by Meg Ripley
“I insist.”
She blushes, but I settle myself at her feet, kneeling there. I pick up one of Hannah’s ankles and begin kneading it slowly, working from the Achilles tendon up toward her calf. Hannah moans, and the sound of her—mingled with her irresistible scent—is almost more than I can stand. I try to take shallow breaths, mostly through my mouth, but I can still feel the tension in her body as I switch to her other ankle and then start moving up to massage her calf.
Even through her jeans, I can feel the strength in her legs; the heat of her body. After changing into my animal form to protect her—and get rid of the punks that have no business in this territory—my bear consciousness is still partly in command of me, and hard to push back. The feeling of her body, the smell of her, is driving me crazy.
She should be mine. Except she’s not a bear—she’s not any kind of shifter. How could I want her? How could she smell like something that belongs to me? Is it possible that a human...could be my mate?
She moans again when I get up to just above her knee, and I look up at her face. “You’re enjoying yourself,” I murmur, smiling a bit at her. Hannah’s cheeks flush; she looks away and then quickly back at me, and I can see the rosiness spread across the little slice of her chest that’s visible at the neck of her sweater. Breathing in deeply, I can actually smell her arousal, rolling off her in waves which makes it impossible to focus on anything but my ever-growing desire for her.
“Maybe we should stop,” Hannah says, her voice cracking. “I mean, I don’t want to be inappropriate. I don’t want there to be any questions about whether my article is objective or not.”
I chuckle. “Can’t have that, can we?”
I lean in a little closer to her. I can’t help it, it’s like her body itself is drawing me in, and I can feel her pulse quickening; I can smell the way her arousal is deepening as my thumbs work at the muscles of her thighs, kneading and rolling.
“No one would ever have to know,” I say. No one in my clan needs to find out that I want to devour this human female whole; that I want to gorge myself on the honey I can smell between her thighs and feel her body wrapped around me.
“Someone could see us,” Hannah whispers.
I laugh again. “Other than the wildlife, not many people are going to head this far away from the trail,” I point out. “If you can tell me that you don’t want me to fuck your brains out right here and now, I’ll stop, and I’ll even apologize for coming onto you.”
I hold her gaze. We both know she can’t honestly say she doesn’t want it.
“I do,” she admits. “I just don’t think I should get involved with someone who’s a source for my article.”
I lean in and brush my lips against hers, letting my fingers stop exploring her thighs and instead move up to cup the full tits I’ve wanted to get my hands on all day. She murmurs something against my mouth, but it doesn’t sound like a protest at all; more like a moan of pleasure.
I deepen the kiss and brush my thumbs against her hardening nipples, straining at the fabric of her bra under her sweater. There’s no question she’s turned on, and I’m so hard that I ache, my cock throbbing in my jeans.
Hannah presses up against me and the feeling of her body against mine is so perfect—the feral consciousness that controls half my mind roars with pleasure, and all I want is to rip her clothes off and unleash my wild urges without restraint. But the human part of my mind comes to the forefront just in time to remind me Hannah isn’t ready for that—she might never be.
I pin Hannah on the blanket, barely holding myself over her, and probe her mouth with my tongue; I can taste the fruit she ate last, and the lingering sweetness of her own natural flavor, spurring me to taste her elsewhere, waking the hunger that gnaws at my bones. I drop down to her throat, nuzzling her there, inhaling the sweet-musky scent of her pheromones.
“If you want me to stop, say the word and I will, immediately,” I tell her as I lick the spot just under her jaw where I can feel her pulse fluttering.
“Don’t...stop,” she says breathlessly, and no two words have ever been better in the history of language. I start pawing at her clothes, trying to find the hem of her sweater. The only thing in the entire world I want right now is to see her fully naked—and then, after that, I want to eat her until she gushes in my mouth.
Hannah manages to pull my shirt over my head and her hands dance over my back, pausing when she finds the scratches and scrapes from my fight with the other bears. They’ve already almost healed completely, but hopefully, she won’t notice.
I somehow get her sweater off, and then her bra, freeing her gorgeous tits from their prison, and I take a second to just admire them. “God, Hannah,” I say, shaking my head at how fucking hot she is, laid on her back, her chest flushed, the pale skin of her breasts ending in two pale pink areolas with nipples as hard as pebbles.
I dip down and grab both of them, bringing first one and then the other up to my mouth. Hannah’s skin tastes as good as her lips, with a little salt mingled in from her sweat and the faintest leftover traces of her fear from when she’d been running away from one of the bears earlier. I suck each of her nipples and swirl my tongue around the sensitive little nubs, and the sound of Hannah moaning out, her breath catching in her throat as her body heats up under me, is like a drug. I want to make this woman come harder than she’s ever come before in her life.
I spend a little time on her tits and then work my way down along her abdomen, reaching for the fly of her jeans. I can’t possibly wait another second; I can’t hold myself back. I get her jeans and panties down over her hips and she squirms beneath me, kicking them the rest of the way down her legs.
With her finally naked, I can hold back enough to appreciate the view in front of me: Hannah’s tits rise and fall, shaking a bit from how hard and fast her breaths are coming, and as my gaze wanders down over her body, I notice she’s got a little tattoo of a heart on the inside curve of her hip. But that’s less important than the sight of her pussy, her light brown hair trimmed down to a little patch, her folds wet with her fluids. The scent of her arousal makes my mouth water, and all I can think about is devouring every last bit of her.
I spread her legs wide and dive between them, barely giving Hannah a chance to realize what’s happening before I bury my face against her soaking wet folds. I lap up every last bit of her fluids, tasting every inch of her; Hannah’s hips buck against me, but my arms have her pinned right where I want her. She tastes every bit as good as I could have imagined, her sweet flavor coating my tongue, dripping down my chin as she gets more and more turned on.
I slow down to take my time with her, teasing her, bringing the tip of my tongue up to the firm little bead of nerves and then back down to her inner folds. I suck as much of her into my mouth as I can, like eating an overripe peach, swallowing and worshipping her, probing her, devouring her while she moans, cries out and writhes underneath me.
I keep her right on the razor’s edge, reading her body, bringing her right up to the moment before she could come, and then back off just enough to keep her from reaching her peak. Hannah gets hotter and hotter, her hands grabbing at my head and shoulders, her fingernails digging into my skin, her thighs tightening around me the second, then the third time I bring her to the edge.
All the while, I can feel myself getting more and more turned on, my dick hard as a rock, hot as molten metal, trapped in my pants. I can’t wait to feel her wrapped around me; I can tell she’s tight, and she’s so hot and wet that even before she comes, my face is soaked.
I finally give her what I know she needs, sucking her clit between my lips, swirling my tongue around it as Hannah gasps, shakes and almost screams with pleasure as she comes. Her fluids gush against my chin and I suck as much of her into my mouth as I can, alternating between keeping enough pressure on her clit to keep her climax going and swallowing down her fluids, lapping them up eagerly.
I feel her climax starting to ebb and I grad
ually slow down, pulling back bit by bit. By the time I’m hovering inches away from Hannah’s pussy, she’s panting and gasping, trembling all over.
“That...was amazing,” Hannah says, opening her eyes and tilting her head just enough to look down at me between her legs. I laugh, planting a wet kiss on her tattoo before making my way up her body to kiss her lips.
“That can’t have been the first time someone’s gone down on you,” I say, rubbing myself against her leg. If I don’t get inside of her soon, the animal side of my consciousness is fairly sure I’ll die.
“No, but it was definitely the first time someone did it that...enthusiastically,” Hannah says. I laugh again, kissing along the column of her throat and bringing my hands up to her tits to tease her nipples.
“You taste good enough that I could eat you all night,” I tell her.
“That could get in the way of getting anything else done, like sleeping,” Hannah points out playfully. “And from the hard-on I feel in your pants, you’re about to pop; eating me all night wouldn’t help you in that department.”
“You’re right about that, I suppose.” I sigh, and then moan as Hannah reaches down to rub me through my pants. The animal part of my brain wants me to roll Hannah over and take her, filling her up hard and fast.
I’m teasing Hannah’s nipples all the while, and I can see and feel her starting to get turned on all over again. Imagine what it would be like if you could mate her. Imagine making her yours and having her waiting for you every night.
Hannah gasps as I twist one of her nipples a little harder than I intend to, but the half-moan at the back of her throat tells me she likes it, nonetheless. “You seem pretty eager,” I tell her.
“Your fault,” she says, grinning up at me, “for getting me all hot like this.”
Somehow, she’s managed to get my fly open without me noticing, and when her hand begins to stroke my cock, I reach the point of no return. I need to feel her.
“So, you’re really okay with this?” I ask, as soon as I can actually talk.
“I’m definitely okay with it,” Hannah says. I lick my lips, still able to taste her, and then pull back, giving into the instincts taking control of my mind.
I turn Hannah over onto her stomach and pull her up by the hips, and she scrambles to get into the position I clearly want her in, holding herself up on her elbows with her ass in the air. The view from behind is every bit as amazing as it is from the front, and I push my jeans down over my hips, my boxers going with them, taking in the sight of Hannah’s delicious curves.
I guide the tip of my cock against her and hold onto her hip with one hand, keeping her right where I want her. I thrust into her from behind all at once, too turned on to take my time; Hannah moans out and her body squeezes me, flexing and then relaxing around my aching cock. It feels so goddamn good, I almost lose it right then and there. I have to stay still for a few seconds, breathing to push down the instinct to come right away. After a few moments, I’ve got control of myself again and start moving inside of her, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in, finding my rhythm.
Hannah feels so good—hot, wet and tight around my cock—and from the sounds leaving her throat, she feels the same way about me. I reach around the curve of her hip and find her clit, and begin to stroke it in time to my thrusts.
“Fuck, Hannah!” I lean over her, moving faster as the feeling of her body turns me on more and more, pounding into her from behind. She moans and cries out, pushing her hips back to take me deeper and deeper, falling into my rhythm, her body flexing around me in tight little spasms.
I manage to hold back long enough to bring her to another climax, and then I give up control again, pounding her hard and fast as the tension deep down in my balls hits a fever pitch right before it unravels. It feels so good—so right—to come buried deep inside her, and I let out an involuntary roar, the animal part of me laying claim to the woman under me, as wave after wave of pleasure temporarily blots out everything else that was ever on my mind.
We collapse together on the blanket and I roll over to my side, wrapping my arm around her tightly, pulling her close to my chest. I feel my heart pounding against her back as I nuzzle in her ear and whisper, “I could certainly get used to this.”
I really could; I just have to be careful. I have a lot to protect and a lot at stake.
7
Hannah
There was something about the combination of running for my life, the way Knox’s massage felt, and something I can’t quite put my finger on that just threw my inhibitions—and perhaps, better judgement—completely out the window. I can’t deny the tenderness between my legs is pretty damn satisfying, but I might have jeopardized my own article by getting too close to a source. It’s totally not like me; I’ve never done anything like this before in my entire life.
Knox just walked me to my car, and I’m getting my gear secured in the passenger seat, ready to go back to Mary’s place and start transcribing the interview. He’s hot, and that was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had—but was it worth fucking up my career?
“Hey, you!”
I jump as I hear someone tapping on my window, and at first, I feel defensive; I’m expecting the woman standing there to say she saw me and Knox having sex. Her jet-black hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she’s dressed in a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt that says “Question Authority.” Seems a little chilly for the weather to me. Must be a local, I assume.
“Can I help you?” I cautiously begin to put my window down, stopping after a few inches.
“You were talking to the administrator, right? Just a little while ago?”
I nod, wondering what that has to do with anything, but at least it seems like this chick doesn’t know what he and I were just up to at the other end of the park.
“Yeah, I was interviewing him about an article I’m working on about the history of Acadia and the National Park Service,” I tell her. “I’m a journalist with New World magazine.” The woman looks me up and down quickly and then comes to some kind of decision.
She peeks over her shoulder and then turns back to face me. “This place has secrets, you know,” she tells me. “I live around here, and I know it’s Knox Bernard’s job to keep those secrets under wraps.”
I raise an eyebrow at this. “What kind of secrets?”
I’m expecting her to say something about Masons, Sons of Columbus, or Pagans, or maybe Knox’s favorite crazy theory that the government is growing super-potent pot at the state and national parks.
“Well, this is gonna sound crazy, but he’s,” she peeks over her shoulder again, then whispers, “some kind of supernatural creature.”
Okay, well that’s not what I would have thought. It sounds even more bizarre than anything else I’ve heard associated with Acadia, but the woman is telling me this with absolute seriousness.
“Every month, right around the full moon, Acadia issues special alerts to campers, advising them to avoid leaving the trails at night.”
“I’m sorry, but that just sounds…” I shrug. I don’t even know how to finish that sentence without being rude or potentially offensive.
“The full moon is in two days,” the woman points out. “You can find out for yourself. Whatever it is they’re doing here, that’s the best time to see it with your own eyes.”
I cross my arms over my chest and look at the woman for a moment, and ponder what she’s telling me. I didn’t really believe any of the conspiracy theories I’d read, but if it checks out that this woman is, in fact, a local, and even she thinks there’s something going on here, it would be worth investigating, wouldn’t it? And it’s not like it would be outside of the scope of what I’m working on.
“I have to admit, this is one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard. I don’t mean to come across as rude, but why should I believe you?” I look around; people are starting to leave the park as it’s beginning to get dark and the air is ge
tting colder. “How do I even know you’re a local? You don’t have the same accent as everyone else.”
“Here, look at my ID,” the woman says. “I moved up here about five years ago.” She takes a wallet out of her shoulder bag, which is covered with all sorts of anti-establishment pins, and fumbles with it for a moment before handing me a Maine driver’s license. This is definitely her picture; the license reads: Jessica Durand, date of birth August 24, 1980. Female, 5’7”, and the address is a place in Bar Harbor, not far from Mary’s.
“Okay, so you’re a local,” I concede. “How do I know you’re not just putting me up to this because you have something against Mr. Bernard?”
Jessica leans in a bit toward me. “Look, believe it or don’t believe it, but I want answers. Something’s up, and Knox and his other freaky buddies at the park are trying to keep it quiet.” She gives me a hard look. “You’re with the press; you could blow this thing wide open.”
Before I can ask her another question, Jessica backs off and calls out to someone who’s apparently a friend of hers, leaving me all by myself to contemplate the news.
At first, I reject the idea altogether; after all, this sounds like it’s just another rumor; there’s probably nothing to it. Jessica—whoever she is—might just be someone who’s got a crush on Knox; maybe she’s just trying to make things difficult for him because she suspects that I’m into him or something.
I look over toward Jessica again, and it seems that whoever she’s speaking to doesn’t want to take what she’s dishing out. The woman’s holding her hands up, waving her off and shaking her head as she walks in my general direction. I see Jessica lumber off down the road, seemingly talking to herself.
I decide to hop out of my car and flag down the other woman. “Hey, do you know her?” I ask, pointing in Jessica’s direction.
She stops, turning her head my way and rolls her eyes. “God, it’s like you can’t come here without being trapped in a verbal headlock by that freak.”