Hook, Line And Sinker (BBW Shifter Romance) (FisherBears Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  A strong chin, the kind that could dig into your shoulder in the most wonderful way. Lips that were made to be bitten.

  And glowing gold eyes. A Lycan! A creature outside the streams of Magic and therefore immune to it.

  “Uh oh,” I whispered. “Please, don’t eat me.”

  He tilted his head, looking down at me. He made no move to cover himself, no thought of modesty about his wedding tackle swinging in front of a stranger. He clucked his teeth, moving towards me. Everything about his movement shouted danger, the finesse of a casual killer.

  I closed my eyes, bracing for it. The gnashing fangs, the tearing claws. I hoped he’d end me quick. I’d had a pretty good life, all things considered.

  “My Oreos?” he said, picking up the empty box near the foot of the bed.

  I opened my eyes. “Look, I’m really sorry. I was starving,” I said.

  He walked backwards, his shoulders crestfallen. “But the whole box? Come on, who does that? I have whole shelves of food! Make yourself some rice and beans! Some corned beef hash,” he said. “But you don’t eat a man’s whole stash of cookies.”

  He glanced down to his left, at the table. “What the hell? You finished my puzzle too?” he said, awestruck. “You know, I’d heard about witches. I assumed the stories about you being selfish good for nothings was bullshit. But here we are,” he said. “I’m Sigmund, by the way. I’d welcome you to my house, but you’ve already seen to that.”

  “Jessica,” I said. “Look, Sigmund, I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. I figured, hey, I’m in a tight spot. If the owner comes home, I’ll just…” I said, trailing off.

  “You’ll just Magic your way out of it,” he said, tossing the empty cookie box into the trash bin. “How did you even get here?”

  “I traded my hat to this asshole squirrel. I didn’t know they were so shallow! The things he said about me,” I said, offended.

  “Right,” he said. “Look, Jessica, you can’t stay here. It’s, uhh…” he said, scratching his head.

  “It’s your time of the month?” I said,

  He laughed, and I joined him. It felt good.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. You’ve got your burdens, and I’ve got mine. Pretty soon, I’m not going to be able to control myself,” he said, hands on his hips.

  “What’s it like? Does it hurt?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Yeah, a little. But it’s more emotional than physical,” he said, tapping his fingers into his open hand. “Instead of being this intellectual being, I just get to be wild. To run, to hunt…” he said.

  “To fuck?” I said, climbing out of bed. I’d heard about this, the other thing I was taught about werewolves. They couldn’t help it, but they were masculinity incarnate. Power, loyalty and enough pheromones to make a nunnery faint.

  He chuckled, a low rumble deep in his chest. It was practically a growl.

  I was drawn to him, my body screaming for his touch. Near death experiences had a way of sending you crashing into the next pair of arms you see. Tapping into Magic all day compounded that primal need. And, well, seeing this magnificent man in front of me.

  What’s a girl to do?

  I walked up close to him, reaching out a single finger to touch his lips. “I’m sorry I ate your food, big bad wolf.”

  His eyes locked on to mine. His breathing froze.

  I ran my finger down his chest. “I’m sorry I ruined your puzzle, big bad wolf.” I delighted in the way my fingers brushed against his curly chest hair. I bit my lip in anticipation. I could feel my pussy getting slick, just thinking about this stud and what he was going to do to me.

  His nostrils flared, smelling my desire. His face got closer to mine, leaning in to smell me better.

  “And I’m sorry I slept in your bed. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, big bad wolf?” I said, my finger scratching a single line down his abs. Past his belly button, and into the nestling jungle of hair cropped above his engorging manhood. My finger touched his cock, ran down it’s length and grabbed the small bead of pre-cum that had formed on it’s tip.

  I looked him in the eyes, bringing it to my lips and licking my finger clean. “I hope you have more where that came from,” I said, kneeling in front of him.

  He breathed in slowly, deeply. His hands stroked my cheeks, touched my ear, my lips.

  I brought his heavy cock to my mouth, the tight circle of my lips forming a seal against his soft skin. Inside the smooth sheath, his cock was growing longer and harder, awoken in primal passion.

  My tongue swirled the head, cleaning it of more salty seed. I savored the musk of him, the wild scent of pine needles and smoke. My nose tickled, buried in his bush as I deep throated him. I gagged, the width of his prick too much to take in so deeply. My eyes teared up, and I pulled back.

  He growled, golden eyes looking down at me dangerously. His mind was gone, possessed now by a bestial need to relieve the pressure in his balls, to empty his seed in a mate. His hand grabbed a handful of hair and he thrust his cock into my mouth, using me as he needed.

  My hand went inside my pants, rubbing my aching clit. It was slick, coated with evidence of my own desire for this man. As his cock slid in and out of my mouth, I thrust a pair of fingers into my pussy, matching his rhythm.

  The whole room seemed to slow down as I came. My pussy flexed and spasmed around my fingers, my juices flooding out to soak my panties and run down my leg. My muscles in my jaw constricted, causing me to gently bite down on Sigmund’s thick pale prick. I pulled my hand from my pants and put it on his hip to stop his thrusts.

  He released my hair and dropped out of my mouth, a line of saliva stretching from my lips to his hot eager cock. His balls shimmered in the light from the stove, slick with my spit. He grabbed the hand that was on his hip, pulling me up as he brought it to his face.

  He brought my hand to his face, sniffing it voraciously. He brought his tongue out and lapped at my digits, cleaning them of my cum. His strength was incredible, and I was practically on my tiptoes while he took his time slurping up my cum. When my hand was clean, he sniffed further down my body.

  Without notice his arms grabbed the front of my ski jacket and tore in opposite directions. Like threadbare rags, My jacket and the shirt beneath it shredded in his hands. My bare breasts were exposed to the warm air of the cabin.

  He wrapped one arm around my waist, and the other went to my waistband. Like he was pulling the wrapper off a candy bar, he stripped off my ski pants, pants, and underwear. I stood before him, naked as a bluejay, my puffy shaved pussy lips slowly leaking down my leg.

  His arms wrapped around me, pulling my body against his.His massive prick slipped down between my thighs, my pussy lips spread over the shaft. His hands squeezed my ample ass as he thrust forward, maddeningly needing to come, to spill his seed.

  I pressed my arms against his chest to make space between us, but he was too strong, too crazed with lust. I needed him inside me, and if he spilled his side onto the rug at our feet, I didn’t know how long he’d need to recover. Too long for me to wait, that’s for sure.

  “Frantusa brezonti,” I said, as the wool blanket flew off the bed and wrapped around his wrists from behind, pulling them off me.

  His eyes went wild and he howled, a growl of rage and lust. He jerked his body forward, madly needing to nut. His arms strained at the bonds, but he couldn’t break them.

  I backed away from him, slowly. I turned around, looking over my shoulder back at him. I ran my hands down my body, his eyes following them. When they got to my ass I gave it a little shake, my bare sex already red and sore from riding his shaft.

  His cock throbbed visibly, a small glob of white cream erupting from the tip and falling downward.

  I smiled wickedly, pleased with what I saw. I walked over to his bed and got on all fours. My pussy lips spread apart with a wet smacking sound. I jerked my head to the side, ending the spell that held him in place.

  He expl
oded across the room, like he was launched from a cannon. With no tenderness, no compassion, he mounted me. Like he’d found a bitch in heat in the forest, he just took me. He pressed the bulbous glistening head of his cock against my tight opening.

  I bit my lip, my logical mind screaming that there was no way he would fit: he was too big. I held my breath, letting out a long grunting groan as my kegel muscles flexed then relaxed. They were done trying to put up a defense. This alpha male was going to have his way with me.

  As he began to slip inside me, he pressed into me harder, with more ferocity. As the head of his popped inside of me, his fingernails sharply dug into my hips. He was going to mate with me, make me his, as that’s what his animal mind demanded. To find a bitch, and fill her with his seed.

  I howled as he hammered home, driving himself inside me fully. The moment when he went balls deep, bottoming out inside me, felt amazing. It felt like there had been something missing my whole life before that moment. My clit cried out in ecstasy as his heavy ballsac swung forward and crashed into it. The dampness of my juices and his cum leaked down his shaft to coat his balls. His wet skin smacking roughly against my wet clit was sending me over the edge of another orgasm.

  His hand pushed down on my back hard, so I was laying prone on the bed. He pounded down into me, smashing me into the top of the poor four post bed. I was sure it would fly apart under us, shearing the nails out of the wood completely.

  He lay completely on top of me, covering every inch of my body with his. Filling every inch of my womb with his thick, hard cock. He kept ploughing me, working my tunnel relentlessly. He brought his mouth to my neck, his teeth grazing the muscle in my shoulder.

  That was what did it. I cried out, coming for the second time that night. My pussy spasmed again, this time milking the cock that was invading it. Pain shot through my neck as he bit down on my shoulder.

  I felt him release inside me. His massive cock, from tip to base, seemed to pulsate with a powerful tide. His balls flexed upwards against his taint, smearing my juice all along the back of my thighs. My womb was filled with his hot sticky seed. He collapsed onto the bed next to me, and I felt his seed pour out of me and onto the sheets we were laying on.

  I turned over, just breathing and relishing the afterglow. Hands down the best fuck of my life. My legs fell open, my sore used sex needing the cool air of the room.

  What a vacation this was shaping up to be…

  WEREWOLF NEXT DOOR TITLE PAGE

  Werewolf Next Door

  by

  Becca Fanning

  WEREWOLF NEXT DOOR

  “They just spilled chips all over the floor,” I said, walking into the kitchen.

  “It’s no big deal, Tina,” my mother said. She was over at the stove, continuously stirring the pot of Swedish meatballs. The savory sweet smell was intoxicating, and I remember fondly getting swatted with a wooden spoon when I’d go in for a taste. Mom wasn’t as fast with the spoon these days, so I’d definitely risk it.

  She looked fantastic. Her apron was spotless, her hair up in a bun. She enjoyed playing hostess, but this was a bit much. They’d moved into this new neighborhood just a few days ago. Yesterday my Dad walked in and said the neighbors had invited themselves over for a housewarming party. It had taken us all by surprised, so we had to whip together this party in the midst of unpacking.

  I’d just enrolled at the university nearby, and classes would begin in a week. I’d hoped to spend that week adjusting to the new place, getting some nice long lazy days of napping in. But no, we had to go meet-n-greet with the two families adjacent to us.

  One family was the Connors. Maggie and Jason Connor, parents of thirteen year old Conrad. He was a rude little shit, his first words on walking into the house was how it was smaller than his. His parents looked pretty embarrassed, but hell, they raised him.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” I said.

  “Must be Mr. Hoover,” my mother said.

  Mr. Hoover owned the house on the other side. Dad said he was single, and Mom and I had gossiped on whether we thought he was gay or not. Not too many single men in their fifties owning homes in this suburb. Not unless they were “perpetual bachelors.”

  I pulled the door open and my breath caught in my throat. Mr. Hoover was standing there on our stoop, and I was enjoying the view! He was solid, built like a younger man. He had a gray streak at the temples that cut through his raven black hair. His green eyes met mine.

  “Hi,” I managed.

  “You must be Tina,” he said, his teeth flashing in a perfect white smile.

  “Y-yes,” I said, trying to get a hold of myself.

  “Have I done something wrong?” he said.

  “No, of course not,” I said.

  “Then this is the part where you invite me in,” he said. I watched his eyes roll down my body. They took in my curvy body, spending a scandalous amount of time at my breasts and ass.

  “Hey,” I said. “My eyes are up here.”

  “So they are,” he said, his grin getting wider as he met my eyes again. “Give this to your mother,” he said as he handed me a covered glass dish. “And be a doll and bring me a beer,” he said as he walked past me into the living room. The football game was on, Mr. Connor and my Dad already hooting it up and spilling snacks.

  Flustered, I shut the door and walked into the kitchen. I found my mother peaking into the living room.

  “Mr. Hoover, oh my,” she said to the pot of meatballs. She straightened her apron absently.

  “You’re incorrigible,” I said, leaning in close to her.

  “I love your father, and I love looking at other men on occasion,” she said, smiling impishly.

  “Eww,” I said. “Don’t even joke,”

  “What’s that?” she said, gesturing at the glass dish in my hand.

  “Let’s find out,” I said. I pulled the tinfoil back and below was a delicious looking couscous salad. I could smell the lemon and garlic, and my mouth was watering. “He probably bought it from the store.”

  “That’s not generous, Tina,” my mother said.

  “He’s a handsome jerk. No way is he a good enough cook to make this,” I said.

  I heard a quiet cough behind me. I turned to see Mr. Hoover standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Is this where the beers are?” he said, pointing at the refrigerator. He was grinning that grin again.

  I spun around to hide my blushing face.

  “Hi, I’m Karen,” my mother said, smiling and offering her hand to Mr. Hoover.

  “Delighted,” he said, kissing her hand. “My name is Richard.”

  My mother giggled and nodded at the fridge. “Second shelf,” she said, turning back to the meatballs.

  Beer in hand, he went back into the living room.

  Arms crossed, I glared at my mother.

  “What?” she said, feigning innocence.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. I could be passive aggressive with the best of them.

  “Babe, them nachos done?” my Dad shouted from the living room.

  “Coming right up,” she said, pulling a cookie sheet piled high with nachos out of the oven. The cheese had gone all gooey and wonderful. She popped open a can of jalapeños and sprinkled a few on top, along with some black olives. “Take this into the living room, dear. And try to remember that these are our new neighbors. Be nice,” she said.