Chapter 6
Barron pulled up and parked his truck beneath his raised house. “I’m’a come around and open your door,” he said as he took the keys out of the ignition and opened his own door, using his booted foot to keep it from swinging back toward him while he glanced in the backseat at the bags Emmalyn had brought. “Then I’m gonna grab your stuff.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle my own door, if you could just help me get some of my stuff.”
“Alright,” Barron said. He reached over the bench seat of the truck and grabbed three of her five bags.
Emmalyn reached over the seat and shook her head when she realized he’d grabbed the three heaviest of the five. “I can get some of them, too, you know?”
“I left you two.”
“You left me my backpack, and my makeup bag.”
“And?” he asked as he kicked the door closed, one of her bags hanging off his shoulder, another in each hand.
“Nothing. Let’s just go inside,” she said as she started up the wooden staircase right beside the truck. It led up to the porch and the front door, and put them out just a couple of feet from the door. She shifted her makeup bag to her other hand to reach out and turn the doorknob, expecting it to open. But it didn’t.
“Sorry,” Barron said from behind her, nudging her out of the way. “It’s locked.”
“I see that. Is there a problem?”
“No,” he said, putting down one of her bags to fish a house key out of his pocket. “Me and Brandt live right here on the water. Anybody could easily come up and let themselves in looking for shelter or a bathroom or something. You can’t tell from the looks of it that it’s actually a development with multiple homes. It looks like camps out here by themselves. So, we started locking our doors,” he said as he opened the door, stepped inside and flipped on the light as he stood there, blocking the doorway.
Emmalyn stood impatiently behind Barron, now holding one of the bags that he’d put down, along with the other smaller items she’d carried. She couldn’t help but notice that he was intentionally blocking her entrance, his face turned up while his nose twitched as he scented the air.
“Alright,” he finally said, “come on in. Welcome. It’s your home as much as mine. Make yourself comfortable. There’s nothing you can’t do or see, so snoop all you want, change whatever you want.”
Emmalyn stepped past him. “I don’t snoop.”
Barron snorted a doubtful laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he said, smirking to himself as she walked past him and he grabbed the other bags and closed and locked the door.
“You gonna start already?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“No, ma’am. Not me,” he said. “You hungry?”
“Not really. I could eat, though.”
“Same. Let me see what I can find to throw together.”
“Where do you want me to put my things?”
Barron turned and looked at her. “Where they belong.”
“Where is that?” she asked.
“With mine, Emmalyn. In the master suite. It’s on the other side of the living room. Got a small guest room right here behind the kitchen, but ours is on the other side of the house.”
Emmalyn stood where she was, looking into his eyes. “I know where your bedroom is — remember?”
Barron nodded, turning away from her to walk into the kitchen. “I do,” he said, opening the fridge to dig around in it.
“You’re sure you want my stuff in there? I can just as easily take the guest room.”
Barron straightened up suddenly. “Are we trying to do this or not?” he snapped.
“We are,” she snapped back. She lifted the bags she still held to indicate her things being moved in to his house.
“Put them in the master suite.”
“Yes, sir,” she grumbled, heading that way, bitching under her breath with every step.
Barron watched her go, trying not to let the smile that threatened to break free curl the corners of his lips. He looked through the contents of his fridge, then his pantry and opted for a quick throw together thing they could share. Nachos, complete with pepper jack and cheddar cheeses, leftover taco beef, sour cream, and guacamole. He began warming the leftover taco meat, and shredding the cheeses as Emmalyn put her things away, coming back into the living room twice to get her other bags. He could have offered to move them into the bedroom for her, but knew if he did it would be another argument about him not thinking she could do it herself, rather than a thank you for helping. So, he didn’t help.
By the time she’d finished putting her things away, he was already sitting on the sofa, a platter of fully loaded nachos in front of him, a beer for him, and a bottle of sweet tea for her.
“Hey, I thought you said you’d throw something together for us?” she asked, strolling into the living room and climbing over the back of the sofa to plop right beside him.
“I did. Not my fault you took too long and I started without you.”
Emmalyn didn’t even look at him, she was focused on the platter he held in his hand, deciding which was the best chip and scoop to start with. She reached her hand out to take the chip she’d chosen, but he’d been watching her assessing the nachos and grabbed the chip she wanted shoving it into his mouth quickly while he grinned around his mouth full and chewed.
“Ass,” she said, taking another one and crunching it happily.
“Why, yes, I excel at that.”
“I’m aware.”
“Not bad for throwing things together, huh?” he asked, as they both ate from the platter.
“You forgot jalapenos,” she said, eating another chip loaded with guacamole.
“I didn’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t eat them often enough to buy them.”
“I eat them. Often, too.”
“Then you buy some.”
Emmalyn stopped chewing and turned to look directly at him. “I had some at home. Maybe I should just go back there — and get some.”
Barron smiled coldly at her. “You could try. Or you could just eat the damn nachos I already made for us.”
She scoffed at him and scooped up some of the toppings with another couple of chips lying just at the edge of the platter. She picked up the bottle of sweet tea and looked at its label, scanning it quickly to see if it had lemon in it or not.
“It’s sweet tea,” he said.
“I know. Thank you for buying the one without lemon.”
“You’re welcome.”
She cracked the top on it, and tossed it to the coffee table before taking a long swig and crunching on another chip.
Several minutes later the platter was empty, Barron was relaxed on the sofa, with his feet propped up on the coffee table, his head lying on the overstuffed back of the sofa behind him. Emmalyn was curled up beside him with her feet beneath her. She looked his way, then over at the sofa to her left, then at him again.
“Problem?” he asked.
“You don’t have any blankets on the sofa.”
“They’re in the bedrooms.”
“Why don’t you have any out here?”
“Because I don’t sleep on the sofa.”
“What if you wanted to?”
“Then when I got cold, I’d wake up and go to bed.”
“I’m cold now.”
“What would you have me do, Emmalyn?”
“We need blankets out here.”
“Noted. But there aren’t any now.”
“But I’m cold now.”
Barron didn’t even glance at her. He just held up his arm, indicating that she could snuggle close if she was cold enough to want to take advantage of his warmth.
Emmalyn considered just going to grab a blanket from the bedroom, but in reality, all she really wanted was to be close to Barron. She wanted a break from being on alert all the time. Sighing, she scooted closer, tucked herself under his arm and leaned against his body, her head on his chest as he accommodated her, his arm tucking her in and draping over her. A few minutes later, she fidgeted again, bringing her feet out from beneath herself and tucking her toes under his leg.
“Finished now?” he asked, scowling at her incessant moving and fidgeting.
“Kind of,” she answered. Then a familiar theme song began to play on the television capturing her attention. “Oh! I love this show! It started slow, but I can’t stop watching now!”
“I know.”
“How would you know that?” she asked.
Barron turned his head toward her as she looked up at him from her place with her head on his chest. “Just because I appeared to be ignoring you, doesn’t mean I was ignoring you.”
“Ahhh, couldn’t stay away, huh?”
“Never could,” he admitted. On the screen one of half a dozen ghosts confined to a historic manor home followed the young manor owner around insisting she talk to him as she valiantly tried to ignore the ghost because she was surrounded by other humans who couldn’t see the ghosts. “Hush, now. I’m watching my show,” he chided.
~~~
Emmalyn came awake, startled, her heart pounding, arms flailing.
“Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay!” Barron half-shouted, his voice concerned as he tried to soothe her.
She struggled for just a few more moments, before recognition kicked in. His scent, his voice, his bedroom. Though it was dark, she only need blink a few times and her nighttime vision kicked in. “Barron.”
“I got you. You’re in our bed. You’re safe.”
She nodded as she forced her body to lie back down. She closed her eyes, and gripped the covers with her fists where they stretched across her hips. Her chest still moved visibly with the force of her breaths as she tried to calm herself.
“What scared you so much?” he asked, lying on his side and facing her.
She shook her head. “I just, I’m not used to feeling anyone lying beside me. I felt someone there and panicked.”
“I’m sorry. I should have awakened you when I brought you to bed.”
“It’s not your fault I’m so screwed up.”
“You’re not screwed up. Just stuck in fight or flight mode. You’ll move past it eventually.”
She nodded again.
“Tell you what, I’ll go sleep on the sofa. I don’t want to wake you like that again.”
Emmalyn reached out, her hand gripping his wrist. “Please don’t. I don’t want to be alone.”
“You sure? I understand if you do.”
Her hand tightened on his wrist as she turned her head to look into his eyes. “I need you to be with me.”
Barron smiled, a real one, not the sarcastic kind. “Then I’ll be right here.”
He moved closer to her at the same time she turned on her side to face him. He put his arms around her, pulling her in. He held her with one arm while he stroked her back slowly, methodically, almost forcing her nervous system to relax.
As her body began releasing some of its tension, he kissed her temple.
She moaned softly, so he kissed her temple again.
The hand stroking the length of her back went lower, his fingertips tracing the curve of her lower back and just the top of her ass. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Em. I promise.”
“If it does, and it’s your safety or mine, let me go. Take care of yourself.”
The hand stroking her lower back stopped stroking. He pulled back enough to be able to look into her eyes. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think that’ll ever happen.”
“I don’t want you getting hurt over me,” she said simply. There was no attitude, no ulterior motive, nothing but the truth in her statement.
“I’d be a raving lunatic if something happened to you. Taking care of you is taking care of me.”
She looked at him in the darkness, his face so much like his father’s, and yet not. He was uniquely himself, a beautiful male, thick, husky, but not fat, wide shoulders, naturally tanned skin, the size of his father with just enough of the elegance of his mother tossed in. He was the perfect blend of both of his parents. His sandy blonde hair, his blue eyes — flashing gold as his Bear looked out at her. His always pleasant, easy-going sense of humor — unless he was dealing with her. His strength, his power, his near indomitable temper when you pushed him too far or threatened someone he loved. He was happy with the simple things in life that he held so dear. And she’d damn near thrown those values in his face. “I’m not nearly good enough for you,” she whispered.
“And yet you’re all I want.”
“You need better.”
“There is no better.”
She leaned forward just enough to press her lips to his.
Barron let his eyes drift closed, and allowed Emmalyn to kiss him slowly, sensually. He met every touch of her lips with one of his own. Allowed her tongue to taste and explore him, and smiled when she stopped him from doing the same.
Emmalyn increased the passion and power of her kiss, pushing him onto his back as she moved closer. She slid her leg over both of his and scooted up until she was half sitting across his hips, devouring his mouth.
Barron’s hands slid up her thighs to grip her waist as he hungrily accepted all she was willing to give him.
She sat up and looked down at him, her hands resting on his where they still held her waist. “Is this okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t stopped me, but you haven’t encouraged me either. If you’re not ready for this…”
One side of his mouth curved up into a half-smile as his hands slid from beneath hers to press her down on top of his body while he rolled his hips.
Her eyes flashed and a shiver went through her feeling his hardness beneath her.
“I didn’t want to move. I was afraid you’d stop, and I’ll do anything you want me to do as long as you don’t stop.”
Emmalyn smiled at him as she gripped the edges of her teeshirt and pulled it off over her head, tossing it to the side.
“Can these go, too?” he asked, his finger toying with the edge of her panties.
“Take them off me,” she said.
A single long claw sprang from his fingertip. After just a gentle swipe or two the lacey edge of her panties unraveled, then he tore the other side, too, pulling them out from under her. She thought he was going to toss them to the side with her shirt, but instead he tucked them beneath his pillow and winked at her.
“How did you get my shorts off?” she asked, as she leaned her upper body against his again.
“You were out. I just tugged them off and put them on the chair by the window.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good thing to be so sound asleep.”
“With me it is. You’re safe,” he said, running his fingers through the dark hair falling into her face and tucking it behind her ear.
“I believe that,” she said.
He watched her as she focused on his mouth, leaning forward to kiss him again before making her way down to his nipples. She teased one of them while rocking her hips against his, feeling his already swollen cock throb in response. Nipping at his nipple, she scooted her body down his legs a little, kissing his chest, his abdomen, licking that sensitive spot just above his hip bones that formed the hollows of the ‘V’ of a male’s body she found so incredibly sexy. “I love this part of you. So sexy,” she murmured, tracing the ‘V’ with her tongue.
He moaned, his eyes closed, not really responding verbally, as his body gave in to her touches, her nibbles.
She slid lower still, until she was exactly where she wanted to be, in the perfect position to handle both the softest and the hardest part of him. Her fingertips touched him, sliding from his balls drawn up tight to the base of his cock and up the length.
Barron’s hips lifted in need, trying to rub himself against her fingers.
“You need relief?” she whispered, applying a little more pressure this time, actually stroking him from base to tip.
His body tensed. “Yes,” he hissed.
Emmalyn leaned her head closer to his cock and blew on its head, purple and swollen as it throbbed and leaked in response to her ministrations.
“You’re going to give me a fucking heart attack, Em.”
“You think?” she asked, seductively, just before she opened her mouth and engulfed him, sucking the head of his cock and as many inches as she could manage into her mouth. The rest of his cock was enveloped in her fist as her mouth and her hand worked in tandem to stroke him tip to base.
His hips bucked. “Fuck, Emmalyn!” he growled out, raising his head to look down at her as she sucked him off, her eyes meeting his as she obviously took as much pleasure in deep throating him as he got from her doing it.
She gave him no chance to control himself as she worked him furiously, determined to make him come hard and fast. She sucked as her tongue stroked the underside of his crown, her hand stroking up and down, twisting as her hand reached her chin each time, her saliva and his precum glistening as it eased their way.
Barron’s hips rocked in conjunction with Emmalyn’s movements, his hands planted on the bed at his sides as he tried to hold back his orgasm, but it was pointless. She knew exactly what she was doing, and wasted no time in taking him there. “Em, Em, I’m gonna come. Back off,” he warned.
“MmmMmm,” she hummed, increasing the suction and the speed with which she stroked him, and took hold of his balls, squeezing gently to give him that extra push.
“Aw, fuck!” he snarled, grabbing her head in his ecstasy and holding her in place as he came, shooting down her throat as she greedily swallowed his release. “Fuck, fuck! Em, fuck,” he garbled out as she continued to suckle him, though gradually more gently until she finally let him fall from her mouth and kissed her way back up his body.
She barely got to his chest before he’d flipped her onto her back and pressed his still hard cock into her wet and waiting body. Her labia swollen and ready parted for him easily as he nudged himself forward, groaning as her body accepted him, taking him all the way in.
He looked down at her, still licking her lips as she squeezed her vaginal muscles around him, fully seated deep inside her. “Your turn.”
“Yes, please,” she whispered.
He nudged forward just enough to be on the edge of pain and pleasure, then pulled his hips back and drove them home without hesitation.
“Yes,” she whimpered, her hands griping his biceps as he powered into her like a machine, riding her without holding back, pushing her to orgasm faster than she’d ever gotten there before. Her legs flailed behind him, bouncing off his ass from time to time as he battered her welcoming body, demanding that it release the same ecstatic release he’d experienced.
“Barron…” she whimpered, holding onto him for dear life as he doubled down, grabbing her legs and pressing them out to her sides as he made more room for himself between her thighs.
“Come for me. Come for me, now, Em!” he growled.
“Trying,” she rasped.
“Now, do it now!” he demanded, leaning forward a little to change the angle of his thrust, grinding his pubic bone against her clit before slamming his hips against hers again. She screamed, but wasn’t quite there. He sat up on his knees again, knowing exactly what he’d do to send her over the edge. She loved power, but she loved to have it exhibited over her, too. It was a turn on for her to hand over her power to the only person she could do that with — him. How he knew that, he didn’t know, but instinctively he did. On his knees, his hips pressed up against her ass as he kept up the rhythm of stroking his cock deep inside her in sharp, slamming strokes, he pressed one thumb against her clit and rolled it around in little circle, while with his other hand, he pressed his thumb into the pucker of her ass.
Her eyes popped open and she gaped at him, her mouth open and panting as she tipped over the edge into the most intense orgasm of her life, as her body gripped onto his cock and his thumb. He came inside her, filling her body with his essence, leaving no doubt of the fact that they were indeed mates, marked or not.