by Clara Moore
Emily stopped, as if a thought just came to her. She lowered her voice. “Wait, are you in there with him? When he asked you over for s’mores, did he mean for you to be the marshmallow between the cracker and the sweet stuff? Was this a ménage à trois?”
“No,” Kendell answered, looking towards the door of the study, thinking of the bear who rescued her. “I found someone else.”
“Damn, girl. These boys are tripping all over your curves. When are you going to listen to me and become a plus-sized model? You’re too beautiful to be a wielder with your big hazel eyes and kissable lips. Don’t tell my boyfriend, but you’ve always been my girl crush, so if you do ever want to go all Katy Perry, make sure–”
Kendell wasn’t listening. A man had entered the study carrying her clothes. He was gorgeously delicious, with dark brown hair and chiseled features. He stood tall, his muscles flexing through his green thermal top, which matched the color of his eyes. He was built strong – like a bear.
“I gotta go,” Kendell said, keeping her eyes on the man as she ended the call.
“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice deep and heavily accented.
“Those are my clothes,” she said, indicated the pile of folded laundry he held. It was the best she could muster. He made her want to rip the dress shirt she wore off, her bare skin an invitation to do more than just rescue her.
“I had my housekeeper wash them,” he explained, setting her clothes on the sofa. Then he quickly added, “She dressed you, after I brought you in. I apologize that you had to sleep in the study. The house is big, but none of the rooms were ready, still full of dust. We don’t get many visitors.”
“So you must spend a lot of time in the study,” she speculated, pulling on her jeans as she spoke, not caring what he saw. “You know, because there’s no dust.” She left the dress shirt on. It was like a gown on her, but she felt safe wearing it, protected. And it smelled good – earthy, like him.
“I do spend a lot of time here,” he admitted, studying her with an intensity that would normally make her shy, but with him she welcomed it. “I like to read, when I’m not fishing.”
“Or saving women from a pack of wolves.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t save you. I found you in the woods.”
He was a terrible liar. It made her like him even more. “It’s okay,” she asserted. “I know about shifters. My cousins are shifters. They get it on their dad’s side of the family. I know you are the bear who saved me.”
She couldn’t read how that made him feel. “So you know the wolves that chased you were shifters too?” he asked.
“Yes. I do.”
“Why were they after you?”
It was her turn to feel uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” she said, looking down. “Because they’re wolves. That’s what they do. I came here on a glamping trip with my friends. I wasn’t expecting to be chased in the woods by wolves like some chic in a bad fairytale.”
He smiled, his teeth brilliantly white against his tan skin. “Glamping?” He was mocking her.
“I’m sure you know what glamping is. Look at this place. You some gazillionaire or something like that, Mr. Fisherman?”
“Dermott,” he introduced. “Dermott O’Donnell. And yes, something like that. I have a company in the city. It does well.”
“I live in the city too,” Kendell revealed. “But probably far from where your company is. My family isn’t poor, we get by, but we live in the same home my grandparents did when they immigrated to America from Holland. The neighborhood has gone downhill since then.”
She didn’t know why she was telling him her family history. Probably because she was fascinated by his. Based on his accent and the décor of the room, she guessed he was from Ireland. Maybe Scotland.
“Holland is a lovely country. Have you been?”
“No, not yet,” she said. “One day, maybe.”
A silence fell between them. It wasn’t awkward, but within it Kendell realized she might be overstaying her welcome. “I guess I better go,” she proclaimed, reaching for the remainder of her clothes, still refusing to take off the dress shirt. He had mula. Dermott could buy another one.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he stated, standing tall with authority, much taller than she was. “Not with the wolves out there. It wasn’t a random attack. They acted with intention. They were tracking you.”
“That’s strange,” she muttered, hugging her clothes tight. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “But until we figure it out, you should stay here. I’ll keep you safe, Kendell. They can’t touch you here.”
***
Staying had not been her intention. If she stayed, her friends would kill her. It was meant to be a girls-only weekend. A bit of fun at night was one thing, total abandonment was another. But better her friends kill her than the wolves that hunted her. Her friends would get over it. The wolves would never stop trying.
“Okay,” Kendell agreed. “Thank you, I’ll stay, but I have one condition.”
“A condition?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Feed me. I’m starving.”
Dermott laughed. “Good. So am I.”
Next to the door was an intercom. He pressed a button, and a few seconds later a woman answered, her accent similar to his. “Yes, Mr. O’Donnell? What can I get for you?”
“I picnic basket, please, Mary. For two. We’ll be heading down to the lake.”
Soon after, they were sitting side by side on the pier, their legs dangling above the water. The day was warm but not scorching, a sign that summer was waning. Kendell liked this time of year the best, where being outside wasn’t a burden because of the heat but a luxury. Breathing in the fresh breeze off the lake, she almost forgot about the wolves.
“Have you ever been fishing?” Dermott asked her.
“Not unless you count diving for pennies at the bottom of the swimming pool.”
He was skeptical. “Do you really do that?”
“When I was a kid. Not anymore. Not unless I’m really desperate,” she joked. “So how do bears fish? Do you jump into the water or something?”
“No,” he protested, and he reached under the blanket he had carried down and pulled out two fishing poles. “Bears fish the same way everyone else does. With patience and beer.”
“I like the beer part,” she said.
In response, he opened the picnic basket and handed her a bottle. “It’s on the house.”
“Aren’t you going to have one,” she asked, opening the top and taking a sip.
He shook his head as he readied his fishing pole. “No. Not with you to protect.”
Kendell took another sip, smiling inwardly. “So why is the house so empty? Can’t you buy friends?”
“I prefer to be alone when I’m out here,” Dermott professed. “In my company, I’m constantly surrounded by people. It’s maddening.”
“What about your family? Surely you can make an exception for them.”
“They’re back in Scotland watching over the estate.”
He said estate, but she sure he meant castle. He was just being modest. “And a wife?” she asked casually, trying to be cool.
“No time,” he answered, troubled, and he cast the fishing line. Kendell watched as it flew far out into the lake, propelled by his mighty strength. “It upsets my parents. They want me to settle down and marry a bear shifter, a Scottish lass to keep the bloodline pure. The settling down part, I don’t mind. I’d like that myself. The other part– not so much. You can’t have a mate chosen for you. That’s not how it works. It’s like trying to fry a fish with air.”
He was visibly torn over the issue, so she moved on to another topic. “How does it work, shifting? I’ve never really asked my cousins about it. I mean, like how do your clothes come back when you turn human again? Shouldn’t they be ripped to shreds? Is it magic?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, steadying
his fishing pole. “I think it’s just a science we don’t understand yet.”
“I wonder if any of my coworkers are shifters,” she mused, setting the beer aside. A few sips were enough.
“What is that you do?” he asked, clearly happy the focus was back on her.
“I’m a wielder.”
He laughed loudly. It echoed across the lake, like a stone rippling in the water. “A wielder? Like in the movie Flash Dance?”
Kendell rolled her eyes. “I have no dreams of being a professional dancer.”
“Shame,” he said. “You’ve got killer curves.”
She pushed him hard, but he barely budged. “Easy, tiger.”
“Bear,” he reminded her.
They spent the entire afternoon out on the pier, feeling no hurry to return to the house, anchored outside by the lazy sun. Kendell was generally mistrustful of strangers, but Dermott had proved himself by saving her. She knew she could trust him. She felt easier around him than most people she crossed paths with in the city.
Only when the hard wood of the pier became uncomfortable did they meander inside, Dermott carrying two salmon he had caught. They went to the kitchen, which was much more modern than the rest of the house – well, mansion, if Kendell was being completely honest. His house was a formidable country mansion with tall, narrow windows and a lot of history, history she hoped to learn more about. The exception was the kitchen. It was newer, renovated recently enough, with its steel appliances and large island where the stove top was.
Dermott went to the intercom on the wall. “Mary, I’ll be cooking my own dinner tonight. You can have the rest of the night off.”
“Thank you, Mr. O’Donnell,” she replied. “I think I’ll go visit my sister for the evening.”
“Take tomorrow off too,” he told her. “I don’t want you around while the wolves are about.”
Soon after, as Dermott gutted the fish, Kendell heard the sound of a car driving off. “That must be nice, having help.”
“Mary is more than help. She practically raised me. I consider her family.”
“Then why make her clean up after you?”
He wasn’t offended. “She wants to. She says it makes her feel useful. If I had it my way, she’d be on a beach in Tahiti living the good life. All expenses paid.”
As Dermott pulled out a pan to fry the fish in, Kendell took a walk around. The kitchen led out onto a circular porch. A table and chairs were pushed near the door, leaving much of the porch open. The view was as breathtaking as the view from the study earlier. The lake glistened, the forest standing guard around it, the trees like fearsome soldiers. She couldn’t see any other houses. Likely, Dermott owned the entire land around the lake. It really was his own personal refuge.
Near the table and chairs was a sheltered stereo. She went to it and turned on the radio, leaving it at a station playing a fun pop number from the eighties. Inhaling the buttery scent of the fish frying, Kendell returned to the kitchen, swinging her hips as she arrived, the music following her.
“I thought you said you didn’t dance,” Dermott noted merrily.
She turned in a loop, letting her head bop. “I said I had no dreams of dancing professionally. That doesn’t mean I don’t dance.”
Feeling giddy and light, she turned off the stove top and took Dermott’s hands, guiding him next to her near the island, her body still moving. Dermott did that to her. He lifted her burdens, made her feel like she had a normal life again.
“You’re a terrible dancer,” he teased as she lifted his hands and shook them to the music.
“I know,” she answered. “And so are you. Looks like money can’t buy everything.”
He laughed and swung her around, dipping her low into his arms. Before she knew it, they were kissing. His lips explored hers, testing her desire. Kendell pressed herself harder into him, letting him know exactly what she wanted.
It was all the encouragement he needed. His kiss became much more adamant, consuming her with his need for her. He picked her up into his arms, and he led her to his bedroom. His bed was enormous, meant for the king of the forest. The rest of the room she barely noticed, the heat in her body beginning to rise.
He set her down and she faced him, breathing deep with anticipation, taking in all the man he was. Slowly, she unbuttoned the dress shirt, revealing her skin inch by inch, seducing him with the wait. Dermott couldn’t stand it. Before she could finish, he ripped the shirt off her and pulled her close, moving his kisses to her neck.
“I can’t believe how sexy you are,” he murmured, his craving thick within his voice. “I’ve waited a long time for you to come.”
“You won’t have to wait much longer,” she said, moaning between his kisses. Every kiss on her neck sent a pulse down to her core, awakening her, making her wet. She put her hand where his manhood protruded through his jeans. His cock was hard and thick, growing beneath her touch. “Neither of us has to wait much longer.”
In a blur, they clawed at each other’s clothes until they were both naked, their flesh exposed. He was massive, his cock full and ready. She went to the bed and sat on the edge, coaxing him to follow, eager to know all the pleasure a bear could offer.
He bent down on his knees in front of her and began kissing her thigh, moving his tongue across her flesh, gliding all the way down to her toes. He took her big toe into his mouth and began sucking lightly, his tongue flickering over the soft padding.
It felt wonderful, electrifying her body, causing her blood to rush to her core until she ached. As he sucked on her toe, she imagined what such a strong, commanding tongue would feel like over the pink flesh of her core. She pictured him between her thighs, devouring her with his kisses, taking her flesh into his mouth, running his tongue along her clit.
She needed more. With intent, she guided her foot away from him and wrapped her legs around his body, pulling him in closer. He obliged, pressing his hot body against hers as they moved further onto the bed.
Tenderly, he smoothed her hair away from her face. “I think you’re about to break me,” he said.
She knew how he felt. There was something about being with him that felt… momentous. Life changing. “Then let’s break together,” she whispered, arching her back, luring him in.
He spread her legs further apart and then he entered her, his cock sending a shockwave through her body. He filled her up, hitting every nerve in her body. When he began to thrust, his pulsed matched her own. It was euphoric. She was not in bed with a man. She was being mated by a god. A sexy Scottish god, with a hot accent and a thick cock.
Once more, she wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to push deeper into her as he thrust, his hips gyrating against hers as his cock slid in and out. She moaned, her breath heavy as the heat in her body pushed closer to the brink, tingling with ecstasy. She clenched herself over him, causing him to thrust faster, his own release near.
“Oh god,” she cried, feeling her body begin to free itself. Her back arched further, allowing a wave of bliss to overcome her. “Oh god!”
She came, and so did he. Pushing himself deep within her, he released himself, holding her close within his arms as he did, refusing to let go. His cock remained within her, slow to settle, still pressed firmly against her core. It sent an aftershock through her body, doubling her pleasure.
He continued to hold her, nuzzling his head into hers. His breath on her neck was like a warm blanket, comforting and safe. She didn’t want him to let go. He was a stranger, but she knew him. She never wanted to leave.
However, she would soon have to. She was safe with him, but he wasn’t safe with her.
***
End of the sample, you can read the rest of the book by clicking on the cover or by going to this link.
Here is another complete BILLIONAIRE story for free:
Taken by the Alpha Billionaire
By: Rose Morgan
Taken by the Alpha Billionaire
The day I walked out on
him was probably the best and worst day of my life.
We’d met twelve years previously, when I was just twenty-one and fresh out of college, and he worked down at his family’s garage just outside the city. With my small-time job as an editorial assistant at a tiny publishing firm, he was something consistent and normal in my day-to-day life of wrangling all sorts of out-there creatives and trying to figure out which manuscripts would sell or not. So when he proposed to me- only a few days before my twenty-fifth birthday- of course I said yes. Look, I was young, and crazy in-love and I think most people in the same position would have said yes. We planned to get married, just as Porteclus Publishing began to pick up. We managed to creep a couple of new authors on to bestseller lists, and work became even more hectic. I sometimes wonder, if I hadn’t been so dedicated to my job, if I might have managed to keep us together. When I weigh the options in my head, I know I was right to keep going with my career. I don’t think anything would have fixed us by the time we celebrated our tenth anniversary together.
The garage had been on its last legs for a while, but it still came as a shock when Mike’s parents declared bankruptcy and he wound up spending most of his day on the couch, drinking beer and feeling sorry for himself. At first, I tried to brush it off; asking myself how well I’d cope in a similar situation, and focusing even more on work, where I was now one of the head editors. I was working twelve-hour days, then coming home to find Mike passed out on the sofa, some papers hurriedly strewn about to make it look like he was actually looking for another job. I knew he was lying, and I knew I was just supporting the husband who’d never even thought to look outside his family’s business for work, but I stayed. He was still something regular, and I was used to coming home to find him there. It would have been too strange to walk out.