Blurb:
On a cold
New York City night he came to her, his desperate need for companionship
gleaming in all-too-human eyes and, despite his beastly appearance, Rosa let
him in. Although her days may continue as usual, Rosa’s life is forever changed
by Bear’s nightly visits, during which he gives her strength and peace, and
fulfills her every erotic desire.
As their
connection grows, so do the problems brought on by life outside. There’s
trouble brewing at the theater where Rosa is rehearsing for her big break and,
just when she needs him most, Bear is leaving, perhaps never to return. It now
becomes apparent happily-ever-afters really do only happen in fairy tales, not
in the world of Rosa Redford.
Chapter One
“I’m not hungry,” he held out his hands, as though showing her those strong, hairy fingers would be proof enough. “I’ve already…supped. All I want is companionship. The world is such a cold place.”Behind him the snow fell in thick flakes, drifting down like feathers to settle on his fur-covered head and shoulders, clinging to the long eyelashes. Dark, all-too-human eyes glowed with silent entreaty from the beastly face. But despite his horrifying appearance Rosa removed the chain and let him in.
As he entered slowly his dark gaze swept over the second-hand furniture and old stage props, the detritus of their theatre jobs, and myriad potted plants. What he thought about any of it, the marks of their occupations and personalities, she couldn’t tell. He expressed no opinion, simply prowled around the edge of the living room, looking and sniffing at everything before plunking down on the couch.
“What’s going on?”
Blanche came down the passage rubbing her eyes, the hem of her short nightie swinging around her thighs. His gaze sharpened. Blanche gasped, seeing the hairy man-thing.
“I just wanted some company.”
Once more loneliness echoed in his voice and, when Rosa glanced at Blanche, her friend’s mouth pursed into a winsome pout. A spark of annoyance fired in her belly. Why did Blanche always have to be so cute, even with her pale, straight hair all over the place and sleep-lines on her face?
“No problem.” Blanche dropped onto the couch too, curling her long, slim legs up under her ass. “Company is always a good thing, right Rosa?”
Well, there was company and then there was company, and Rosa wasn’t sure what to make of the present kind.
“Would you care for a drink?” she shifted from one foot to the other, asking more out of the need to say something, rather than politeness.
“What do you have?” He was still casing the joint, so to speak, but his eyes now went from her to Blanche and back again.
She glanced at the cabinet, trying to remember what was left. “Vodka, gin, maybe scotch. We killed the tequila last night though.”
He laughed, and the deep, rich chuckle, the strong, sharp teeth made every hair on her body stand on end. “Just as well. Tequila makes me want to live la vida loca. You don’t want to see that.”
Strangely though, she kinda did. Would he climb on the table—climb on her—and howl to the moon?
“So, nothing then?”
Now his gaze settled fully on her, eyes seeming to penetrate into her soul, and warmth flashed over her skin. Beneath the white t-shirt her nipples came to attention and a buzz of arousal took residence in her pussy. She wasn’t aware of licking her lips until his attention dropped and a low growl issued from his throat. Even when she forced herself to stop his eyes didn’t move, stayed on her mouth.
Her legs wobbled.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Screwdrivers,” Blanche said, uncharacteristically decisive, already heading for the kitchen. “I’ll get the ice.”
With trembling hands Rosa poured the vodka, awareness tightening her skin, blood flowing thick and hot, like lava, in her veins. Blanche came back and dropped cubes into the glasses, added a splash of juice to each, but she may as well be a ghost. All Rosa could focus on was the creature across the room—the hint of scent filling the apartment.
Blanche took her drink, leaving two glasses behind. Rosa stared down at them for a moment, trying to pull herself together, but his allure was too strong. Picking up the drinks, she walked over and gave him his, shivering slightly at the brush of his fingers, her heart rate picking up speed. Her mouth was dry so she took a sip, hardly noticing the cool bite of the alcohol going down. Like a mirror image he did the same, and she watched the powerful throat move, yearned to put her lips there, feel the muscles shift.
Who are you, she wanted to ask, what are you? But although the questions lingered, they didn’t seem important. The only one that mattered was whether it was her or Blanche. With her long legs and willowy figure, quiet Blanche attracted lots of guys, although Rosa couldn’t complain. Her more rounded figure, Latin looks and outgoing personality garnered attention enough, and they never fought over men. But, this time, Rosa wanted the beast for herself.
He growled, a low, sustained sound, and leaned forward slightly. His eyes burned, matching the heat already inundating her body, melting whatever hesitancy remained. Letting her gaze drop, she saw his cock rising, long, dark and thick, from the hair of his groin. Stepping towards him, she nudged his legs apart, knelt between them.
“Damn,” Blanche sighed.
“She’s the one,” he replied. “But you can watch, if you like.”
Rosa ignored them, intent on his growing cock. It curved up towards his belly, the head so smooth she salivated to taste it. He plucked the glass from her hand and she smiled, reaching for him. When she circled his cock with her cold fingers, he growled again and a giggle escaped her.
Then there was no more time for laughter.
His glans filled her mouth—texture, taste and arousing scent exploding in her head all at once. It was like she’d been starved but now had a feast, wanted to devour him. Licking and sucking, learning the shape of him with her tongue, his fingers tunneling into her hair to hold her in place, she couldn’t get enough. The base of his cock pulsed, and she laved a thick bead of pre-come from the tip, knowing he was close, wanting to hear and feel him let go in her mouth.
When he pushed her away she fell, gasping, on her ass, the sense of loss indescribable.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he growled, and she saw his muscles bunch, poised to spring. “No, no, no…”
He was on her, ripping her t-shirt away, tearing at her panties with his teeth, and everything became a slow-motion blur, a cacophony of growls and gasps and moans, a tsunami of sensations. Licking and nibbling his way over her body, pushing her breasts together with his powerful hands, sucking and growling around her nipples. Working his way down, parting her legs, swirling his tongue between the lips of her pussy, surrounding her clit, the knowledge of those strong teeth close to her flesh bringing her to screaming climax.
And could he fuck! He made her glad for the stamina and flexibility brought on by years of dancing, because missionary clearly wasn’t in his vocabulary. Twisting her, this way and that, clutching with his claws, cock unerringly finding its way home, he gave her orgasm after orgasm. At the end Rosa found herself practically doing a split on the back of the couch, his cock driving into her from behind as she held herself aloft with a death-grip on the cushion in front of her hips. Blanche stared up at them, blue eyes wide, her usually pale cheeks bright pink, lips open as she panted. She was thrusting a neon-green vibrator into her cunt, fingers of her other hand pinching and tugging at her nipples.
His cock went deep and he leaned into Rosa, teeth grazing her shoulder, scraping up to her neck. No reason why that should make her lose control, but it did. Entire body shuddering, she was the one who howled, pumping her hips with short, hard, movements, his cock moving with delicious friction in her pussy.
“So tight,” he growled into her ear. “So wet and sweet.”
She couldn’t answer, could do nothing but let the waves of orgasm break over her, revel in him filling her, hearing his words dissolve into the primal sounds of his release.
The last things she remembered was asking, “What would happen if I gave you tequila?” and his answering chuckle.
Waking up, blinking against the sunlight coming in through the window, she realized the warm, soft body snuggled with hers on the couch was Blanche’s.
“Wow,” Blanche stirred, yawned. “I had the wildest dream.”
“Did it involve a hairy man-beast thing?”
Blanche went still. “Yeah,” she replied slowly.
“And do you own a neon-green vibrator?”
“Damn…so it wasn’t a dream?”
Rosa didn’t bother to answer. What was there to say?
*****
The winter fell into an otherworldly pattern—working during the day and Bear, as they took to calling him since he wouldn’t tell them his name, at night.
For the first time in years Rosa and Blanche were working on the same project, an off-Broadway production by the world-renowned team of Short and Dean. Still in rehearsals, Rosa had one of the leads while Blanche worked on the set designs, so they spent even more time together than usual. Normally Rosa would have been stressed to the max with opening night only six weeks away but somehow she floated through. Not even the tantrums and scathing remarks of producer David Short, who often came to monitor the cast’s progress, fazed her.
This easy-going attitude must be linked to Bear’s nightly visits. They didn’t have sex every night, but for the first time she was getting both quality and quantity, along with a friendship she came to treasure. Although Rosa was the focus of his attention, Blanche didn’t seem to mind.
“I never thought myself a voyeur,” she said one day when they were standing near the stage door at the end of the lunch interval. A touch of color brightened her pale cheeks, and her eyes sparkled. “But watching you two together is amazing.”
“Well, we all knew I was an exhibitionist, although not in that way,” Rosa replied. “Bear brings out the beast in me.”
They were both laughing when David Short came by, the heavy woolen cloak he affected swirling around his ankles.
“Well, what have we here? Two of my favorite girls. You really must come by my place one evening.” He winked, his lascivious gaze causing a shiver of distaste to trickle up Rosa’s spine. “We’d have fun, I guarantee.”
He left without waiting for a reply, letting a blast of cold air and a swirl of snow into the corridor. As he went out, the wind slammed the heavy door shut behind him, catching the hem of his cloak between it and the jamb. Rosa and Blanche stared at the fabric for a moment then exchanged a look. There was no way for Short to open the door from the outside.
“Asshole,” Blanche said. “His partner seemed nice when he came that one time, but this guy gives me the creeps. Ignore it—the porter will be back in a while and set him free.”
Rosa shrugged, already moving towards the exit. “He’s a jackass but also the producer, and it’s cold out there.”
But the fabric jammed the door shut and it took both of them shoving before the door sprang open. Short had obviously been tugging hard on the other side and the sudden opening of the door sent him flying, face-first, into a snow bank. Rosa bit her cheek in an effort to stop the laughter welling inside.
“You stupid bitches,” Short snarled, once he’d spat out the snow. “Look what you did. I’ll have you fired for this.”
Without a word Blanche nudged Rosa back inside and closed the door. “Wow,” she said. “Just, wow.”
“Asshole,” Rosa bunched her fists. “The union will make him eat his balls for breakfast if he tries it.”
But at night, when she let Bear in, everything outside the apartment fell away and he was all Rosa cared about. She’d never had a lover like him—one who concentrated solely on her, even ignoring Blanche who often stayed to watch while they made love. Whether she was there or not, it was always the same. Bear made sure Rosa was exhausted with pleasure by the time he slipped back out into the cold dawn, and she’d drift to sleep, carrying the memory of his eyes into her dreams.
Sometimes he was fierce, fucking her hard and long, slamming his cock into her pussy until the entire world shrunk to just that one amazing point of contact and she exploded into orgasm. Other times he was tender, loving her slowly, touching, kissing, licking, sliding into her with infinite care or rolling so she was on top and could take him at her own pace, in her own way. Then there were the nights when he took one look at her, and suggested a game of poker if Blanche was around or a movie if they were alone.
It was always right. Somehow whatever she needed on any given night, he willingly, ably, supplied.
On the mornings after a night of sweaty, limb-tangling, balls-to-the-wall sex, Rosa would be energized, raring to hit the street running. After one of the slower, dreamier nights, she woke up mellow, able to take everything in her stride. How much better life seemed with Bear in it—more balanced, easier to handle.
He made her feel indomitable.
Chapter Two
Spring approached, along with opening night. The theater was chaotic but Rosa moved through final rehearsals with confidence, despite a number of run-ins with David Short. They were all silly incidents, like him getting angry when she told him his phone, which he’d left on a seat while he spoke to one of the grips, was ringing. Or the day he pushed past her on the stairs and tripped. She’d instinctively grabbed and stopped him from falling, but he’d still bawled her out for inadvertently tearing his shirt while she did.The director called Rosa aside one day.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to Short,” he whispered, obviously not wanting anyone else to hear, “but you better watch yourself. He’s talking up your understudy, nit-picking about your performance.”
A chill of fear careened through her veins. The part was her big break, her first lead in a production of this size. “Are you thinking of replacing me?”
“I’m happy with you—think you’re doing an excellent job—but I don’t hold the purse-strings.” Raking his fingers through his hair only made the strands stand up even more, and the nervous energy emanating from him was palpable. “I wish the other partner, Dean, was handling this project. Word is he’s far easier to deal with.”
He didn’t say any more but the inference was clear. Short could force Rosa out if he really wanted and the director couldn’t—or wouldn’t—protect her.
When she told Blanche, her friend was horrified, and had her own problems with Short.
“He’s been constantly questioning everything I do. Worse, today I accidentally caught him and Daria in the prop room, fucking.”
“He’s screwing my understudy?” Rosa had the urge to punch something.
Blanche nodded, “Yep, and apparently doesn’t care who knows. They weren’t even discreet.”
Rosa dropped her head into her hands. “Between that and the incident with the snow-bank, we’re screwed. If we both lose our jobs, we’ll be in shit for sure.”
That night Bear was later than usual and anxiety, sparking under her skin, wouldn’t let Rosa sit still.
“Calm down,” Blanche checked her watch and picked up her clutch purse. “I’ve never seen you so keyed up. I almost hate to leave you in this state.”
Rosa forced herself to sit, realized she was convulsively tapping her foot and held it still too. It was the first date Blanche was going on in ages, and she didn’t want to spoil it. “I’ll be fine.”
Once Bear gets here.
Finally there was a knock, and she ran to answer. Bear came in, but there was no lessening of her nervous tension. Instead it ratcheted higher.
As the door closed behind him, Bear picked her up and carried her down the hall towards her bedroom. Rosa clasped her legs around him, pressing close, burying her face in the soft pelt on his neck, digging her fingernails into his back. His chest vibrated with a barely audible sound, his cock rising, nudging her satin-clad pussy, and she rocked against it, already yearning to feel it inside, stretching her, bringing her to orgasm.
Dropping her in the middle of the bed, he straddled her legs.
“Why do you insist on wearing so much clothing?” he growled, breaking the straps of her bodice with strong twists of his hands. “I don’t want you hiding from me.”
She was caught in the dark need of his gaze, hunger for him churning inside her, making her nipples tingle and ache, her hips rise in silent invitation. In reply he shredded the central lace panel of her teddy, peeled aside the satin covering her breasts, chuckled as a shudder of anticipation wracked her frame.
Swirling his tongue from one side to the other, he didn’t missing an inch, teasing the undersides, the outer curves and valley between, scraping his teeth against her skin. Holding on to his shoulders, she tried to open her legs but he effortlessly held them closed between powerful thighs. His cock rubbed against her mound, the sensation entwining with those from his mouth, and Rosa arced upwards, eyes closing in ecstasy.
Straightening, shifting forward, he pressed her breasts together.
“Yes,” she groaned, lifting her head to watch his cock slide into the valley created by her soft flesh. Opening her mouth to receive his glans as he thrust forward was rewarded by a groan of approval.
Tasting his excitement, feeling the evidence of it on her skin only increased her arousal. Longing overwhelmed her and she curled upwards, wanting him fully in her mouth.
As though knowing her desires, he lifted away and turned so he was lying beside her, facing her feet. With a moan of satisfaction Rosa rolled onto her side and, just as he tore at her g-string, she engulfed his cock, taking him as deeply as she could. For a moment he went rigid, his muscular body stiffening, hips thrusting instinctively. The feel of him on her tongue, his balls contracting in her hand, took her excitement to new heights.
Bear’s mouth covered her pussy, lips sucking, tongue flaying, teeth scraping, and she was forced to let him go, her body going into overloaded, convulsing with shock after orgasmic shock. And he held her there, keeping her on the knife-edge of passion until, with a strangled shriek, she once more succumbed, writhing under the strength of her release.
While she was still trying to catch her breath, her body shuddering with aftershocks, he moved with lithe speed to roll and cover her body with his, bringing them face-to-face. His gaze was fierce, the tip of his cock poised to thrust into her still-quivering pussy. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms coming up to hold on to his neck, and he trembled in turn.
“Remember this,” he growled in a passion-thicken voice. “Remember me.”
And she knew, even as he penetrated her, causing her body to spasm anew, he wouldn’t return. So she held him tighter, tighter yet, lifting her hips to accept and encourage each desperate thrust, wanting to brand this final coming together in his memory—to in turn never be forgotten.
Buried as deep as possible inside her, holding still, he lifted his head.
“Look at me, Rosa” he demanded.
Blinking against tears she obeyed, meeting his gaze, seeing fear, sadness and an indefinable something that caused her breaking heart to suddenly soar. When he began to move again it was with slow intent, each motion imbued with the magic he’d brought to her life, filling her soul as well as her body. She would never be completely free of him, she knew, never be the woman she was before Bear entered her life. But she was better for knowing him, and couldn’t regret anything. Including these exquisite, beautiful, excruciating moments when, staring into his eyes, she felt the end approaching.
There were no words, only emotion and the language of their bodies straining together, climax only one more thrust, one swivel of the hips away. She felt her orgasm start—ripples turning to waves and then a surge of pleasure—heard herself cry out in ecstasy. He responded, driving into her again and again, his voice joining hers in a cacophony of mutual bliss, prolonging her pleasure as he took his, not stopping until the final shudder had receded and she grew quiet once more.
Silently they held each other and Rosa fought sleep, not wanting to miss a single second of being in his arms. Eventually the aftermath of the emotional storm claimed her, but as she drifted off she thought she heard him whisper:
“I’ll be back—if I can.”
*****
Dress rehearsal passed in a blur, but Rosa knew her performance was the best she’d ever given. Losing Bear, missing him, was a constant ache that gave her strange new strength and she put all the emotion tearing at her into the part.
“Fantastic!” The director grabbed her, kissed both her cheeks, grinning like crazy, his hair only moderately askew, which she took to be a good sign. “You were brilliant, love. Do that on opening night and I’ll drink champagne from your shoe.”
He whirled off to speak to someone else and Rosa heard a voice murmur behind her, “He might be happy, but he’s not the one you have to please.”
She turned slowly towards David Short, fighting to keep the smile on her face.
“Did you find my performance lacking in some way, Mr. Short?”
A mocking smile twisted the producer’s lips, as he replied. “I thought it a bit wooden. Maybe you need to loosen up a bit. I can help you with that—especially if you bring your blonde friend along.”
There was no mistaking his meaning, and a rush of mingled fear and fury burned through Rosa’s blood.
So this was what it all came down to—a choice between her job and her self-respect? Despite all her hard work she still had to screw the producer or throw away the past six months of effort?
Leaning close, she smiled even wider and softly said, “Fuck you, Mr. Short. I’d rather go back to waiting tables.”
“You’ll have to,” he said as she turned to walk away. “That, or stripping, is the only job you’ll be able to get.”
Fuming, she pushed through the still milling crowd, refusing to look back. Going backstage she pulled off her costume and, without stopping to remove her makeup, threw on her street clothes. She hesitated about packing up her bits and pieces, finally left them scattered on the table. If they really were going to fire her, it was going to have to be in front of the entire cast. There was no way she’d go quietly.
The rest of the company was still celebrating and it took a while to find Blanche. Pulling her aside, she said, “I have to get out of here. You coming?”
Blanche shook her head, although concern showed in her expression. “I have to stick around. Some of the crew members are moving on to other jobs after tonight and I promised to hang with them for a while. Are you okay?”
Rosa grimaced. “Short just threatened me again.”
“Shit.” Blanche glanced over her shoulder at the crew. “I can cry off.”
“No,” Rosa squeezed her arm. “I’m fine. We’ll talk about it when you get home.”
She slipped out the stage door into the foggy night, pulling up her collar against the drizzle. As she started down the shadowy alley the door opened behind her, and she heard Short’s voice.
“What do you mean it’s delayed? I booked the car for eleven. Tell the chauffer to get his head out his ass and get here, now.”
There was a click as he snapped his phone shut and, hoping he hadn’t noticed her, Rosa glanced back just in time to see a figure stalk out of the shadows and approach him. She froze, wanting to call out, warn him, but something held her frozen in place.
“David,” it was a low, dangerous growl, and Rosa’s heart leapt. “I’ve been waiting.”
Short spun towards Bear, backed up a step. “A…Alex. What are you doing here?”
Bear paced closer, light from the bulb above the door glinting in his eyes, off his teeth and claws. “Did you think I wouldn’t realize you were the thief? I’m here to get the talisman, and my life, back.”
Short gave a little scream, turned to run, but Bear was on him. In a flash it was over and Short lay curled on the damp ground. Bear took something from the other man’s neck, placed it around his own.
“Rosa,” he came towards her, stopped an arm’s length away, holding out his hand. “Come.”
Without thought she placed her hand in his, heard his little growl of pleasure as he lead her to the mouth of the alley, where a limousine waited. When they were settled inside, he put his fingers around the amulet hanging around his neck from a heavy gold chain. A blinding flash of light and a sharp tingle, like electricity, filled the car.
Rosa opened her eyes, blinking to dispel the spots dancing across her vision, and gasped. The handsome man, with smooth chocolate skin and an attractively shaved head, was startlingly familiar.
“You’re Alex Dean.”
Bear—Alex—nodded. “David knew I’d be trapped in my other form without my amulet and decided to steal it, and our company, from me.” He shrugged lightly, his fingers tightening on hers. “There were others who could have done it, so it took a while to figure out, especially since it was so hard to move around looking the way I did.”
“Why…” she hesitated, not knowing how to ask, but she didn’t need to say any more.
“I saw you the day I came to rehearsals, and knew you were mine. I couldn’t stay away, even risking your revulsion.”
Rosa shook her head, still marveling how, even almost hairless, it was still unmistakably him. “I didn’t truly notice you when you came to the theater—too caught up in my own world—but when you came to my door I knew you were mine too.”
He growled—an endearingly familiar sound—and leaned close. She raised her face, anticipating his kiss, heat uncurling in her belly, uncontainable happiness storming through her heart.
Their lips were only a breath apart when he paused to murmur, “I have to warn you. We mate for life.”
“So do I,” she whispered in reply, cupping his cheek and urging him closer yet. She wouldn’t be content until they were skin-to-skin, but this would do for now. “So do I.”
