by Ruby Dixon
“You want to go out with me?” I croak. Maybe the pain has intensified so severely that I’m going into shock.
“Only if you do. I mean, I don’t want to force myself on you.” Even in the moonlight I can see her blush. “I know I’m young, and you probably want someone more experienced.”
“Ryann,” I groan. “I’m too old and too ugly for a beautiful girl like you. You should be with some young punk rather than me.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not interested in anyone else, and if my age doesn’t bother you, why should your age bother me?” She closes the distance between us and cradles my face gently between her palms. “Now how are we going to get this off? Can you shift?”
I stare at her with open-mouthed shock.
Chapter Four
Ryann
Mal stares at me like I’ve grown another head.
All right, I’ve shocked the man. But honestly? The fact that Pine Falls is home to a lot of shifters is the worst-kept secret in the town, right up there with the spa lady banging the sporting goods guy. Not much stays hidden in a town like Pine Falls, and it’s safer for everyone if most of the locals (especially the gun-toting ones) are on the up and up. My Aunt Mary is a wolf expert in these parts, and so she occasionally has business with the local werewolf pack too. Most of the Pine Falls residents are bears, she told me when I first moved here. It’s something that’s known but not discussed.
And after tonight? I guessed that Mal was my big friendly bear I’ve seen over and over again. Bear suits him—all big body and quiet strength.
I might have freaked him out with my forthrightness, though. “You can yell at me when I get you home,” I tell him. “For now, can you shift and get out of the trap?”
His mouth opens, then snaps shut, and he looks away. “I…”
“We can talk things over when you get back to my place.”
Mal frowns.
“Don’t argue with me,” I tell him, and cross my arms so I can seem less rattled than I am.
“Or what?” he growls.
“Or I’m going to go right back up to my window and masturbate in the hopes that one of my neighbors sees me,” I snap back, since that’s the first thing I can think of that will piss him off.
It works, though. His eyes narrow. “This is ridiculous.”
“Just do it,” I tell him. “I’ll find you something to wear. I promise.” I hate the thought of seeing him in so much pain, and all this dithering over shifting and whether or not my neighbor watches me touch myself? This isn’t helping. “Now, Mal.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to keep protesting. But then he snarls at me, squares his shoulders, and then hair begins to sprout all over his body. I realize he’s one step away from an Incredible Hulk moment, and I close my eyes so I don’t embarrass him. I don’t know how shifters feel about shifting, but if it’s anything like me trying to fit into a pair of skinny jeans fresh out of the dryer, it’s not pretty. So I keep my eyes closed and wait for him to let me know when he’s done.
I hear a pained groan and open my eyes. Sure enough, there’s the bear I’ve been seeing from my window, his leg stuck in the trap. I kneel down. The trap is bulging around his leg—it tightened around his human ankle, and his bear one is that much larger. As he strains against the trap, I pull against it. With his increased power in his bear form, we’re able to pry it open just enough for him to slide his foot out of there, and with a bellow of pain, he staggers away.
I let the trap go and just narrowly escape snapping my own fingers in it. “We should tell the sheriff about this damn thing,” I say, getting to my feet and brushing the dirt off my hands. “These are illegal.”
He sits on his haunches and lifts one back leg to examine it. As he does, there’s a look on his face that tells me that he’s not going to forget how irritated he is at me. Funny how a bear’s face can communicate something like that.
“Oh, stop it,” I tell him. “It’s not like I put that trap out here.” I gesture at my townhouse. “Now, come on. Let’s get you to my place so I can bandage that leg for you, all right?”
He doesn’t move. Great. Now I have a bear that’s going to be stubborn about this.
“Seriously, Mal? You got hurt looking in after me, and I’m freezing out here.” My legs are barely covered by my booty shorts, and the night’s cold. I don’t have a pelt like he does, either. “Please just come inside with me? I promise not to hit on you again, okay?”
He grunts and lumbers to his feet. Limping, he starts to head toward my house. It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest he change back to human form, but then I remember that in human form, it’s one of his ankles, and maybe it’s easier to walk on three legs. I trot ahead of him to open the back door. Hopefully, the neighbors won’t see this.
Oh, who am I kidding? The neighbors are probably bears too.
I slip inside a few steps ahead of him and rush to get a few towels out of the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” I call out, and wince. Comfortable? He’s going to be naked and wounded. There’s not a lot about that situation that screams ‘comfort.’ I think for a moment, and then grab a couple of beers out of the fridge. He’s probably going to need a drink, and it’ll give him something to do with his hands.
And then I think about what he was doing with his hands (and his hands on his cock) and get all flushed and bothered. This evening has just turned into a giant mess, hasn’t it? I’m so disappointed.
I keep my expression carefully neutral as I head into the living room. Mal is there, on my sofa, completely naked. He’s holding a throw pillow over his junk and has one leg propped up. I’m happy to see the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, but his ankle is extremely swollen and starting to bruise. Poor Mal.
I make a soft sound of sympathy at the sight of it. “That’s all my fault.”
“It’s not,” he says, voice gruff. “Don’t worry about it.”
I give him a wry look and then offer him a towel. “Put that over your junk if it’ll make you feel better. I need that pillow for your foot.” I hand him the towel and then turn my back so he can make himself comfortable, though I wouldn’t mind taking a better look at what he’s got to show me. I’ve always been attracted to Mal. He thinks he’s ugly; I think he’s rugged. He thinks he’s too old for me; I think he’s experienced.
If anything, I’m the sad end of this equation—an average human woman with not a lot to offer but enthusiasm. I kick off my boots and turn around, half-hoping I’ll catch him showing a bit of skin.
Nope. When I look over, he’s got the towel carefully covering his loins, and I see nothing but enormous, muscular thighs, a tight stomach, and shoulders that seem to go on for miles. My mouth gets dry at the sight. I ignore the scowl he’s shooting my way and bend over to grasp the pillow. “Let me know if I hurt you,” I tell him as I gently take his big leg and lift it so I can slide the pillow underneath his ankle.
I might also bend over in a way that lets me stick my ass in his face a bit. Maybe.
Mal doesn’t respond, though, and I carefully examine his leg. “I don’t think there was enough force to snap bone. You’re probably just going to have a bad bruise and a lot of soreness for the next few days. Let me get you some ice.” I straighten and smile at him, then saunter to the kitchen.
I return a moment later with a bag of frozen peas and another towel. Mal’s sitting on my couch, looking damn uncomfortable. His hands are now clasped in front of the towel—hiding a hard-on, possibly? I’m encouraged at the thought, and my movements become a little flirtier, more sensual. When I lean over to put the towel on his leg, I make sure I do so in a way that lets my shirt gape at the neck so I can flash him some cleavage. I set the frozen peas down on top of the towel, and then make soft clucking noises in my throat as I press the peas gently on the sore spots. “How does that feel?”
He grunts.
I move forward and straddle his leg, reaching for a beer. “You want one of these? I got them for
you.”
“I’m fine.” His words are gruff, harsh.
Ah. He’s shutting down on me. Instead of being hurt, though, I’m encouraged. Mal seems to shut down or run away when he’s attracted to me, so this is a sure sign that he’s affected by my presence.
“Nonsense,” I tell him, and use the edge of my shirt to twist the cap off the top. I offer it to him, and he takes it reluctantly. I bite my lip and watch him as he takes a few gulps. There’s something about his throat that I find utterly fascinating. Maybe because his neck is so big and strong? My nipples harden, and I imagine licking the cords of that thick throat. Mmm.
He notices me staring and freezes in place. “You gonna sit there and watch me?”
“Maybe.” I smile at him. “That so bad?”
His jaw clenches, and he puts the beer down on an end table. “I should get going.”
“Nope,” I say quickly and put a hand on his chest to stop him. “I’m going to take care of you. It’s my fault you got hurt. I’m going to be at your beck and call until that leg gets better.” I slide a little closer to him. “Now…tell me what you want.”
He glares up at me. After a moment, he says, “How did you know I was a bear?”
Oh, dammit, really? I pretty much hand myself to him on a silver platter and this is what he wants to talk about? “Aunt Mary works closely with a lot of the local wolves. One of them spilled the beans.”
“Damn yammering wolves.” He shakes his head, disgusted.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like everyone works super hard at keeping it a secret. You were a bear lurking right in my backyard,” I exclaim. “Seriously. I’d have to be blind not to figure things out with my job. Half the wolves we track are also human. We just make sure to keep them off the appropriate radars.”
“Mmm.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I tell him. My fingers wiggle against his chest. He’s got a lot of chest hair, and instead of being weirded out by it, I’m incredibly aroused. He’s just so damn masculine. “I promise your secret is safe with me. Cross my heart.” With my other hand, I deliberately drag my finger over my loose breasts. There’s no bra under my T-shirt, and I hope he notices that.
His gaze flicks to my chest, and his expression hardens. “Ryann.”
“Yes?”
“You fuckin’ with me?”
“Actually…I’m throwing myself at you. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice.”
Chapter Five
Mal
Apparently, extreme arousal can drown out any other signals from the body—hunger, fatigue, pain. Good to know. Next time I’m shot or about to suffer hypothermia from spending too many days out in the deep winter cold, I’ll think about Ryann, and the throbbing between my legs is all I’ll be able to think about.
It’s all I can think about now. That and how she’s causing it.
Her pert nipples are poking against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. She says she’s throwing herself at me, and the evidence is there to confirm it.
“I…I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from her chest.
“If you’d just say the word, Mal, I’d climb right on top of you.” Her hand scratches lightly against my chest.
“Word,” my mouth whispers before my brain can catch up.
She sucks in a quick breath of surprise and relief, and I watch her—like I’m watching a movie—slide up my leg and onto my lap. Her knees settle on either side of my hips. Her butt lands on my thighs. The towel falls from my hands as I cup her ass instinctively, and she rolls her hips upward in a motion that sends my eyeballs into the back of my head.
Her grinding on top of me is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. I could probably come from just this.
“Kiss me, Mal. Please,” she begs.
Something snaps inside me. She should never have to beg for pleasure. It should be given to her every day, every minute of every hour of every day.
I tangle my hands in her hair and pull her mouth down to mine. She opens easily under my onslaught, her tongue whipping along my own. She’s a fierce thing, and I taste her desire as she meets my ravening assault with a determined one of her own.
She grinds against my hard cock, and I can feel the wetness of her cunt seeping through her tiny shorts.
I shove my fingers inside the waistband of her shorts and nearly die as I slide past her springy curls to find her pussy is dripping with juice.
“You want something hard inside you, little girl?” I ask, reminding her one last time of our significant age difference. And maybe myself that I’ve got my hand on a barely legal cunt.
“Why, Daddy, whatever do you mean?” She bats her lashes at me, the little minx.
“Seems to me that you need a strong hand to make sure you don’t get in trouble.” I thrust my middle finger up that wet channel. Whatever she might have said in return dies on her lips. She gasps. I slide in a second finger.
“Ride my hand, Ryann. Show me how much you want this,” I demand.
She places both hands on my shoulders, using my body as leverage as she glides along the length of my fingers.
“When do I get your…” She pauses, bites her lips and casts her eyes downward as if she’s too shy to say the word.
My heart thrills at the game she wants to play with me. I hadn’t even realized it was something I’d find entertaining. Then I admit to myself that it’s a game I’d only enjoy playing with her.
I tug at her hair so that she’s forced to look me in the eye. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are glassy with lust.
“Cock?” I ask. “You want to know when you can have my cock?” She nods as far as my tight grip in her hair allows. “Say it, baby girl.” I intentionally make my voice rougher, more demanding.
Her cunt squeezes my fingers with enthusiasm at my harshly spoken command.
“I just don’t know if I can say it. I’ve never said…that word before. I’ve never felt one before.” She reaches down and puts her timid hands around my aching flesh. Her fingers flutter like tiny butterflies, landing tiny caresses up and down my shaft.
While I know part of this is play, the hesitant ways she strokes me and the look on her face tells me some of this is real.
“Baby girl, have you never been with a man before?”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
“What have you done?” I felt no barrier sliding into her, but she’s tight. Tighter than I imagined. Tighter than I’ve felt before.
“I’ve touched myself,” she says hesitantly. “I have…toys.”
I’m completely astonished and humbled that she would want her first experience to be with me. She’ll never be rid of me now, and she needs to know it. I grip her chin and force her to look at me.
“Ryann.” I use her name so she knows that this is not part of the game. “If I take you…when I take you,” I correct, “I will be the last male that will ever touch you. Do you understand me?”
I pull my fingers from her hot cunt so she realizes she can go. I won’t stop her, because if we go on, I’m not going to end it. Ever. This isn’t a one-time deal for me. Even if she never touches me again, I’ll still be lurking around because I won’t be able to leave her. I’ll follow her everywhere. When she marries, when she has children, when she grows old, I will be there…waiting…hoping…wanting.
It will kill me to let her go now. My cock is screaming at me to shut the fuck up. But this innocent needs to have the chance to leave before I thrust into her virginal body with my cock, fill her with my seed, and send my scent into every pore of her body.
Her little-girl expression disappears and is replaced with a steady and knowing expression. “I might be younger than you, but I know what I want. I’ve wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you in the grocery store. I never figured a man like you would want a girl like me, a human one at that. I don’t have a college education. I’m not artistic. I don’t have any special skills. It’s me wonderin
g why you are even giving me the time of day.” She turns her face and presses kisses into my palm.
I gape at her in astonishment. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Ryann, you could have any male. I’m an old and ugly motherfucker who is lucky enough to have some skill with a knife.”
“Some skill, huh?” she smiles, wide and beautiful. “Your art takes my breath away. Your carvings look so real I fear they’ll jump off their pedestals and take flight. But let’s not argue. Now that you’re here, and I have you, let me tell you something.” She places both hands on my face to cup my cheeks. “Once I have you, there will be no other females for you again. I’m the only one who gets Mal Standard from now on. You’re mine.”
She grabs me by the ears and holds me still while she plants a fierce kiss against my lips. Her claim makes me wild. I slide my hand between her legs and shove my fingers inside her where they belong.
I’m dying to lay her out on the sofa and fuck her until we are both insensible. There are so many things I want to do with her. I want to spread those innocent thighs and lick that virgin pussy that no one else is ever going to taste but me. It’s a potent, secret elixir—a fountain of pleasure only I will ever drink at.
But first, I want her to come all over my hand.
I slap her ass, just lightly, to let her know that the game is on. “You see how much I want you,” I growl, shifting her back slightly so she can get a good look at my cock-head. Its red flesh is covered with my pre-come. “Rub your finger across the top of my cock and then stick that finger in your mouth. Taste me,” I order.
“What will it taste like? Will I like it?” She slips back into her role with ease.
“You goddamn will like it. Do it.” I squeeze her ass with my free hand, digging my fingers into her soft flesh. Her hips rock against my fingers with excitement as she swipes the tip of her index finger across the angry, red head.
My cock jerks at her touch.