Page 26 of Bearing North
“You are so sexy,” Orson said admiringly as he shut the door behind him.
There were no real illusions of privacy—the walls were paper thin to the next room and anyone in the hallway would hear any noises they made—but Alex had spent the last two days wound to the hilt. Orson wasn’t making it easy on her with his careless grace and sexy sideways come-hither looks.
She wasn’t used to playing coy or pretending to be prudish, and now that they were being honest, she wasn’t going to suddenly start. She stripped off her dusty shirt and kicked off her hiking boots. It was a wild race to nudity, and Orson barely waited for her pants to come off both legs before he was wrestling her down on the bed and driving into her.
The long, rattling trip had been like driving on a vibrator, and Orson slipped between her ready, wet lips without effort. Alex came almost at once, intensely keyed up and hungry for his weight on her. He rested over her just right, filling her at the perfect angle, one leg held high, the other spread beneath them. While she was still recovering from her first orgasm, he flipped her over and found another position to thrust into her. She abandoned her vow to stay quiet, unable to smother all of her cries in the pillow. He knew how to touch her, when to slow down, when to speed up, and when to deny her pleasure to prolong it.
Alex remembered how he’d insisted on her delight at the expense of his in Tok, and hooked her foot around his ankle to twist him under her. “Your turn, sexy,” she growled, scratching his chest hard enough to make red marks under his chest hair.
He only gave a token of resistance before letting her pin his arms above him while she stroked his cock and teased him with her nails using the other hand. He groaned and gritted his teeth, arching his hips in an unspoken plea, but he didn’t fight her hard as she tormented him.
“Alex…”
Was he begging or warning? Alex couldn’t decide.
“Alex…” he said again.
She loved his sexy voice saying her name. It didn’t sound masculine in his mouth, and he wasn’t afraid of her.
“Say it again,” she ordered him.
“Alex!”
She lowered herself down around him and released his arms to straddle him. He took her hips in his hands and pulled her closer, commanding their desperate rhythm as she rode him harder and harder. Alex found another crest of pleasure as he pumped into her at last. They became aware of someone down the hall pounding on the wall as the squeak of the bedsprings slowed and faded away.
“Alex,” he said again.
This was her favorite one yet, full of yearning, satisfaction, and delight.
“We should probably get some dinner and actually sleep,” Orson suggested, after she nearly fell off the bed trying to cuddle beside him. She regretted wasting the big king-size bed in Fairbanks. She didn’t want to sleep by herself tonight, but she wasn’t sure how they would make a twin bed work. Orson was a moose.
No, he was a bear.
And she was his mate.
And she still had no idea what to do with that.
23
ORSON
“Can I get fries with the hot beef sandwich?” Orson asked, looking over the menu curiously.
“Sorry, no.” The waitress looked like she’d heard the request before. “We don’t have a fryer. Bears.”
He looked up at her and smiled. “I don’t want a fried bear. I want fried potatoes.”
Alex gave a snort and explained, “They don’t have a fryer because the waste oil attracts bears, and they already have enough trouble with them.”
“Oh.” Orson had to admit that fried food did smell delicious as a bear. He sometimes regretted how keen his sense of smell could be as a bear shifter—deodorant and perfume could be nauseating—but food was a special delight. It was useful for tracking people, when he remembered to. “Chips will be fine, then.”
The waitress gave Alex an approving look and took their orders to the kitchen.
“Orson…”
He loved it when she said his name. It made his bear wiggle happily. It didn’t sound like a baby name on her lips.
“It means bear cub,” he confessed to her.
