Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8)

by Isadora Montrose

  “I’ll kiss it better.” He suited actions to words. His mouth soothed the sore places made by a day of wearing the constricting bra.

  His thumbs drew rough circles around and over her straining nipples. He caught her moans with his mouth. Amber felt a touch of self-consciousness standing in the lamplight bare to the waist, while he feasted on her curves with hands and mouth, and yet she sensed that he was enjoying himself as much as she was, and this was about getting him past his issues.

  She ran her hands up under his vest, respecting his limits for now. She fully intended to get him naked in the bed with her tonight, but first she would make him feel loved.

  He was wearing a plain white undershirt beneath his work shirt. It was stretched skin tight over his muscular torso. She made no comment, but moved her hands to his back to knead his bulging lats. Lifting all those bales of hay had given him the well-defined upper body of a Greek god.

  “You’re so strong,” she told him. “So sexy.”

  He didn’t reply, but she thought he heard her. He plumped her breasts while he kissed her, rolled the taut nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugged. She shattered right there. Came with an explosive force that was new to her. Soaked her panties with the surge of ejaculation from her pussy. That was new too. The air filled with the scent of her satisfaction.

  “My God, you’re sensitive,” he groaned.

  “Never was before. You have magic hands, lover.”

  “I do?”

  “I’m swooning here, Prescott. Let’s get rid of these wet jeans.”

  “Your jeans are wet?”

  She grinned. “I hope you’re not turned off by women who squirt.”

  He buried his face in her neck. “I always thought that was a myth.”

  “That guys are turned off by women who ejaculate?”

  “No, that women did.” He sounded awed.

  “My first time.” She giggled happily.

  He knelt to help her pull her jeans down. The damp denim did not want to cooperate. But he wrestled them down her thighs and off.

  “Your inner thighs are chafed,” he scolded.

  “It’s the dry air. I’m not used to Colorado.”

  He kissed the reddened skin. “You need to wear long johns and use lots of skin lotion.”

  “Umm. Maybe you could rub some in for me,” she suggested with what she hoped was a sultry glance.

  Apparently Lance thought so, because his face lit up. “Let’s get these socks off,” he said thickly.

  You had to be hotness personified when a guy could smell like this while you stood before him wearing old socks and a pair of panties that had seen better days. Of course hers smelled fantastic now that they were soaked.

  “Where’s your lotion?” he croaked.

  “Bathroom.”

  He took off. She used the opportunity to lose the panties and turn down the bed. She was lying propped against the pillows when he came back carrying a yellow tube.

  “Is this the stuff?”

  “It is.” She opened her legs and waved her bush at him. She shaved her pits and legs, but left her muff natural. The black hair was lush and curly and long. Her movement wafted her juices at him. For a hero, he looked a little weak at the knees.

  She smiled. “Come do me,” she purred.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Lance~

  The minx had taken off her underwear and was blushing and waving her legs around to entice him. She was a delicious blend of innocence and earthiness. And his. No doubt about that.

  He felt a sort of unwilling pride that he had brought her to orgasm just by fondling and kissing her breasts. Even prouder of those soaked jeans. After all, it was her body, her response. Nothing he had done. Only it felt like he had.

  He was suddenly way too warm to keep his vest on. His shirt and undershirt would have to do. He squeezed cream into his palms and rubbed them together to warm them. Knelt before her spread thighs and ran his hands from her knees to her pussy, grazed the dark hair with his fingertips and slid back down to her rosy knees.

  Her face flushed even redder, but her eyes sparkled. She planted her feet on the bed and spread her pussy to his gaze. She smelled like the ideal woman. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to taste her folds.

  But two could tease. “You’ll be all sticky, if I don’t rub this in properly.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” she panted.

  He moved up and down her thighs as slowly as he could, each time barely touching her pubic hair. It was thick and black, curling and glossy. Her folds were a deep crimson and so stiff the lips stood away from each other like the petals of his bear’s rose. Ever since he had seen her nude, he had dreamed of her pussy, but the fragrant reality was much better.

  Each time his fingers crept closer, her lovely pussy quaked with anticipation and glittered with moisture. Ugly Lance Prescott turned this beautiful woman on. Of course, Amber hadn’t seen his body yet.

  He had taken the opportunity to wash his face in the bathroom, but he had put his patch back on afterward. And he had no intention of taking his clothes off. Not if he could please her in other ways.

  He bent forward and let his lips trace the path his fingers had forged. Her thighs quivered as he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses on the delicate skin, soothing his love bites with gentle strokes of his tongue. Her body was vibrating gently. He could feel the waves of pleasure pulsing through her veins.

  “Kiss me here,” she demanded, stroking herself. Her eyes dared him. Her hot cheeks told him her boldness was just for him.

  “Don’t be greedy,” he chided, and slipped back down to her other knee and resumed his slow journey to paradise.

  Her fingers twined in his hair and tugged gently. She moaned. Pressed her knees around his ears. Let go. He chuckled against the soft skin he was tantalizing.

  “I’m going to come again,” she warned.

  “Do I get to watch?” he asked, sitting up and meeting her shocked gaze.

  “If you like,” she squeaked.

  “I like.” He ruffled her curls.

  And just like that, the prettiest girl in Colorado spurted all over his fingers.

  He licked his fingers while he held her eyes. The flush of orgasm mottled her chest and neck and turned those lovely breasts into a glory of pink and mauve. Her nipples were almost as dark as her folds and extended like missiles. He took one into his mouth and rolled it around while his fingers played with her wet sex.

  The aftershocks of her climax merged with a fresh wave of orgasm. Her eyes were tightly closed. Her face was a mask of pleasure. She shrieked his name as she came and came again. Her response made him feel like a hero. A conquering hero. He eased off her clit and let her relax for a moment.

  Those big blue eyes opened languidly. “What about you?” she asked shyly.

  “We’re not done here,” he said sternly.

  She giggled. “Aren’t we?”

  “Nope. We still have cleanup.” He bent and lapped at her spread lips, sucking gently at the overstimulated flesh. It was engorged and so sensitive that only the softest, lightest kisses would do. His name became a moan of delight on her anguished lips. Amber’s fingers gripped his hair hard as she splintered all over again.

  He kissed her mouth with the taste of her sated pussy flavoring his. Her surprise turned to joy. She tugged him flat over her pulsing body.

  “Keep me warm, lover,” she murmured. She extended a hand and flicked off the bedside lamp.

  A cocoon of darkness enveloped them. He was sorry that he couldn’t see her beauties. But grateful for the inky night that kept his secrets.

  “Take off your pants,” she whispered.

  His thighs were no great shakes either, but they were not as badly damaged as his chest and face. His cock was straining at the zipper of his jeans. He knelt astride her and carefully eased the zipper down. Her hands crept around his hips and squeezed his buttocks.

  “You have great buns,” she
told him confidingly.

  “Do I?”

  “Yup. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed me looking?”

  He hadn’t. “I didn’t know country girls were so bold,” he teased. He slipped his jeans down his legs, moved around to get them off completely and came back to her waiting arms.

  “See, that’s the thing about living close to nature,” she squeezed his ass with strong fingers, “You develop an appreciation for its beauties.”

  She slipped one hand up the leg of his shorts, toyed with the hair on his thigh and grazed his balls. He levitated. She giggled.

  “You’re ticklish,” she exclaimed delightedly.

  “That didn’t tickle,” he said. His voice was a gruff growl.

  “No?” She did it again. Again he jumped. She giggled in the darkness. Grabbed his cock. “Well, hello,” she cooed. She pretended to shake it.

  The foolish thing was so swollen, it bucked in her hand. “Careful. It’s about to go off. And I forgot my condom.” It was in his jeans.

  Her arms held him steady. “Ride me bareback,” she commanded.

  “What if you get pregnant?”

  Her smile was in her voice. “Then we’ll have us a baby.”

  He couldn’t do it. He swallowed hard and swung off the bed. “I’ll get the condom.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He came back to her with his cock dressed. But his excitement had been muted by the reality check. Crap. He was about to disappoint Amber as he had disappointed Holly. His erection drooped. Double crap.

  “Lie on me, lover,” she begged. “And don’t move. Let’s just enjoy touching for a little.”

  He could do that. “I don’t want to squash you. Or your pretty breasts.”

  “You think my breasts are pretty?” she sounded indignant.

  “The loveliest I’ve ever had the privilege to see or touch,” he assured her, not certain if she was teasing or if he had hurt her feelings.

  “Damn straight, soldier.” She arched upward so that they pressed into his chest.

  “Soft.” He gave one a fond squeeze. “Bountiful.” He tugged on the other nipple. “The sweetest nipples on the ripest apples.”

  She giggled. “You remember that,” she instructed breathlessly. “Now put your cock between my thighs and let’s get acquainted.”

  “Inside you?”

  “Now who’s being greedy? Just touching. No moving,” she commanded.

  Relief flooded him. But he played her game. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

  “Very. Consider me your Tantric Mistress, lover. Kiss me. No tongue.”

  He pressed his lips against hers. She pressed back. They took turns exploring each other’s lips. After a few moments, he realized his back was damp. And his shirt was sticking to her breasts. Their breathing seemed to be synchronized into heavy panting. And his cock was aching hard.

  He tried a little wiggle to get some relief, but Tantric Mistress grabbed his ass and dug her fingers in. “Just for that, you get to wait another ten minutes.”

  The contrast between her shy voice and her sultry command did him in. He laughed. Joy flooded him. He slipped his arms beneath her back and held her close. Breathed in the scent of her braided hair. Licked her ear. She squirmed.

  “Do you get punished for moving?” he inquired.

  She sighed elaborately. “Who’s the Tantric Mistress?”

  “You are,” he said humbly.

  “You may kiss my ear some more,” she instructed.

  So he did. It had to be the fastest ten minutes on record, for it wasn’t long before she was ordering, “Mount up, Marine.”

  Her pussy was still swollen and slick. Even though his cock was a throbbing tent pole about to burst, he found it hard to push past her engorged entrance. But he made it. Her hands crept up under his shirt. Under his undershirt. Her fingers tap danced on his spine.

  “Stop.” Just one word, followed by a delicious, innocent giggle.

  “You are a cruel woman.” But he held himself quiet and enjoyed the tight fit and the embrace of her passage.

  Another giggle. She squeezed his dick tightly and released him. “Like that?” she whispered forgetting her role.

  “Very much. Do it some more. Please.”

  She obliged. The strain of keeping still while she massaged his cock with her tight vagina made him grit his teeth. He was too preoccupied to notice what she was doing until his chest touched hers, skin to skin.

  She wiggled her breasts against him in time to the tempo of her gripping and releasing of his cock. He wanted to protest, but all that emerged was a husky gasp as he fought for control.

  It was of overwhelming importance not to be the first to come.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Amber~

  She was floating with happiness. Not just from the best sex she had ever had, but from being so completely connected to Lance. She figured he had to have noticed by now that his chest hair was scraping her nipples. The tender abrasion was just another sensation in an already overloaded body, but it was too soon to give up on her plan. Too late to stop.

  Lance’s hips were lifting slightly, even though he was trying to obey his Tantric Mistress. Where had that brazen wench come from? Had to be the unplumbed sexual depths of her bear’s unconscious. His cock filled her completely, and each time she contracted and released him, pulses of lightning flew through her body.

  She was on the verge again. Her nipples were like sore pebbles. And yet she did not want to stop moving against his chest hair and the ridged skin that was so strangely erotic. Was it love that transformed what could have been unpleasant into the deepest pleasure?

  “May I move, darling, Tantric Mistress,” he begged.

  “Go for it, Marine.” She relaxed and let him thrust, while her release rushed through her body like a tsunami. Somewhere in some primal sea their souls joined in blissful union. She felt his climax as if it were taking place inside her body. As if they were one body. One soul.

  For certain sure, this was a bear bond. Only he still didn’t know she was a black bear. But she was far too happy to worry about the future. She held her man close and let herself fall deeply asleep beneath his welcome weight. She roused when he moved his weight from her. The mattress depressed as he sat up.

  “I hope you’re not running out on me?”

  He turned. “I better get home. There’ll be talk as it is. The Double B is like a small town – full of gossips.”

  “Let them talk. It’s only the truth. I’m not ashamed. Come back to bed, Lance.” She held out her arms, although it was unlikely he could see them.

  He stood up instead and began to fiddle with his shirt.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked bluntly.

  “Just getting comfortable. We’re sleeping on top of the covers. And I’m wearing my shirt.”

  “And your patch. Take them off. It’s dark. And it doesn’t matter.”

  Beside the bed he froze. “It’s not a sight for anyone’s eyes.”

  They better get this issue done and dusted. She pushed up onto one elbow. “Lance Prescott, I resent the idea that my feelings would change if I saw the full extent of your scars. I felt your scars – they’re bad – but they’re proof you’re alive.”

  “I used to be a good-looking fellow.” His voice was bleak in the dark.

  “I told you, Marine, handsome is as handsome does. Your character is still intact. Probably improved by suffering. Tell me, will you love me less when you see the cellulite on my butt?”

  “What?”

  “My buttocks and thighs are dimpled with cellulite,” she explained. “People think it’s hideous and spend millions to try to get rid of it. Will it offend your eyes?”

  “You have a lovely ass. Supple. Strong. Bouncy.” He sounded confused. “And the softest skin.”

  “Orange peel skin.”

  “More like a peach than any kind of citrus.”

  “Cellulite is no
joking matter!”

  He snorted. “I think a bunch of lumpy scars are far worse.”

  “This isn’t a competition.” She flipped on the light.

  He turned away, but not before she saw his chest. His chest hair grew in patches. His tattoo had been partially excised by the blast that had torn his chest open. And the scars were reddish-gray and white and showed the hasty stitching of the field surgeon. But he wasn’t dead.

  She got up and hugged him from behind. “You could have died,” she said. “But you didn’t. And we get to have a life because you got sewn up like a patchwork quilt.”

  She let her hand creep up to cover his heart. “Although, it’s kind of a shame about your tattoo.” It was. How on earth had he come to have a cinnamon-colored bear tattooed over his heart? Holding the remains of a red rose in her smiling mouth?

  His shoulders heaved. Had she reduced her warrior to tears? But Lance was laughing. He turned around. He still had his patch on. But baby steps, she reminded herself. He kissed her and squeezed that dimpled rump she wished was smooth.

  “I fell in love with your ass,” he whispered.

  “Tsch. So shallow,” she teased.

  This time his kiss stole her breath. He swept his tongue past her lips to dance with hers in a gliding waltz that made them both ready for another round of the bedtime polka. She caressed his cock from base to tip. “Can I be on top this time?”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Lance~

  “Will you marry me, Amber?”

  She bit her lip. “You may not want to when I tell you my secret,” she warned him.

  It was the rejection he had feared. He knew his whole face tightened and his damaged eye twitched. But Amber’s gaze did not flinch. She held out her hands, but she did not take his. She was waiting for him to accept them. This was not about him but about her. Plainly she thought there might be a real problem.

  Were they secretly first cousins? He thought not. Clumsily he groped for her hands and squeezed. “I don’t think you’re likely to have any kind of a secret that would make me change my mind. But you go ahead and tell me. I’m listening.” He tried to make his voice reassuring, even though the thought of losing her made every muscle in his throat – his body – tighten.