Oceans Untamed
4/5
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About this ebook
OCEANS UNTAMED (#3) is a steamy paranormal BBW shapeshifter romance of 44,000 words. Contains BDSM elements.
The extreme measures billionaire shark shifter Koenraad took to save Monroe’s life has made her a target. She needs the shark’s protection more than ever, but when the truth surfaces about the identity of her attacker, she’s too hurt to trust the only one who can help her.
Years of lies and double lives close in on Koenraad with the discovery of a crime scene. He’d thought he had nothing left to lose, but he was wrong. Sexy, curvy Monroe might be the love of his life. Keeping her close is selfish, but letting her go is impossible. Staking his claim feels right, but would it be fair to bind her to an illusion?
Cleo Peitsche
If Cleo isn't writing (or reading!) erotica, she's probably sitting on her balcony, watching the wind blow through the trees. She loves snowstorms, piña coladas, horses, and pasta primavera. If she won the lottery, she would hire an assistant to take care of the technical side of e-publishing so that she could write all day.Some random facts about Cleo:1. Thinks life's too short to forgo HEAs and HFNs.2. Sprained an ankle joining the mile-high club. (Never again!)3. Favorite writers include Cormac Mccarthy, Junot Diaz and Rachel Caine.4. Gets weak-kneed for bookish guys who know how to fix things with their hands. *swoons*
Read more from Cleo Peitsche
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Related to Oceans Untamed
Titles in the series (3)
Master of the Deep Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Oceans Untamed Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Blood in the Water Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
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Reviews for Oceans Untamed
10 ratings1 review
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This one seemed to tie everything up a bit better. I have to give it marks on being more exciting. However, Monroe is still riding my annoyed side. She seems to take thing for granted, not understand what is happening around her, and she wanted something one moment, then not the next, then literally just left. I was like ummmm what. I get that it was for pacing and for the arc, I knew it when I read it but I understood Koenraad more than Monroe, I just felt like she didn't 'get it' at all. Then we have the 'mean girl' to deal with. Seriously? Someone can't just go in and kill her? I mean, "Opps! Someone got harpooned, that happens in the big wide open ocean!" Just sayin'. As a whole I think once again Monroe needs to grow a pair, I think Koenraad needs to be harder on her instead of disappointed, and maybe she needs to see her real threat. I'm kinda annoyed with Koenraad and the thing he's searching for. I get it but I don't. I'm a parent, but seriously... after what he did... yeah. I am hoping so dearly that this all turns out great and in book four Monroe finds her inner buffy and puts down a nasty you know what shark shifter.
Book preview
Oceans Untamed - Cleo Peitsche
Chapter 1
Monroe walked through the spacious hotel lobby, her flip-flops slapping against the polished marble floor.
She gripped her cell phone in one hand, her pink sweater in the other. The temperature inside the hotel was comfortable, but she suspected she’d be going outside. Caribbean nights could be downright chilly, and her knee-length cotton dress wouldn’t be much protection.
This hotel, unlike the one she’d previously stayed at, included a night guard in a starched uniform. He was pacing, hands behind his back. He paused to acknowledge Monroe with a nod and a slight tightening of his lips that was probably meant to be a smile. At the other end of the lobby, the petite clerk was fussing with the immaculate floral arrangements.
Monroe felt bad for them both. It wasn’t even five in the morning, and no one was around. She certainly didn’t count as a rich, finicky guest; she was wearing plastic sandals. The guard especially must have been going crazy with boredom.
She was about to ask him if he’d happened to notice any exceptionally tall men with light blond hair when she caught a glimpse of the ocean through one of the lobby’s rear windows.
That’s where Koenraad would most likely be… unless he’d left the hotel completely and hadn’t bothered to tell her.
A flutter of nervousness twisted in her stomach, and she mentally corrected herself. If he hadn’t told her, it would have been because he didn’t want to wake her up, not because he didn’t care.
She’d worked something out. Koenraad had saved her life after a shark attack by giving her a transfusion of his healing blood. That he admitted. He also had bite marks on his lower back. That he wouldn’t talk about.
Obviously he’d fought the shark to save her. She’d turned it over and over in her mind, and it was the only logical explanation.
She didn’t see why he wouldn’t talk about it, why he got weird when she mentioned the scars. Maybe he’d had to kill the shark and that made him uncomfortable, or maybe he thought it would upset her. It didn’t. A dead man-eating shark was nothing to mourn.
If anything it was a hell of an aphrodisiac, and it made her fall for him even harder. His scars were physical proof that he cared.
Outside, the night was cool, a direct contrast to the usually steaming days. Still, it was bearable. Monroe had no idea how the locals managed to deal with the swings in temperature.
She sank into white, soft Caribbean sand as she veered off the paved path. She and Koenraad had strolled this way before, and she knew that a few minutes down the beach was a little pedestrian pier with a gazebo at the end. Koenraad had remarked that it looked peaceful.
Sure enough, there was someone sitting at the edge, legs dangling over the water. It had to be Koenraad.
She came up behind him, not bothering to announce herself. He was a shark, and she now knew that his senses were so acute that he might have even heard her walking across the lobby. Though the crashing of the waves was pretty loud…
You can’t sleep?
he asked. He looked up, his sculpted features mostly in shadow. It made him seem both familiar and mysterious, and fit what she knew of him, which was both too much and not nearly enough.
She impulsively stroked a hand through his tousled, silky hair. She liked him at this angle, looking up at her. He was still coiled muscle and restrained power, but he was less intimidating like this. She’d have liked him even better if she were in his lap, helping him out of his shorts—
No, don’t think about that, she remembered belatedly. Koenraad had proven that he was capable of smelling her arousal.
Her cheeks heated, and when she realized he could probably smell her blushing or something, her entire face burned.
Monroe?
Koenraad’s eyebrows were knitting together.
I woke up and you were gone…
He patted the spot next to him, and Monroe carefully sat, making sure the back of her dress was between her thighs and the wooden boards. Her flip-flops dangled from her toes, and she flexed her feet to keep the sandals from tumbling into the ocean.
Sorry,
he said. I only need a couple of hours of sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. How are you feeling?
Fine.
That wasn’t an idle question.
He brushed his fingers against her side where the shark had bitten her. Heat trailed his touch.
Oh.
She took stock of herself. I still don’t remember anything, and I feel… great. If not for the untanned skin, I’d never believe I’d almost died.
I never would have let you die. Ever.
She smiled. I know.
His silence seemed heavy, like he wanted to tell her something, but in the end he raised his arm and pulled her in close. Given all they’d been through the last few days, leaning into his solid, masculine body felt good.
Tell me about today,
she said. How bad will it be?
He didn’t say anything, didn’t sigh or react at all.
If you have to work—
I’ll get started early. Then we can meet for a late lunch and take it from there.
She frowned. There was a major crisis, something horribly wrong with the ocean water. Koenraad had told her it was harming shifters, and several tourists had drowned. That was far more important than making him run back to the hotel for a hurried lunch. But I’ll be fine…
Instead of speaking, he caught her chin and turned her face toward his. His thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip, and her breath caught in her throat. She put her phone and sweater aside and fisted her hand in his shirt just to keep herself from floating into the sky.
Then he kissed her, and she could smell his aftershave and the incongruously woodsy shower gel he stocked in his mansion and in his yacht bathroom. Head. Boats had heads, not bathrooms.
His kiss bordered on sweet, but she wasn’t fooled. Koenraad might play the perfect gentleman, but she knew better; she’d been in his bed.
He was a shark shifter, and sharks used their teeth. If Koenraad was at all typical, they were dominant and demanding lovers.
They also had two male organs,
to quote a guide book. That had been a shock, as were the spurs on his thick shafts. She’d seen them, had even touched them, but that was as far as it had gone before Koenraad had pulled away.
Luckily for her—and for Koenraad, she supposed—he could control both of those aspects. The first time he’d taken her, in the middle of the ocean on his luxury yacht, she hadn’t suspected his anatomy was different from a non-shifter’s.
His lovemaking skills… The man knew what he was doing in bed.
Not that they often made it to the bedroom.
I can almost hear you thinking,
he said in a low voice, the pitch so deep that when he whispered, it was a challenge to hear him.
She didn’t get a chance to defend her thought processes because Koenraad bent her backward, his hand cradling her head. He was looking at her, she sensed, but the night was somewhat cloudy, and his eyes often seemed dark because of the huge pupils.
Sometimes they reflected silver, like a wild animal. Just thinking of his eyes, his oversized pupils, gave her the shivers. Here, in the shadows, she could pretend he was just a human. She could pretend it didn’t freak her out to be so close to an apex predator.
He laid her head on something soft. She raised her hand to feel her sweater.
One of her sandals slipped off her toes, then the other joined it. She didn’t hear the splashes above the sounds of the noisy surf and wind.
They’ll wash up on the beach,
he said. One of his hands was on her inner knee, determinedly moving higher.
Every cell in her body came alive. She strained her eyes, tried to see him better. All she had was the outline of his face, his shock of hair hanging down.
You are so beautiful, Monroe. I wish we’d met a month ago, when everything was less complicated.
His ascending hand brushed over her bare pussy. It was just a touch, but enough to make her tremble, then he was stroking the swell of her buttock pressed against the wooden pier.
No underwear,
he murmured. Nice.
I couldn’t find them, and I didn’t feel like digging through my suitcase. Did you know?
she asked as she wiggled closer to him.
That you were naked under that dress? Yes, I did.
Because you can… smell me?
He laughed and kissed her. Well, yes, your scent is driving me crazy, but I would have known anyway.
Because I’m predictable and horny all the time?
No, but I like your guesses. Keep going.
She shook her head as she sat up.
He laughed again and moved her light brown hair from where it draped around her neck and down to her waist. The slow, sensual tickle made her shiver. He looped her hair around his fist and pulled her head back.
I could tell by the way you walked,
he said.
You could not!
It’s hot when you’re nervous and breathing hard,
he said, a smile in his voice. You take smaller steps when you’re bare under your clothes. And you know what?
What?
she whispered as she tried to steady her breaths.
You’re turning me on,
he said. He pushed her down flat and pressed a finger along her slit, not entering her. She arched, her mouth opening.
He needed no further invitation.
His first kiss had been a promise, a reminder that no matter what he was and what he was capable of, she was safe with him. That she could trust him.
This kiss, however…
His tongue swept into her mouth, his lips hard against hers. Before she could kiss him back, he’d pulled away and was raking his teeth down her neck.
She cried out as he bit her and then soothed the stinging bruise with a kiss.
Before, she’d wondered how he’d guessed her neck was so sensitive. Now she knew the answer; he could smell, hear, and feel her. When her pulse accelerated, when her excitement hummed higher, he knew.
He was swirling his tongue in the notch at the bottom of her throat, and it reminded her of that other place he liked to taste and lick. That place his hand was currently ignoring despite the desperate rocking of her hips.
She tried to beg him to fuck her, but she was too far gone to speak intelligibly. He bit her neck, starting at the side and working his way toward the front, then dragged his hard, masculine jaw lower, forcefully.
He could end her at any second. One snap of his jaws would crush her windpipe. He could rip out her throat—
She cried out, her eyes wide in the darkness. Koenraad,
she gasped, and the wind whipped his name from her lips.
It didn’t matter. He would have heard.
You like this?
he murmured into the almost ticklish stretch of skin below her ear. I like it, too.
She could feel the pounding of her pulse between her legs. Her entire body seemed to throb. Impatiently, she grabbed his wrist and tried to hurry his fingers inside her.
It would have been easier to move the pier itself. He would not be hurried. He would not be controlled. He’d previously said he could make her beg, and he was right.
Enough torture! We didn’t even have sex last night,
she said as he loosened the sash at the front of her dress and started to work on the buttons.
I think we did. You bruised my fingers.
Even a human probably could have felt the heat from her sudden blush. She licked her lips. That only counts as sex if you’re still in high school.
The night before had been… surreal. He’d finally allowed her to see both his cocks in their natural state. Once the spurs were out, apparently he couldn’t retract them, and so sex had been out of the question.
The heat in her face intensified as she remembered how she’d pleaded with him to fuck her anyway. Despite the hungry fire in his eyes, he’d refused. As horny as he was, he’d jerked off rather than risk hurting her even though his shark’s blood, with all its healing powers, was coursing through her veins, keeping her from lasting harm.
He’d gotten her off, too, his fingers knowing when to rub and when to thrust.
Which made it all the more frustrating that he was taking an eternity unbuttoning her dress.
I want you inside me,
she said.
His hand froze. You do?
he asked, and she could tell he was going to mess with her.
Yes.
He plunged a finger into her snug, slick hole. She nearly orgasmed from the sudden sensation of being penetrated. His finger twisted and stroked. It wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but it felt damned good.
Is this what you want?
he growled.
Trapped. If she said no,
that would have obvious results. If she said yes,
he’d probably restrict