Elle, still tense, breathed the faintest sigh of relief at the sight of Nate having been the one on top. His injuries were the lesser of the two beasts, a shallow impression of bloody teeth marks on his shoulder. Roland, by contrast, had a vicious series of slashes across his face. It was an injury she had difficulty envisioning as ever being healed.
It made her nauseous, however, to consider it... That the man she'd fallen for could have caused such damage to another being when provoked. And she wished, in that moment, that she could be as far away from the scene of the debacle as possible.
She got her wish, in short enough order, as Nate conceded to Seymour's wishes. Dressing, and escorting Elle from the premises. Roland, all the while, continued to glare at her until the moment she was out of sight.
“I'm so... So sorry for that... For all of that... That you had to see me, like that, out of control...” said Nate, after what seemed like an interminable degree of silence under the moonlight.
“No, no it's... It's fine,” insisted Elle. And she'd wanted to add with enthusiasm that she understood completely. But of course, this wasn't the case at all...
“It's just... I hope you don't mind me saying so, but I was really beginning to like you...” he said.
Elle's mouth tingled with the memory of the kiss they'd shared prior to all hell breaking loose. She couldn't help but smile for a moment, in spite of herself. Though of course, the situation, at this point, had become far more complicated than it had been in that sweet, blissful moment. “I was hoping that... Well, I don't know, exactly. I was just hoping that things could, maybe, at least start to go somewhere between us, despite our obvious differences. I didn't want your first impression of my people, and especially not of me, to be of violence, brutality, and losing control... What happened there, tonight- that never happens in The Honey Pot, and I mean never. Aside from the professional matches, I don't think I've ever seen a fight break out in that bar in the decade or so I've been going there. Or anywhere in the woods, for that matter. I don't know what the hell Roland' problem was tonight, I think he has some sort of vendetta against non-shifters... But of course, I shouldn't have let him get me so worked up, and lose my temper like I did...”
The more and more he talked, the more Nate seemed to realize that he was only serving to complicate and muddy matters. He shut up at this point, allowing the silence of the night to take over. The sounds of insects chirping in their ears took over. Neither of them spoke a word as they strolled along, the night enveloping them.
It was Elle, now, who would have a choice to make, and Elle alone. She had, earlier on in the evening, before the near bloodbath of Roland and Nate, chided herself for never taking chances in life. For not seeking that which she desired despite whatever uncertainties she might have had. And she wondered if she could still see the decision of whether or not to accept Nate into her heart in the same light. The risks, now, at least, were all out there in the open, on plain view for her to see... And she wondered, could she live with those risks? Could she forget about them and take the plunge?
He'd been protecting her... He hadn't been the aggressor, Roland had been... But could the beast she'd just seen, lashing out at the bouncer in full fury, be awakened so easily? Putting her and the people around her in danger?
“Well... Here we are... I hope you enjoyed your evening with us, er... For the most part...” said Nate, once the two of them had arrived at the door of Elle's tiny apartment. They stood awkwardly for a moment. Elle was still trying to decide what she should do, agonizing over her decision... But the clock ran out finally when Nate seemed to decide for her, adding, “Anyway... Give Konrad my regards... It was a pleasure meeting you...”
He nodded to her, and had just turned to leave, when suddenly Elle piped up. “Nate wait!” He turned back quickly enough, almost as though he'd been expecting this, or at the very least hoping for it all this time. “I... I...” It was now or never, she realized, stammering. She was still clearly trying to come to a decision even as she spoke, time already run out, but the choice not yet made. At last she gave in. She had no idea whether or not it was the right thing to do, but she decided to go with her gut, “...I really, really did have a great time with you this evening... Back there... Before, you know... Everything else that happened...”
Though he'd been hoping for this, it still seemed to catch Nate off guard. And he turned to face her. “So did I,” he said, in a low, considerate voice. And before either of them knew it, they were standing close together. Mutually mesmerized, sweat beginning to prickle up on their skin...
Neither Nate nor Elle could help themselves any longer. They could no longer avoid picking up where they'd left off before Roland' butting in, spoiling their plans. And now, now, thank God, they had the benefit of privacy on their side, no audience, no one to judge them. Now, they could give into one another completely and wholly. And it was clear, as Nate leaned deeper, deeper, deeper into her, that he had every intention in the world of doing that.
Elle was lightheaded again as they kissed, and this time the honey beer had nothing to do with it. He pulled her into himself. She could feel him growing hard, thick, aroused for her... His heat, his solidity, making it known on no uncertain terms how he yearned for her love in that moment... And who the hell was she to deprive such a passionate lover of that which he craved so dearly?
It was all moving so very, very fast. Elle was not the type of girl to give into such impulses. Her relationships never made the progressed this fast. But he was ravishing her, pressing his body against hers... Sliding his hands all over her, squeezing her breasts right out here in the open, and she was starving for his flesh as his kisses ran down along her neck.
The tit grabbing was particularly damning, as splendid as it felt to have him touch her in that way. She wondered whether the privacy of the forest better allowed for such rendezvous. Whether perhaps they enabled such unexpected dives into passion to take place without disruption. It was no big deal for shifters to walk around naked in one another's presence, after all...
As swept up in the moment... As lost, in Nate's touch as she was just then... There was still that practical part of her brain taking over in the back of her head. And she forced herself to pull away from him in that moment. Not completely, of course, as his kisses continued to rain down along her throat. But enough for her to be able to reach into her pocket and fumble for her keys. Pushing them into the door and unlocking the thing with a tremendous effort... Then at last pushing it wide open, and whisking Nate inside, sealing the two of them into the private sanctuary of her home.
They hit the bed hard, giggling as they bounced upon its soft surface. Elle still couldn't believe she was giving herself over to a man, a bear shifter, no less. But just then she found herself not caring all that much about propriety. Or pacing herself. Or anything at all, for that matter, other than giving into her deepest, most desperate carnal desires... Nate was stripping out of his shirt, his pants, his naked body now far more arousing now that it wasn't being torn apart by Roland. He was massive, powerful, draped with hair all over, in a manner that made him seem animalistic. And his penis, she now saw, was tremendous. Long and veiny, its erect form making her mouth water, and her skin burning as he proceeded to undress her in the moonlight.
She loved the feeling of his hands, swimming across her body, her stomach her breasts, with the removal of her shirt and pants. He struggled with undoing the clasp of her bra. She helped him out, eager for things to get underway. He showed his gratitude for this act of kindness, then, by seizing her soft, silky breasts in his firm, large hands. He squeezed them, filling her with pleasure and making her crave more.
He slid his hands down, down, down between her legs. He hooked his fingers beneath her panties, and causing her to gasp out in pleasure as he began to rub her tenderly. His grip was precise... Perversely skillful despite the apparent hugeness and clunkiness of his digits. His touch, however, was nothing. Or at least not compared to the
moment when he slid her from those lacy little panties altogether... And then he surprised her one step further by sinking his head down between her thighs.
Her eyes went wide, and then shuddered closed. She attempted to contain herself through the long, wet waves of pleasure. He licked her tenderly, sliding his tongue through her pussy. Lapping up her insides and licking her as though she were the most flavorful of delicacies. Her spine flexed and her limbs trembled as she let out light, feminine whimpers. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe as the pleasure swelled. Forcing her, in her ecstasy, to let her knees fall around his bobbing, lapping head, trapping him. Pulling him further, further, further in... Until at last she cried out in orgasm, body heaving with pleasure, and her head spinning.
Gradually, her knees unbent. Her buttocks unclenched, and she relinquished her beautiful oral lover from her grip. He came away from between her legs with a smile on his lips, and then moved his face forward, planting a kiss on her panting mouth. She tasted herself on him, and somehow this filled her with a feeling of intense intimacy. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and began to squirm as once again he proceeded to finger her cunt. Sliding his grip along through her, limbering her up, getting her wetter and wetter and wetter... All in preparation for the glorious finale that was about to unfold.
At last, she was ready, and he seemed to know, at the right moment. He slid his hands around both of her ankles. He pushed them upward, spreading them wide apart, and pinning her knees up around her head.
He lifted his body up over her, mounting her, sliding his erect penis up and down against her a few times. He did this almost teasingly, and she bit her lip, readying herself as best she could. He took one hand from off of her knee, and used it to place his tip just inside her. Then she squeaked, as he began to plunge himself inside her. He buried his cock up deep, deep, deep into her pussy, sliding inch after inch after inch of himself inside her... Until at long, long last he was buried, his shaft wholly consumed in the tight wet pinkness of her folds, and she let out a tremendous sigh of passion. Stretched out, overloaded, and so wholly aroused in that moment that she could hardly see straight.
And he began to hump, to thrust, to fuck her powerfully. His ass began to lift, to strike, to push in toward her body, his pelvis slamming forward into her. Their wet, fully aroused genitals smashing together... Building up a dreadful friction as he pounded her mercilessly. Each thrust was more brutal than the last, their bodies resounding with a series of booming claps!
She was moaning, crying out at the top of her lungs, every muscle tensed as he destroyed her... His animalistic fury, surpassing even her wildest expectations... And every nerve in her body stretched to breaking with pleasure, when at last, with one final blow, he hurled himself down inside her like a hammer. Both of them, in a splendid moment of ecstasy, were sent spiraling over the edge.
He began to cum wildly inside her, filling her with a thick, molten substance that was sweeter than honey beer by far. His seed spilled from her body in its thickness and its abundance. And Elle, then, was set alight with orgasm in return. Climax, gripping her from head to toe. Her screams ear piercing. Her fingers curling into the sweat soaked bed sheets, and stars flashing before her eyes... She drifted back down to Earth, and he at last pulled out of her, evoking an immense, trembling sigh of relief.
The two of them tenderly drifted off, happy and content, wrapped up in the tightest of bear hugs.
Bearly Tamed
Big Paw Security Book I
by
Becca Fanning
Linnie Foster felt like she needed a cigarette. She’d never smoked, but in the movies, this seemed like the sort of situation where you’d have a cigarette. It was a nerves thing. They calmed your nerves, right?
The motel room she was trapped in seemed tiny, even though the police had upgraded her to a double. Pastel shapes covered the peeling wallpaper. Were they once flowers? This motel didn’t seem like the kind of place that rented rooms by the week very often; Linnie suspected they were usually leased by the hour.
One of the two detectives, Parker, was a heavy set, wide-shouldered man. He was the one currently keeping watch at the window. Parker would pull the curtain back and glance out into the parking lot every time a set of lights drifted past the window. He seemed to suffer from a chronic digestive disagreement, often putting a hand to his stomach and grimacing. He did it with such a passive automation that he probably no longer noticed. His stomach gurgled again. “Hurg,” he said, rubbing his stomach like a genie lamp.
The other detective, a woman named Longheim, had a severe, angular face. She sat in a chair beside the window with her elbows resting on her knees. She was trying to look focused, but mostly looked tired. She was fidgeting with a pack of worn playing cards, fanning them open and loudly shuffling them together. She never drew a card or even looked at them. Just fan, bridge, shuffle. Fan, bridge, shuffle.
The image of two detectives protecting a valuable witness was what kept Linnie thinking about how much she needed a cigarette. It would complete the look to have a plume of smoke floating up from her cigarette. Maybe she could sit near one of the table lamps and dramatically turn it on when…what? What did she think would happen? The waiting felt like it had stretched from hours into long days; the quiet tension hung in the air.
Linnie’s thoughts drifted to young Brandon, the image of him looking up at her as he clung to her leg. She could vividly remember the boy’s haunted eyes looking at her from behind his mother’s skirt. Brandon’s drawings were so disturbing; so much black and red, bodies with their limbs akimbo, often eyeless. He was a good boy. He was still a good boy, but for how much longer? How long can you be around that kind of family before it seeps into you, corrupting you from inside? Until all you know is an oath you’ve sworn and a ring you’ve kissed.
She could recall conversations she overheard from the next room, dark and stern. Codes when they were careful and outright abhorrent things when they weren’t. That’s when the generous cash bonuses came. When she’d agreed to become Brandon’s nanny, she had never heard of the Accardi family. She had gone to school for early childhood education; she’d been excited to be hired as Brandon’s nanny. So much potential in that little scrunched up face.
But that seemed like forever ago. By the time Linnie went to the police, she had learned more than she’d ever wanted to know about the mob and was terrified of what might come next. There was only one code in organized crime: you don’t snitch. Bad things happened when you did. Final things.
The casualness of the process had thrown Linnie for a loop. She thought it would be like in the movies. Like a femme fatale in East Berlin, she’d pass an envelope to a detective on a bus bench. Then she’d be whisked away under heavy guard to some place safe and far away.
Instead, she got called in to the station where a bored lieutenant filled out a form at the front desk. A guy next to her was screaming at the desk sergeant because he wouldn’t dispatch a patrol car to investigate a broken car window. A line formed behind her. A line, like it was the bank on payday.
If justice was anything, it was slow. Slow, deliberate and full of paperwork. What came next seemed to be long waits in crappy motel rooms as the district attorney waited for a court date. And of course, it was an election year for some bureaucrat, so every action had to be weighed against political cost. The police hadn’t let Linnie out of their sight for three weeks, and that made for very few trips out of the motel room. She’d begun to go a little stir-crazy. These rooms never got HBO.
Now, here she was, waiting to be handed off to another set of detectives. She sighed deeply, and Longheim looked over at her. The cards paused their endless dance.
“You okay?” the detective asked, the fatigue heavy in her voice giving way to annoyance.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” Linnie stood up and walked over to the bathroom. She didn’t have to go, but she knew she was sick of just sitting around waiting for the handoff to come. She
closed the bathroom door behind her and examined her reflection in the mirror, and sighed again. She looked worn, stretched … and tired.
Linnie heard a knock at the hotel room’s door. Through the bathroom door, she heard muffled voices; Parker and Longheim, and then … another voice she recognized. She sighed, and blinked at her image in the mirror, and then ran a hand over her face. The voice was Martin Clarke, the district attorney. Maybe there was finally a court date?
When Linnie exited the bathroom, she found that there were now six people in suits packed into the small double room. There were Longheim and Parker, plus Mr. Clarke, but the other three were new. Compared to the detectives, their suits looked expensive, and tailored.
Ian (BBW Bear Shifter Wedding Romance) (Grizzly Groomsmen Book 4) Page 155