Sold To The Bears (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (10 page)

Lifting my hips a bit, I glanced from Adrian's long, thick shaft to Grant's dark-haired head between my thighs. "Please, Grant. Now."

He completely disregarded me. He actually slowed the pace of his kisses to my inner thighs, if anything. He certainly didn't seem to be making a beeline to the place where I really wanted to feel his mouth.

Reflexively, I went to move my hands to take him by the head to try to move his face. But, of course, I found I couldn't move my hands or arms. Adrian still had my wrists pinned above my head, and firmly, too.

I gave my wrists a good tug, miles beyond frustrated and irritated. "Damn you, Adrian. Damn you too, Grant. It's obvious the two of you are intent on playing some sort of little game to torture me. Well, screw both of you." Thinking about my last statement, I paused. "But except, 'screw both of you,' I wish.  Just a wish, since the two of you don't seem to want to make that a reality."

I gave my wrists another good tug, but Adrian held them fast. It didn't occur to me to demand that my wrists be released. If I had, Adrian would have likely done it. But my senses and wits seemed to have completely left me several minutes earlier. I was so frustrated with desire that I could barely remember my two torturers' names at that point, let alone recall the fact that my wrists were only pinned up because I hadn't said that I wished otherwise.

Still struggling to free them, without even a millimeter of success, I spread my legs a bit wider, encouraging Grant, who was still planting kisses along my legs and inner thighs, to do the right thing. The compassionate thing. "Please, Grant. Don't be cruel. Please."

To my surprise -- my shock, really, he immediately lifted his face and began stroking my most sensitive spot with a single fingertip, his gaze locked on my feminine parts.

Crying out, I ground my head back into the pillows while lifting my hips at the same time. "Yes. Oh, please, yes. Please don't stop."

To my horror, after a few more quick strokes, he did. And went right back to planting slow kisses along my inner thighs.

Gasping with indignation, I lifted my head to look down at him. "You sonofabitch. How dare you? How...how goddamned dare you."

Adrian actually had the nerve to chuckle.

After raking his tongue along the length of my inner thigh, making me shudder, Grant lifted his face, looked at me, and spoke in a voice thick and husky. "I have to say, Lila, your swearing is really getting a bit out of control lately. Do it again, and I'll give your beautiful little fanny another good swat. That’s not any kind of a threat. That's a promise."

Trembling with frustration and indignation, I scoffed. "Guess what, Grant? I'm a grown woman and I can do whatever the hell I want. I can swear however the hell much I want. And if you think you can stop me, then goddamn you."

"Hell, hell, and a goddamn. That was three, if I'm not mistaken."

So swiftly I barely even had time to blink, he turned my hips, revealing my right rear cheek, and gave it three swift, stinging swats in rapid succession.

I sighed, my sensitive feminine bud now throbbing. "Goddamn you, Grant. Goddamn you to hell."

"Two goddamns and a hell. Coming right up."

He immediately turned my hips again, and this time, delivered three sharp swats to my left cheek, making it and all my other lower area parts tingle in the most exquisite way. I sighed again but didn't speak. I was having a hard time thinking of words. I was beginning to feel as if I were losing the ability to form intelligible speech,a or have any coherent thoughts.

With his icy blue eyes glassy in the candlelight, Grant looked up at me and spoke in a husky whisper. "Have the urge to say any more swear words?"

"Grant. I'm begging...." Head swimming, I struggled to finish the thought. "I'm begging you."

Squirming, I could feel that my feminine lips were swollen and positively drenched in slickness.

With a low growl rumbling in his broad chest, Grant appeared to think for a long moment before speaking again. "Guess we can't have such a gorgeous girl literally
begging
."

Making a sound like something between a sigh of relief and a moan, I dropped my head back on the soft, satiny pillows, miles beyond ready for whatever was about to happen next. Miles beyond ready for whatever way Grant was finally about to give me pleasure.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The bedroom had become filled with the sweet scents of cinnamon and vanilla from the tall red pillar candles on the dresser, though I hardly even noticed. I was far too focused on what Grant was going to do next, how he was finally going to give me pleasure and release. A bomb could have gone off in the room and I probably wouldn't have noticed.

After running his tongue along the inside of my left thigh, making me tremble in anticipation, he finally, finally, finally moved his mouth inward, to the aching, throbbing source of my need. The moment his tongue made contact with my sensitive little bud, I ground my head back into the pillows, moaning. The sensation of finally getting the satisfaction I craved was almost more than I could take.

While I writhed and twisted, my wrists still pinned up above my head by Adrian, Grant began stroking his tongue over my most sensitive spot, cradling my hips in his muscular arms while he did so. Cradling my hips and pulling them toward him, possessively. It struck me that maybe I hadn't been the only one who'd been in a state of extreme longing and frustration. I wondered if maybe Grant was just better at hiding it or had more self-control than I did. He seemed to me like a starved man who'd just tucked into a feast.

While Grant continued to make me squirm and moan with gentle-yet-firm strokes of his tongue, Adrian remained on his knees beside me, continuing to hold my wrists pinned up above my head. He watched my face, seeming intent on studying my different expressions as I became further and further lost in pleasure.

Periodically, he glanced over at the action that was going on down at my hips, his breathing becoming increasingly fast and ragged. After a short while, he began almost imperceptibly rocking his hips, ever-so-subtly thrusting his long, hard shaft closer and closer to my face. The sight of it intensified my pleasure. And because my head was propped up on a stack of pillows, it was almost flush with my mouth, and this fact wasn't lost on me.

Well beyond the point of any self-consciousness, and before I could even really think about what I was doing, I flicked out my tongue and gave the thick head of Adrian's manhood a quick little lick. He groaned and moved it even a bit closer to my face, and I did it again. Then, immediately, while a low growl rumbled deep in Adrian's chest, I took the head of his manhood into my mouth, whimpering with pleasure while Grant continued raking his tongue across my throbbing feminine bud a little further down the bed.

Adrian made a noise that could only be described as a strangled groan. I took it that he liked the feel and sight of the head of his rod in my mouth. He began rocking his hips a little more unreservedly than he had before, urging me to take maybe just an inch or two of his long granite-hard shaft into my mouth, which I did, tentatively at first, and then with a little more enthusiasm, moaning.

Though I hadn't been a virgin upon my arrival to Sun Creek, I certainly hadn't been extremely experienced when it came to physical intimacy, either, and I'd never pleasured a man with my mouth or tongue before. This was my first time. I didn't quite know what to expect. The idea of the act had always turned me on, though I knew that ideas and actual acts could be two entirely different things. However, maybe somewhat to my surprise, I now found that I enjoyed pleasuring a man with my mouth. A lot.

Adrian began working an inch or two of his manhood in and out of my mouth, groaning, seeming to instinctively realize that while I got used to this new experience of pleasuring him with my mouth, maybe that depth of penetration was best. Meanwhile, Grant seemed to realize what was going on and paused in his task down below.

Disappointed, and that was putting it mildly, because I'd felt my pleasure beginning to near a peak, I whimpered, though I couldn't really look at Grant, because I was a little too engaged in my own little task.

Within seconds, my disappointment that he'd stopped turned to ecstasy when I felt him rest some of his weight on me, positioning the head of his shaft at my slick entrance. He slid into me with one fast, powerful thrust, making me moan loudly even with Adrian's thick shaft still in my mouth.

After that, time seemed to slow down, or speed up, or do something else funny, as it seemed to do whenever I was extremely angry or extremely lost in pleasure. It may as well have ceased to exist.

The only thing that existed was the feel of Adrian's velvety-soft, yet rock-hard at the same time, manhood in my mouth. The only thing that existed was the sensation of Grant's thick rod sliding in and out of my slickness while his large hands traced a trail of heat from my breasts down to my hips.

The only thing that was in my conscious mind was the totality of the physical pleasure I was sharing with Adrian and Grant. Physical pleasure that was being infinitely intensified by the fact that Adrian still had my wrists pinned up, preventing me from moving my hands. I felt powerless against the pleasure that was lifting me toward rapture. For  some reason, that was the most rapturous feeling of all.

            Grant began grunting his climax mere seconds after I began bucking my hips with my own. Not long after our ecstasy was complete, Adrian finally released my wrists and pulled me on top of him. I rode him to another powerful climax while Grant looked on, already becoming hard again, his focus seeming to be on my bouncing breasts.

The fact that shifters possessed increased sexual appetite and stamina was pretty evident. Once Adrian had growled his climax, Grant took me from behind, bringing me to the heights of rapture yet again with deep, powerful thrusts while periodically using a hand to lightly squeeze my stiffened nipples.

            I fell asleep that night snuggled in the middle of a Grant-and-Adrian sandwich. A breeze just faintly scented with the first changing leaves of early fall wafted in through a cracked window. I slept like the dead, waking only once, briefly, before immediately going back to sleep, feeling two sets of strong arms around me.

   When I woke up late the next morning, I was alone. Shafts of bright sunlight slanted across the bed, highlighting the spots where Grant and Adrian had slept the night before.

            I didn't see either of them all day. They were both busy dealing with the disposal of the wolf carcasses from the night before, in addition to running patrols with Grant's men and meeting with some of his advisors.

All afternoon and early evening, Fiona and I looked after Samuel's young boys, Brandon and Martin They were high-energy boys who needed lots of looking after and redirection, and I was glad of it.

They distracted me from wondering if and when Grant was going to talk to me about what had happened with the wolves the night before, specifically what had happened with the wolves and
me
. Me and my stupid choice to get out of the truck in a blind rage.

            That evening, I volunteered to help Mil fix dinner, which I would have done anyway, but truth be told, I was somewhat eager for any information about Grant and his anger level as well.

I wasn't foolish enough to think that our marathon lovemaking session the night before had erased all traces of his anger. Or even any of it. Which made me nervous. I felt like the more time that passed, and the longer he had to stew, his anger at me might actually grow. Which might eventually cause him to turn away from me.

That was one thing I knew I just wouldn't be able to take. Him expressing his anger at me, yes. Him maybe even raising his voice at me, yes. But him turning away from me and going back to the same level of emotional coldness that he'd displayed before revealing that he and his men hadn't been responsible for killing Gray and Estelle, no. I couldn't go back to that.

I was also eager to find out what Grant had meant when he'd said he was grateful that fate had seen fit to give him another chance to save me from the wolves. That statement was still puzzling me, to say the least.

Additionally, I wanted to ask him what he'd meant when he'd said he
did
have a guilty conscience, though not because he or his people had had anything to do with Gray and Estelle's murders. That statement absolutely baffled me. If he really hadn't had anything to do with the murders, which I firmly believed was true, I couldn't imagine what on earth he had to feel guilty about.

Obviously, he and I needed to talk. And soon, before my nerves got any worse. And before his anger had more of a chance to grow. In the meantime, since I had no way of knowing when he'd return to the family house, I'd try to gauge his anger level from Mil.

She stood at the stove, mashing potatoes in a large pot. She'd been civil to me, of course, during our time in the kitchen, though not very talkative. While I stood at the counter, chopping lettuce for a salad, trying to think of the best way to bring up the subject of Grant, it dawned on me that maybe she was mad at me, too. Or maybe she just thought I was a complete damned idiot and was disgusted with me.

Or, I also realized, Grant might have told her about me thinking that he and the bears had been behind Gray and Estelle's murders, and maybe she was angry that I'd thought that. As well as being angry that because of that thinking, I'd kind of acted like a jerk when I'd first come to Sun Creek.

Figuring an apology should perhaps be first in order, I set down my chopping knife and cleared my throat. "Mil, I really want to apologize. I'm sorry."

She turned from the stove and looked at me with her dark brown eyes slightly widened, as if she was surprised. "Sorry? For what?"

I lifted my shoulders in a weak shrug. "First, for maybe being a little cold and rude when I first met you. Which was because I thought Grant, Adrian, and the rest of the bear shifters had murdered my adoptive parents, which I'm sorry about, too. I'm also sorry for...." I shrugged again, more than a bit embarrassed,  “for acting like a complete idiot last night. Something tells me Grant told you some of the highlights this morning. I’m sorry you had to hear them. I'm sorry for letting my temper and my anger at the wolves get the better of me.

“I was acting like someone you're probably none too thrilled to think of as your future niece. I'm sorry about...well, just everything."

Mil immediately set the potato masher down, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and came over to stand in front of me, arms across her chest. "First of all, stop that 'I'm sorry about everything' nonsense. Being 'sorry about everything' isn't an attractive quality in a person Furthermore, you have absolutely no reason to be 'sorry about everything,' or even anything. For another thing, not that I've known you very long, but 'sorry about everything' just doesn't seem like you.

“Which I'm glad about, because 'sorry about everything' women tend to irritate me. For the  record, I
am
thrilled to think of you as my future niece. You have a strong will and a fighting spirit, yet a little sweetness underneath. I like that.”

Pausing, she leaned a hip against a row of oak drawers beneath the counter top, studying me. "Grant is angry with you, yes. Which I can tell is what you've been working up the nerve to ask me about. And that's what's got you in this mopey, 'sorry for everything' kind of mood, isn't it?"

I nodded, a little surprised and appreciative of her perceptiveness at the same time.

After blowing a dark brown curl out of her face, she continued. "You allowed something to take over you last night, and you made a mistake. A mistake, not an unforgivable sin. Grant is angry, yes. But something tells me that anger is directly in proportion to his fear that the wolves might have hurt you, or worse. He cares for you deeply already, that I can tell.

“Apologize to him for making him feel that fear, but that's it. And then you move on. As, I suspect, will he. That's my advice. Don't become one of those women who's 'sorry for everything' all the time. That's not who you are, and that's not what this situation warrants.

“Forgive yourself for your lapse in judgment if you need to, and vow to display better judgment and self-control in the future. Maybe assure Grant that you will. But don't go overboard with the apologies to him, like you did here with me tonight.

“Your mistakes and choices are your own. Our mistakes and choices affect other people, yes, and we should always be aware of that. When Grant and the other men return, don't greet him as a 'sorry Sally.'"

I knew she was right. I shouldn't go overboard in my apologies to Grant. The 'sorry for everything' kind of women had always kind of irritated me, too, and I didn't want to become one. I would apologize for making him afraid that I might be hurt or killed.