Ranger Trent (Shifter Nation: Werebears Of Acadia Book 2)

by Meg Ripley

  “No, though it’s a good one. I picked the two worst people to meet on my first day,” she nodded her head back toward the crowd, “They were debating jacket cuts and now they are both insisting they got the exclusive first looks at so-and-so’s next season wardrobe and are comparing very different notes.”

  The stranger laughed, giving Rayne the chance to drink in the cleft chin, gentle stubble and firm jawline. “Would you believe it hasn’t been easy for me to make friends here either?”

  Rayne raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

  “It’s true--swear on my heart,” he leaned back from the bar and crossed his heart to reveal a rugged athletic build. “Seems that no one wants to befriend an advertiser,” he shrugged comically.

  A bartender dropped another piña colada in front of Rayne and waved away her purse. “Must be free tonight,” Rayne said as she took a large sip of her cocktail, thrilled at the creamy chill.

  “I’m Ben, by the way,” the handsome stranger extended a large, warm hand; this time, Rayne returned a gentle squeeze.

  It was a couple of seconds before Ben motioned to her, “And you are?”

  Rayne instantly reddened, and spluttered out a laugh; this cocktail is amazing!

  “I’m so sorry,” she coughed between gasps. “I’m Rayne, Raynebow Baker. Gee-whiz, this drink is definitely getting to my head!”

  “Raynebow?” Ben looked at her like she wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  “Yes, Raynebow. My parents had a spiritual awakening and joined some strange commune before I was conceived. Fortunately, they saw the error of their ways and we moved out, but not before they named me Raynebow. I was yet to learn the horrors of that name until I was finally let out of home schooling. You can call me Rayne.”

  Rayne was about to launch into twenty questions when the lounge music playing on the AV was muted and a voice cut across: “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight. Please make your way to your assigned seats in the dining room and dinner will be served.”

  Rayne was certain she could see a definite fall in Ben’s shoulders, “Looks like I’ll have to catch you a bit later, Rayne; it has been lovely meeting you.” He gave a sad little nod and made his way into the crowd. Rayne gathered her drink and followed the procession into the dining area before a gentle little hand settled on her elbow, “This way, Miss.” A staff member herded her towards a table in the center of the room lit overhead by a modern chandelier.

  Finding her name card, Rayne sat heavily in her chair and looked at the other guests. They were all a different shade of fake tan from the natural looking bronze to the sickly orange hue of poor formulations. Rayne was the only representative of a genuine indoor-colored specimen.

  Each table was equally shared between men and women. There was a near perfect split, except for one table where they seemed to be missing a man, and two women were sat together instead.

  Now that she was seated--and didn’t have to focus on standing up--Rayne took stock of her fellow guests. They were all unattached looking men and women ranging from early 20s to mid-50s, which was strange; she had expected there to be couples. The men occupied the highest echelon of the age bracket, but there seemed to be plenty of amorous flirting across the age groups--more than Rayne had ever seen before. Maybe this is how rich people date?

  For someone who worships at the temple of food, Rayne was shockingly not hungry during the meals, and neither were her compatriots. The food looked divine and had lots of delicious flavors, but she could barely stomach more than a few mouthfuls, Rayne was starting to think she may have drank a little too much. She chatted idly with her table guests and watched as they all pushed their food around, taking bites only every so often. Her thirst, however, had grown and despite feeling tipsy, she downed her cocktail; another was presented in its spot within moments.

  After dinner, the guests were guided to the open deck area. Now unsteady on her feet, Rayne took her time navigating the tables and made a beeline for some bench seats. She was quickly joined by others who also seemed a little unsteady, and ended up with two slightly older men sitting on either side of her. Guests were dividing into pockets and dispersing along the deck or wandering into other outdoor areas. Rayne looked for Ben, but couldn’t see him.

  A deep bass had started thumping through the floors, and a low melody was being played through the inbuilt AVs. Must be a DJ playing, she thought. Driven by the addictive beat, Rayne started swaying to the rhythm and tapping her feet. The men sitting on either side of her had also begun to sway and move their bodies to the sound, their hands tapping rhythmically against their thighs. The sounds seemed to intensify to a point where Rayne felt her grip slip on her glass and she dropped her cocktail, but no one looked; they were too absorbed in the music. For the first time in months, Rayne was feeling sexy, and she couldn’t resist the strange sensations that her hands were giving as she caressed her body. Almost as if by invitation, the strangers on either side of Rayne started to stroke her curves. A hand travelled up her waist and gave her left breast a sensual squeeze before slipping up to her face and gently turning it for a full mouth kiss. A thick tongue slipped into Rayne’s mouth and she sucked on it hungrily, not caring about the face on the other end. Her other neighbor was gently stroking her knee and waited until Rayne opened her thighs before slipping his hand up her soft alabaster skin.

  A hot, throbbing desire awoke inside Rayne’s center; it was like she was eighteen again and her libido had skyrocketed. The intensity inside her ached for release, and without any thought other than to satisfy her craving, she sat up and guided her neighbor’s inquisitive hand up into her panties. She let the two men guide her hands to their own crotches where she massaged their thickening lengths through their pressed pants, but her concentration was elsewhere. The hand inside her crotch had slipped past the panty line and was slickening her with a sudden rush of her wetness. Her clit ached as the stranger’s fingers fluttered and circled past.

  You’re in public, Rayne.

  As though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head, Rayne whipped her head back and untangled the hand fiddling with her panties. Looking around in shock, Rayne saw that the entire party was a tangle of bodies in various states of sex. A girl was bent over a railing, her skirt hiked up around her waist as an older man with a toupee rutted feverishly. A man and woman were dry humping on a picnic table, though it looked like the woman was only a few moments from removing her partner’s underpants. Rayne got up off the bench and was going to apologize to the strangers sitting next to her when she noticed that they had turned to fuck guests on the other side of them. All the while, that deep bass thrummed through the floors, encouraging the guests to fuck to the same rhythm.

  Rayne staggered away and found herself at a staircase that led down into what looked like a dimly lit pool and spa area. For no other reason than the throb between her legs urging her to, she took a few dainty steps down. She had hardly made it a third of the way down the staircase when she saw slithering bronze bodies gyrating against each other in the water. Rayne’s jaw dropped as she counted no fewer than nine people fucking in the shallow waters of the spa. Men with tight beer bellies swapped partners with men with six-pack abs, women turned and climbed their interchanging partners with the hunger and desire of the sex starved. Among this carnage was the flaming magenta head of Billie, who had her legs wrapped around the thickened torso of pale and blotchy stranger. Rayne was about to take another step down, her aching desire urging her down there, when a firm hold gripped her upper arm.

  “That looks like a mistake, don’t you think?”

  Rayne let the hand guide her back up the stairs and through the throng of fucking guests to a track that led back up the hill, presumably to her cabin.

  Rayne looked up at her rescuer; her heart flipped when she saw that it was Ben. “Did you…” her words were slurred, “Did you see that?”

  Ben gave a slow nod and continued to steer her up the track at a b
risk panting pace. Once they got to a clearing, Rayne was able to realize where they were. The waterfall she had passed on her way to her cabin was just ahead. Ben released her arm and took a few pointed steps away from Rayne. They stared at each other for just a few moments, both panting, the rhythm of the bass echoing up the track.

  Ben shook his head and rubbed his face with his hand. “You are so beautiful, I...I have to do this,” he said as he dropped his hand and rushed forward, locking his arms around Rayne, bringing his bristly face down to plant his soft lips upon hers. His kiss intensified as she threw her arms around him and pressed her curves into his.

  Ben pulled at Rayne’s dress and scooped her up so she could lock her legs around his waist; she was at the perfect height to feel his rock-hard length through his pressed trousers. Ben carried Rayne through the track like she weighed nothing, halting as they came to the waterfall lagoon. Gently lowering her back to the ground, Ben motioned to the lagoon and started to strip. Rayne stood dumbfounded as the moonlight revealed his chiseled abs and broad set of shoulders. Fiddling with his pants, Rayne was even more excited to see firm, muscular legs poking out of his boxer briefs. Peeling off his underwear, Rayne gasped with delight to see his rigid, thick cock spring free and point at her. Ben took a running jump and dove into the lagoon, surfacing far from his splash and calling out for Rayne to join him.

  Torn between her desire and self-consciousness, Rayne turned her back and unzipped her favorite dress, letting it fall gently to the ground. She then unhooked her bra and stepped gingerly out of her panties, giving a final over-the-shoulder look to see what Ben was up to. Ben had walked toward the shore and was standing waist-high in the lagoon, the water casting gentle shadows over his ripped body. Rayne slowly turned, and watched as Ben let his eyes venture greedily over her ample bottom and hips, nipped-in waist and pillowy breasts. The water was only a little cooler than the air around them, but it still took her by surprise as she walked in, and made her nipples pucker deliciously. Making it just to knee-height water, Rayne was taken off-guard as Ben waded purposefully toward her and scooped her up so she again wrapped her legs around him; this time, he angled her body so his thick length slid straight into her tight, hot wetness. Rayne gasped at his thick girth and Ben gave a groan as she slid slowly down his rigidness. He pressed his mouth to Rayne’s and they returned to kissing hungrily. Her throbbing center squeezed and pulled at him, causing him to buckle as his hips moved involuntarily in thrusting motions.

  Ben staggered toward the shallows and sank into the ground so they were semi-submerged. His mouth wandered down Rayne’s neckline and suckled gently at her breasts, instinctively causing her slit to tighten in delight. Unable to control the white-hot desire that screamed for them to move, Ben began to gently ease his cock in and out. Rayne angled her hips and let Ben’s bristly hair rub her swollen clit, sending wracking spasms through her body. Turned on, Ben started to thrust harder and harder into Rayne’s wetness, the squelching of her juices mingling with the splashing of the lagoon waters. Feeling her edge building, Rayne signaled for Ben to stop and shoved him down into the soft, salty earth. Straddling his narrow hips, Rayne wrapped her hands around her partner’s twitching cock and slid the head back between her pink lips, pausing and pulling him out so her muscles milked the head.

  “Fuck, Rayne...fuck.”

  Rayne was practically dripping with desire and let her hips drop down, sliding Ben’s full length into her opening. Arching her back so her clit could rub harder against her sexy partner, Rayne opened her thighs and rode her stallion until an almighty orgasm sprung from between her legs and rocketed up her body. Crushing his cock with wet intensity, Ben angled his hips up to let wave after wave of cum explode from his body, feeling it squirt back as Rayne’s slit engorged with it.

  “Now that’s a ride.”

  ****

  Rayne woke the following morning back in her bed, alone. Ben had insisted on guiding her back to her cabin, and had in return been conned into a shower where Rayne had spent a good few minutes paying lip service to his instrument.

  Rayne smiled at the memories, but a darker thought flittered under the surface. What in the actual hell happened?

  Breakfast had been left at her cabin door as instructed; it was a continental breakfast with freshly brewed coffee in a glass percolator. As she was spreading a thick layer of butter on her toast, her cabin phone started to ring. Cramming a bite into her mouth, and then quickly regretting it, Rayne swept up the phone and pretended to cough to mask her noisy swallowing.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Ms. Baker; this is Katie from customer service. I trust you had a pleasant evening?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now, not to alarm you, but two of our guests fell ill last night. We think they may have been bitten by something while out in the forest.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry--are they alright?”

  “They are being looked after, but we want to make sure that it’s contained outside of the resort. If it’s not too much trouble, do you mind if one of our nurses drops in to take your temperature?”

  “Oh, sure. I’m just having breakfast.”

  After agreeing to a time, Rayne slipped into a bikini, t-shirt and short combo in preparations for the day’s activities. She was going on a canoeing trip down some river to the beach. The nurse turned up exactly on time, leaving Rayne to wonder if they arrive early and just stand outside the doors waiting for their watches to tick over, and lugged a medical case into the cabin.

  The nurse, dressed exactly like the rest of the staff, had poorer language skills than her co-workers and chose to communicate solely through hand gestures. With Rayne sitting at the kitchen table, the nurse bustled around with her case before pulling out a penlight and shining it into Rayne’s eyes. She thrusted a tongue depressor into her mouth to take a look at her tonsils and finally took out what looked like a fancy version of an ear thermometer. The nurse seemed to have trouble calibrating the instrument, so she placed it down on the table to check her bag for something. Rayne took a good look at the thermometer and was intrigued; the display seemed to list a lot more than just temperature. There also seemed to be more buttons than any thermometer she had ever seen; perhaps it did more than just temperature readings, she thought.

  The nurse picked up her instrument and tweaked a couple of buttons, satisfied after her fourth adjustment. Without any preamble, the nurse tugged Rayne’s earlobe and stuck the metal cone into her ear canal, going a bit deeper than Rayne would have liked. After several long moments, the nurse pulled out the device and read the screen, a little disappointed by the looks of it.

  “Am I alright?”

  “You fine, enjoy day.” It was the most she had ever said, and as quickly as she arrived, she swept out again leaving Rayne to rub her sore ear.

  A motley crew of canoeists stood on the shore of a slow-flowing lagoon that they were told wound down to the beach. The group had been shepherded by resort staff and shoved into brightly-colored life jackets. Rayne stood alone to the side, unsure of how the rest of the guests would react after the previous evening’s debauchery, but the strangers made no outward sign of registration. They mingled in small pockets, fiddling with their jackets and adjusting the straps to fit. The very last person to arrive was Billie; she floated into the group silently and looked around at her surroundings, bewildered.

  “Like the latest fashion?” Rayne had sidled up to Billie and struck her best attempt at a model pose.

  “Sorry...what?” Billie’s voice was impassionate.

  “Oh, the jackets; aren’t they a crime to your eyes?” Rayne forced a chuckle.

  Billie shrugged and looked blankly into the distance. Billie didn’t look anything like she did previously; her face was devoid of makeup and she lacked her usual animation. Maybe she’s just unwell, Rayne thought. “Hey, did you have a nurse see you this morning?”

  “Hmm? Y--Yes.” Billie turned and wa
lked away toward the pile of waiting canoes, her interest in the maybe-rich Rayne fleeting.

  Fine, you magenta-haired bitch, let’s see you out-paddle me.

  The tour had been surprisingly fun. The guide had pointed out that the forest had an unusually high level of native medicinal plants and that scientists were still unravelling the mystery of the island to unlock medical marvels. He also pointed out locations where quiet visitors might spot certain animals, and they sat milling in the stream while a family of tiny monkeys jabbered and leapt across branches. Rayne was a keen rower at school; it felt good to feel the muscles tighten around her back and shoulders as she cut through the water.

  Finally making it to the ocean, the group dispersed when they were told there was a lunch marquee waiting for them. Despite being the last to make it over, Rayne wasn’t in a position to go without; there was more than enough food for several tour groups. Rayne was concerned about Billie, who had picked up a sandwich but was nibbling mindlessly at it. Billie hadn’t interacted with anyone on the tour, and had taken only fleeting looks at the amazing scenery, which was unusual for someone who made an impression everywhere she went. She had also caused some concern with the other guests, who muttered among themselves that they found her intolerably rude.

  Without the hostess watching, Rayne gathered up a selection of foods and snuck it back to the tour guide and his staff who were busily loading the canoes into a trailer. “This is just an extra thank you. You can’t refuse--I insist you take them. Throw them into the trees for all I care.” She pushed the food into the hands of the guide, spun around and left, satisfied when she heard the first crunchy bites into a bread roll.

  The rest of the evening had been uneventful. She had sunbathed on the beach, had a long shower and was getting ready for dinner. Tonight, her dinner was to be prepared by a personal chef in the cabin kitchen. A menu had been slid under her door and she had ticked the boxes promptly before popping it on her door handle. An evening alone in her cabin had been an attractive option, but knowing that there was a sex god roaming the island made her want to fling the schedule into the wind. Nonetheless, she endured the chef and his amazing culinary skills. She ended up eating--and sleeping--alone.