“Why?” She had to know if this was just a mating drive or something more. But that was asking for complicated expression out of a bear. It just wasn’t happening.
His hand trailed up to her mouth. “Becca.”
So it was up to her to figure this out. No problem. She’d been dealing with a monosyllabic teen boy for a while now. She touched Carl’s chest, flattening her palm there as she spread her fingers. She felt the ripple of his muscles beneath her hand and she imagined she felt his heartbeat. It was probably more her own, but she didn’t care. Especially when he managed two more words.
“Love me.”
Well, that was clear enough. And the startling truth was that she did. She loved the aching loneliness in the man before her. She adored the power that he contained and the gentleness with which he wielded it. But most of all, she loved the man who split himself in two so that he could manage the demands of his mind and the needs of his heart. And the bear, she now saw, was his heart.
“Becca?”
“Yes,” she said. Then she kissed him. She pressed her mouth against his and teased his lips with her tongue. He waited just a moment—frozen as if in shock—and then he changed again. His mouth opened and he devoured her. Hot and hungry, his tongue invaded her, branding her lips, her teeth, even the roof of her mouth, with his need.
She purred against him, already arching into his embrace. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed because he scooped her up in his arms. Still with their mouths fused, he carried her to his room. Once there, he set her down on the bed and when they separated enough to breathe, he began to pet her everywhere. Large strokes, whole hand, absolutely everywhere. There seemed to be no preference for any part of her body. Her hair, her shoulders, her belly, her breasts. He even palmed her ankles while she stripped out of her clothes. And once she was naked, she rushed to help him.
He was impatient with his clothes and the business of taking them off. His attention was on her and when she forced him to move his hands away from her while she pulled off his shirt, he leaned forward to put his mouth on her. And when that was impossible, he rubbed his legs against hers. He wanted to touch her everywhere and with every part of his body. And once all the clothing was dispensed with, she happily succumbed to his needs.
He stroked her everywhere and with every part of him. It was a rollicking tumble all over his bed, and she began to giggle with delight. He liked their legs entwined every which way. He liked her torso in his hands. Not just her breasts, but spanning her rib cage and tracing her spine. He wanted to lick every inch, but inevitably found his way between her thighs. She’d thought he’d been thorough before, but he seemed to revel in it now. There was no skill in the steady build to orgasm, just sheer delight as he tasted her every which way.
Her orgasm—when it happened—was almost an afterthought to the way he was owning her. And though she came with a cry, gripping his shoulders with her thighs as she bucked beneath him, he just kept licking, his large palms squeezing her bottom as he feasted.
On and on it went until she lost track of individual sensations. Her entire body was pleasure, almost without form. Just touching and throbbing. Pulsing and laughing. And it was all joy.
Pleasure as his penis thrust inside her.
Happiness as she gripped him, her orgasm pulsing around them both.
Joy when he exploded inside her.
And ecstasy when he did it again and again.
Becca woke slowly, her body settled deep in Carl’s arms and his heartbeat steady against her ear. She was resting on his chest and he held her half on top of him, half wrapped around his hip and thigh. Even their feet were touching.
She felt him press a kiss to her forehead and she released a low purr of delight. Then she murmured, “Good morning.”
“Sorry to wake you.”
She smiled. Of all the ways to wake up, this was now her all-time favorite. His hands were brushing across her shoulder and back. Long strokes that were less soothing petting and more a “wake up and love me.” She was okay with that, and so stretched against him, lifting her mouth to press a kiss against his contoured chest.
A low rumble rolled through his body into hers and she smiled. But then he tightened his hold and gently pushed her back a half inch. “I’m sorry. I have to get up.”
He was already up. She felt his penis thick and heavy against her hip. But she knew what he meant, so she reluctantly slid off. He rolled the other way and sat up, rubbing his face as he went.
She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and studied his profile. All human, complete with a Roman nose and shoulders that were broad without being thick. Also, the way he moved was more efficient, less fluid. As if everything in him were locked down again.
“You need to be the bear more often,” she said, startled by her own words. It wasn’t like her to boldly tell someone what he should and shouldn’t do with his life. But once started, she couldn’t back away from the message. It was too important. “You’ve locked all your emotions away with him, and that’s not healthy.”
He turned to look at her, his eyes fully green in the muted dawn light. “He’s gentle only with you.”
“Bullshit. He’s you, Carl. Your emotions and your instinct caged in a little box labeled Bear. They’re part of you. You pull them out when you think you need them, but they’re all you. And they need to be expressed.”
“He doesn’t talk.”
“He talked plenty last night.” And she’d heard him when he’d expressed loneliness and need. And he taught her about the joy of reveling in each other’s physical bodies for the simple pleasure of being with each other.
Carl dropped his hand into his lap. “Even you talk about him as a separate person.”
“Only because you do. Because you’ve locked that part of you away.” She pushed up to a seated position. “Your bear is wonderful, Carl.”
