Grace
His mouth is warm. He folds me in, and I go. The bear’s heat comes through his jacket—deep and constant, a degree past what a wolf runs—and I press both palms flat to his chest to feel his heartbeat hammering against them.
His hands drop to my waist. He walks me back.
One step. Two. The cot edge catches the backs of my knees, and I sit.
I pull him down with me. Fabric comes away fast—my shirt shoved up, his jacket shrugged off, the rough slide of his palms over my ribs.
His mouth follows, open and hungry, tongue tracing the line of my collarbone while his fingers hook the waistband of my jeans and yank.
I tug at his shirt until it tears at the seam. My hands map the heavy plane of his chest, the ridges of muscle that have no give, the broad span of shoulders that block the lantern light. He is all mass and heat. I press my face into the hollow of his throat and breathe him in until my head spins.
His palms skim lower. He strips the rest of my clothes off, then his own, until nothing separates us but skin.
I am dripping, slick and aching, every beat of my pulse pushing more heat between my thighs.
His fingers slide through it, testing, and a low sound rips from him when he finds how ready I am.
He slides down my body, lips leaving a trail of heat before he’s wedged between my thighs, nose grazing the curls over my mound.
“Mmmm…” he murmurs as he inhales deeply.
The first slow drag of his tongue through my folds makes my back arch clean off the cot.
He eats at me like he means to wear my taste on his skin, broad shoulders forcing my legs wider, thick arms locked under my thighs to hold me exactly where he wants.
His thumbs press in on either side of my entrance, spreading me wide, holding my pussy open while his tongue works deeper with devastating skill, circling my clit in tight, relentless flicks before dipping to lap at the juices that keep pouring out of me.
The stretch from his thumbs burns almost too much, and I flinch on instinct, hips twitching away even as my body betrays me and rocks forward for more.
God, he’s good at this.
The thought slams into me as he keeps me spread, fingers and thumbs working me open with deliberate patience, scissoring gently while his tongue flattens and licks broad strokes that push the heat higher.
My thighs shake against his hold. It’s intense, almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t let up—every curl, every suck drags another desperate sound from me.
“Too much?” he rumbles against my pussy, voice low and rough, but that careful check is there, the same way he always does.
“No,” I gasp, “don’t stop—please.” My hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer even as the sensations spike.
He hums approval and keeps going, thumbs pinning me wide, tongue and fingers stretching me further until I’m panting, right on the edge. My walls flutter around him, dripping down his wrist. The arousal refuses to drop—every deliberate touch pushes me higher.
He slides a thick finger in, and then another, making me buck as he curls them inside me. A third pushes in, spreading me as he pumps them in.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” My hips buck as a climax unfurls within me.
He presses a fourth finger in just as the pleasure peaks, cramming me full.
I wince, but the waves are still rolling as he pumps them inside me, drawing it out.
Finally, I sag, the tension easing as the pleasure starts to ebb.
My stomach is heaving as I try to catch my breath.
I slide a hand down to cover his, where most of it is buried inside me.
Shit. Too much…
“Decker…” I’m still panting, my hand on his wrist. I push slightly.
He lifts his head just enough, mouth shiny with my slick, fingers still spreading me wide. “Grace… I need to get you ready for me, okay?”
Ready for him?
I frown. “What? I don’t…”
“You’re small, sweetheart.” His fingers spread wider. I flinch again. “Gotta open this pretty pussy up, or you won’t fit me.”
Won’t fit me? What the fuck?
He rises, kneeling between my spread thighs, and I catch sight of his cock, and— Fuck!
My breath catches hard. Thick, heavy, veined, the head flushed dark and already leaking.
It looks obscene, way too big for me, and a choked sound catches in my throat.
I almost back away on pure instinct, that flash of that won’t fit warring with the raw, desperate ache between my legs.
“I’ll make it good,” he murmurs against my lips as he hovers over me. “But if you don’t want…”
I shake my head. I’m soaked. Burning. The stretch from his fingers and tongue still echoes inside me, and all I can think is I want it anyway.
“I want to.” My hips tilt toward him without permission. When I reach down, my fingers barely wrap around his shaft.
Oh, my God!
He watches me, steady gaze never wavering. “You can take it. I’ll make sure.” His hand covers mine, guiding the blunt head to drag through my soaked folds, coating himself. “Still good?”
“So good,” I breathe, voice shaking. “Don’t stop. I need—fuck, I need you inside me.”
He presses forward, the head nudging at my entrance, and even after everything he did with his mouth and hands, the stretch is immediate and intense. My pussy yields with a sharp, burning pop as the crown pushes in. I yelp, back bowing.
He stills instantly, one hand braced beside my head, the other between us, guiding himself in. “Breathe, sweetheart. Okay?”
I nod, panting, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t pull out. Just…give me a second.” My chest is heaving, my skin tingling with a wave of gooseflesh. He gives it. Huge body still over mine. His breath warm on my face. He just waits.
My body adjusts, walls expanding. “Okay.” I nod, swallowing hard. I spread my thighs and tilt my hips, the angle giving him more access.
Fuck. Oh, fuck!
He moves slowly, too slowly. Inch after inch sinks in, the burn sweet and fierce, every nerve lighting up around the sheer girth.
I pant through it, relishing the burn, the way my body fights and then yields. My nipples graze the coarse hair on his chest with every shallow breath.
“Still good?” Low, against my ear when he’s finally seated. He eases his hand from between us and sets it beside my head, both hands now bracing him over me.
“Oh God, so good,” I gasp out. I’m feeling nerves firing in places I never knew existed in me. There’s already a warmth building that’s completely unexpected. A tremor runs through me, and my muscles spasm around him as he starts to move.
“Christ,” he groans, hips stuttering. “You’re so fucking tight. Do you need me to—”
“Don’t stop,” I plead. “Don’t…don’t stop!” I lock my ankles at the small of his back and drag him deeper.
He sets up a cautious rhythm that has me surging against him, throbbing for more. He’s barely begun thrusting when I feel it start, a sensation welling, growing before I’ve even had a chance to recognize it…the pressure crests, blooms, and breaks.
Already? It’s impossible!
“Fuck!” I gasp, every muscle stiffening as nerve endings start firing again. I come hard around him, core-deep, the thick ridge of him riding straight over my G-spot. My eyes roll back, my vision flickering as pleasure floods through me.
“That’s good, Grace. Go with it.” His voice is deep against my chest. He fucks me through it, steady and relentless, eyes locked on my face, forearms planted on either side of my head so I am engulfed—shoulders, chest, arms, all of him caging me, hard flesh filling me.
By the time I come down, his hips are moving in shallow pulses, and I realize he’s not even all the way in.
My God!
The knowledge hits with a fresh rush of slick. I want the rest. My nails rake down his back, catching on muscle, then lower to grip the hard flex of his ass.
My wolf is quiet. I’m not.
“More!” I urge. I didn’t know how hungry I’d been. It’s been too long since my body was my own, under the control of others who treated me like a science experiment. Now, here I am—nails in his skin, heels at the backs of his thighs, none of it controlled.
He finds the angle that makes me pull him harder, and he holds it, pumping, grinding, still watching me. I stop being composed about any of it. I toss my head, breath coming in sharp gasps.
“Fuck! Oh God! Oh, my God!!” My back arches so hard, I’d dislodge him if he weren’t so heavy.
“Grace,” he says. Low. He doesn’t say it lightly. There’s an edge to his voice that tells me that beneath the composure, he’s barely holding it together.
“Harder,” I gasp. “Take me harder. All of it.”
He gives it. An inch more with each thrust. Then one more hard drive, and he’s in to the hilt.
“Oooooh!” I keen. “Oh. Oh, God, you’re everywhere!
” I’m writhing beneath him. It feels like the blunt head is lodged in my throat.
He grunts as he bottoms out, body shuddering as he holds himself steady.
“There… Fuck! Fuck! Right there!” I shatter again, walls clenching tight around the full length, and he buries his face in my neck, holding me firmly.
It’s only as I start to focus again that I feel how tightly coiled he is.
There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he’s shuddering against me, hips moving in small circles.
He waits for a moment until the spasms have eased and then pumps hard a few times, pulls out, and releases over my belly with a guttural sound, covering me in hot pulses of cum.
“Jesus,” he grinds out through gritted teeth. He sinks down onto me briefly, his cock pressed between us, twitching against my skin, his weight pressing me into the cot, pinning me.
For a moment, I feel out of touch with reality, my mind short-circuiting as I try to process the sensations. We’re both panting, chests heaving.
“You good?” he asks eventually. His hand cups my cheek, his eyes on my face.
“Mmhmm,” is all I can manage. His lips graze mine, and I take in his breath, my scent still coating his skin.
My pussy throbs, stretched and tender from the size of him, but I’m sated, boneless, every muscle loose.
He gathers me against his chest, one broad arm curled around my back, and we lie there breathing hard. The cave smells of us—sweat, sex, bear and wolf. My face is tucked under his jaw. I feel small and protected, the way I did in his arms on the mountain after the dragon came for me.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
I look up at him. “Are you kidding?” My voice is still hoarse from the sounds I’d been making. “You just gave me the best sex of my life.”
He chuckles, and the sound rumbles in his chest and vibrates through me. And I realize that I’ve never heard him laugh before.
I like it. It makes my wolf happy.
I press my lips to his skin, and he gathers me closer. I pull in a deep breath and then let it out in a satisfied sigh as I rest against his huge chest, his skin hot against my cheek. I stroke idly over the thick slabs of muscle of his pecs.
God, he’s gorgeous.
I’ve known it from the start, but being pursued by ruthless killers has a way of distracting you from noticing how hot your rescuer is. I let my eyes wander over him now, taking in the expanse of him.
“Does it still hurt?” I ask. I’m tracing the furrows the dragon’s claws tore down his ribs, three lines still knitting closed.
“No.” He traps my wrist gently, brings my palm to his mouth, and presses his lips there. When I look up, the look in his eyes is raw and fierce, and so open it tightens my throat. No walls. No distance. Just him.
He pulls the hide over my shoulder and fits himself behind me, his chest at my back, one arm loose across me. His heartbeat slows. Mine follows. My wolf stays quiet.
Outside the boulder, all of it is still out there. The file with my name on it, still standing. The search for Serenity running quietly. The Syndicate on the roads. Days, he said. Maybe weeks. The burner on the shelf that will ring every second day, whether there’s news or not.
In here, there’s stone and lantern light and his warmth at my back.
I can feel it—his beast. Close under his skin the way the bear is always close.
His breathing is too even for sleep. He’s awake and thinking about something. And I wish I knew what it was. But I’m too boneless to ask him right now. And I don’t want to ruin a moment that feels like it should be precious.
So I close my eyes, and sleep.