Page 105 of Trusting Her Bear

“Okay,” I replied faintly, excited at the prospect zapping over me.

“Good, Little Cub.” He strokes over my swollen flesh. “Come as much as you want,” he says before disappearing between my legs, his mouth covering me so fast and so completely I cry out.

I lose myself in his love, and I forget everything but the warmth of his tongue working me, bringing me to the edge over and over again. The lift of my hips is out of my control, wanting to have him as close as possible. His arm shoots out, landing across my stomach, pressing. His big hand squeezing my side only adds to my desire.

“Please, please, please,” I chant weakly, the ball of need rising rapidly.

He continues to give me what I need, but it’s never enough. I want more. I want every ounce of pleasure he can wring out of me. The chain on my cuffs rattles as I grip the pillow. I raise my hands, forgetting his order for a moment until he pauses, and I force them to be still. He resumes when it quiets. The pressure reaches its peak, and I can’t help but come. My mouth opens with a silent scream as it washes over me fast, long, and deep. My head presses into the pillow hard, and my chest lifts. The sound of his mouth drinking it down is obscene, but I don’t care. It goes on and on. He doesn’t stop until I glide back down, my limbs heavily dropping.

I watch him sit back, wipe his mouth with his finger, and suck it into his mouth.

My pussy spasms.

“Good girl,” he says. “Proud of my Little Cub.”

My face heats. “Daddy, I need more.” My bear is pushing at my skin. My eyes have brightened with her presence. I need to mark my mate, and she is ready.

“I know, baby.” He crawls over me once again, dragging his face over my skin on the way, the roughness of his beard leaving his mark. “I will mark you in every way possible. With my beard, my cock, and my teeth,” he growls.

“Yes,” I hiss. He pushes my legs wider with his thighs, and his hand joins mine, his fingers twining. His other hand cups my throat.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his index finger flexing.

“Yes, Daddy.” I push into his hand, showing him my willingness to take everything he is.

“Take Daddy then,” he says and thrusts.

“Jesus,” I cry. His hips are against mine, as deep as he can be, and I love it. I love his possession and his power. I love being at his mercy.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.” He moves. Hard. Fast. Deep. “You are mine.”

“Yours,” I cry.

“Who do you belong to?” he snarls, his teeth showing.

“You. I belong to you, Daddy. I belong to Quinn.”

“Yes…you…do,” he says, grinding with every word. He squeezes my throat, and my walls contract around him. “Yes, Little Cub. Come again before I mark you,” he encourages.

I don’t need the prompt, and I come. “Daddy,” I pant.

“Fuck.” He snaps his hips; our skin slaps with the force of it.

“Please,” I beg, my teeth descending.

“Are you ready to bond?” he asks. “Are you ready to be my mate, partner, and love?”

“Yes,” I say harshly.

“Do you want my bite? My mark?”

“Please,” I cry.

“You are mine,” he says as he removes his hand from my neck, fisting it on the bed beside us. He dips his head, grazing his nose over my skin. “I belong to you. Everything I am is yours,” he says roughly and then strikes. His teeth slide easily into my skin over my pounding pulse.

“Quinn,” I gasp. The feeling is indescribable. My orgasm slides into another as I begin to feel his soul join mine, forever twined together.

“Ah…” he roars, pulling away, his head tipping back, my blood on his mouth. His hips continue to pound.

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