Angel_Rochon Bears

by Moxie North

  She freaking loved that move. There was something about a man putting his hand at the small of your back that was so comforting and loving. It was like a dance when a man did that, leading you somewhere that you were happy to go because you were connected by more than a hand.

  Becca knew that she was waxing a little poetic, but tequila would do that to you. At least, she thought it had been tequila.

  The door swung open, and Becca took in a standard motel room. It looked clean enough and didn’t smell like cigarettes which she hated. She walked in far enough that she heard the door click behind her and felt her heart skip a beat. There was dim light coming from the bathroom, the door open just enough to cast a shadowy glow over the dark room.

  Angel came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. That warm voice she was quickly becoming addicted to whispered into her ear.

  “Lights on or off?”

  Oh, thank goodness he asked. “Off, please.”

  “Anything you want, sugar.”

  That voice coupled with the heat of his body had her brain turning off and her pussy waking up. Not that the little tramp was ever asleep. But Becca felt parts waking up like she hadn’t in a long time. She was a mature woman making a slightly intoxicated decision to spend an adult evening enjoying adult activities.

  “Anything?”

  Her voice was husky as he started kissing down the line of her neck. Becca tilted her neck to give him better access. His hands moved over her stomach and then slid up confidently to cup her breasts.

  Becca let her head drop back to his shoulder and gave herself over to the man who seemed to know his way around the female body.

  His hands were sure and confident as he molded her breasts, dragging his thumbs over her nipples, teasing her to a slow burn.

  Chapter 6

  “These breasts are magnificent. I can’t wait to taste them.”

  Angel was proud that he was still managing to speak and not just growl at the woman in his arms. From the moment he walked her out of the bar, he’d been waiting for her to change her mind. His bear was insistent that they were spending the night with her. Angel wasn’t about to deny him something that he could so easily give.

  The woman he’d watched sway and rock on the dance floor was shaped like a pinup girl. All hips, ass, and tits. Even drunk he could see that she was just the type he would imagine when he was jacking himself off. Spank bank material for sure.

  The delicious aroma had drawn him across the crowded bar. He hadn’t known it was her that he smelled until he got close enough. Then his bear got loud telling him he had to get closer; he wanted a better look at the woman. Instead, the moment he got near her he had his hands on her. The feel of her under his palms made him forget to get a better look at her.

  Angel thought she was pretty; he’d seen her dancing with her friend. She looked like a school teacher, a naughty one, while she danced. Her ample ass was swinging back and forth, and she had on a pair of probably practical high heels that still did amazing things for her legs.

  Normally, if he had been with his crew, he would have talked a big game and then chickened out on approaching a woman like her. The young girls were always trying to get his attention, but there wasn’t any challenge there. Angel figured being part animal made him want to chase his prey, so he didn’t beat himself up over his thoughts. The woman he wanted could easily turn him down without much effort. So when he approached, he put his game on heavy. He told her what he was thinking, that her ass was rocking, and he wanted to fuck her.

  Bold move, sure, but it worked.

  Now he had her in a motel room, her sweet ass pressed against his dick, and two handfuls of heavy tits he needed to taste. He’d proudly replay his conquest the next morning after he’d gotten a taste of the sweet smelling woman in his arms.

  Angel walked her towards the bed, slipping the buttons on her blouse as he went. He kissed the skin he exposed, slipping the soft fabric off her shoulders. The woman in front of him was pliable, warm, and he could smell how wet she was for him. It had his head spinning, and his bear loudly telling him to get on with it.

  Angel dropped the shirt to the floor and reached for the hook of Becca’s bra. With a flick, he had it unlatched, and she was sliding it down her arms.

  Putting his hands back where they started, Angel couldn’t hold back the growl at touching the soft skin of her large breasts. Her nipples were puckered under his palms, and he rolled them between his thumb and finger giving each one a squeeze. He heard her hiss, and the sound made man and bear both want to roar.

  “Like that?”

  “Yes, so much,” she breathed.

  Angel squeezed a little harder, testing her. The gasp he heard this time was sharper, more pain less pleasure.

  “Take it, Becca. Show me you can take a little more than you normally like, and I promise I will make it worth it. Right to the edge, baby, I can take you right to the point of exquisite pain. And make sure you go crashing over it.”

  Becca was panting through the sting of his fingers squeezing her nipples. He was right, it hurt then burned, the line of fire skimming down her nerves to her clit, making it pulse with the same ache in her breasts.

  “I don’t know,” she said, trying to organize her feelings on the pain and pleasure coursing through her. She didn’t know if it was the booze or if it was really feeling as good as it felt. Her lovers in the past had been fine, nothing mind blowing for sure. But this guy—there might be something new for her here.

  “Becks, play with me,” he growled into her ear. He licked along the shell and nipped at her earlobe.

  She liked that he’d made her a nickname. Her parents always called her by her full name or Becky which she disliked. He could call her anything he wanted as long as he could keep making her feel so good.

  “Are there rules to play with you?” She wasn’t so drunk that she didn’t make sure they weren’t looking at this process differently.

  “One rule, tell the truth. If you like what I’m doing, tell me. If you don’t like it, tell me that too. I may try to convince you to like it; I won’t lie. But all you have to do is say stop, and I will. I don’t want to hurt you, baby, I want to make you burn. I want to hear you scream my name and claw my back as you come apart for me.”

  Becca didn’t mind that rule; it made her feel a lot better about agreeing. “Yes, I’ll play.”

  “Thatta girl. Turn around, and give me that mouth again,” he ordered.

  Chapter 7

  Becca blinked awake slowly, her eyes adjusting to the nearly dark room. The sliver of light coming from the edges of the blackout curtains told her it was still early in the morning. Regardless of how much she drank the night before, her internal alarm woke her up well before an alarm clock ever could.

  Going to stretch, Becca glanced down to see a long tan, muscular arm draped over her stomach. That arm was attached to a smooth back of the man that was currently face down and turned away from her.

  Oh. My. God. The previous night came rushing back to her all at once. She’d gotten drunk, then a little drunker. She’d made out with a man she just met then agreed to spend the night with him. That sounded simple but was anything but.

  The delicious soreness that was now waking up over her body was a physical reminder of every one of her walls that Angel had scaled and conquered. The man had her not only staying awake but orgasming more times than she could count. There were some that she was pretty sure had gone on for hours.

  They didn’t just have sex and fall asleep—no—Angel gave her barely a moment to breathe in between before he would start it all over again.

  It was hands down the best sex of her life.

  And now she was mortified. The harsh light of day was just behind those curtains, and she was not looking forward to facing it. She had to figure out how to get herself out of the room and to her car without waking up the man next to her.

  Sure, last night she had been all brave and in charge of her own s
ex life. This morning, she was a woman in bed with a man fourteen years her junior. Shit, she could be his mother if she had started really early.

  Becca looked over at the sleeping stud again to see he was out cold. Whether it was alcohol or he was just plain fucked out, she hoped he stayed that way.

  Sliding off the bed and out from under his arm made her situation feel all the more juvenile. That was until she decided to crawl around the floor looking for her clothing and getting dressed lying on the probably filthy motel carpet. Her eyes spied the trash can that had a condom dangling precariously on the edge. She knew it contained at least four more, and she was mortified. Once she had all of her clothes and had spotted her purse, she double-checked that she was covered and that her keys were in her hand.

  Tossing one last look over her shoulder at the man that she would probably consider a mistake until she was dreaming about him, she opened the door and fled.

  Practically running through the gravel parking lot, she made it to her car and was inside with the car running before she chanced a glance over to room number ten. The door was still closed, thank goodness. She put the car in reverse and took off for home reminding herself that squealing out of the parking lot was not a good idea.

  As the distance between her and the possibly bad, but oh so good night got farther, she took her first calming breath.

  “So what? I slept with him. He made me come over and over. Did things to me that I have never done. It was a learning experience. I’m still allowed to have those,” she said to the interior of the car.

  Room 10

  Becca spun around in his arms and looked up at the man that wanted her to drop the guard that she hadn’t been aware was up.

  Not that she was a prude in the bedroom. She had always been up for new things; she’d just never met anyone that had anything interesting to show her. Her luck might have changed tonight.

  Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see the outline of his face and saw his eyes were on her breasts. Or more exactly, his eyes were on his hands that were on her breasts. Before she could look up, he swooped in and claimed her mouth. The kiss was like the one they had shared at the door. Fierce, electric, and amazing.

  Becca’s hands dug into his hair as they kissed furiously. She held on as they fell back to the bed. Arms scooped under her and lifted her higher on the bed. The strength with which he moved her was surprising. He lifted her like she was a feather, all without breaking their kiss.

  “How’d you do that?” she asked, pulling away from his mouth. She felt the brush of the necklace he was wearing against her throat. It was warm like him.

  “Do what?” Angel didn’t stop kissing her he just moved down to her nipple.

  Becca’s brain misfired momentarily as his mouth sealed around the ridged nub and sucked hard.

  “Move me so easily, like I didn’t weigh anything.” The words came out, but they ended on a moan as his teeth scraped over her sensitive tissue.

  Giving her abused flesh a sucking kiss, he pulled away and kissed her hard and fast.

  “I could carry you all day long. Of course, that’s not how I prefer to have your weight on me. I’d rather you be riding my dick and squeezing every drop of cum out of me instead.”

  Oh—wow—yeah that was awkward. Why did things during the heat of passion sound so fucking amazing and in the light of day made you cringe?

  He had been so strong. She could say that honestly she’d never been with anyone as fit as he was. She tended to lean towards the slightly fluffy sweater wearing type of guy. His physique alone made her feel like they weren’t on the same level. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel that she wasn’t good enough with her rounded tummy and big thighs. They were features she knew some men loved, but would a young muscled guy feel the same? Her normal type of guy was happy to discuss favorite pizza toppings and not look sideways at her for that extra scoop of ice cream.

  Last night, though, Angel didn’t once make her feel like she was anything but perfect. Not just in how he worshiped her body, and he did, every square inch of her, but what he said. He was bossy, like super bossy. He’d order her to do something then tell her how beautiful she was. It didn’t take her long to catch on that the more compliant she was and the faster she moved to his command, the quicker the praise.

  She realized this put her in the Pavlov’s dog category, but she wasn’t above positive reinforcement. She’d still tried to hold her ground, though, like when he wanted her to ride him.

  Room 10

  Straddling this man sounded like an excellent idea in theory, although she wasn’t usually the type to like that position. She preferred missionary under the covers and in the dark. Not that she was ashamed of her body, not like that anyway. But she had a sneaking suspicion that she made some truly horrible faces during sex. She figured that was something no man could unsee.

  “Maybe later?” she offered.

  She felt a chuckle move through his body, but he didn’t respond. At least, not verbally. Instead, he went about pushing the limits that she didn’t even know she had.

  Becca was undressed before she could even register it happening. Angel moved quickly even though to Becca’s brain it was a slow sensual seduction. That was mostly because her reaction time was slowed. This seemed to play perfectly into Angel’s torment.

  “I must not re-live the delicious details of last night. I will go home, shower, change, and go to work. Just like every other day. It’s two days to the weekend. I just need to make it until then, and I’ll open a bottle of wine and replay the events once.”

  Becca often made little deals with herself. She was the only one to hold herself accountable, after all, so she found it worked. Like promising yourself a nap later if you get up on time. She’d let herself re-live the night once before filing it away deep in her memories.

  This time she knew she was lying to herself. This was not going to be a memory that faded fast or easily.

  Chapter 8

  Becca made it home to her little two-bedroom cottage just off Main Street. She’d bought it a few years ago because it made her think of a fairytale house. It was a craftsman-style with little dormer windows sticking out of the roof. The long, narrow porch was just wide enough for a swing and a few chairs on the front.

  The little old lady that had owned it before had bought the house new in the nineteen fifties. She’d moved in with her husband, managed to raise two children in it, and lived in it long after her husband passed away.

  The owner had been an amateur gardener, and the yard looked like she had tried to cram every possible flower in it that would grow in Washington’s finicky weather. There were little paths through what had probably been a regular lawn but was now raised beds and islands of flowering shrubs. The array of flora would draw hummingbirds and butterflies in the spring. Becca would sit on her porch swing with a throw blanket over her lap drinking tea and watching the life flicker through the petals and leaves.

  This morning, though, she didn’t pause to appreciate the scenery. She still felt like she was escaping a crime. Walking in, she tossed her purse onto the chintz couch in her living room and flicked off her shoes by the door.

  The inside of her house looked like the outside. Country chic and full of color. She had painted the walls a lemon chiffon that was probably a tad too bright but made her happy every time she saw them. Most of her furniture was found items from estate sales or vintage shops. The woodwork was usually white and worn, the accessories soft and floral. Her bedroom was the same with fewer flowers and more soothing earth tones.

  She had a king-size bed that she had crammed into the small master bedroom. She loved being able to wake up sideways on her bed without arms or legs dangling off. Normally, she was a fitful sleeper. She thought of the previous night. She must have passed out because clearly, Angel was able to fall asleep without her thrashing.

  “Later. You can think about that later.” This was a gentle reminder to herself, but it was just words.
She could still feel his hands, his mouth, and his cock. He had marked her literally.

  Walking into the bathroom off her bedroom, she turned the handle on the shower and let it warm up. Slipping out of her clothes, she looked in the mirror and let out a gasp when she saw the extent of the damage.

  She was covered, freaking covered, in hickeys. Big ones, little ones, ones with even a faint outline of teethmarks. And it wasn’t just her neck. It was her shoulders, her breasts, a few scattered over her tummy, and she knew, without looking, there were more than a few along her inner thighs.

  The first time he’d done it, she remembered thinking he might leave a mark, but an admonishment wasn’t what came out of her mouth.

  Room 10

  “Do it again, Angel. I like it. It feels so good.”

  The mouth that had just sucked hard on her neck released, and his face came up over hers. She could see the shadowy planes of his face now.

  “What do you like about it? Tell me.”

  “It feels so good it makes my pussy ache. Then it hurts, and that makes my nipples ache,” she admitted.

  “Good girl, that’s just what I want it to feel like. Hot and cold, hard and soft, and everything in between,” he said roughly.

  Becca had never had anyone bite her during sex. But whether it was the alcohol or just the fact she figured she was already naked in bed with the man, she not only went along but encouraged it. The sharp pain of the blood rushing to her skin made her feel alive. All of her nerve endings were on fire, and she started to crave the rush.

  “Oh—no—I begged,” she moaned, dropping her head as she gripped her sink. She had begged long and loud, many times. Every time she thought she might come, Angel would back off just enough for her to lose it. Normally in her experience “losing it” meant it was darn near impossible to get it back.