Page 44 of Choose the Bears

He rose above me, staring down with eyes of burning ice blue. They stared at me, saw me in a way I wondered if anyone ever had. That hurt my heart, that only in my dreams could I get the attention I craved. But then his hands moved, pulling my clothes off until we were both bare.

I stopped him with a hand as he reared above me, my eyes soaking in the sight of him. So big, so splendidly strong, I wantedto sear the memory of this into my brain and that made me aware I was beginning to wake up. I needed too much, wanted too much to stay deeply asleep. This became a race then, my hand tracing a line down his chest, just like I had in the gym, but this time I went for it. My hand slid down to his achingly hard cock, struggling to close my fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck…”

I decided then I only wanted to have sex with men who cursed like that, that threw their head back, their entire body focussed on what I was doing to them. Men who felt a fine tremor rock all the way through them, right as they thrust into my hand. We worked together for just a few strokes, finding a rhythm, but not for long. He pulled away with a curse, and for just a moment I worried I’d upset my dream lover. A few pulses from his dry firing dick made clear why. Then his hand shot out, grabbing my arms by the wrist to stop me from reaching for him, and right as he placed them above my head, his mouth came down.

Mike liked my tits. Apparently it was the thing that drew him to me in the first place, but you’d never know that when he got his hands on them. He used to maul them, as if somehow my softness offended him or something. Dream Asher couldn’t have been more different. His lips landed on my nipple, gentle as a kiss, right before his tongue flicked out to trace the aching point. Waiting until the skin around it crinkled, then his mouth descended. Sucking me in with long, slow swallows that forced firework bursts of pleasure to explode through my body, and I fought his grip.

I wanted to caress his head, rake my fingers through his hair and tell him how good he was making me feel, but right as my mouth moved, I felt them. Two long fangs, they dimpled the skin, pressing down but not breaking it as he sucked. I squirmed, because he was making me feel so good, but also because Ineeded to know. And my dream lover was perfect as ever, pulling free and staring at me, open mouthed.

Fangs like an animal, no–Asher had fangs like a bear where we would have our canines. He withstood my inspection, wary as a wild animal. His grip on my hands loosened, letting me go free, a silent question in his eyes. Because this was a dream, my hands went to his jaw, tracing the severe slope of his cheeks, feeling the stubble there.

All details that made this so very real.

But those fangs? I pressed a finger to one and he tolerated that, watching me warily up until the point I pulled it back.

“Imogen—”

“Yes,” I told my dream, my perfect lover. “Yes.”

A man with the fangs of an animal was nothing to me, not when human men had treated me worse than you would a dog. He’d saved me, and right now I wanted to celebrate that in the way I would’ve if the psychologist hadn’t walked in the door. I threw him down on the bed and then straddled his hips, all sounds of protest cut off as soon as my cunt landed on his cock. Instead a low hiss, the way his whole body stiffened made clear how he felt.

“Fuck me, Asher,” I commanded, far bolder than I’d ever dare to be outside a dream. “Fuck me, Asher, and make me forget.”

Chapter 24

Asher

I was dream walking.

Shifting young made it damn difficult to contain what was apparently an innate ability. Ever since the night I killed my foster father, I walked in other people’s dreams. At first it was just Ursula’s. I stood guard over her as she slept in bear form, warding off her nightmares, but as I grew older, I jumped from dream after dream of my friends, then my family.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself in Imogen’s dream.

Yet here I was, dimly aware that in my bed, my whole body was rigid as I felt her straddle me.

The first kiss of her cunt was just as sweet as the one from her lips, a forbidden, stolen pleasure. Conscious me, the one who was usually running the show, knew this was a fucking mistake, but the other half? The bear had far more control and he kept my head down, drowning in the water of sleep, if that’s what it took to feel this. Slick, wet, I’d anticipated the first time my mate touched me, but this went far beyond my expectations. Awet heat that threatened to envelope me, and my hands slapped down on her hips.

“Imogen—”

This was my last attempt to get her to see sense. What control I possessed was shredding by the second. I wanted her, needed her so fucking badly, especially when she looked like this. Naked and shining, as beautiful as the moon, her smile filled my heart so damn much it started to ache in my chest.

“Fuck me, Asher.”

A direct order from my fated mate, it could only be ignored for so long, so I grabbed her and threw her down on the bed, my body rearing above hers. Kiss her, that need throbbed through my veins, my lips trailing down her jaw, across the soft plane of her neck. My fangs bared for a second, the need to claim her riding me hard. I kissed her instead, marking her temporarily with my scent. Not satisfied with that, I dropped lower.

Her nipple was a hard bead in my mouth, my tongue pressing it against the roof of my mouth as I sucked in her sighs of pleasure. It was when her hands landed on my head that I felt myself going still, that little caress soaked up like water splashed on the desert sand. I didn’t let up for a second, tugging her nipple in harder, faster sucks, right as I pressed up into her hands. I was her dog, ready to do anything for her if it earned me a little praise.

“Oh Asher… Asher…!”

When her body started to buck up from the bed, I knew I needed to move on, unable to give the soft curve of her stomach the attention it deserved, not when she needed me here. Her hand guided me, trying to steer me closer, even as I kissed my way down the slope of one soft inner thigh, her grip not loosening up until I did this. My tongue flicked out and slid up her entire seam because I needed the salty sweetness of her. Her taste burst on my tongue, everything I’d dreamed of andmore. I hadn’t anticipated this, a gut-deep hunger that rose like a wildfire, threatening to burn every impulse away but this. To sling her thighs up around my shoulders, to open her to me so I could dive in.

I needed inside Imogen, her body, her heart, her soul, but right now I had to have this. To push my tongue deep inside her, feeling her cunt enveloping it. As my jaw worked, as her grip tightened, as I heard her gasps of pleasure, I knew I was getting closer to what I needed.

But not close enough.

Her cries grew more and more desperate before she forced me to pull free.

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