Ladies Prefer Champagne Alpha Male Romance Mega Bundle

by Champagne Jackson

  Now, he drew it along my belly, from the very top of my curly brown down, sitting just above my cunt, up along my soft stomach, nicking my belly button along the way and drawing blood. The sword continued its inexorable rise up my body until it came to rest directly beneath my chin, pressing ever so slightly against me. It wasn’t enough to cut but it was enough to make me sweat in spite of the cold night air surrounding us and it was enough to terrify me. It was enough to make me leery of moving even an inch, lest I slip and cut my own throat. Or lest I give the bearman an excuse to do it instead…

  “Kill the traitor,” the bearman, whom I guessed to be their leader, said to the two bears. They were only too pleased, it seemed. They took slow, cautious steps forward, and began to circle Gaston. I began to cry but I was afraid to sob, for the knife was still less than an inch from my jugular.

  Gaston, for his part, remained calm. He circled slowly as well, keeping both bears within sight. I noticed that the two attacking bears seemed cautious—maybe they knew that Gaston wasn’t a beast to be trifled with. Maybe they knew that they would need more than superior numbers to overcome him in this battle.

  The first leapt at him, charging. Gaston caught the bear in the throat and with one shake of his tremendous head, he tore his opponent’s throat apart. The other bear leapt almost immediately, standing on his hind legs and coming down hard atop Gaston as my hero finished with the first of his opponents.

  Now, the two bears wrestled in a tumult of fur, fangs, and blood. And then, suddenly, it was all over: with a gasp, the second of the bears expired—Gaston had gouged his throat as well and he had bled out over the course of their wrestling.

  What happened next was a blur. Gaston flew at the bearman holding the torch and in a second, his throat disappeared in an explosion of blood. The bearman holding me pushed me to the ground and grabbed the torch his comrade had been holding, brandishing it at Gaston. Gaston held back for a moment, unsure of whether or not to attack, but just as soon made up his mind. He dove for the bearman’s crotch and a horrible, howling wail filled the forest as blood gushed. The man sunk to his knees but not before searing Gaston with the torch. Quickly, Gaston finished him off with a bite to the throat before hurling himself to the ground, rolling back and forth to put the fire out.

  By the point, the other bearman was watching in shock and awe. He too dropped his torch and off he went, into the night. The fire spread over dry leaves, quickly lighting our way through the forest.

  Gaston began to transform back and as he did, I saw his naked back was badly burnt.

  “Oh, my poor, poor, dear bear,” I gasped, taking the blanket and throwing it around him. I had totally forgotten that I was still naked—by this point, I was frankly very used to being naked.

  “Just a flesh wound,” Gaston mumbled, staggering to his feet. His armor had been discarded during our love making and during the fight but now, he scrambled to put it back on as the fire spread.

  “It won’t go fire, the fire,” he murmured to me. I pulled on my tunic, since it was clear we wouldn’t be staying in this spot the rest of the night. Gaston pillaged the pockets of the dead men, taking any coins or valuables they had.

  “The leaves are still wet but the light will help us find our way. Unfortunately, it’ll also help any of the Chief’s bears find us as well, since this spot will be visible for miles and miles away.”

  “What do we do?” I asked, breathless.

  “We move as quickly as we can. Come, my little lady. We’ve survived this chapter.”

  And indeed we had. I took Gaston’s hand and I saw him gasp a little in pain as he eased his armor over his wounds. Nonetheless, he strode just as confidently as before as we headed off, into the dimly lit forest, away from the corpses and away from the Chief’s bears…

  ~

  We made camp at the edge of a clearing some five miles away from the sight of the battle. Gaston and I walked in silence, our hands clutching one another as the sun ascended high overhead, before starting to drop.

  Walking was slow going for both of us—for me, because I was completely unsuited to traversing the tightly wound brush of the forest and for Gaston because he was wounded. Though he was loath to show any weakness, I could see that he was injured, and injured badly.

  I wanted to take him in my arms. I wanted to tend to his wounds, to treat him tenderly and assure him that everything would be fine, though he certainly needed no such assurances from me. But I wanted to do something for him. I wanted to take care of him, to take care of this beast who had taken care of me.

  Finally, when afternoon was arriving, we stopped and began to settle down.

  Gaston went off into the woods in search of game for our dinner. First, he shed his armor, practically all of it, so he stood before me, almost completely naked, his wounds still fresh and visible, the blood almost black.

  Then, he began to transform. I watched, completely transfixed as his body morphed before my very eyes, his shoulders broadening, his hair thickening and paling, become the thick mat of white fur that covered the bear now before me. His body continued to grow, continued to swell, his muscles puffing up before me, all covered in fur and now, bear flesh. His snout grew long and came to a point in a dark black nose, while his jaw tucked under his snout, his teeth growing long in the process.

  Finally, unable to stand on his hind legs any longer, he collapsed onto his fore-legs, grunting and growling. I saw that his wounds and morphed with him, and that transforming even seemed to have aggravated them.

  “Don’t hurt yourself!” I cried. “Be careful.”

  He was risking further injury to go hunting for me! Why was I so pathetic—I had no skills, nothing at all to offer this beast who had saved my life… Nothing, of course, except my body.

  Still, I was determined to make us a nice camp. I gathered twigs and kindling, and managed to get a small fire smoking before long. I selected a series of thick and thin logs, arranging them in a pyramid over my little fire. After fifteen minutes of heavy blowing on the growing flames, fanning them, and feeding more twigs and leaves to the little conflagration, I was delighted to have a fully formed, fully crackling fire.

  Then, I set about finding branches for a lean-to. It would have to be large, I knew, considering Gaston’s size. Even as a man, he was huge, and if he needed to be a bear in the lean-to…

  Fortunately, there was a tangle of branches and trees not far from the fire that seemed perfect. Taking up Gaston’s sword, I cut a path to the tangle, tossing the twigs and branches that I sliced away behind me, mentally noting that they could be used for my fire.

  Then, I began cutting down long, thick spare branches and arranging them again the tangle of trees, leaning them in such a way that there would be space for at least four people to lie abreast—or one small person and one very, very, very large bear-person.

  My little hut took form. Once I had the skeleton built, I began to get smaller twigs and branches to insert in between the nooks and crannies, weaving them as my mother used to weave blankets and tapestries on our farm in the winter time. I weaved in grasses after that, long, thick blades of wild grass that had grown all around the area, and out into the clearing.

  Each time I ventured out into the clear, I collected two kinds of grass—dry pieces for the fire, and thicker, healthier pieces for the lean-to. I cemented it all with mud from a nearby stream, patting a thick coating over the top of my lean-to. Then, lighting a branch on fire, I baked the clay slowly, hardening it. In this way, I made sure that the lean-to would be more or less water-proof, as long as a thunder storm didn’t make its way through the forest all of a sudden.

  Finally, I began to pick wildflowers, arranging them around the lean-to, working them into cracks, giving the little hut color and brightness. After another hour, it was really beginning to look less like an expediency, something made in desperation, in panic, and more like a real home, the pride of its homemaker.

  Would Gaston like it? I hoped he would
. I felt as though this is what I had to offer him—the promise of a good home, a warm place to sleep, and thin, soft legs to wrap around his waist…

  I felt a stirring in my belly. I knew it was just hunger, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it were something more. Gaston had sown his seed in my womb. He hadn’t pulled out, which is what I know the boys in my village had done in order to insure that their lovers wouldn’t be with child—not that it was all that effective, of course. But Gaston hadn’t even bothered.

  Instead, he had enjoyed sewing his seed in my womb, enjoyed the way I moaned and squirmed as he filled me with his essence… And now, I wondered if it would take root, if it would quicken inside of me, if I would be pregnant—if this bear man had put a baby in my belly…

  Though I was in no way capable or ready to take care of a child, I couldn’t help but be… Excited? Truly? Yes, excited by the prospect of carrying Gaston’s child deep within my loins…

  Would it be a bear-child, like him? Would it be born as a bear or as a human? How would he grow up—to be like his father?

  I heard a rustling in the brush behind me and I turned to see Gaston approaching me, now a human, two deer carcasses slung over his shoulder.

  “Good hunting?” I asked, trying to appear casual, as if I hadn’t just been imagining his child in my belly.

  “It’ll be even better eating,” Gaston grunted. And then his eyes fell on the lean-to I had made, and our campfire.

  “I…”

  “Do you like it?” I asked quickly, blushing.

  “I’m impressed,” he said with a grin. “Very impressed.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. The look on Gaston’s face—a look of innocent delight and surprise—that was worth everything I had done in the past few hours.

  Gaston dressed the deer and began to roast them over our fire. I made a simple rub from wild herbs that we massaged into the meat and before long, the rich, inviting smell of warm, cooking venison filled our nostrils. It was positively intoxicating and it took all of my self-control not to launch myself at the half-cooked meat, digging in and devouring whatever I could tear off the bone.

  We waited, however, and finally, Gaston deemed the meal done. We dug into our hunks of meat hungrily, ravenously, devouring the venison faster than we could stuff it into our mouths.

  There was a huge amount of food, but it seemed to disappear right before our eyes and into our bellies. I realized that it had been days since I had eaten, and even more days since I had eaten so well.

  We slurped from a skin filled with water as we ate, and we ate in silence, savoring the food, and the warmth of the fire.

  Finally, I was stuffed to the point of bursting and I was sure that I couldn’t eat anymore. I sat back and watched as Gaston continued to eat, continued to stuff himself until one of the deer was completely stripped.

  “The rest of the other one will still be good in the morning,” Gaston declared. “We’ll eat it before we set out.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Where… Where are we going?”

  Gaston looked up into the sky, into the fading sun.

  “I know of a village many miles from here, far beyond the control of the Chief… We will be safe there. We can, I think… Begin again there.”

  I looked seriously at him. Begin… Again? What did that mean?

  Could he really be imagining a life for us, together? Was that what he wanted?

  Was that what I wanted?

  My heart was pounding in my chest and I could barely see, barely think. I felt my face get hot and sweaty. I needed to get away, needed to think.

  Without saying another word, I stood and started off towards the nearby river, feeling my hot face flushed, with tears coming to the fore.

  Refuge

  I stripped off my shift and waded into the river, sighing as the cool water swept over my warm, fevered flesh.

  Was this what Gaston wanted? My naked body, forever and ever? I ran a hand over my belly, feeling my skin, feeling how full it was from dinner and perhaps from… From the baby? Could it be?

  The ways my life had changed over the last few days astounded me but I knew now that there was no way I could back. There was no returning to my quiet, countryside village and our quaint ways and customs and our silly little festival for the Goddess. That was a different world now. It might as well have never happened.

  Instead, what I had was… was Gaston. He was my savior, my beast, my man… And perhaps even the father of my child.

  He could provide for me, take care of me… But would he ever love me? Would I ever love him?

  Yes. Yes, I could and perhaps I already did. I felt the love, the passion, swelling up in my heart as I washed myself, as I sank into the cold, clear water. I held my breath for as long as I could and when I arose, gasping for air, I saw a figure emerging out of the twilight dusk, coming down to the stream.

  It was Gaston. He was naked.

  And god, did he look good.

  “How’s the water?” he asked, his voice cool. I shuddered, hearing him say those words as he advanced on me. I wanted him. And I could tell, from his growing cock, that he wanted me too. That he wanted me, here, in the water, in this stream in the middle of a forest.

  By now, the moon was just peaking out from behind a cloud overhead, the sun’s last rays finally having disappeared into the early evening gloom.

  “It’s… It’s cold.”

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “Yeah. See?” I said, gesturing to my nipples, which were hard, rocky little nubs. He smirked.

  “You need someone to warm you up.”

  “I do,” I replied with a grin. “But do you think you can do it? You are injured, after all.”

  “I told you, a flesh wound. Bears heal faster than normal humans. I’ll be back to fighting shape in no time.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I managed to run down two deer for our dinner,” he pointed out as he stepped into the water. He shuddered at the chill of the stream, and I found myself taking a certain amount of pleasure in seeing that.

  “True… That you did…” I murmured, floating away form him, hoping he would come after me. I wanted to be chased…

  “But it did take you a good three hours to do it. How many did you have to let get away before you got those two?” I added, a biting joke that even I didn’t know I had in me. I was proud of myself and judging from the surprised grin on Gaston’s face, he was too.

  “Have you ever run down a deer, girl?” he growled, swimming over to me, seizing me with both hands, pulling me close to him, holding me fast, holding me tight.

  “I can’t say I have…” I whispered huskily. “Though… I watched the men from our village hunt them.”

  “Hunt?” Gaston asked. “Or run them down?”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked, feeling my nipples harden, pressing myself against my bearman.

  “A man with a bow and arrow, slinking through the woods, hiding like a coward, putting his arrow in a deer’s neck… It’s not the same as running alongside the deer, giving it a chance, biting into the beast and feeling its blood running down your lips…” he said hungrily. I could all but hear the blood dripping off his words, taste the passion for the hunt, the desire to kill.

  The violence inherent in his words, inherent in his stare and in the hunger of his lips… It all sent chills down my spine and made my knees weak. Fortunately, we were in the water and he was already holding me tight, so I simply sank into his arms, feeling dizzy.

  “It’s different,” he said, suddenly defensive.

  “Shut up,” I whispered, leaning in to claim his lips with mine. But a moment into our kiss, he overwhelmed me, nibbling, and then biting my lips, biting me hard. I gasped into the kiss, pressing my breasts into his strong chest, savoring the way his muscles bulged and twitched against my soft skin…

  And I also savored the way his cock pressed into my belly. I wanted him inside of me again. And I want
ed to taste him. I wanted to suck his cock, suck him hard, and taste his seed flowing into my mouth.

  I remembered the way the girls in my village talked about doing… that… for boys. For boys, behind barns, down on their knees, the girls sucked them, since it meant that the boys didn’t pressure them to actually make love, to actually run the risk of pregnancy… It became a standard rite of passage in our village, and had been for years, generations probably.

  But I had never done it. Not in the village. But with Gaston… I wanted to suck him, wanted to make love to his cock whenever I could. I loved the way he tasted and more than that, I loved him, loved his strength.

  I reached down and wrapped my tiny fingers around his thick cock, whimpering in delight as I felt his massive flesh, knowing that it would be inside of me soon. I began to stroke his cock with my finger tips, running my fingers along his hard rod, tracing the trajectory of the thick, bulging vein that stood out from his shaft.