Instead of answering me, Bear tore off his pants and attacked my legs with open-mouthed kisses that began at my calves and moved rapidly to the inside of my thighs.
I tensed.
He paused, both hands curled over my thighs, fingers dangerously close to my underwear.
His weight made it impossible to move. He studied me and rested his chin on his hands. “Scared?”
A glitter of challenge winked in his eyes.
“No.” That wasn’t convincing because the word wavered in the air.
His eyebrow rose. He took a quick breath, then buried his nose against my underwear and inhaled deeply, twice. His groan of pleasure rumbled against my legs.
I flushed red. No one had ever savored me with such…abandon before.
“I need a shower.”
“No, you don’t. Not until I’m done with you. In the meantime, we’re just going to get dirtier.” He worked his fingers deeper between my clamped thighs, breaking my resolve to bar his access. Once successful, he pulled the gusset of my panties away from my skin and fingered under the edge of the elastic.
As he did, a knuckle or a fingertip brushed my clit. It repeated, circling my entrance, and the yearning for more than just that light touch took hold of my gut. My breath stuttered with longing. I arched to make the accidental contact hit the right spots, but he played with me instead. The brushes were more frequent, but still not hard or deep enough to be more than a whiff of sensation before they disappeared and left me keening with desire.
I pulled up my bra to roll my exposed nipples between my fingertips. The contrast of light touches with the hard squeezes I’d practiced on myself was unbearable. I begged.
“Bear, please.”
His rumbled chuckle wasn’t an answer.
I tried again. “I need more.”
That got a response. He lifted his weight from my legs and pulled my panties off. Then he tugged me into sitting position and expertly unsnapped my bra. It landed on the floor somewhere over his shoulder.
Then he stopped.
Just stopped.
I covered my breasts with my hands because it was almost as if he’d never seen boobs before.
His eyes flicked to mine. A grin slid across his face and he settled onto his heels. Both hands slowly spread wide. “I’m waiting.”
For what? “I said I need more.”
“Yeah. You did.” He glanced away, almost daring me to slap him for his distraction. The grin that had worked into place now quirked to one side.
He was toying with me.
I scooted forward to move closer. With one finger, I snapped the elastic band of his boxers. “Take these off, and find a condom.”
For a moment I thought he’d disobey me. It was there, in the quick glance he gave me before standing up. He took his time, stretching tall, his lumberjack-thick form smoothing into sinewy muscles and an art-study of surfaces I desperately wanted to examine more closely.
Then his thumbs slipped under the waistband and tugged the cotton downward. It hung up on his impressive bulge for a moment. Another tug and his cock sprang loose, bounced slightly and swung free as he stepped out of one side of the boxers then the other.
Big. Maybe not gargantuan, but definitely on the “weighty” side of the well-endowed spectrum.
I needed my hands on it. One hand would definitely be inadequate. But he crossed to the nightstand and out of my reach.
The drawer squeaked with age. The rustle of plastic confirmed that he’d complied with the second part of my order.
“Good man. Set that down on the bed right here.” I placed a fingertip on the fitted sheet just below the pillow closest to him.
