Axman Werebear (Saw Bears Book 5) (5 page)

“What are you thinking about?” Bruiser asked as he pulled her empty metal plate from her hands.

With a sigh, she propped her feet up against a log and stared at the flickering flames of the bonfire they were sitting around. All night, the conversation had been seamless. And hilarious. The Ashe Crew men had filthy minds and mouths. “I’m thinking I wish things were different. I wish I was different.”

“Stop,” he drawled out. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

“But if I were a bear, things would be easier.”

Bruiser dragged her chair closer to his, making lines in the dirt from the plastic legs. “If you were a bear, you would’ve found a mate long before you met me, and we wouldn’t be here.”

She narrowed her eyes at the flames and nodded once. He had a point. If Father hadn’t been desperate to track down a husband for her with dragon’s blood in his veins, she probably would’ve never met Bruiser or the Ashe Crew. And right now, that seemed sort of tragic to think about.

A terrifying boom blasted around them, and the night sky lit up with a sparkling white firework that detonated way too close to the ground.

Diem ducked and gasped out, “What in the world?”

“The boys got into the leftover stash of Fourth of July fireworks,” Brooke muttered, placing her hands over her ears.

Everly shook her head and took a long swig of beer as Brighton bounded off toward the open field where Denison and Drew were lighting up anything with a fuse. “They’re probably going to burn this place to the ground tonight, so take one last look at the trailer park, guys and gals.”

Skyler snorted and shimmied out of her pants. “I want to see this from the sky.”

“Man plan,” Brooke groaned with a frown.

“I’ll watch it from well out of range,” Skyler promised with a wink at Diem. “You aren’t a bear. Are you a flyer?”

“Yes, I am, and no I’m not going up there with those boys popping off fireworks.”

Skyler gave her a cheeky grin, then hunched in on herself just before a giant falcon burst from her. With a few powerful thrusts of her wings, she was in the wind and headed straight up.

“You sure you don’t want to go with her?” Bruiser asked, his arm still draped across Diem’s shoulders.

Since she hadn’t ever Changed in front of anyone on purpose, yeah, she was pretty damned sure. “Maybe next time.” But probably never.

Something sparkly drew her attention, and Bruiser yanked her against him just as a tiny flaming ball zoomed past her face.

“Hey asshole, you almost hit my wife!” Bruiser yelled. And oh, he sounded pissed. Something thick filled the air and spiked up the hairs on the back of her neck.

“I’m okay,” she said, resting her hand against his rattling chest. His growl sounded feral, and a shiver traveled from where her palm rested against the vibrations to her spine and through her shoulders.

“You mind if I go out there?” His eyes were that strangely beautiful gold-green.

She went for lighthearted to try to settle him further. “Hey, if you want to go play with fireworks, don’t let me stop you.”

Bruiser kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger for a few moments, then he stood and sauntered off in the direction of the men who were now shooting roman candles at each other.

“Hey,” Bruiser said, turning at the edge of the firelight. “I’m glad you aren’t a bear.”

Diem’s heart went to galloping against her breastbone. She should’ve been scared of him with his eyes reflecting like a wild animal’s behind the flames, but all she could think of was how strong and handsome he looked, standing there, offering compliments instead of tearing her down like the other men had done in her life. “Yeah?”

Bruiser nodded and said, “No regrets here. You?”

She held his gaze so he could see the truth in her words. “No regrets.”

Not yet.

Rain drummed against the tin roof at an alarming volume, and lighting flashed constantly through the windows. The thunder that followed the strikes rattled the entire trailer.

The sagging ceiling in the living room concerned Diem, but she kept reminding herself that this old trailer had been here for at least thirty-five years and still hadn’t been knocked over by a storm.

Still, it was frightening, and she snuggled deeper under the covers, unable to sleep despite the late hour.

“Hey,” Bruiser said from the doorway, and she yelped and jumped so hard she nearly fell off the bed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to make sure you’re all right in here. Storms can be pretty brutal in one of these old trailers.”

She sat up and gestured him closer. Between the razor sharp dragon vision her ancestors had used in the old cave days and the lightning illuminating the entire room, Bruiser was as clear to her in here as he was in sunshine. “Will you sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said and rested his hand on the other side of her comforter-clad legs. “I can sleep on the couch out there.”

“No, I mean… Look, I’m not asking you to breed with me, but could you just sleep beside me?”

He hesitated, and she thought he’d deny her, but at last he said, “Sure.” Standing, Bruiser pulled off his rain-dampened T-shirt.

Diem didn’t even try to stop staring. His back was smooth, and his defined muscles rippled as he moved to unbutton his jeans. He cast her a look over his shoulder. “Is this okay? I can sleep in my clothes if you want me to.”

“No,” she murmured in a dreamy voice. “By all means, strip down.”
To nothing, please.

Bruiser snorted and kicked out of his pants, then turned just in time for the blue lightning flashes to illuminate his eight-pack abs that delved into his black briefs. She could identify the outline of his long dick lying down against one thigh.

She scooted over and held up the covers for him. His short hair was mussed, as if he’d tried to find sleep, too, but was unable. Facing her, he settled onto a pillow. A small smile crept across his face as he studied her.

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“You look pretty without make-up and with your hair all wild like that.”

“My hair looks wild?” She patted around and, indeed, it was spread out like a tangled bag of ropes across the pillow. That’s what she got for taking a shower and letting it dry naturally. In her defense, she’d blown a fuse turning on the blow dryer and hadn’t figured out where the fuse box was yet to fix it.

“Stop messin’ with it, D. I said I like it, didn’t I?”

“Boys lie.”

“Men don’t.”

“Hmm,” she said, allowing her dragon to rattle her throat in a soft hum.

“You better stop that, woman. I like that, too, and I’m trying to be good tonight. Go to sleep.”

“Okay,” she whispered, disappointment blooming in her chest.

“Diem?”

“Hmm?” she asked, pausing from giving him her back.

“It bothers me that you keep calling it breeding.”

“That’s what sex is.”

“No, sex is supposed to be fun.”

“Says the man who won’t die from it.”

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Touched myself, how?” she asked as panic froze her limbs.

“Between your legs. Have you ever made yourself feel good without thinking about what sex could do to you?”

“No. Nuh-uh.” She’d been blushing before, but now her cheeks seared like the bonfire from earlier. “Hell nope. Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay?”

“Not okay. I think we should. It’s important.”

“Oh my gosh, Bruiser! This isn’t something to talk to ladies about.”

“Why not? And you aren’t just some random lady. You’re my wife.”

“Yesterday, I was just some random lady.”

“You gonna argue with me all night, or are you gonna answer my question?”

Diem huffed an irritated sigh and wished she had about fifteen more Dixie cup shots of that boxed wine Kellen had given her. “No, husband, I haven’t touched myself because it doesn’t seem like it would feel good when all I can think about the whole time is how someday I’m going to die from sex.”

“We’re all dying, D, but when that happens, you’ll be an old lady, gray-haired, and yelling at me from a rocking chair to help you find your dentures.

She giggled at the picture he painted. “That sounds nice,” she admitted, watching the flashes of lightning filter through the windows.

Bruiser wrapped her up in a hug and pulled her flush against his warm body. “We’ll have seven pygmy pigs, and you’ll name them all something that starts with a single letter.”

“Erma, Ethyl, Elvis—”

“I’ll still be devastatingly handsome at eighty years old—”

“Naturally.”

“And we’ll be sad that we never had kids, but fulfilled because we played a pivotal role in helping raise the cubs born to the Ashe Crew, starting with Tagan and Brooke’s baby.”

“So, your plan is to replace our child with pygmy pigs. Is that even a thing, or are you making that up?”

“I’m not making it up, and I’m pretty sure there is such a thing as pygmy pigs. But they’ll be nicer than Bo. I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure of being head-butted yet, but that little goat is an asshole.”

She snorted and snuggled closer to him until her cheek rested on his arm. “I did meet Bo tonight, and he was sweet as pie with me. I fed him a carrot. You’re forgetting one thing,” she said, her voice growing tight with the seriousness of her words. “My father.”

“Let me worry about him. If it means losing you, the dragon line stops here. The pressure of an entire shifter race shouldn’t be on the shoulders of one person with the right lineage and gender. And if it does, maybe it’s all right that Damon and your half-brothers are the last dragons. Females dying off for the betterment of your kind just feels all kinds of fucked up.”

“Well, fucked up or not, that’s the way it’s been for eons.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“You don’t understand,” she murmured softly.

“We’re married now, Diem. I don’t know how tradition works with dragons because I never spent any time with my mother’s people. They were gone before I came along. But what I do know is that a marriage is an equal partnership, same as a mated pairing. It means you and I both have a say in what we do as a family, and I don’t want kids. Not if it means I lose you. There’s my vote. It’ll never change.”

“Yeah? And how do you plan on stopping it? You’ll never want me? Never breed me?”

“Shit, woman, stop calling it that. Sex won’t be breeding for us.” He pulled her hand against the insides of her thighs and whispered, “It’ll only be for fun with us.”

“Fun?” she scoffed.

“Yeah,” he whispered against her ear, rolling his hips until her hand pressed even firmer against her sex.

“So, no penetration?”

“Not without a condom, which I don’t have on me tonight. But we’ll go into town first chance we get, and we’ll get you on birth control as a second layer of protection. I just got you. I’m not losing you to something we could avoid.”

“But, my father—”

“Fuuuck your father. He has no place in our bedroom.”

“Technically, this isn’t
our
bedroom. It belongs to me and Nards.”

A deep chuckle reverberated through him and warmed her from the inside out. “Stop talking and start feeling.”

He rolled his hard cock against her hand again, which pressed her palm harder against her sex. She gasped at the sensation. “I can’t do this,” she said, jerking her hand away as shame heated her cheeks.

“You want me to start?”

There was no keeping a stoic face when he asked questions like that. “You mean…” She couldn’t’ even say the word out loud.
Masturbation
, she mouthed.

“God, it’s cute that you say it like it’s a curse word. Hell yeah, masturbation. It’s not as good as sex would be with you, but it’s fun, and it feels really freaking awesome.”

“You think sex would be nice with me?”

“Geez, woman, of course I do. I’ve been rocking a chronic boner since we were in the truck earlier. Every time I touch you, my body instantly reacts. Now, go sit at the end of the bed and watch if you want.”

“Watch you…you know?”

He bit her neck playfully and pulled the covers off their legs. Diem scurried to the end of the bed and settled onto the mattress, cross-legged. “Okay, now what do I do.”

“Do what you want. Whatever makes you feel good.”

This should be mortifying, but curiosity had crept over her, greatly outweighing the shame she was supposed to feel. Sex for the sake of fun. Who knew?

She settled her oversize T-shirt nervously and fidgeted as Bruiser propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned back against it. Slowly, he spread his powerful legs, then reached under the elastic of his briefs and unsheathed his thick cock.

Diem exhaled slowly and clasped her hands in her lap.

Bruiser was all male confidence and dripped masculine sexuality as he pulled the first long stroke of his dick. Diem’s heart pounded against her sternum as he rolled his hips with the next stroke. His abs flexed with each slow thrust, and now her middle was feeling all tingly and warm.

His hooded gaze met hers, and a sexy, crooked smile took his lips. “What do you feel like?”

“I feel like I should be ashamed.”

“Why? I’m your husband, and I’m not ashamed.”

Hmm. He had a point, and she couldn’t think of one logical reason this was wrong. Decidedly, she slipped her hand under the elastic of her lacy panties. She was slick and hot to the touch. “And I feel wet.”

“Shhhit, keep doing that,” he murmured in a husky voice, eyes riveted between her legs.

She smiled, feeling empowered, and lifted her shirt over her head so he could see her better. Her bare breasts tingled against the cool air wafting from the window unit air conditioner. A dewy drop of liquid formed at the tip of Bruiser’s cock, making her grow wetter by the second.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice hitching as he pulled another stroke.

Diem touched a sensitive spot and jolted, then stilled. “Kind of good when I touch at the top of my seam.”

He smiled and lifted his chin proudly. “That’s your clit.”

“Gross word,” she said, scrunching up her nose.

“Stick your finger inside of you and tell me how it feels.”

She did as he asked, and her eyes rolled closed with how good it felt. Leaning back onto one locked arm, she spread her knees and pressed into herself again.

Bruiser was stroking faster now, his movements jerky and his breath accelerated. God, he was beautiful like this, rutting against his hand, watching her with that hungry gaze of his. He bit his bottom lip, as if he was trying to stop himself from saying
fuck
. His hips jerked, and she sped up her pace as pressure built inside of her.

She was panting now, eyes glued to the red, swollen head of his shaft as he worked himself into a frenzy. Her knees shook, and as she pushed her finger deeper, she groaned as the tingly feeling deep inside of her spread.

“Come here,” he said gruffly.

“But we can’t—”

“I won’t, but I want to be the one to finish you.”

She pulled her hand free of her panties and crawled to him on hands and knees that were the consistency of noodles. With impossibly strong hands, he spun her and pulled her back against his erection. His lips plucked delicately at the sensitive skin on her neck as he slid his hand under her panties and cupped her sex.

“You are wet, aren’t you?” he murmured against her ear.

He nibbled at her lobe, causing her to arch her back against him as he pressed his finger slowly into her. His hips rocked, and the steely warmth of his erection pressed against her back.

“I’m close,” she whispered. Close to something big. She could feel it.

A soft growl sounded from behind her, vibrating against her back, but the noise wasn’t scary. Not now. Perhaps it was approval, and she nearly glowed under his feral compliment. His finger went deeper the next time, and his palm pressed against her clit, just in the right way. Gasping, she rocked against his hand.

His breath was ragged against her neck as he thrust against her faster. Desperately, she pushed her back against him as hard as she could, and he groaned. Wrapping his strong arm around her waist, he drew her closer as his pace became frantic.

“Diem,” he gritted out as warm wetness shot against her back.

She cried his name as she exploded from her middle outward. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand over his as she bucked erratically against him. Another jet of warmth shot onto her back and trickled down as her body pulsed rapidly around Bruiser’s finger. Three more shots hit her spine as she slowed her hips and relaxed against him.