Chapter 11 - Autumn
I'm giving away my virginity to a man I met less than forty-eight hours ago.
A man who turns into a bear.
A man who just made me come so hard on his tongue that I have no words for it.
This isn't a dream. This isn't one of the romance novels I read on long hikes, tucked safely in my backpack.
This is real, the rough texture of his homemade blankets against my back, the weight of his body as he follows me onto the bed, the hunger in his dark eyes as he looks down at me like I'm everything he's ever wanted.
And the craziest part? I want this badly.
Not just kind of want it, not just curious about it. I want him with an intensity that scares me a little. Want to feel him inside me, want to know what it's like to be claimed by him, want to give him this piece of myself that I've been holding onto for twenty-six years.
Because no one else ever felt right. No one else ever made me feel like this—desired, treasured, safe and dangerous all at once.
And knowing he's a virgin too? That somehow makes it even better. We're both handing over a part of ourselves to each other. Both choosing this moment, this connection, this impossible bond that's formed between us.
He's hovering over me now, his weight on his forearms, his cock hard and heavy against my thigh. His eyes search my face.
"Last chance," he says roughly. "We can stop right now. I'll take care of myself, you don't have to—"
"Rhett." I reach up and cup his bearded face. "I want this. I want you. Stop trying to give me an out."
"I just need to know you're sure."
"I'm sure." I spread my legs wider, cradling his hips between my thighs. "I've never been surer of anything."
He closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. When he opens them again, they're darker, more intense. The bear is there, just beneath the surface.
"It might hurt," he warns. "First time usually does, right? If it's too much—"
"I'll tell you. I promise. But Rhett?" I pull him down for a kiss. "Stop worrying and fuck me already."
He groans against my mouth. "Fuck, the way you talk—"
"What? You don't like it?"
"I love it. Love that you're not shy about what you want."
"I am shy," I admit. "But I want you more than I'm shy. So right now? The wanting wins."
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I feel him shift, positioning himself. The head of his cock nudges against my entrance…
He's big. I knew that from seeing him, from touching him, but feeling him there, about to push inside, brings home just how big.
"Breathe," he murmurs against my lips. "Just breathe and try to relax."
I nod, forcing my muscles to unclench. He pushes forward slowly, and I feel the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness of him entering me.
"Oh God," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He stops immediately. "Too much?"
"No. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He pushes deeper, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. The burn intensifies, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
"Breathe, Autumn," he reminds me, his voice strained. "Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect. Taking me so well."
The praise helps. I focus on his words, on the feeling of him filling me, on the way his whole body is shaking with the effort of going slow.
And then he's fully inside, and we're both still, just breathing.
"Okay?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"Yeah. Give me a second."
He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, keeping still even though I can feel how badly he wants to move. The bear is growling, I can hear it rumbling in his chest, but he's holding back for me.
The burn starts to fade, replaced by something else. A fullness that feels right, feels good. Like my body was made to take him, to hold him.
"Okay," I whisper. "You can move."
He pulls back slowly, and the slide of him against my inner walls makes me moan. Then he pushes back in, and oh God, that's even better.
"Fuck," he groans. "Autumn, I can't even—"
He starts moving in earnest now, long, deep strokes that make my back arch off the bed. The pain is completely gone, replaced by pleasure that builds with every thrust.
"Yes," I moan. "Rhett, yes, just like that."
"You feel so fucking good," he growls, his hips snapping forward. "So wet, so tight, so perfect. Mine. You're mine."
"Yours," I agree breathlessly. "All yours."
The possessiveness in his voice should probably bother me. Should feel like too much, too fast. Instead, it makes me wetter, makes me clench around him.
He notices. Of course he notices.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough. "Like being mine?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He fucks me harder, and I can feel the bed shaking. His control is slipping. I can see it in his eyes, in the way his movements are getting more erratic, more desperate.
"Need you on top," he suddenly says, pulling out.
I whimper at the loss, but he's already moving, rolling onto his back and pulling me with him.
"Ride me," he demands. "Want to watch you take what you need."
I've never done this before. Never been on top, never had to figure out the rhythm myself. But my body seems to know what to do. I straddle his hips, and he grips my waist, helping me position myself. Then I sink down onto him, taking him deep.
"Fuck!" The angle is different like this, deeper somehow. He hits something inside me that makes my whole body light up.
"That's it," he encourages, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts. "Ride my cock. Take what you need."
I start to move, lifting up and dropping back down. It's awkward at first, uncoordinated, but then I find a rhythm that makes us both groan.
"Look at you," he breathes, his eyes roaming over my body. "Fucking gorgeous. Love watching your tits bounce. Love the way you move."
My thick thighs spread wide over his hips, my soft belly, my breasts moving with every bounce. But he's not looking at me with disgust or disappointment. He's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Like my curves are a feature, not a flaw.
"Love your body," he groans, his hands sliding down to grip my ass. "So curvy, so perfect. Made for this. Made for me."
"Rhett," I moan, moving faster. The pleasure is building again, coiling tight in my belly. "Oh God, I think… I think I'm going to—"
"Come for me," he demands. "Want to feel you come on my cock."
I'm so close, right on the edge, bouncing frantically now. His hands are everywhere—my hips, my thighs, my breasts—encouraging me, guiding me, worshipping me.
And then I feel it. His hand on my thigh changes. The texture becomes rougher, hairier. I look down and my eyes widen. His hand has transformed. It's bigger, covered in dark fur, tipped with claws that are not digging into my skin. Yet.
The bear is coming out.
I should be scared. Should stop, should pull away.
Instead, I come harder than I've ever come in my life. I scream his name, my whole body convulsing as pleasure rips through me in waves.
"Fuck!" Rhett roars beneath me, and his other hand transforms too. Both massive, fur-covered paws are gripping my hips now, and his eyes have gone wild, more bear than man.
He's losing control.
But he's still being careful with me. Even as the bear surges forward, even as he thrusts up into me harder and faster, those claws never pierce my skin.
"Autumn," he growls, and his voice is deeper, rougher. Almost inhuman. "Need… Fuck, need to—"
"Do it," I gasp, still riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm. "Claim me. Make me yours."
He roars again, and I feel him swell inside me, and then he's coming, flooding me with heat, his whole body shaking. His hands tighten on my hips, and I feel the pinpricks of his claws finally breaking skin, just barely. Not enough to hurt, just enough to mark.
To claim.
We stay like that for a long moment, both trembling, both breathing hard. His eyes are still more bear than man, and his hands are still transformed.
"Rhett?" I say softly. "Are you okay?"
He blinks, and I watch the awareness come back into his eyes. The bear receding, giving control back to the man. His hands return to normal in a ripple of movement, and he immediately checks where he was gripping me.
"Fuck," he breathes, seeing the small marks. "I'm sorry. I lost control. I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," I assure him, cupping his face. "You didn't hurt me. You were careful, even when the bear came out. You kept me safe."
"I marked you."
"Good." I lean down and kiss him softly. "I want your marks on me. Want everyone to know I'm yours."
He stares at me like I've just said something profound. Then he's pulling me down into a fierce kiss, and I can feel his cock twitching inside me, already getting hard again.
"Insatiable," I murmur against his lips.
"For you? Always." He rolls us over, putting me on my back again, him still inside me. "The bear wants more. Wants to fuck you until you can't walk, until you smell like me, until there's no doubt who you belong to."
"Then take more," I challenge. "I can handle it."
His eyes darken with hunger. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You're going to regret saying that."
"Promises, promises."
He grins, and starts moving again. And I realize that this is just the beginning. That fated mates means forever, means being bound to this incredible, damaged, beautiful man and his bear for the rest of my life.
I should be terrified of that kind of commitment.
Instead, I've never felt freer.
"I've got you," he murmurs as he fucks me slow and deep. "Always got you. Mine."
"Yours," I agree, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Always yours."
And I mean it with every fiber of my being.
This man, this bear, this bond, this is what I've been waiting for my whole life without knowing it.
And now that I have it, I'm never letting go.
One Month Later
I'm sitting on Rhett's porch, our porch, I'm trying to get used to thinking, editing footage on my laptop when I hear the familiar sound of his axe splitting wood.
Thunk. Pause. Thunk.