Chapter 6
Back at the Burrow, I need an ice cold shower to shake these thoughts from my brain. But Esther Basquette and her TED talk about Easter and why we should honor both the holiday and the Eggstravaganza?
I can’t stop jerking off.
Every time I think it’s out of my system, I replay her romanticizing the way egg dye clings to her fingertips long after Sunday, how the wind felt in her hair when she ran through the long grass searching for eggs, the smell of chocolate simmering on the stove—it was such a spiritual and emotional speech.
It's almost like Easter turns her on as much as it does me.
All signs point to her being my mate. Scent aside, she’s my dream woman. Paws down.
She couldn’t resist me beneath the table earlier, and something tells me a woman as strong and beautiful as Esther Basquette doesn’t just let any jack rabbit lick her pussy.
Tugging on my jeans and flannel shirt, I toe into boots, swipe a comb through my hair and head over. Esther and Chelsey are folding treasure maps tonight, ones that will be stuffed in the kids’ baskets before the big hunt. They have over one thousand to fold, so I offered to help.
Esther’s sister, my long-time neighbor, pulls open the door, a wide smile on her face. “Hi Jack,” she grins, hobbling back to make room for me. I nod at her foot as I enter, closing the door as she hops to the counter. “How’s the foot?”
Leaning over the counter, she sighs. “Oh it’s super hurt.” She catches her face in her palm, blinking up at me with doe eyes. “Like mega hurt. But… Are you having fun with my sister?”
Peering down the hall, I notice the door to Esther’s room is closed.
“She’s showering,” Chelsey tells me, reading my mind.
I drop my voice to a private whisper. If I can smell her hungry pussy from a mile away, whose to say Esther can’t sense me or hear me in some way, too? People are pretty regular, but I don’t know all their secrets, and I can’t take any chances.
“I really like her, Chelsey. I kind of wish you would have invited her over sooner,” I admit, not wanting Chelsey’s foot to be hurt, but knowing I could have had Esther in my life sooner makes me a little sad.
“She never visited before. Her ex boyfriend hated little towns like Carrot Creek, so they stayed in the city. I’d meet them halfway when I’d see her.”
My hands fall into fists at my side. “Not letting her go to her own sister’s house is a dick move.”
The oven dings, and she motions to it, tossing me a spare mit. “Take the cake out?”
Nodding, I take the oven mit and slip it on my hand, then pull open the door. Warm, spicy air nearly knocks me over as I reach inside and find a tray of carrot cake. “This smells so good. It’s my favorite, you know,” I explain to her as I slide the hot tray over an egg-shaped trivet.
“I know,” she says, then backtracks a little when my brows furrow in reaction. “Well, I assumed, you know, since you have that whole garden full of carrots.”
“Hi,” Esther says, appearing at the end of the hallway, her hair wet and down around her shoulders, skin glistening.
“Cad Berreigh brand body wash,” I hear myself say, my nose working overtime as my groin tightens. And at the sight of me, Esther grows immediately aroused, and my nose twitches, spotting the scent. That one I keep to myself.
Chelsey slow claps. “You’ve got a good nose on you.”
Realizing that I haven’t told her about my shifter background, and guessing that her sister hasn’t quite found a way to break the news, I scrub a hand down my face, smiling. “Yeah, but Cad Berreigh is everyone’s favorite brand, isn’t it?”
Esther beams, making her way down the hall to us in an oversized Eggstravaganza ‘22 t-shirt, and little black leggings. I’ve always been attracted to fur coats (faux, of course—I’m an animal lover, naturally), but I have to admit, Esther could wear anything and I’d be hard.
“Chelsey made carrot cake,” she says, smiling so big it feels like Easter in my pants. She motions to the living area, where flyers are strewn about the coffee table, two identical Kindle’s charging on the love seat adjacent. “Let’s get started!”
Two hundred and seventy three flyers folded, two slices of carrot cake each and we’re absolutely gassed.
Sitting across from Esther, trying not to let myself get lost in her blue eyes, in the soft swish of her hair and the way she licks icing off the tines of her fork.
I bet she looks hot as hell eating a raw carrot.
I bet she likes them big and peeled, and can—
“Jack?” Chelsey interrupts me from a fantasy I have no business having in mixed company.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” I place another folded map on the table.
“I was just asking you, do you believe in insta-love?”
I look between my mate and her sister, both of them chewing on their bottom lips, eyes wide, like they’ll die if my answer isn’t— “of course I do.” With were-bunnies, we find our mate and that’s that.
Doesn’t matter if her hop is too shallow, if her teeth aren’t sharp, or if her carrot planting skills are weak.
Were-bunnies mate for life. Regular bunnies don’t.
They’re major hoes. But were-bunnies are loyal.
Esther smiles. “Me, too.”
We continue working on the scavenger hunt maps, and my fingers are sore and tired, but I don’t stop because being here earns me time with her.
Time to hear her laugh, to listen to her talk about her favorite music and the best places she’s ever vacationed (makes my heart thump hard when Carrot Creek makes the list).
But being across from her for hours is absolutely driving me mad, and there’s only so much knee bouncing and behind the ear scratches I can do to self-soothe.
The carrot cake isn’t helping, serving as an aphrodisiac since it’s my all-time favorite.
A subtle hint of cinnamon has been hanging in the air since I’ve been here, but with my desires shifted into high gear and Esther’s hair in loose waves around her face, I need a break.
Excusing myself to use the restroom, I follow the subtle scent, sniffing my way down the hall and into Esther’s room.
Of course the scent is related to her, I should have known it would lead me to her room.
The only thing to stir me up this way is her.
Expecting to find an open suitcase full of her underwear or something equally tawdry, I’m stumped when I step inside her room and discover nothing out of sorts.
No sweaty sports bra or worn yoga pants sending me the spicy scent to lure me close, no bottle of perfume left out, no silky pajamas from last night strewn over the bed.
Nothing but a made bed, zipped suitcase and a bookshelf full of books.
Turning, I face the shelf and tip my head sideways, and begin reading the titles on the spines. After scanning a few, I realize, these are all romance novels.
I know Chelsey loves her romance novels, she’s told me as much, and I’ve seen her in a slew of bookish sweatshirts over the years. These must be hers. Selecting one called Milky, I pull the book out and survey the title page, surprised to see the book is signed to Esther.
A conversation with Chelsey comes to mind, from when she first moved to Carrot Creek. She told me she and her sister split up their things equally, and I have to assume the book collection was one of them.
Turning a few pages, I jump into the story, and read a few lines, curious to discover what my mate likes, what gets her going.
I can’t keep still, shifting my body weight from foot to foot as I consume page after page. The book is torrid and twisted, but sweet and lovely, too. And the thing that has my heart racing is the content.
A woman loves a vacuum, and a man.
It is so unlike anything I’ve heard of, anything I even knew existed, and suddenly, being a ware-bunny doesn’t feel like a curse, and proving myself to Esther doesn’t feel so hopeless.
She understands unconventional and unexpected love.
I keep turning the page, reading a spicy scene where Chip, the hero of the story, fucks Herb, the vacuum, while he goes down on the heroine. A sordid, unusual three-way if I’ve ever read one.
Before I know it, my whispers are twitching and I’m hopping around Esther’s room, so horny that I won’t be able to leave until I find some release, even just a sliver.
After what feels like eternity, Esther cracks open the door, calling for me. “Jack? Are you okay? You’ve been in here a while and—”
Looping my ear around her ankle, I drag her inside the room and hit the door closed with my hind legs.
She gasps when she sees me, in full Hopper form, hard cock so thick and agitated that it bobs, touching the ground.
My paws on her face, I look into her eyes.
“You like a book about a woman who loves a vacuum cleaner,” I whisper, in case Chelsey is lurking outside the door.
I’m sure Chelsey also loves the vacuum cleaner romance, since it’s part of what she kept, but that comment isn’t what I’m afraid of her overhearing.
“You are my mate, don’t you see? I’ve been telling you, showing you what you do to me, the way you make me shift but now, this is proof.
I couldn’t be fated to a mate who doesn’t understand that not all love looks alike.
But you, Esther Basquette, you understand. ”
She blinks down at my huge, furry cock, much larger when I’m Hopper than when I’m Jack. But don’t get it twisted, I’m a big boy as Jack, too. Still, she’s in awe as she stares at it, twisting her head to peer down at it from all angles. She swallows thickly, and I recognize the look in her eyes.
“I want to mate you so bad” I explain, foot thumping mindlessly, my ears tingling.
“But Easter is coming. And I want to keep up my end of the deal. I want to see the Eggstravaganza before I ask you to be my mate. I want to keep my word.” It’s important that I do.
All good were-bunnies are bunnies of their word.