Page 90 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
“Yes, Ben, yes.”
Bucking back to meet his thrusts, I need him to take me harder. I reach back, trying to touch him, and he catches my wrist, pinning it to the small of my back. The position forces me down onto one shoulder, changing the angle, and I cry out at how deep he reaches.
“Harder. Show me it’s you, only you.”
His grip on my wrist tightens as his other hand finds my hip. A roar shakes the cabin walls, primal and possessive, and turns my insides molten.
He releases my wrist only to slide his arms under me, pulling me up and back against his chest. I’m on my knees now, completely impaled on him, my back to his front, as he holds me in place. One arm bands across my chest while the other hand grips my throat loosely.
“This is what mates have.” He growls directly into my ear, his beard tickling my neck, his breath, hot on my cheek, punctuating each word with a thrust. “Every night. Every morning. This connection, this need.”
The angle has him hitting spots inside me I didn’t know existed, and I can only hold on as he takes what he wants. My head falls back against his shoulder, completely surrendering to his control.
“Mine to take whenever I want.” He rumbles, his amber eyes meeting mine in the mirror across from the bed. “However I want.”
The sight of us together, him so large and powerful behind me, controlling my every movement, sends me spiraling toward release. Just when I’m about to shatter, he stills, pressing deep, as he finds his own release. The feeling of him pulsing inside me, marking me from within, finally sends me over the edge.
Content and trembling, I slump forward, but he’s not done. Still hard inside me, he lowers us both to the bed, arranging me on my stomach with a pillow beneath my hips. His solid chest blankets my back as he moves again, slower this time, but no less intense.
“Mine,” he says again, as he sets a steady rhythm. Everything is tighter in this position, and with his weight behind me, I feel completely surrounded and thoroughly claimed.
“Yes, yours.” I agree, moaning into the mattress.
He shifts suddenly, gathering my wrists in one large hand and pinning them above my head. His free hand palms my breast, then slides down to where we’re joined.
“My mate. My everything. Mine to worship.” He growls, his voice rough with emotion. His fingers find my clit, and I shatter again, only his weight keeping me in place.
“That’s it.” He praises, never stopping his rhythm. He covers me completely, surrounding me with his warmth and strength, as he chases another release. “So perfect for me. Made for me.”
He comes with my name on his lips, pressing kisses to my spine, as he empties himself inside me again. We collapse together, his arms banding around me like steel.
“Ben,” I whisper as he curls around me, brushing my hair aside. “That was...”
He says nothing, but his hand slips between my legs, gently pushing his seed back inside me each time it threatens to escape. The gesture is so primal, so possessive, that it makes me shiver.
“The city’s going to be hell,” he mutters after a long moment, his voice more human now. “Too many people. Too much noise. Can’t protect you properly there.”
I turn in his arms, pressing my face to his chest. His heart pounds steadily beneath my cheek.
“It’s just for a few days,” I remind him softly. “We’ll handle what we need to and come back.”
“My bear hates it.” His hand cups the back of my head, fingers tangling possessively in my hair. “But where you go, I go.”
His grip tightens, and I feel him hardening against me again. Bear shifters and their stamina. Something tells me he’s not nearly done showing me exactly what it means to be his.
38
ZARA
Iwake to dawn’s pale glow filtering through the curtains and the feeling of being watched. Ben’s sitting up against the headboard, my body curled into his side, his arm wrapped possessively around me. The sheets are tangled around our waists, evidence of hours of passion. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder as he watches me stirring.
“How long have you been awake?” I murmur against his chest.
“A while.” His voice is deep, rougher than usual, from the night’s exertions. When I look up, his bear is close to the surface but controlled now. Watching. Waiting.
I shift to face him better, the movement making me aware of every delicious ache. A scan of my body reveals skin marked by his mouth, his hands. His gaze follows every mark with satisfaction, a possessive smug smile creeping onto his face.
Ben slides down until we’re face to face on the pillows. His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing over my bottom lip, before he kisses me softly. Each touch is gentle, almost reverent, and very different from the desperate claiming of the night.
