Shifter Wonderland: Twelve BBW Paranormal Holiday Shape Shifter Romances

by Christin Lovell

  Hard to even want to argue when he put it that way.

  Inside, the mess from the spilled wine and broken bottle was gone. The rooms held only the barest hint of chill, though both the front and back doors had been left ajar when Eve and Tristan fled. And a fire blazed strong and high in the hearth with blankets folded and waiting on a fur rug that wasn’t Eve’s.

  She folded her arms, self-conscious and suspicious. “Cleaned and redecorated. How thoughtful.”

  “They do take their sacrifices seriously,” Tristan quipped. “Off to the shower with you. I’ll get cleaned up, too.”

  Hesitant, uncertain she trusted the turn the night’s events had suddenly taken, Eve glared somberly at Destry. “Why are you so relaxed about this?”

  The man, the horse shifter, briefly raised a brow at Eve and cast her a wicked little grin. “I’m just a very religious boy. I always do what murderous old pagan goddesses tell me.”

  Including sexing up a chubby girl who otherwise wouldn’t have had a chance with him, Eve thought to herself. The possibility, the dread, lingered as Eve got showered. In her bedroom, her closet door wouldn’t open.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake but you like to micromanage,” Eve said aloud to the stuck door, to the goddesses, not caring if they somehow heard her or not. She had to resort to the fluffy white robe laid out on the bed for her. Luxurious as the material was, it wasn’t hers, wasn’t concealing enough, wasn’t defense enough from the feelings of nakedness that gripped her as she stood in the living room to face Tristan Destry.

  Eve’s mouth went dry. The handsome social studies teacher, the star of all her secret fantasies, awaited her in just a towel slung low on his hips. His smooth skin bore no sign of the injuries he’d suffered from The Wild Hunt, making her think he must have had healing abilities. And she could see them again, those tantalizing pelvic muscles she could just imagine flexing and working furiously as his hips pumped—.

  “Eve,” Tristan whispered, “breathe. The wolves aren’t going to get you here. I promise I don’t bite.” The smile he beamed when he said that suggested that was the only thing the horse shifter didn’t do.

  Horse shifter, she thought. He’s a werehorse. Not human. How could you possibly be considering letting him….?

  “You don’t have to do this with me.” There it was, what Eve was really thinking, blurted out all over that rug between them.

  “Frau Holda says—.”

  “You don’t have to pretend.”

  Eve didn’t even realize she’d been within arm’s reach until Tristan had ahold of her by the tie on her robe and the hair at the nape of her neck. The man sent brutally abrupt tingles down her back and all over her scalp as he tugged firmly on her hair and made her tilt her head for a thorough, tongue-fucking kiss.

  “Does that feel like I’m pretending, princess?” Tristan took one of Eye’s hands and slid it up under his towel. His cock was satiny smooth and silky soft while also jutting up firm, thick, and higher at just her grazing touch. “You think a man gets that hard over a chore he’s just suffering through?”

  Eve shuddered out a ragged sigh against Tristan’s lips, into his mouth. “I’ve never been with a man who….” She swallowed hard, turning red with the heat of both embarrassment and physical need.

  “Never been with a man who appreciated a woman with a goddess’s body?” he asked, the second time he’d referred to Eve’s curves with such reverence. Eve nodded. “You’ve also never been with a shifter, princess. We all appreciate soft curves, a sweet round ass, plump pink thighs spread wide for our cocks or pressed tight around our heads.”

  Speechless, knees locked together so they wouldn’t fail her, Eve blinked up at Tristan.

  “Do you want me to stop, princess? You want me to stop talking so dirty about all the ways I’d like to enjoy your body? All the ways the gods demand I worship you tonight in a sacrifice of pleasure?”

  Dumbstruck with breathless anticipation, Eve shook her head no.

  “Good,” Tristan said as he unknotted the tie on her robe, “because I want to talk very very dirty to you while I fuck you, princess.” He abruptly, roughly jerked the robe off Eve’s shoulders to bare her heavy, tingling breasts and achingly rigid nipples. “While the filthy-mouthed beast fucks the sweet fae maiden until she’s screaming and coming on his big, hard cock. Hm, does that shock you, princess? Excite you?” Tristan’s huge, warm hands gripped Eve’s breasts and squeezed, weighed, kneaded them firmly, making her ache all the more. “What are you thinking, Eve?”

  Feeling his hands on her like that, hearing his voice saying such things, his massive cock prodding her thigh through his towel and her robe, Eve didn’t have much presence of mind left for thinking. Or maybe a little. Just enough to groan, “To hell with Cal Lovell and his Norse poetry. Say ‘fuck’ again.”

  Tristan pushed Eve onto her back on the rug. “I’ll do more than say it, princess, but you have to be ready for this cock.” For an erection Eve guessed to be half again as long as anything the average man would have had and—oh dear lord—several times as thick.

  “I am ready,” Eve said. Embarrassingly so. She could feel her own wetness slicking her inner thighs. It was too mortifying to watch as Tristan pulled Eve’s robe open and pushed her legs apart. He had to see how desperately, shamefully wet she was for him. She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

  The feeling of Tristan’s long fingers, first one and then two, probing her wet pussy made Eve’s eye fly open again as quickly as she’d closed them. He was kneeling between her thighs and stroking his ever-growing cock as he fingered Eve with deeper and deeper strokes in wider and wider circles and with tormenting twists. Ah, but it made her ache with pain and pleasure mixed so thoroughly that she couldn’t tell one from the other. Both were bliss. He had her tossing her head fitfully back and forth on the rug as she sighed and mewed and panted through her struggle. But what was she fighting? What was so wrong about allowing herself this pleasure?

  Did she just not want him to see her in the grasp of such terrible vulnerability?

  Eve had never seen anything as lewdly sensual as Tristan Destry slipping his fingers from her sex and slowly sliding them between his full lips to taste the musk and spice of her—and never taking his blue eyes off of hers all the while. The twitching and throbbing of the walls of Eve’s pussy were like orgasms all their own, constant waves of pleasure, gentle but relentless.

  Slowly, gracefully, ominously, Tristan leaned forward onto his hands and knees, then crept back along the length of Eve’s trembling body. He paused his with face between her thighs, his hot breath against her mons.

  “May the gods take their pleasure even as I take this pleasure,” he whispered before his lowered that gorgeous face to her pussy.

  “Oh god,” Eve gasped and then laughed, in instant, utter bliss. “Oh goddess.” Both cries seemed perfectly appropriate to the moment, with Tristan sucking languorously on the smooth lips of her pussy, then lightly scraping his teeth along the pearl of her clit, before driving in deep with his writhing, twisting tongue.

  As much as Tristan seemed to savor her, Eve relished each pleasure he inflicted on her. His tongue was firm with teasing flicks against her clitoris, making her every nerve thrum, then unexpectedly demanding as it thrust harshly into the tightness of her core. His mouth explored her, tormented her, devoured her. She’d never felt so exposed or so wanton or so desired.

  The shifter only lifted his face, smiling decadently, when he’d worked Eve up until she couldn’t keep still. “That’s when I know you’re ready, princess,” he teased, hot breath on her wet sex. “When you’re bucking up those curvy hips so I’ll fuck you deeper with my tongue.”

  Tristan crept up to kneel beside Eve’s head, cupping her face with one hand and wielding his cock from the base with the other. “Are you ready, Eve? Are you ready for this?” He guided his cock down to her mouth. “Lick, princess, all the way up and down. Feel that, the length of that big cock. Can you
take that all the way inside you?”

  She could. She would, or at least try. But for a moment, Eve just wanted to taste Tristan. She’d never known a man’s skin could taste so good, earthy and clean and just lightly salty. His firmness felt good against her tongue. Eve guessed he thought so, too, when he groaned and cursed and immediately moved to kneel between her legs.

  Those gorgeous pelvic muscles did flex, more perfect that the statue of a Greek or Roman god, as Tristan rolled his hips and drove his cock smoothly forward, up Eve’s pussy. Her sex burned at the intrusion, flaring at the pressure, and burned worse than that with the need for Tristan to drive deeper and stretcher her wider.

  “Oh, god,” she said, her voice keening higher. “Oh, god.”

  “That’s right, princess, scream for me.” Tristan pumped a little faster, his triumphant chuckle subsiding to his own low moans. “Scream loud enough for the gods to hear, so they’ll know how good your stallion’s cock feels thrust up deep inside your pussy.”

  It did; it felt so good Eve could hardly stand it. Tristan was taking up all the space inside her with his heat and his voice, his cock and the force of his desire. The ecstasy of feeling so penetrated and so possessed washed over her in disorienting waves. Eve kept catching herself feeling like she was about to slip away, lose consciousness, lose herself.

  “You feel that, don’t you, Eve?” Tristan murmured against the curl of her ear. She only then realized that her eyes had rolled back and closed and she was just riding through the swells of pleasure like she was floating in an ocean. “You’re going to swoon, princess. You’re going to lose yourself to me in the bliss. I’m going to make you come on my cock, and you’re going to belong to me. A fae lady and her stallion.”

  Whether this was a warning or a vow, Eve only knew that Tristan’s rhythmic motion inside her turned fiercely passionate by quick degrees. Like the storm that had pursued them. Like the inevitability of their mating.

  “Come for me,” Tristan demanded, breath roughened to a pant, faster and faster. “Come, Eve.” She whimpered now with each piercing thrust. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, but she wanted to watch her lover. His blue eyes glazed with lust, cheeks and throat and chest gleaming with the sweat of his determined effort. “Come on that big fucking cock. You feel it. You know you feel it all the way inside you. So good. You feel so damn good holding me in, baby.”

  Eve knew her own orgasm would no longer be denied, but she didn’t expect Tristan to tense in that same instant. He pounded his hips against hers savagely, pushing further and further into her body and holding each thrust at its deepest point. He ground and groaned against her. Eve’s whole body was a single fluttering climax, the beating of torrential rain, of a thousand wings, all centered on her clenching sex and her tight core.

  So sensitized, Eve felt every minute sensation as Tristan’s orgasm shook him. He filled her with heat; the rush of it inside her spread through her body. The friction of his cock against the prickling wall of her sex. The erratic tensing of his muscles, even those penetrating her.

  He breathed into Eve’s mouth as their orgasms wrung the energy and tension from their limbs, and then he kissed her. Even showered, even now glistening with sweat, he still smelled lightly of forest and rain, of fur and blood, the pheromones of both fear and desire, and so did she. This was more than a physical climax. The culmination of the whole night and everything that had changed? The inexorable destination Eve had been moving toward ever since she’d come to Evergreen?

  Tristan remained inside Eve as they calmed. That was important, she thought, telling. And welcome. He kept his weight from resting too heavily upon her by planting an elbow on each side of her head and supporting his upper body partially on his arms. As he traced his lips along her brow and cheek and the bridge of her nose, his hair brushed and tickled her skin.

  Just a day before, Eve never would have believed…. Well, a lot. She never would have believed in faeries or werewolves or horse shifters or pagan gods. She never would have believed Tristan Destry would kiss her or call or princess or nearly make her pass out from the orgasm he gave her.

  “February, princess,” Tristan whispered against Eve’s temple when she was just about asleep.

  “What’s that?’

  “The season of Yule technically doesn’t end until February. Tonight is just the height of the event.” He paused in his explanation to tease Eve’s bottom lip, scraping lightly with his teeth. It tingled. “We have a lot more nights like this ahead of us.”

  “More Yule sacrifices to be made?”

  “Exactly. You ready for that?”

  “I could be,” she said, pretending thoughtful doubt, teasing.

  “Not automatically opposed to Yuletide traditions anymore, princess?”

  Under the hulking shifter’s naked body, Eve gave a small shrug. “I think I just felt the holiday spirit move me.”

  Tristan Destry smiled wickedly. “That wasn’t a spirit, princess.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Erika Masten is a lifelong writer and award-winning author in several genres. She combines her love of mythology and steamy love stories in her shape shifter erotic romances for the plus-size reading audience.

  BBW PARANORMAL SHAPE SHIFTER ROMANCE FROM ERIKA MASTEN

  Turning Wild (An Aesir Shifters BBW Romance Novella)

  One Wild Night (An Aesir Shifters BBW Romance Short)

  A Prowl On The Wild Side (An Aesir Shifters BBW Romance Novella)

  Wilding (An Aesir Shifters BBW Romance Short)

  Aesir Shifters: The Collection

  Bad Hoss (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance: Windemere Stallions)

  If Wishes Were Horses (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance: Windemere Stallions)

  Preferred Prey (Bite of the Moon ~ Sons of Fenris MC)

  Erika Masten Online

  Email: erikamasten@gmail.com

  Web Site: http://erikamasten.com

  Blog: http://erikamasten.blogspot.com

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  Bear Humbug…By Harmony Raines

  Declan and his brothers always volunteer to work the Christmas Holidays. Why? Because they know how important family is. And since none of them have a family of their own, they think it's only fair for others to enjoy this special time of year.

  However, this year, Declan, the Sheriff of Bear Bluff, is feeling like a bear with a sore head. He wants to have a mate, he wants to have a family. So when he meets his brothers for their traditional before-Christmas-shifts-begin-drink, he is feeling like Scrooge–all bah humbug!

  What he doesn't know, is fate is about to reward him in the best way ever.

  Maria needs help, but where the hell is the sheriff?

  When her sister died, Maria came to Bear Bluff to be the sole guardian of her nephew, Jason. Thrust into this strange town, she feels like an outsider. Worse, she is sure Jason sees her as an evil stepmother and has now run off up the mountain.

  Scared he is going to freeze to death in the snow, she turns to the one man who should be able to help her, the sheriff. Because that's his job, right? Only when she first meets him, his behaviour is so strange, she wonders if he's just a guy in fancy dress. Is it possible the sheriff can pull himself together and help her find her nephew?

  And why does he keep looking at her in a way that makes her stomach go all funny? Find out what fate has in store for these two in Bear Humbug!

  Bear Humbug

  Harmony Raines

  Chapter One – Declan

  “Here we are again. Another Christmas is here and we are all still bachelors.” Declan looked at his two brothers. They were having their traditional family get-together before they all took off to work their Christmas shifts. It was three solid days of duty for which they always volunteered, because the Holidays were a time for being with mates and cubs. Something none of them had.

  “Come on, it’s not that bad. You get to spend the Holid
ays with other sad, lonely people,” Damon said, taking a sip of his beer.

  “Speak for yourselves—I love Christmas at work. Between calls, I get to spend time with all the people stuck on the wards. The nurses work hard to make it special, particularly for the kids who are in over the Holidays.” Dermot grinned. “I bet I could rustle up some lonely nurses for a bit of fun.”

  “I might take you up on that. I’m stuck with my crew at the fire station. And although there are the delightfully curvy figures of Kirsty and Sonia to gaze at, they are firmly off-limits. Work and relationships don’t mix,” Damon stated.

  “Unless you are bonded,” Declan said evenly.

  “Which we’re not.” Damon had that far off-look in his eyes, and Declan wondered how much his brother longed for a mate. A lot. Both his brothers did. While Declan, on the other hand, wasn’t interested ... oh, who was he kidding? He longed to have a woman in his bed and a cub running around. Sometimes he even dreamed of what it would be like. Getting up at stupid o’clock on Christmas morning with an overexcited child. To Declan it was the perfect dream. How sad was that?

  He was longing for something unattainable. Waiting for his bonded mate to come along was taking more patience than he possibly possessed. It was why Christmas was particularly difficult for him, usually turning him into a bear with a sore head. God help anyone who decided to break the law over this Holiday period. They would feel the very strong arm of the law. Or at least get one hell of a tongue-lashing from the Declan, who was the sheriff of Bear Bluff.

  “Let’s face it, we hate Christmas,” Declan announced. The other two rounded on him. But he insisted. “What? We do. It reminds us of everything we haven’t got, everything that we long for.”

  For a man who kept his feelings under very tight control, this was an outburst that came from… where? His heart? Yes, it did. A heart that longed to be filled with love and happiness. Damn it, he was a sap. And he could only blame the Holiday season for making these feelings surface.