Chapter 24
Fern poses for photos.
“Can we talk about the fish situation?” Fern asked, gazing up into Elliott’s face as he hauled her through the yard. He carried her and she carried the clothes, as per the plan.
“Were you disgusted?”
“I thought it was hilarious. But I was yelling at my animal—my otter—to bite you the whole time. Little brat was hungry, though. She wanted the break.”
He laughed, reaching the back steps and pausing so she could open the door.
“Was your bear mad?” she checked.
They pushed through, and he set her down on the back porch, running his hands down her sides and gazing at her appreciatively. The thrum of anticipation in her chest could’ve been all hers—but she thought some of it was Elliott’s.
“That you stole my fish? Not at all. He caught it for you anyway. He wasn’t great at being chased, though. Sorry about that. Was that a problem?”
“No.” She tried to be coy, to keep her lips straight and neutral, but they were twitching uncontrollably as she said, “I prefer being the prey.”
His chest rumbled, and hers chirped in response. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
He nodded, face impassive as he opened the door to the kitchen, then stepped back to let her through first. She dropped their clothes on the daybed and got as far as the doorframe when he snatched her wrist, and she flew back into his chest. Her heart stuttered, and his beard scratched her neck as he leaned in from behind to growl, “Run.”
Ripping her arm free, Fern pushed off into the kitchen. Dashing right, she flew between the island and the counters, bounding toward the front of the house. It was all open, and he was so much bigger than her. There was nowhere to hide.
His feet shook the floor as she bounced around the dining table and leapt up onto the back of the couch before climbing down the front like big fluffy stairs.
She looped the coffee table and headed back toward the kitchen.
On her tail, but giving her freedom to keep moving, his fingers brushed her naked ass, and she squealed, the sensation heightening her adrenaline.
She could go around the island again, but she wanted more of those fingers, so Fern flung open the door to the master bedroom and raced in.
At the bathroom, his hands caught her around the waist, and she gasped as she was yanked back.
Her fingers scrabbled for the doorframe as he pulled her away, lifted her, and threw her to the mattress.
Elliott was over Fern in an instant. His huge, muscled arms caged her, and his erection prodded her stomach. She thought he was leaning in to kiss her, but he nudged her jaw to the side and nuzzled her neck, inhaling before nipping her with human teeth.
“My mate,” he said roughly, and she melted.
Growing up, Fern always expected the word “wife” to be what flowed from her partner’s mouth, but mate felt better, it felt bigger. His lustful energy, tumbling around in her chest, engaged in a romp with her own desire, proving just how potent a mate bond could be.
“My mate,” she returned, grabbing his head and pulling him in for a real kiss.
“We’re getting the bed filthy,” he grumbled.
“You threw me here.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to wiggle herself enough to line him up for entry, but he rebelled, swinging his body up to stand, and taking her with him.
“We’re going to shower,” he announced, carrying her through to the bathroom.
“I can feel your excitement.”
“Yeah, because I love washing you.” Setting her down on the floor, Elliott pressed a kiss to Fern’s forehead.
She grabbed towels while he set the temperature, then he pulled her into his arms, and they stepped into the heat. Elliott sudsed up a loofah while she ran a bar of soap over his chest, from his hip up to where she’d marked him in animal form.
There were four tiny dots, a miniature version of the bite on her leg, two spots where his neck met his shoulder, and two around front, above his collarbone. They’d have to make up some story about his scar when he inevitably met her mom, but they’d figure it out.
She couldn’t be happier. Her otter was sweet, friendly, and responsive to her requests—except the fish thing, but she had no say in that.
Curled up at the moment, sated from her run with her bear, her creature still paid attention.
Her tiny heart fluttered at the prospect of joining the pack, of meeting Liv’s bobcat, Noa’s fox, everyone, really.
Thinking aloud, while Elliott palmed her tits, soaping them excessively, Fern murmured, “Before we get dressed, I need you to take a picture of me for Liv.”
Startled, he knocked into the bodywash, and it bounced to the ground with a thunk. “What?”
“In otter form!” she exclaimed, laughing at the look of shock on his face. An exhale of relief puffed his lips, making her laugh even harder.
“Can I take other photos of you?”
“If you direct me, you can.”
He growled and gave her nipple a loving pinch.
Kneeling, she retrieved the bottle of soap and placed it on the shower bench. Then she ran her sudsy hands down the fronts of his strong thighs.
“What are you doing?” he rumbled and inhaled sharply when she dragged her nails over his balls.
“You know...” She wrapped his length in her hand, loving how it got a little harder each time she squeezed.
His posture changed in a way she was beginning to recognize: His back foot came up, in line with the other, and he widened his stance. If she wasn’t eye level with his cock, she’d likely have seen his shoulders square and his chin lift, too. This was her favorite, secret version of Elliott.
Voice low, he commanded, “Fern, stand up.”
Her stomach flipped, and she obeyed, because she fucking loved when he took control.
“Turn around. Put your hands on the wall.”
Compelled to give him a bit of brattiness, she narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Elliott dropped his chin and pierced her with a dark gaze. Shoving his hand in her loose hair, he tugged her head back. “I didn’t tell you you could touch me.”
His fingers traced a line down the front of her exposed neck, making her breaths shaky and her nipples tighten.
“Do you want to come for me, Fern?”
“Yes,” she said honestly, and her otter chirped, loving a good game.
“Good. Let’s see if you can earn it. Turn around, hands on the wall, and stay silent while I work. Can you manage that?”
Eyes wide, she balked. Silent? She could try.
When Fern shrugged, she could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. She almost gave in and hugged him. Instead, she spun and slapped her hands against the marble tile.
Elliott dropped his hold on her hair and tapped her on the ass. “Good girl.”
With his knee, he nudged her legs apart, then the soapy loofah met her skin as he ran it over her shoulders and down her back.
He dropped to the tiles, kneeling behind her.
She didn’t move, didn’t look, wanting to be so good and so obedient, but his breath tickled her ass before he kissed her cheek, and she squirmed.
Up her left leg, up her right, and over her butt, he cleaned her. When he tossed the loofah away and his palms met her hips, she started to stand straight, expecting him to turn her.
“No.”
She froze.
“I’m not done with you.” Big hands grabbed her ass and squeezed, opening her up for him. “Lean forward, let me see your pussy.”
Arching so far she pressed her cheek against the tiles, she smiled out the shower door at the warped bathroom beyond. She ached for him, her mate, her forever. Her chest filled with a rush of bliss that wasn’t her own, but complemented hers perfectly, and her smile grew larger.
“You’re so good at following my instructions,” he rumbled before his nose landed between her cheeks and his tongue drove into her channel.
“Oh my god,” she shrieked, earning herself a swat on the ass in response.
“Quiet,” he reprimanded.
“Still?!”
His laughter hit her core in hot bursts, then he lapped her, once, before standing behind her.
Elliott’s right hand flew to her hair, grabbing it, and wrapping it around his fist, stealing the breath from her throat.
He tugged her head back as his left hand slipped around her hip, cupping her whole pussy.
The contrast of gentle not-quite-touches at her center with the roughness of his hand in her hair made her scream in frustration.
“You’re not being a very good girl, Fern,” he growled against her neck.
“I want you in me,” she whined. “I’m not good at being quiet!”
He curled over her back, his hard length pressed between her cheeks, and his chest settled against her skin, hot and wet and comforting.
“Fine, we’ll compromise. You keep— you’re freezing.” Elliott’s whole demeanor changed. He dropped her hair, and sadly, her pussy, to spin her toward him and pull her in against his chest.
“You’re hogging the water.”
“You should’ve said.” Turning them so the warmth pummeled her back, she smiled into his pecs.
“I wasn’t allowed to talk.”
“When has that ever stopped you?” His broad fingers returned to her center, parting her deftly.
She laughed, sliding her hand between their bodies and wrapping his length in her grasp. “I didn’t realize I was cold, but this is nice. I could even face the wall again, like a good girl.” She twisted her grip over his crown and he moaned.
“No.”
“No?” She squeezed him harder, in frustration, and he pinched her clit.
“We’re done here.” Reaching past her, he shut off the shower and smacked her playfully on the butt. “Out.”
Obeying, Fern hopped out and dried off.
Elliott joined her, naked and dripping. “Tell me, what’s a scene from one of your little sex books you’d like to recreate?”
It was her turn to laugh. “First of all, they’re romances—mostly. Second of all, we can’t recreate my favorites because there are always... more characters involved.” Fern began drying her arm.
Eyes wide, he blinked at her. “Is that something you—”
“No! Oh my god, no. I would’ve told you before mating with you forever. Geez.”