Page 29 of Shake You

“I meant why do you even care about my attire?”

“I know what you meant, and I don’t. Care, I mean. I don’t give a fuck.” His facial expression suggested otherwise. “But you’re not going out dressed like that. Period.”

The look of steely determination in his eyes was the same as the one I’d seen in footage of him on the field. It was the look that told the opposing team that it would be easier to move mountains than to defeat him. The look that said losing wasn’t an option. It was the look of a winner, and also the look of a total asshole.

“First, you’re too late. Obviously I’ve already been out dressed this way.” Granted, it was unintentional, but he didn’t need to know that. “Second, you have no right t—”

“Maybe not, but I can, and I am. And what are you going to do about it, Honey Bee?” As he swiped his calloused thumb roughly across my lips, I desperately wanted to slap the smile of derision from his face. Well, part of me wanted that. The rest of me—the stupid, hot and horny part—wanted more Bear.

As he reached the corner of my lip, I turned my head sharply, parted my mouth, and sucked his thumb inside. On reflex, my eyes slid closed, and my head tilted back slightly.

Bear groaned a little, then cupped the rest of his huge paw—I’d scarcely ever met someone whose moniker fit them as well as his did—of a hand behind my neck. It was quickly joined by the other. He squeezed with both hands, his free thumb nudging my chin back even further.

Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I found myself inexplicably waiting for his next move. I didn’t have to wait long—certainly not long enough to ask myself what the fuck I was doing with this man again.

He tightened his grip on my neck, then pulled his thumb quickly from my mouth, and jammed his lips hard against mine. The kiss was different this time. There was nothing hesitant or exploratory about it. Nor was he seeking my permission. In the harsh urgency of his movements, he was clearly staking his claim, establishing his right.

We kissed that way—him asserting his position, me battling against him—until my lips were raw, my breathing was ragged and painful, and my thoughts were a confused jumble. I shoved hard at his chest, and to my surprise, he yielded.

“What?” he snapped harshly, his breathing as stilted and labored as my own.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“Okay, noted. Now let’s get back to it, like we both know we’re going to.”

“I don’t know any such thing—”

“Jesus Christ. Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much? Like waaaaay too fucking much. And think too much? Because you really do.” I’d been told both many times in my life and was ready with one of my standard retorts, but Bear beat me to it, scooping me up, throwing me effortlessly over his shoulder, and stalking back into the room.

He really was a beast of a man, and though I was no pixie, he made me look, and feel, small. The shock of the unexpected move stopped my words and thoughts in their tracks. When I regained them, it was to squeak, “Put me down,” ineffectually.

“Okay.” We were back at the couch, and he lowered me onto it, immediately sliding to his knees once I was seated.

“Speaking of foreplay.” We hadn’t been, but I did vaguely recollect him mentioning it earlier. He lowered himself even further, resting his butt on his heels, and nudged my knees apart with his hands.

Just as I caught up with what he was planning, he slid his hand inside my PJ shorts, taking me by surprise. My body jolted in shock as he then gently stroked my entrance up and down a few times. Holy shit.

A few more moments passed, and then he slipped his finger inside me, and his thumb up to my clit. His expression was serious, and I wasn’t sure of his intent. What he was doing felt good, regardless of what he was thinking, so I decided to roll with it. Sometimes life was too short to analyze every move to the nth degree.

I arched my back and tilted my hips a little, too, allowing him better access. He might have been an asshole, but I had to admit that he knew what he was doing when it came to getting me off, and as he moved his finger slowly in and out, and rotated his thumb around my clit, I felt a telltale tightening in my stomach.

I pushed rhythmically against Bear’s hand until he stilled me, pressing against my lower stomach, halting the movement, but at the same time gifting me the pleasure of increased pressure against the finger inside me.

He quickly added a second finger, causing me to spasm around him.

“Not yet. I want to taste that sweet honey first.” Oh.

With those words, he lowered his mouth to my clit, swapping his thumb for his lips, and sucking hard. My body jolted against the hot wetness of his mouth, sending my senses into overdrive.

If I’d thought he was talented with his hands, he was even more gifted with his mouth. He alternated between licking and sucking me with just the right pace and pressure—while his fingers worked their magic inside me—to have me hovering tantalizingly on the brink for as long as he wanted me there. Which turned out to be an eternity. Or at least it felt that way to my endorphin-addled brain.

In the end, rather than risk losing my mind, I reached down and pushed the back of Bear’s head, bringing him closer. At the same time. I swirled my hips back and forth, upping the pace, and fucking his face with all my might. He took the hint, quickly replacing his fingers with his tongue inside me, and using his thumb to press down on my clit.

It wasn’t long before I’d passed the point of no return, and my body was again clenching tight around his fingers as I imploded with ecstasy. I momentarily forgot how pissed off I’d been with Bear, instead, concentrating on the pleasure he gave me. With my anger went my inhibitions, and I let the bliss find its way out of my body any way it could, including through my voice. I didn’t hold back, shouting my release for all to hear.

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