.”

  My fiancée went to the door and their eyes fell on me. I stood up and approached my fiancée.

  “Hey,” I whispered, “I’m not feeling great. I’m gonna go upstairs.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t want to hang out down here with your parents and the neighbour and a bottle of vodka.”

  He looked at me for a moment, and then said, “well shit, I was gonna say the same thing to you in a minute. All right, hide upstairs. I’ll try to make sure things wrap up fairly quick.”

  “Thanks,” I said, before kissing him on the lips. I hurried upstairs and actually did hide, though not for the reasons I’d just said.

  I sat on my bed in my room waiting for my fiancée to arrive, listening to the laughter and muffled voices coming from downstairs, just waiting for them to finish the vodka and go home and end this awkwardness. I hoped desperately that my Gardener wouldn’t say something stupid and ruin everything. Not that there was even anything to ruin, was there? We’d never even done anything.

  But if that was true at all, then why did I already feel so guilty.

  I was thrilled when I heard the laughter die down into silence, and felt even better when I heard footsteps approaching the door. I was in my nightgown, and I sat up in bed to greet my fiancée.

  But it wasn’t him who opened the door.

  My neighbour opened the door and shut it behind him again, looking at me sitting up in the bed.

  “Hello there.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked, growing terrified, “what if someone comes up here?”

  “I brought some drinks of my own,” he said, “they’re out cold. It’s fine.”

  “We can’t do this.”

  He took off his clothes and approached me on the bed. He reached between my legs and felt my crotch and I let him.

  “Then why are you so wet?” he asked.

  He plunged his tongue into my mouth and tasted me roughly with his fingers still in my crotch, tearing at my panties to get at my pussy. I helped him get them off and then positioned myself on my back for him. He had his cock out in a moment, and he put it inside without a moment’s hesitation. Feeling him get inside, after all this time spent waiting, was like a drink of cold water on a hot day, I hadn’t realized how thirsty I had been until I felt him pushing his way in and out of me, and I could tell from the veracity of his thrusting that he had needed this as well, he bit my lip and clutched at my ass as he fucked me, and I didn’t do a thing to stop it. I welcomed it.

  At some point he pulled out completely and went at my pussy with his tongue. He worked on me like this, at first as if all he wanted to do was taste me there, until it became apparent that he was building me up to a certain sweet climax. I felt myself growing wetter until the moment I squirted in his mouth, and he didn’t slow down even then.

  There did come a point, however, when his throbbing cock could wait no longer, and he had to finish the job. He pressed himself back inside, thrusting and thrusting faster and faster, until it was his turn to explode. His cock erupted like a volcano of cum inside me, his fluid mixing with mine, filling me up and spilling out of me, making a mess of the sheets around our thighs.

  His lips came down over mine and we made out despite our exhaustion, tasting and licking each other, pausing now and then to catch our breaths.

  He looked into my eyes, and I looked into his.

  “You’re going to have to leave,” I said.

  “I will,” he replied, “but not right now. Not tonight. Tonight I’m yours.”

  “Good,” I said.

  We spent the rest of the night making love.

  And it was the best Easter of my life.

  I stepped out of the room quietly, not wanting to awaken the man I’d just fucked. I felt the need to go downstairs and check on the people I’d left down there. Pulling my robe tight, I stepped gingerly down the stairs until I reached the living room.

  Looking around the room, I saw no one. Confused, I went into the kitchen. No one here either. There were no bedrooms downstairs. Where had they all gone to?

  I turned and jumped when I saw that my lover stood before me.

  “What are you doing down here?” It’s not like he was leaving. He was still naked.

  “I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “They’re not coming back. I took care of them.”

  “You what?”

  “You hated them all, don’t deny it.”

  “What the hell are you?”

  “I’m a monster. I’m a werewolf. And now you belnog to me.”

  I turned to flee, but he took hold of me from behind and held me tight.

  “I’ll take you every day from now on, and when the transformations come, I’ll keep you locked up, for your safety.”

  He carried me upstairs, and as he did, I shocked myself by realizing how tantalizing his plan seemed to me.

  Maybe I was a monster too.

  In any case, Jesus wouldn’t be terribly proud of either of us.

  Search for “Shay Lynn” in the Kindle Store to find more stories like this one!

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  Thank you!

  Furious Alpha

  Shay Lynn

  Furious Alpha – Shay Lynn – Copyright – May 14th 2015

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  TEASER:

  Panting, sweating, and pulsing with ecstasy, we lay on the bed together.

  When I caught my breath, I asked, “How many more times do you think
you can do all that before my husband comes home?”

  “As many as I can,” he said, “and if you’re still disappointed, I’ll be back again tomorrow.”

  WARNING: This story contains graphic depictions of hot, steamy sex. Reader discretion is advised.

  Dedicated to Greg.

  The sun was high and bright and hot in the sky, and seemed to have chased even the memory of a cloud out of the sky. I stood on my front porch and waited, hoping to see some sign of my lover making his way down the road. His name was Jack, and mine is Katie. I always forget to introduce myself.

  I live on a long suburban street made up of almost identical houses, stretching from a nearby elementary school until it opens out to the main roads of the city after several twists and turns through the neighbourhood. My own house was located on a little off shoot cul de sac. If you were to look at the entire neighbourhood from above, it would look like the stem of a flower, and my own little area would look like one of the stray, curling leaves. They'd even bothered to give each of these strange little off shoots its own name. However, I'm too embarrassed by it to even say it out loud.

  I'm like that with a lot of aspects of my life here. I know I shouldn't be complaining, my husband worked long and hard in order to afford he and I the life we were living, and I had assumed the role of a housewife in order to maintain the place in his absence.

  But it still felt like there was so much missing from my life. Namely, a certain degree of passion. As much as I loved my husband - or as much as I said that I loved my husband - there must have been a reason that we'd never had kids. Maybe we waited too long, or maybe we just got tired of the concept, but if I described my current life to an outsider, some kind of overhead observer, they would almost certainly say that a child was what was missing.