by Sophie Stern
The Tiger’s Baby
Sophie Stern
Contents
The Tiger’s Baby
Synopsis
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
Honeypot Darlings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Stern
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Synopsis
James and Arielle are expecting their first baby, but there's just one problem: he has no idea. Things weren't exactly serious between them when his unit deployed. Now Arielle has no way to contact him and let him know she's going to be having the tiger's baby.
Arielle knows she'll make a great mom, but how will James react when he returns from overseas and finds out she's going to be having his cub? Will he want to be a dad? Or will this be one more thing he finds to hate about Honeypot?
For my readers
May you find your tigers
Prologue
Six months ago
Arielle
“Who’s a naughty girl?” His voice is deep, husky, and entirely masculine. My tiger is absolutely, completely, one hundred percent bad-boy, and I’m eating it up.
“I’m a naughty girl,” I giggle, playing along. It’s all a game with us. It always is, and it’s always fun. He makes me forget the stress that carries me through the day. He makes me forget the anxiety that constantly plagues me. When we’re here, alone, he makes me forget everything but the words he’s saying.
“Does somebody need a spanking?” He asks, and I bite my bottom lip. He says it almost jokingly, almost teasingly, but we both know I’m going to say “yes.”
We both know I’m going to beg him for it.
We both know I need this right now.
My life is fine. It’s ordinary. It’s dull. To be honest, it’s nothing special. I’m nothing special. I’m just your average woman. I happen to be a shifter, but I don’t think that makes me unique or unusual. It makes me slightly different, but not much.
Everything about me is regular and normal. My appearance is plain. I’m of medium height and medium weight and my hair is a boring shade of medium-brown. My job is mediocre and my house is mediocre and my entire life is mediocre.
Still, I don’t mind much. I really have no complaints except for one: my job is completely emotionally draining. As Honeypot’s resident social worker, I deal with shifter problems every day. Not only do I handle the few child abuse cases we get, but I help out in neighboring cities, help at the hospital, and deal with other local issues, too. Basically, anytime someone is having a hard time parenting or being a good citizen, I get sent in.
And sometimes, it’s completely exhausting.
Sometimes I don’t think I can keep going.
Sometimes I think I’m done.
And somehow, when I’m with Jason, I manage to forget about all of that for a little while. I’m not a masochist and he’s not a sadist. He wouldn’t even consider himself a Dom. That’s not really our thing.
But I like losing myself in him.
I like being spanked and bitten and licked and sucked.
And I like sucking on him.
Kissing him.
Tantalizing him.
It’s in these moments when I really feel free. I really feel at ease. I feel calm and comfortable and sure of myself. He lets me explore a side of me that would otherwise be left undiscovered. Jason gives me freedom.
“I haven’t been bad enough for a spanking,” I say sweetly, but he raises an eyebrow.
“Is that so, little darling?”
“Mmhmm,” I whisper. I know he doesn’t believe me. I’ve always been bad enough for a spanking. It’s all for play. It’s all for fun. It’s all for the pleasure it brings and for me, getting spanked brings a lot of fucking pleasure.
He reaches for me and strokes my nipple. It’s already hard and ready for him. It sticks out from my breast, silently begging him to give me more, to touch me more.
I just need his mouth on me.
“Stand up,” Jason says. Slowly, seductively, I climb off the bed, wiggling my ass as I move. I turn to face him and he rolls to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. Then Jason just looks at me. His eyes wander over my body and his gaze covers every inch of me: my face, my breasts, my stomach. He looks at all of me and I’ve never felt so sexy.
I’ve never felt so complete.
He moves his finger around, indicating I should turn, and I do. My ass is facing him now, but I’m not self conscious.
I’ve never been this way around a man before. I’ve always been nervous, unsure. I’ve always been awkward and shy and clumsy.
It comes with being a bear.
I move gracefully, sometimes, but I never feel that way. Not in my ordinary life. I never feel delicate or sweet or elegant. Not unless I’m with Jason. Somehow, the tiger makes me feel like I’m the one who’s a cat. He makes me feel like being curvy isn’t a bad thing. He makes me feel like I’m beautiful despite the little bit of extra weight I carry in my hips. He makes me forget about the last five pounds I can’t seem to shed.
“Bend over,” he growls, and I hesitate for just a second. Bending over is going to give him a perfect view of my rump. I’m waxed, just for him, and I know he likes the way I look, but that’s really, really personal.
Jason and I are just friends with benefits. We’re casual fuck buddies who really, really like each other, and he’s asking me to bend over completely while he’s lounging on the bed.
He’s going to have an eye-level view of…well, of everything.
Am I ready for this?
But the cat doesn’t give me time to think because he hisses at me and I quickly bend over before he decides to make my spanking worse, before he decides to come up with a creative punishment for my hesitation.
“You made me wait, pet,” he murmurs. “And I hate waiting, especially to look at something so damn beautiful.”
I won’t tear up at his words.
I won’t tear up at the idea that he thinks I’m beautiful. I just won’t. Fuck buddies. We’re just friends who like to have sex. That’s it. It’s nothing serious. We’re casual. We’re super, totally, completely casual.
Only I haven’t been on a single date since we started messing around.
Only I haven’t even looked twice at another shifter since we first hooked up.
Only I haven’t even wanted anyone but him in nearly a year.
It’s only him.
I hear him shift, but I don’t move. I’m a little chubby, a little curvier than most of my friends, but I’m still flexible. My hands hit the floor, offering a little bit of balance to my position. Then his hands are on my bottom and I feel his tongue on my thigh. He’s kneeling behind me.
He’s right there.
“Jason,” I begin to murmur, but he nips at my leg.
“Hush, beautiful. Let me taste you.”
Jason runs his tongue up the back of my leg. He moves from my thigh to my pussy and slides his tongue in and out of me. A shiver shoots through me as he grips my thighs with his hands and licks my lips and clit with his tongue.
Soon I’m not even thinking about the fa
ct that my rear is in his face. Soon I’m not thinking about anything except that I want more.
More.
More.
He chuckles, and I realize I was whispering out loud, but he doesn’t make me wait. He doesn’t make me beg. Instead, Jason slips a finger inside of me.
“Is this what you want, princess?”
“Yes, but more. More of you. More.”
“Hmm, like this?” He adds another finger. I’m still gripping my ankles, and he chuckles against my sex. His breath feels hot against my skin. Then he licks me a little bit more while he continues to finger me.
“Your dick,” I tell him. “I want your dick.”
“Is that what you want, naughty girl?” He asks, and I nod. “Why didn’t you say so?” He stands, sliding his tongue up my skin as he does. Then I feel him palming my ass. “Although,” he whispers. “There was the matter of your spanking.”
“But-”
My protests are forgotten as the first swat hits my skin. Warm heat begins to spread over my body as he spanks me several times quickly. I bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning, to keep from egging him on, but I hear his chuckle and know it doesn’t matter.
He knows he’s got me right where he wants me.
“You like to be naughty,” he comments, swatting my thighs and bottom a few more times. He doesn’t hit me too hard: just enough to sting, just enough to make me remember who I’m dealing with.
Just enough that I’ll be feeling this tomorrow.
“You’re mine, baby,” he whispers, and I feel his cock nudging at my entrance. He’s right behind me, right there. He’s teasing me, making me wait. The anticipation is making my pussy clench. I’m getting wetter and wetter with every second, with every breath. He’s so close that I can just jerk my hips back and he’ll be inside me.
So I do.
Thrusting backward in one quick motion, I impale myself with his cock. Fuck, that feels good. I feel so full. His dick is thick and hard and I try not to cry out as he fills me, but I can’t help it. Jason makes me feel like a damn goddess, and the best part is that right now, I caught him off guard. It’s not often that the bear surprises the cat, but I got him this time. His sharp inhalation of breath tells me just how shocked he is, but in a good way. He loves this.
“Fuck,” he hisses. He wasn’t expecting that. I caught the tiger by the tail on that one, or the dick, as it were. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he groans. “So tight, baby. So tight around my dick.”
Jason wastes no time grabbing my hips and thrusting forward into me.
“Two can play this game,” he growls. I’m still bent in half, still feeling every single thrust, still feeling every bit of him as he gives himself to me over.
And over.
And over.
He fills me up again and again, showing me who owns me, showing me who dominates me. There’s no question that he’s in charge right now. I got my chance to surprise him when I pushed myself onto his cock. I got to take control for a second, but now it’s his turn.
His nails dig into my hips, giving me just the slightest bite of pain with the pleasure. My pussy is so tight around him that it’s not going to take much for me to come. It’s not going to take much for me to explode on his cock, to cover him with my juices.
Jason reaches down and tugs on my hair, pulling my head back just a little. That’s all it takes. That’s all it takes to push me over the edge because I love this. I love feeling dominated. I love feeling controlled. I love feeling taken care of and cherished and played with.
I love the way Jason makes me feel.
My climax washes over me and I cry out. My muscles squeeze his cock and I know he’s fighting his own orgasm off. He’s not going to want to come this soon, but the way he’s groaning tells me it’s not an easy battle.
That makes me feel even hotter.
Suddenly, he stops and pulls me up, spins me around, and kisses me hard. He fists my hair and grabs my ass, pulling me into himself. Our bodies are flush against each other. I can feel every inch of him. I can feel every part of Jason and I love this. I love these moments. I love these moments with him. Somehow, I know deep down that it wouldn’t be as sexy if it was with anyone else. It wouldn’t be as good. It wouldn’t be as memorable or as fantastic.
He gets me in a way no one ever has.
I don’t know if I believe in the idea of true mates. I don’t know if I believe each shifter has one other perfect person they’re meant to be with. Some of my friends are hardcore believers, but me? I just don’t know.
If I did believe in mates, I would believe Jason is mine. As he kisses me in this moment, I hold onto the dangerous hope that it’ll just be the two of us for always. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I only want to be with him. These are thoughts I shouldn’t be having. If I keep thinking this way, I’m probably going to get hurt, but I can’t stop myself. I keep wishing. I keep dreaming.
I don’t want the kiss to ever end, but it does.
“Bed,” he hisses. “Now.”
Drowsy with pleasure and exhaustion, I move slowly to the bed. I was upside down for quite awhile and I feel a little dizzy. The blood is still all rushing back to my head as I position myself in the center of the bed. I’m on my back and the mattress is soft beneath me. Jason moves swiftly, not missing a beat as he slides back inside of me.
He closes his eyes as he hovers over me, and I’m lost in this moment.
Lost to the pleasure.
Lost to him.
It doesn’t take long before we both come, climaxing in unison as we often do. I drag my nails down his back and he whispers my name, then we collapse side-by-side on the bed.
My hands don’t leave his body. I can’t stop touching him in the aftermath of our lovemaking. I don’t want to stop touching him. I don’t want to stop this moment.
The truth is that Jason isn’t mine.
He never has been.
But sometimes, when we’re lying here alone, sometimes I want him to be. Sometimes I want him to be the only one. Sometimes I want it to be him and me for always.
Sometimes I wish I was braver so I could just tell him.
Jason doesn’t believe in mates, though. He doesn’t believe in true love, at least not for himself. He’s completely supportive of his friends and their mates and their relationships, but I get the feeling he doesn’t think he’ll find love here in Honeypot.
I get the feeling he doesn’t love me the way I love him.
The way I crave him.
The way I dream of him.
I stroke his chest as we rest quietly together. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, but neither one of us minds. Shifters might be sensitive to smells, but we aren’t over-the-top about it. We’re not going to freak out over a little sweat, over a little bit of fun.
But then the scent in the air changes and I realize Jason is about to say something I’m not going to like because all I smell is anxiety. What could possibly be wrong? What could he be thinking about that changed his mood so quickly?
“What is it?” I ask quietly, trying not to panic. What is he going to say? What is he going to ask? Is this it? Is this the moment he says we have to stop sneaking around? Is this the moment he says it’s over between us?
Is this the moment he says he doesn’t want me anymore?
“I have to tell you something.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I try not to sound too anxious.
“I have to go.”
Is that it? He has to go somewhere? Why would that stress him out? It doesn’t make any sense that he would be upset about having to leave right now. The night is almost over for us, anyway. In a few minutes, I was going to get ready to head back home so I could get up early for work.
Why would he be upset that he needs to get going?
“What do you mean? Like to the station?” He’s a cop in Honeypot. He’s one of the best, in my opinion. All of the Honeypot police officers are amazing, but Jason is something specia
l. Because I’m a social worker, I often work hand-in-hand with the police to handle different issues. Jason and I spend a lot of time together in a professional setting, and it’s given me a really good impression of him as a person.
He’s strong and brave and kind. Someone might be terrified or hurting or having a hard time, and he knows exactly what it takes to calm them down. He knows exactly what it takes to help them focus on getting through the moment, on getting through the pain.
He’s not going to the station though. He’s not going to help someone. That’s not what’s on his mind right now. Even as I ask the question, the look that crosses his face tells me he’s not getting called in to work. There’s something else going on.
“No,” he says, and takes a deep breath. “I’m being deployed.”
“What? But you aren’t in the army.” Now I’m confused.
“I’m in a special shifter section of the National Guard,” he explains.
“What does that mean?” What does it mean? I know what the National Guard is, of course. I’m not dumb. Honeypot is filled with former military and we aren’t far from Forrest Air Force Base, which is basically crawling with shifters, but why Jason? And why now? And what does this mean for us? For our future?
“It means I’m being deployed on a special assignment. I’ll be gone a few months, but I won’t have contact with anyone back home while I’m gone.”
Oh.
So this is it then.
“You mean me.” I try to keep my voice even as my heart begins to crumble into a thousand pieces and my hopes are dashed, ground into the floor. He might want me or he might not, but he’s leaving. He’s leaving me. It’s over between us.
“I mean you,” his words hit me hard, but his voice is soft. His voice is tender.
“You mean this is it for us.”
“I can’t ask you to wait for me, Arielle.”
“I’ll wait for you,” I say quickly, probably too quickly. It’s not a problem, I want to say. I’d wait forever for him. Does he know that? Should I say that? Or is that too much? Is that jumping the gun a little?