Sam (BBW Bear Shifter Wedding Romance) (Grizzly Groomsmen Book 2) (161 page)

She moaned unhappily when their lips parted. He laughed, a low, purely masculine laugh that let her know that he knew exactly what he did to her. “Feeling a little needy, sweetheart?” Only he could make the word “sweetheart” sound so divinely dirty. She blushed and shrugged. “Hmm, that’s not the answer I’m looking for.”

He moved up to the headboard and leaned back. His bare legs were spread and he reached out to her. She crawled to him, and settled between his legs, facing him. His hand cupped the back of her neck and gently squeezed before moving up into her dark hair.
 

His hands moved back down her body, and then gripped the hem of her shirt. He pulled it over her head, and removed her bra just as quickly. His mouth brushed against her taunt nipple, gently laving before using his teeth to scrape against the sensitive points.
 

“Bri…” she couldn’t finish her sentence. She couldn’t think clearly. The only thing that she knew was his mouth covering one nipple, and his hand teasing the other.
 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered against her skin. He gently lowered her down, and his hands went to the button of her jeans. He tugged them down her legs, bringing her underwear along. He tossed the clothing onto the floor and slowly pushed her knees apart, as if unwrapping a present. “Beautiful.”

Without her underwear in the way, she could feel how damp she had become. Her juices quickly coated her thighs under his gaze. She squirmed, trying to create friction between her legs. He bent his head and licked her from clit down to the bottom of her dripping slit. Her moan rent the air, making him look up. His grin was pure masculine pride.
 

“More,” she whispered. She sounded desperate even to her own ears.

“Your wish is my command.” He dove right back in. His tongue circled her clit, pressing down on it, and then sliding away. One finger brushed against her opening, almost tickling her. He taunted her like that for a moment, his tongue against her clit, his fingers hovering just outside of where she needed him. And then, the pounced. He began to suck her clit feverishly, and one thick finger dove into her wet depths, curling upwards.
 

He removed his finger slowly, teasing her entrance, but before she could protest at the loss of him, he replaced his fingers with his tongue. He fucked with his tongue and his warm mouth brought her to the precipice of orgasm. His finger brushed against her sensitive clit, and she came with a low moan. He continued to lap at her until she rode out the last aftershocks.
 

While her body was still shaking, she felt him pick her up and position her entrance at the head of his cock. Pliant and open after her orgasm, her pussy accepted his cock. She let him guide her down onto him, slowly, carefully. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply as he thrust into her. At first it was slow, careful. She was sure he was trying not to break her. But then, with a clench of the walls of her pussy, he was pushed into a frenzy of movement.
 

He slammed into her over and over, hitting her spot every time. She came hard, and suddenly. It took her breath away. Her mouth opened with a gasp, and he took advantage by sliding his tongue inside. His grip on her was bruising, and she was sure that she would be sore after. A glorious physical reminder of his animalistic passion.
 

“Carrie,” he groaned as his thrusts became more erratic. “Carrie…”

“Brian…” she came again, and this time she brought him with her. She could feel his cock pulse and she felt the warmth of his seed inside of her.
 

His thrusts and breathing slowed, and he laid down, pulling her on top of him. She settled into the crook of his shoulder, taking in the smell of their sweat and passion. She closed her eyes, and drifted to sleep, his heart beating a rhythm in her ear.

They made love gently this time. Although he loved taking her roughly, passionately, he thought he enjoyed making love to her more. Her wetness slowly enveloped his thick cock. He could feel her muscles tightening and releasing, trying hard to take the girth of him. Her nails clutched at his shoulders, and he was sure his little lioness would leave marks. At least until his body healed them.
 

She buried her face against his neck. He could feel her soft breath go ragged as he began to slowly pull out of her. “Look at me,” he whispered. Her big, brown eyes found his. Her mouth was parted just so. He didn’t think it was possible to get harder, but the look of her pleasured-enraptured face turned him on even more. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
 

She arched up, slamming her lips against his. He leisurely slid in and out of her. His eyes searched her face every time they came up for air after kissing. He scooped her up, one arm under her, and shifted positions so he was sitting, and she was riding him. He hit a new spot inside of her and she cried out.

“Bri!”

“That’s it sweetheart, come for me.” He rained kisses down on her face. Her inner muscles clenched around him, creating a vice grip. He couldn’t resist any longer. He came with a shudder. It was amazing and primal to cum inside of her. She rode out his pleasure, as he thrust urgently into her.
 

He slowly rolled them over, not losing the connection between them. She threw her leg over his, and he pulled her close so the front of their bodies were pressed against each other.

His heart pounded as he realized what he had to tell her. He wet his lips, and cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I love you, Carrie. Nothing, and no one is going to keep us apart.”
 

She snuggled in closer to him. “You’re the big, bad, scary biker here, but let’s see anyone try to take you away from me.” His heart sank, she didn’t say it back. She rubbed her nose against his neck and whispered, “I love you too.”

A smile split his face. He didn’t think he could get hard again after fucking her twice so quickly, but her words sent desire coursing through him. “So you’re reconsidering letting me teach you to use a gun?” He needed her to be protected, no matter what. She was so important to him. If she was going to be part of his life, he needed to know that she could defend herself even if he and the gang weren’t around to help.
 

She pushed him with one hand, and he let her guide him into a new position. He laid on his back, and she was halfway on top of him. She looked up at him, her chin on his chest. “Maybe. But it’s going to be real hard to pull me off of you.” As if to prove her point, she squeeze him tightly. Her fingers ran up and down the ridges of his stomach. He loved the feeling, having her close to him. He wasn’t going to let anyone take her away from him. Least of all some assholes who thought that he was a lesser being because he could mutate into a bear. As long as Carrie loved him as he was, he didn’t care what anyone else thought.

He laughed. “It’s going to be real fun when people underestimate your fierceness darling. You’ll fit right into the Clan.”

Carrie’s face was buried in his side, but he could feel her smile against him. He kissed the top of her forehead, and silently thanked any deity who would listen for his perfect girl.

The Honey Pot

by

Becca Fanning

“Woo! Yeah! Go on, Robert! Snap his goddamn head off!”

“Holy hell...” muttered Elle, eyes springing wide, and her hand flying back from the door. This wasn't, by any means, the sort of welcome she'd been expected in coming here. And now, more than ever, her reservations about entering rose to a peak. Her heart caught in her throat, and sweat rolled down her face as she wrestled with two very opposing instincts. A pair of options, containing no positive outcomes either way. She cursed herself, her boss, the situation she was in.

She was a baker's apprentice, for crying out loud! How the hell was she supposed to deal with a situation such as this, without a word of warning or preparation?  She didn't even have a clue what it was she was walking into. Much less what her options would be once she took the plunge, stumbled into the thick of it. Based on this single, violent line alone, what could she expect once she stepped through the door?

Her mentor and boss, Konrad, allegedly delivered to this location on an almost routine basis. Although, she'd never been along with him on the occasions that the deliveries took place. But if this was a den of violent criminals, of psychopaths, he would have given her some word of warning, wouldn't he? She'd thought, for the most part, that she could trust Konrad. Or at any rate, she'd at least had no notion that the man would have any desire to put his delicate young apprentice in danger.

“Maybe I'm at the wrong place...” she muttered to herself. But alas, as she took a step back and looked at the sign above the door, it was painted with a logo for The Honey Pot. That, she knew, was the precise name of the pub which Konrad had specified. There was, it seemed, no means of backing out of this on any legitimate basis, other than, of course her fear...

She swallowed hard, and began to sweat through her clothes, bristling... The tumbling, crashing, tearing sounds continued to emit from inside the facility. Roars of cheer and sympathy boomed out from a sea of enthusiastic, presumably drunk men. She'd heard them before she'd even come this close to the door- before she'd even made her way into the clearing for that matter.

They'd given her pause for consideration from the get-go. They'd gotten her to second guess what it was she'd gotten herself into. But the shout of jubilee, encouraging decapitation, well... That was, for her, about the last straw...

She took a deep breath, and prepared to turn around and depart, the bread basket still in her hand, when she thought of Konrad's reaction. He would scold and chasten her, perhaps even fire her for her insolence, her unwillingness to cooperate, to oblige his every wish. It felt as though she had no choice in the matter.

She couldn't, no matter how she may have disliked it, get fired from this job...

She needed to make this delivery, even if it killed her- which, from the sounds of the debacle behind the door, it might do.

She decided to test the waters first, and see what it was she was getting herself into. She took in another deep lungful of air, holding it this time, as though she feared making a sound. As though any of the rowdy, drunken men inside the bar would be able to hear her above the din of their own antics.

Then,as silently as she could manage, she slid open the door. She prayed she would go unnoticed, and peered through a crack toward the scene unfolding inside The Honey Pot's four walls.

“Oh... My... God...” It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming, and she put a hand over her mouth just to ensure that this temptation remained at bay. Still, though, she was so winded by the sight that she doubted whether she could have mustered up the ability for such a sound had she tried.

The men were, as she'd heard them, standing around, cheering. They seemed quite rowdy with intoxication. Under more predictable circumstances, it may have been the sight of men standing around a television set. Drunkards watching a boxing match unfold...

The principle, she realized with horror, was the same, she supposed, if far more brutal, more terrifying...

Two fully grown grizzly bears stood in a corner. Stood? No, that wasn't right. They weren't standing, frankly, but wrestling. Tumbling, clawing, biting at one another. Attempting, as per the request of one of the bar patrons, to “bite one another's goddamn heads off.”

Oh my God... Oh my God... Oh my God... The thoughts swirled around in her head, sending shivers across her body. She'd known that, in some barbaric parts of the world, bear bating was a murderous sport. But this- this was nothing she could have imagined, could have expected in any way. To have these two grown monsters, tearing at one another... Lunging forward with murderous intent... And without even having any restraints, no means of ensuring that they didn't set their sights on the crowd. Nothing to keep them from slashing open the men who stood around encouraging their destruction... Of course, it would have served them right, or at least a good mauling to set their heads back on straight- but that was beside the point.

At any rate, now, she thought she could trace the source of the pub's name sake...

She couldn't stand around here and watch this. Konrad be damned, she wasn't about to put herself in harm's way for a stupid delivery. To waltz straight into the lion's den without a single means of protection. Lion's den, it occurred to her, was a peculiar mismatch of expression in this case, but she didn't dwell on this notion for long.

She turned, ready to leave, ready to put this entire nightmarish scene behind her. More than ready to act as though she'd never set foot on The Honey Pot's front landing. Suddenly she was stopped, restrained. A hand, five fingers, had curled up around her thin arm, gripping her powerfully, and she froze, eyes wide, scared out of her every wit.

“Well, hello there, love... Spying on us, eh? Why don't you come on in for a drink?”

Her breath returned to her, and she could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate. But no matter how hard she tried to pull away, tried to tug herself free of the vice-like grip of the man inside, she couldn't manage to wriggle an inch. Or at least, not without his powerful fingers coming within a hair's breadth of snapping her wrists clean off.

The man yanked her inside, into what she assumed would be her final resting place. She screamed, fought, cried out in terror as she was escorted within feet of the two snarling grizzly bears, still clawing it out tooth and nail. She was spattered with blood and saliva, could feel their body heat and that of the men around her as the pub's bouncer persisted in pulling her on, on, on.