Page 50 of Bears Not Included

His growl whispers against the side of my neck. He strokes my clit as he ebbs and flows inside me, firmly but slowly and deeply. My whole day flashes past my mind’s eye, and every breath and every thought is centered around his presence.

I think of what he did to protect little Hazel when he could have just left her there. Killing a man for being an informant pales in comparison.

My mind melts in unison with what my body is doing. The heat I feel under his touch and his possession ignites a forest fire in my soul. A climax builds from the other side of me and I take it the same way I’m taking Callen’s cock.

A blinding hit of pleasure soars through me as I come, clutching the length of his cock to me as if I never want to let go.

“You belong to us,” he says, roughly, hoarsely in my ear, holding his cock still inside me while my world shatters. Only after the last spasm does he pull his length from me, glistening with my wetness. He kisses my forehead and then takes a step back away from me.

My confusion soon gives way to embarrassment that scorches my skin. Without looking at Callen, I hand him the ring that I’d been holding in my hand the whole time and flee his room.

I don’t know what’s happening to me anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Livia

I didn’t sleep well last night. I tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning, eventually giving up on sleep completely to just lie in bed and watch the winter sun make a small appearance in the sky, my mind whirling nonstop about my escape.

I weigh my options over and over again against the state of my life right now. Will I be successful if I escape? And what will I do with my life, away from everyone I love, if I’m successful?

There’s a knock on the door, and I know it’s Veronica—she has a signature knock, and I appreciate knowing it’s her and not someone else, and by someone else, I mean the three of them.

“How are we doing this morning?” Veronica asks, pristinely put together in her skirt suit and kitten heel pumps. She draws the rest of the curtains in the bedroom that I closed last night. The room is so big that it has several windows.

Like I have a hangover without the drinking part. Not that I know what a hangover feels like in the first place. I never had one.

“Fine,” I say instead. She has a tablet in her hand, and I know we’re going to do what we did yesterday. She’ll give me a list of things I could do or should do as the Ursid bride—not as their bride in the capacity of them being crime lords, but as them being billionaires in the corporate world.

Yesterday, before my shift at Jimmy’s, Veronica suggested I join a book club, the one all the other billionaires’ wives are in, or start my own charity project. Money is not a problem, she informed me, and she got that from my husbands, aka, my captors.

“Right. Let’s see if I can cajole you into doing some billionaires’ wife stuff. It might be my lucky day.” Today, Veronica gets into it immediately while directing a servant who followed her in to pour me my first cup of coffee. Being waited on is the weirdest thing ever.

“The House of Alanis and Pippy Chic would love to dress you for the Red Ball event next month.”

I slip into the bathroom and brush my teeth while Veronica, who follows me in, gives me a run down of all the celebrities I’ll see at the charity event if I decide to go.

Surprisingly, I know The House of Alanis, and I know Pippy Chic from social media. They dress only royalty, and not even the most famous actress on the planet can convince them to design a gown for them. I also know about the Red Ball, which is literally a red-carpet event for the rich and famous all over the world.

“Now bear in mind, Deacon, Callen, and Mason don’t do red carpet, ever. They hate things like that,” she says when I emerge from the bathroom and gladly accept the coffee with a gratifying smile to the servant, whose name is Emma.

“Then why—”

“Because the Ursid heads informed me that if you wanted to go, they would happily attend the event with you.”

Veronica raises her eyebrow as if I should be flattered by what they’re willing to do for me.

“No thank you, to both the designers and the event.”

By my second sip of coffee, Veronica, after sighing rather theatrically, wants to know if I want to start my own cosmetics line or go into partnership with an already renowned and established luxury brand.

I don’t bother answering her this time since it’s a definitive no and she knows it. She then tells me she received fifteen invitations to breakfast, brunch, lunch, tea, and dinner from the wives of other businessmen. Four less than yesterday, and I curtly decline them all. I will not, under any circumstances, do anything wifely as long as I’m here.

“Then I guess your day today will be spent at that greasy diner you insist on working at. You’re the wife of three billionaires, my darling girl. You have to start acting like it.”

In return, I give her a sweet smile. It was interesting to me how Veronica spun our marriage to the press. Apparently, we decided to elope to one of their private islands for an intimate wedding after our love-at-first-sight proposal. I suppose there was no way she could positively spin kidnapping me and marrying me against my will.

Not to mention everything that happened in the cottage, which now feels like a lifetime ago. I don’t think my mom would ever believe what’s happened to me if she were here. I wish she were here, though, in a lucid state, so she could tell me what to do to get out of this situation.

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