Shifter Babies of America Box Set 1

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Shifter Babies of America Box Set 1 Page 10

by Becca Fanning


  His eyes flicked up to her when she uttered a particularly loud moan. He dragged his tongue around the underside of her breast as she watched. “Let it out,” he said, voice savagely low. “Let me hear your voice.”

  He kissed her sternum just below her breasts, then continued down until his mouth found her belly button. He took a moment to twist his tongue around in the small depression, sending twinges of pleasure all over Ava’s body. She followed his command and made her pleasure known with her voice.

  Candor lifted himself from her, breathing heavily. Without taking his eyes off hers, her reached down and ripped open the button of her jeans. The zipper came next. Ava sighed with relief as the material loosened from her body. Candor hooked his fingers into her belt loops and slowly dragged the jeans down, exposing her hips, trembling legs, and plain sky-blue panties. Standing, he pulled the pants off her feet and discarded them.

  “Now yours,” Ava said around her heaving breaths.

  Candor tilted his head in that animal way. “Pardon?”

  She shifted her bare legs over one another. His eyes immediately followed the motion, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one being stripped here,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically husky.

  Candor grinned. The small towel had fallen from his neck long ago, but the one wrapped around his waist remained. He tugged it off with a single motion and let it fall. His skin glowed in the warm light, its rippling smoothness interrupted only by the glaring wounds peppering his chest and arms. Ava’s gaze, however, was drawn further downward. The length of hardened erection stood alert and ready.

  Ava dragged in a breath, her damp crease pulsing. “Candor,” she rasped. “I need you. I need you now.”

  Candor gazed at her with deep, hooded golden eyes. He prowled toward the bed. His hands reached out and curled around her ankles, then slid up her calves. The skin behind her knees was especially sensitive: she moaned and curled back into the bed when his fingers grazed over it. His hands continued on up her thighs, over her hips, until the tips of his fingers had inched under the edge of her panties. He glanced up at her as he curled his fingers around the blue fabric.

  Ava’s breaths were so hot she expected to see steam rising in front of her. “You’d better not be asking permission,” she murmured sarcastically.

  A wild half-grin broke out on Candor’s face. He eased the panties down, revealing the tuft of light brown hair that crowned Ava’s dripping folds.

  Candor propped Ava’s knees on his shoulders and lowered his head. Without warning he dragged his tongue over her slick cleft, making her cry out and writhe on the bed. Another swipe of his tongue, deeper this time, as if he wanted to drink her in.

  Ava clawed at the sheets. “More, Candor,” she begged. “It’s not enough. Please…”

  Candor rose and bent over her once more. He pressed a kiss against her throat as his hand cupped her vulva. “I know, darling,” he rasped. “Soon.” His fingers worked over her folds in a rhythm that began slow, but quickly gained momentum. His forefinger slipped inside her. She groaned deeply as her muscles drew in the intrusion, seeking to take him in deeper.

  “No patience,” Candor murmured into her ear. “No patience at all.”

  Through gritted teeth, Ava said, “Screw patience. You know what I want.”

  Candor growled, his finger easing out of her. He gripped her knees and drew her legs apart, settling between them. “Once I’m in you,” he said, “there is no taking it back. You’re mine for good.”

  Ava grinned. “Sounds good to me. Now, shut the hell up and get inside me.”

  Candor smiled teasingly. “I don’t know if I like you when you’re aroused.”

  Ava lurched upward, grabbed his face, and kissed him viciously. “Do it,” she growled into his mouth. His deep chuckle rumbled against her lips.

  The swollen end of his member brushed against her trembling mound. He released one of her legs to guide himself to her. His head pushed into her aching opening. She moaned loudly. He grabbed her hips and pushed himself in farther, making her wail with pleasure. “Deeper,” she encouraged, gasping. Candor obeyed, and with a final heave he was deeper in her than any man had ever been before.

  Candor began rocking his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm. Ava clung to his shoulders, matching his movements. With every plunge she let out a gasping cry. She could feel her climax rising up from deep within her belly. “Faster!” she urged. “It’s coming, Candor, it’s coming!”

  Candor’s breaths were quick and rasping. “Get ready,” he growled. He pumped faster, hips slamming into hers like the tide crashing against a cliff face. He brought her closer and closer to the edge. Her toes curled into the sheets, her back arched away from the mattress. All at once her climax seized her, gripping Candor’s member and pulling him even deeper into her.

  Candor roared as his own pleasure crested. Ava felt his seed release and flood into her. The room around her blurred. Pain, grief, fear. All of it faded away until the only thing she knew was Candor’s hot breath against her neck and his pulsing cock buried inside her.

  Their climax subsided gradually. To Ava it felt like an eternity. They breathed heavily in unison for several long moments. Then, Candor drew himself out of her, wrapped his arms around her and rolled over so she was lying on his chest. He nuzzled her hair. “Mine,” he murmured.

  Ava closed her eyes and smiled, running her hand over his sweat-dampened chest. “Mine,” she agreed.

  Four months later…

  Candor propped open the Randolphs’ front door with one foot while holding a stack of wrapped gifts in his arms.

  “Thanks, babe,” Ava said, slipping past him into the house. In each hand she held a big gift bag with colorful tissue paper spewing out of the tops. “Anyone home?” she called into the house.

  Pearle appeared in the foyer, a thrilled smile on her face. “Ava! Candor! You made it! Come in, please! Candor, you can set those down right over here. Ava, darling, you’re looking wonderful!” She embraced Ava, then held her by the shoulders and looked down at the not-so-subtle bump protruding under Ava’s sweater. Beaming, she said, “My, the twins are coming along just fine, aren’t they?”

  Several footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a moment later Trent, the boys, and Lynn appeared.

  “Ava!” Lynn squealed, dashing past her father.

  “Hey you!” Ava exclaimed, wrapping the little girl up in a hug.

  “Gently, dear!” Pearle said to Lynn.

  “It’s alright,” Ava said, grinning. “These kids are tough, just like their dad.” She stroked a hand across her swollen belly.

  Trent, Marcus, and Peter finished their descent down the stairs. Candor, having deposited the gifts where Pearle had directed, went and did one of the things he never thought he’d ever do: he held his hand out to Trent. Trent took it and shook it firmly. “We’re glad you could be here with us this Christmas,” he said.

  Candor nodded. “We’re glad you’re willing to have us.”

  “Well, come on then,” Pearle coaxed, herding everyone toward the kitchen. “There’s coffee and hot cocoa and gingerbread that needs eating.”

  The kids headed up the line at the mention of gingerbread.

  When they entered the den, Ava exclaimed, “Wow! You guys really know how to decorate.” A seven-foot tree stood in the corner of the large room, bedecked with deep red and green ornaments that matched the garland hanging from the mantel.

  “I put the star on the tree,” Marcus pointed out.

  Peter elbowed him. “With my help!”

  Trent laughed. Pearle rolled her eyes and gave Candor and Ava a secret grin.

  Soon everyone was warming their hands with a mug of coffee or hot chocolate and sitting on the couches in the den. The fire roared cheerfully in the fireplace.

  “So,” Pearle said excitedly. “How did the ultrasound go?”

  Candor sat next to Ava with an arm around her. He looked down at her
, knowing she would want to be the one who answered.

  “They can’t tell the sexes yet, but I just know it’s going to a boy and a girl.” She sipped her hot cocoa and glanced playfully up at Candor. “Candie thinks it’s going to be two boys.”

  Trent, who had been in the middle of drinking his coffee, choked and coughed. Pearle giggled. “Well, maybe Candie has the right of it. Instincts and all.” She winked at Candor.

  Candor was not typically bashful, but he felt his ears grow red at Ava’s use of the nickname she’d devised for him.

  Ava shook her head. “Nope. It’s a boy and a girl.” She patted her belly. “Mommy has instincts too, you know.” She looked up at Candor. “Do you wanna tell them what the kids’ names are going to be?”

  Candor sighed good-naturedly. “Amara Belle and Aaron Xander.”

  Trent perked up. “Belle,” he said, gazing softly at Ava. “Like your mom.”

  Ava smiled and nodded. Her eyes were clear, but Candor knew she was holding back tears. “And Xander,” she said, laying her hand on his knee, “for his brother.”

  Trent stood, lifting his coffee mug into the air. “To Belle and Xander,” he said.

  A strange warmth hummed in Candor’s chest as he raised his mug to join everyone else’s. As one, they said, “To Bell and Xander.”

  Ava added, “May the people who have left us bring us strength with their memory.” A single tear slid down her cheek. Even so, Candor had never seen a happier look on her face.

  * * *

  FIN

  The Baby Shift: Louisiana

  The evening air was thick with moisture and still clung with the heat of the day even as the sun made its final decent. It should have felt stifling, but somehow it was a comfort as Ella Walsh finally came to the end of her journey. The air carried the scents typical to any city, but beneath that the scent of water, the perfume of flowers, and the rich smell of vegetation brought a sense of life, of wildness and freedom to mind. It was almost as if each breath of the New Orleans’ air was charged with longing and possibility, like a life-changing decision could be made if only one had the courage to step outside the expected ‒ to follow instinct rather than the set plan for their lives.

  Silly, Ella chastised herself. She should be more than aware by now of how much one’s outlook could change with a new location; of how the heart of a place could twist how you saw everything. This was just another assignment, and nothing life altering would happen here. The city might be magic, but in a short time she would go back to her empty apartment before moving on to the next place, to experience its magic and capture it with pen and paper.

  She sighed with relief as she pulled into the parking lot of the Bayou Sauvage Inn, wishing she could expel her unrest in that same breath. She would play the hand she’d been dealt and finish this assignment. As long as she kept believing that eventually her hard work would pay off she could handle her current job a bit longer. No, scratch that. She could handle it for as long as it took. Surely eventually they would recognize that she was capable of so much more than travel articles.

  Ella took a sip of the coffee she’d bought at a rest stop along the way, then grimaced. If the caffeine couldn’t revive her, the taste might just be offensive enough to do the trick. She wasn’t as tired as she could have been—she was doing pretty well considering how long she had been traveling—but Ella was determined to take in every detail as she checked into the small B&B. First impressions were an important part of any review, and she needed for this article to be…well, amazing. Ignoring the small voice inside her that whispered that quality reviews would only lead to more of the same, not to the kinds of assignments she longed to write about, Ella quickly gathered her purse and luggage and made her way to the front door.

  The small inn had been described as a creole cottage on its website. Ella could admit, even in her mildly pessimistic and travel worn state, that the two-story structure was charming. It’s wrap-around porch sported a few cozy seating areas, and the clean lines of the architecture—enhanced by the artful placement of furniture and some truly impressive landscaping—came together to form a very inviting picture. Ella couldn’t help a small smile as a description started coming together in her mind for the article. If the inside was as welcoming as the exterior, the Bayou Sauvage Inn was sure to be recommended to anyone who read her article before visiting New Orleans.

  Once inside, cool air replaced the balmy evening breeze, and for some reason Ella felt a small sense of loss. But, she reminded herself, she would be here for weeks before her article was written for the travel magazine she worked for. She foresaw plenty more warm evenings outdoors in her near future, along with plenty of restaurants, casinos, and tourist shops. Even though she was tired of writing travel reviews, having a job that sent you on vacation after vacation definitely had its perks.

  The entrance opened to a cozy common area that had a counter set up to the side for check-ins. No one was there to greet her, but Ella could hear voices down a hallway to her right. She started to wait to be checked in, but she wanted nothing more after her long day than to be checked into her room and officially done with her journey. It was amazing how much difference a shower and a good night’s sleep could make, and her last assignment had been across the country so she’d had neither. She had stopped by her apartment long enough to repack her suitcases and then driven straight here.

  Ella was tired in a way that only jetlag could make one tired. She could wait, or she could follow the sound of the voices and see if one of them belonged to the employee who could give her a room key. Ella shrugged to herself, propped her suitcase against the counter, and headed down the hallway.

  Ella had every intention of calling out to make herself known, but some instinct stopped her. She couldn’t yet make out the conversation that was happening down the hallway, but something about the tone and cadence of the words being spoken made her curious to hear more. She made sure to walk softly as she listened intently, trying to decipher what was being said.

  The voice was deep and slightly rough, and Ella couldn’t help thinking that if the man matched his voice it would be enough to make a woman’s toes curl just being in the same room with him. She smiled and shook her head, bemused at the direction her thoughts had so quickly taken. She’d obviously been single for too long. The man was probably nothing special to look at…no way would mother nature gift someone with that voice and looks…

  “If we show weakness now we lose before the battle can truly begin. You know that, Alice. But damned if I know where to strike…”

  Ella froze, knowing that it would be obvious that she was eavesdropping the second they glanced her way—she’d turned a corner and could see them now, and—miracle of miracles—the voice did match the man. Tall, dark, and handsome might be a worn-out phrase, but it was first coined with a man like this in mind. He easily topped six feet and wavy dark hair set off the man’s brilliant gold eyes. The unruly locks gave a dangerous edge that would have been missing otherwise. His features were too sleek and sharp, almost too attractive to lend him a truly dangerous edge. Still, somehow she knew that this man was, without a doubt, dangerous. Ella pushed down the attraction, hungrier for information than for a whirlwind relationship during her short time in New Orleans.

  “How many more might we lose if you don’t at least try to find out who the hell this is and negotiate, like you should have weeks ago? Do you want more blood on your hands?”

  Ella couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her, and at the sound the man—whose description she updated to tall, dark, handsome, and decidedly menacing—spun toward her. As his golden eyes locked with hers, Ella couldn’t stop the shiver of dread that rolled up her spine any more than she could stop the desire that shot through her.

  “What the hell are you doing there?” tall, dark, and menacing demanded, “Can’t you see this is a private conversation?”

  “I was,” Ella’s voice seemed to have caught in her throat, and she had to
try again for a stronger tone. “I was trying to check in, but you seem to be too busy monopolizing hotel employees for that to happen sometime tonight.”

  He stared at her long enough to make her want to squirm, but Ella held her head high, determined not to be bullied. She was afraid she’d made a mistake in standing up to him, but then a wry smile twisted his lips, and Ella breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Alice is a part of my family and my employee, so I think I can monopolize her all I want,” he said as he walked toward Ella. He moved with a predatory grace that somehow emanated both power and sexuality. “Still, you’re right of course. I will quit…monopolizing her so that you can get checked in and make yourself comfortable.”

  For a moment Ella thought he might take her hand and introduce himself, but he strode right by her and walked out the front door. Ella couldn’t decide to save her life whether she was relieved or disappointed. Maybe, she admitted ruefully to herself, a bit of both.

  “Don’t mind him,” the girl said after he’d gone, “Victor can be kind of intense, but he’s a great guy and an even better boss. Now come on, let’s go get you checked in. My name’s Alice, by the way.”

  Alice’s smile was contagious, and Ella couldn’t help smiling in response. “I’m Ella Walsh. It’s really nice to meet you, Alice.”

  “So, what brings you to New Orleans?” Alice’s voice curled lazily around the consonants with a relaxed drawl that was somehow more charming, less jarring than depictions of Louisiana accents that Ella had heard in movies.

  “Well, I’m writing an article. Kind of a travel guide, actually. You guys are my first stop.”

  Alice rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “And somehow Victor managed to make you feel unwelcome the second you entered the building. I swear, sometimes I think his self-destructive streak is more a natural talent than a choice.”

 

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