Ginger Bears (Freshly Baked Furry Tails Book 5)

by Sable Sylvan

  “Fuck,” grunted a voice.

  Ginger turned. James was the one who had flipped her over.

  “What’re you waiting for?” asked Ginger, shaking her thick ass right in James’ face. “Show me what you got, shifter.”

  James reached forward and undid Ginger’s jean button. He pulled her jeans down, inch by inch. He took his thumb and pressed it against the top of her slit, causing the thin fabric of her panties to stretch around his finger as he grazed the surface of his rough thumb against her soft clit.

  “Oh, fuck,” cursed Ginger, bucking her hips and helping James free her fleshy butt from its cloth prison.

  “That’ll give you something to dream about while I’m hibernating,” said James.

  “And what’ll you dream about?” asked Ginger, as James flipped her over so that she was back on her back.

  James reached up and grabbed her breasts. “You.”

  “What specifically about me?” asked Ginger as James unbuttoned her shirt.

  “Everything,” said Richard. Ginger looked up. Richard was unbuttoning his own shirt and stepping out of his jeans. Ginger reached out to pull Richard close. She motioned over his cock with her hand, gripping it in her soft palms and feeling its growing girth, its length changing with every passing second. The tip started to peek out the top of his boxers. She slipped down the underwear.

  Well, one question was answered. The carpets certainly matched the drapes. He was as fire red down there as he was on his head. She ran her fingers over his cock, from base to tip, and drew the precum to the surface.

  Ginger took a minute to appreciate Richard and James’ naked forms. They’d disrobed quickly. Made sense, given they practically wore uniforms—work boots, jeans, a belt, undershirts, and flannel button-up tops, with work jackets over the top on some days. Shifter ran hot, and they barely needed the extra layers, given they had their layers of excess winter fat for hibernation. It helped keep them warm.

  She knew their figures, but not their forms. She knew their heights, their widths, the color of their eyes and ginger hair, but not the architecture of their shirtless, naked bodies. She looked over their chests. They both had strange mate marks, mate marks she’d never figured out the meaning of. She knew Fate had to be real, that the strange circumstances that brought them together were proof of it. But, why had Fate stamped those two odd marks on their bodies? One had a set of spiky shapes with some round curves. The other, an unusual round item that somewhat looked like the tip of a penis. What was it meant to be? What message was Fate trying to send them?

  Or, was Fate just messing with the three of them to get them to have sex to figure the whole dang thing out?

  Ginger’s guess was as good as anyone else’s.

  Ginger looked down at James, who was still feeling her curves. The ginger hair he shared with Richard was so distinctive and rare. Was it possible that their shared hair was a sort of shared mate mark? Well, bear mate marks were usually on their chests…but that put another question into Ginger’s head.

  “I have a weird question,” said Ginger shyly.

  “Well? Out with it,” James ordered gruffly.

  “Can a mate mark be something other than those?” asked Ginger.

  “I…I don’t know,” admitted Richard. “I don’t know of another kind.”

  “You’re both gingers, so could your hair be the mate mark?” asked Ginger.

  “That’s crazy,” said James. “It’s so crazy that I like it.”

  “Explain,” said Richard.

  “You both have ginger hair, and that matches, so maybe, that’s your version of a mate mark,” said Ginger. “Think about it. My name’s Ginger. You both have ginger-colored hair. It’s nearly a perfect match. Heck, if I didn’t know you two, I could mistake you from behind.”

  “You still mistake us for one another, even from the front, sometimes,” said Richard, quirking a brow.

  Ginger crimsoned. “It’s just a frikkin’ theory.”

  “And I think there’s some merit to it,” said Richard, getting down to Gingers’ left and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Take it,” said James, pulling himself off of Ginger. “Take the spot.”

  “What? It’s your turn!” insisted Richard.

  “I’m too close,”‘ said James, shaking his head. “You gotta go first.”

  Richard slipped into the spot James had occupied. He looked over Ginger’s thick curves. Ginger reached up and touched Richard’s broad shoulders before moving her hands to his chest, to his mate mark, to the symbol she hadn’t deciphered. From the moment Ginger had seen Richard and James’ mate marks, she knew that there was no way she’d figure out what the heck they meant. She wasn’t going to waste time trying to decode them. She had more important work to do—like running the frikkin’ pop-up, taking care of Ivy, and making sure James and Richard didn’t tear themselves apart!

  Ginger looked over at James. He was palming himself slowly. She beckoned him over, licking her lips, but he held up a hand.

  “Come on,” said Ginger with a pout. “Get in on the fun.”

  “If I get in, I’m going until I can’t go any longer,” said James.

  “Isn’t that the point?” asked Ginger.

  “We all have to come at the same time to see if this is a match,” explained Richard.

  “So then make me frikkin’ come,” challenged Ginger, spreading her legs.

  Richard slipped a finger underneath Ginger’s panties. He slowly removed them, enjoying the way she filled the room with her sweet, musky, natural womanly scent. He took the panties, held them to his face, inhaled, and then tossed them to James. His cock was throbbing with desire. Richard peeled back Ginger’s ample folds as if he were slipping through tissue paper, trying to find a present. He found her wetness with ease. He held his boner to Ginger’s entrance and felt the wetness on his cock before enrobing himself in her warmth.

  Ginger felt Richard enter her, inch by agonizing inch. He was going as slowly as James had gone quickly. He was making her wait for something she’d already been waiting for long enough! Ginger bucked her hips up against Richard, but he pushed her hips back down, both frustrating and arousing her. She loved a dominant lovemaking style, but dang it, she needed to get done, and hard! She didn’t want to be kept waiting.

  Richard moved up on Ginger, his chest ending up right in front of Ginger’s face. Ginger wasn’t sure what he was doing. He’d gone too far up the bed to kiss her.

  But then, Richard came down onto the bed, slowly, and slid into Ginger at the same time. He pushed back up and drove back down. He moved in and out of Ginger in a circular motion, keeping a steady rhythm as steady as that of the changing seasons. In and out, back and forth, he was working up a tempo. It was hard to tell, but the pace was increasing, albeit slowly, at a steady rate.

  Ginger moved with Richard as if they were dancing. It was as if they’d taken a few baby steps onto the dance floor and taken it slowly, but then, broken out into a quick waltz that evolved into rapid spins and twists and turns.

  Ginger was close, close to the edge, but then, Richard stopped!

  “Keep going,” begged Ginger.

  “I’m tapping out,” said Richard, squeezing Ginger’s thick shoulder. “I’m too close, Ginger. I’m just the one that got you started.” Richard slipped out of Ginger.

  “Mind if I cut in?” asked James. Ginger shook her head. James smiled and slid right into her. Richard had done the hard work of opening her up. Richard had been a gentle lover, but James, well, there was a darkness lurking beneath his surface, and while Richard had used the passion of a man, James was letting his bear guide him. His bear urged him to be passionate. Instead of taking Ginger from the front, James flipped her right over. He pulled her backward, moving her in one fluid motion from missionary position to were-doggy style.

  James slid into Ginger with the first pull backward and filled her from base to tip. Ginger let out a gasp. James’ fullness surprised her. The
re was no way she could’ve taken his mating style if Richard hadn’t prepped her. Just as foreplay came before sex, so too did lovemaking come before mating, and that’s just what James was doing—mating. He was using the mating cabin for its intended purpose—mating.

  After all, he was there to claim his mate.

  James growled as he pulled her back and pushed her forward, felt her slickness slide up and down his cock. He kept exploring her inner canal and felt her outer lips kiss up and down his cock. She moved back and forth, up and down, all around, engulfing him, enveloping him, like the woods taking in his bear. Her fertile folds were ripe and ready for not just his cock, but his seed. He knew that this mating meant that he’d get his cubs by late summer, early autumn, at the soonest. Still, a bear could dream of waking up from hibernation to find his mate surrounded by his cubs.

  A bear could dream.

  A family, a life like the one he’d always wanted as a child, but with cubs of his own.

  A bear could dream.

  A fated mate, his to have, even though he’d have to share.

  A bear could dream.

  James slammed into Ginger, looking over her thick, womanly rolls. If he hadn’t known better, he could’ve guessed she was part bear shifter, given she was more than ready for hibernation. He’d spent many a hibernation kept awake with the thoughts of a mate. This winter, he expected things to be no different and entirely different at the same time. He’d still be kept up with the thoughts of a mate. But this time, they’d be dreams about what he was doing to her right then.

  James knew that there was no way he could really know. Anything could happen. Fate was proof of that.

  But at the same time, he absolutely knew. He knew that Ginger was meant for him—and maybe another—but that she was definitely meant for him.

  Richard had rummaged about the well-stocked mating cabin, wiped himself off, found some seasonal flavored lube packets, helped himself to one, slicked himself up, and walked to the side of the bed with the moaning sound, instead of the side with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

  “Trick or treat?” asked Richard.

  “Wrong holiday,” said Ginger. “But—treat.”

  Richard held out his cock. Ginger licked the tip and tasted Richard’s own natural musk punctuated with something sweet, something that made her tongue feel a bit different. She licked the shaft in a spiral. As Ginger leaned forward to lick Richard’s cock, James slipped out of Ginger, and he pulled her back onto his cock, hard. Ginger looked over her shoulder and raised a brow. James was too busy staring at her thick ass to stare back. Ginger got a naughty idea in her head. Wouldn’t it be nice if the two bears played tug-of-war with her curves?

  Richard looked down at Ginger. His bear roared and ordered him to hold back. After all, Ginger’s mouth was more dangerous than a bear trap hidden beneath the winter snow. Although it was Ginger who was using her mouth on his parts, it was her very mouth that his cock was hungry for. If Richard blew his load too soon, before Ginger came, well…there would be no telling if she was his mate.

  Well, not then.

  They could always try again, and of course, the prospect of trying again, with Ginger, wasn’t half bad…but it was nothing compared to his desire to have his question answered. Was Ginger his mate? Was she meant to be with him? And—was he meant to share her, or was she really James’ mate and James’ mate alone?

  There was no telling yet, but he could tell the answer was close—as close as he was to the edge. Richard resisted putting a hand to the back of Ginger’s head to bob it up and down his cock, worried he’d be too rough with his delicate woman. Sure, she was big—but she was still human, still shorter than him, still less muscular, more fragile. She could fill out a pair of plus-size jeans, but to him, she still seemed as delicate as an heirloom glass Christmas ornament, and just as irreplaceable.

  Ginger wrapped her arms around Richard’s waist and used it as leverage so she could suck on his cock. Every thrust forward onto Richard’s cock was met with a pull back from James!

  “Mint,” said Ginger.

  “And?” asked Richard.

  “And what?” asked Ginger. “It’s mint!”

  “What kind of mint?” asked Richard.

  “Does it matter?” asked Ginger.

  “I mean, you do have your reputation as a baker to consider,” said Richard.

  There was nothing that got Ginger’s butt in gear like a good ol’ fashioned challenge. She went back down on Richard’s thickness. It was hard to figure out what kind of mint was used to flavor the lube, given Richard’s hot cock’s heat confused her senses. It wasn’t too herbal, or too exotic in any way. It had to be peppermint. But, what was the sweetness? There was a sugary sweetness that was unlike the usual sweetness of flavored lube. It wasn’t vanilla, but it was vanillay.

  That’s’ when it hit Ginger. It was the taste of sugar. Sugar and peppermint—of course!

  “Candy cane,” said Ginger, rubbing Richard’s cock and feeling the cold lube beneath her hand.

  “There’s a warming one—gingerbread flavored, of course—but I thought the last thing you needed was more heat,” said Richard.

  “Well, then you guessed wrong, but that’s okay,” said Ginger with a wink. “I’ll still suck that dick anyway.”

  Ginger bobbed back down onto Richard’s cock. She felt the flannel sheets move beneath her. They were soft from years of use—not that Ginger wanted to think about that. Still, the sheets were freshly laundered, so it wasn’t a huge deal—but being pulled back and forth on the sheets, James pulling her back with every motion she made forward, made the flannel rub against her skin. It was a bit rough and reminded Ginger of the times she’d found herself enrobed in flannel, in James and Richard’s warm arms, as they held her all those times throughout the holidays. All the drama, all the heartache, it had all led to that moment, in that mating cabin with the two of them.

  Ginger knew Fate was real, but she was starting to believe in Christmas magic.

  “Ooh, harder!” moaned Ginger. She writhed on James’ cock, pushing and pulling it, in and out of her, while she ran over Richard’s member with her tongue. She looked up at Richard. His eyes had rolled back into his head. Ginger smiled to herself. She still had that magic mouth that was good for more than just having milk and cookies.

  James grabbed Ginger by the hips and rammed into her, focusing on power over stamina. He was holding back as hard as he could. If he could get Ginger past the brink, then he too could have his release.

  Richard looked down at Ginger. He took his cock in his hand, not because Ginger wasn’t as good as his hand, but because she was so much better. He knew that if he let her keep sucking his cock, then he’d explode too soon.

  James ran a thumb over Ginger’s clit and felt her shiver. He ran another thumb along the inside of her thigh. That slight touch made Ginger’s toes curl. She arched her back as she absorbed James’ passion with every thrust.

  Ginger couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out a primal moan as she came, hard, around James’ cock. She felt Richard pulse in her hand and then felt a splatter against her chest before she felt James’ clench and release. Did they do it? Had they ended up on Fate’s nice list?

  As all three members of the ménage came, something magical happened. Richard and James’ eyes flashed in the low light of the cabin. At first, Ginger thought it was a trick of the light caused by the Christmas string lights, but soon, she realized the light wasn’t merely reflected in the bears’ eyes—it was coming from them. There was a magical light from within that was making them glow. James’ deep brown eyes flashed a brilliant shade of amber, while Richard’s blue-gray eyes shone pale white.

  That wasn’t the only part of their bodies that were glowing.

  Ginger ran her hands down Richard and James’s bodies. Richard’s mate mark was the weirder of the two, round and angular at the same time. Suddenly, the shape was outlined in a gold light—but that light went thr
ough the form, rather than just around it. The shape was a set of spiky leaves with two berries.

  She looked at James’ chest. The bell-end shape was still just that—shaped like a bell, but lined in gold. She saw the line of gold trickle up James’ chest, forming a set of spiky shapes with two round ones. She looked over to Richard’s chest again. The lines of gold were trickling down to trace out the shape of a bell-like object.

  She couldn’t believe it. James was gaining Richard’s mate mark, just as Fate was tracing out James’ mate mark on Richard! There was a bright flash of golden light, and Ginger’s eyelids fluttered. The light shone so brightly that it hurt to look at.

  James slipped out of Ginger. As the orgasms subsided, so too did the lights fade, but the marks they’d formed were left behind.

  Suddenly, it was clear what the shapes were meant to be.

  There was a pair of olive-green spiky leaves with two red balls. Underneath, there was a yellow bell. Together, they formed the classic Christmas motif of a holly-topped bell. Where had Ginger seen that shape before?

  “I…I don’t understand,” said Ginger, running her hands over Richard and James’ chests. “Your marks…they both changed.”

  “Must mean this was fated,” said James.

  “But…how come you two didn’t realize that the marks were meant to go together?” asked Ginger.

  “What did you think my mark was?” asked James.

  “Honestly, couldn’t describe it—and same goes for yours, Richard,” admitted Ginger.

  “Some folks luck out, get some easy mark like a frikkin’ pumpkin or a muffin or something, but others, well…they have to take a detour,” said Richard. “The important thing isn’t the journey, but the destination.”

  “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes,” said James, quirking a brow.

  “But…why is it a bell with a sprig of holly?” asked Ginger. “Does that mean anything to you two? Because it certainly holds no special meaning for me.”

  “Doesn’t mean anything to me either,” admitted James.

  “You really don’t see it?” asked Richard. “It’s a bell, with a sprig of holly. Where did you last see one of those?”