Page 51 of The Bear King’s Bride

“Ohhh.” Her belly hollowed out with a moan, and her husband, not known for his words, but for his deeds, picked up her unspoken messages. His clawed fingers began to part each hidden spot, lightly tapping and tracing along her slit and folds, and then, making her whimper and writhe, his wide, furry finger pushed deep inside of her.

“Girion!” she gasped as he began to thrust the digit in and out, mimicking the rhythm his cock would one day take. One day soon. Thinking of that... “Put on the lamps. I want to see my husband better,” she begged, gripping her breasts as his finger picked up the pace.

With a groan, he obeyed, kissing her dripping slit with one long, messy swipe of his tongue before leaving her sprawled in their bed.

Jocasta’s eyes widened as the lamps were lit, one by one, revealing a human form with a bear-like head, and white fur covering a rippling torso and thick arms. The legs were spread wide, and Girion’s usual hardness was there, dark pink and proud, but nestled in a white furry base, with a visible ridge along the top.

Technically, they were still not fully consummated, although the day would come soon. She hoped it would be tonight, after the summit was over, after a good sleep, when they could take their time. They would make love in his human form, of course.

“Do you want to do more than see?” Girion asked hoarsely, coming close.

She did. She always did. She dared when others would not, that was why she was queen, that was why he called her his equal. She sat up slowly and marveled when he came close to the bed. Marveled when her hands sank into thick, white fur and vanished.

Her mouth was level with his waist, and she rubbed her cheek gently along his hardness, listening to his breathing hitch in, and then escape with a moan. No one had touched him in any form. She loved that together, they were new in all ways, in all things. Her lips parted to suck gently on the tip, and then her tongue captured the ridge and ran up and down it, hearing her big, strong king give way to a gasping, moaning beast who clutched her hair and neck hard with his clawed hands.

“After you’ve made love to me in your human body, I want you in this form,” Jocasta confessed, hardly daring to believe her boldness. She shouldn’t want this.

Why shouldn’t I? He is my husband in every way, is he not? If I was a shifter, too, we would mate in every form, I am certain.

“The extra ridge might be... Uncomfortable?”

Jocasta shook her head. “After you have had me like I want to be had, Girion, I will be eager for every inch and ridge you possess.

HE COULD NOT BELIEVE it. His small, delicately built wife—yes, sturdy in human terms, but breakable as glass in his eyes, was now bobbing her head on his length as he stood in his Bearfolk form, hulking and hairy, clawed and fanged. She rubbed her hands greedily through his fur and sighed between long, slurping gobbles of his heated cock. He was dangerously close to filling her mouth.

He wanted so badly to fill her slit instead. To stretch her and mark her as his own. His sweet virgin queen was anything but what he thought a virgin would be. Scared. Nervous. The opposite of eager.

He remembered her thrashing on his lap as his hand opened her, stroked her to a peak. He remembered her thighs snuggling his cock against her without going in, covering them both in juices until they burst together.

“Jo!” he let out a hoarse groan and yanked himself free, decorating her brown breasts and dark nipples with his essence. Some dotted her chin as she panted, wet lips parted.

“Mm!” she grabbed at him as he fell to his knees, embracing her, rubbing her clean with his fur. “My love...”

“My love. My mate. Wait until we have more time, my darling. I’ll give you every last inch. Every last drop.”

GIRION COULD NOT HAVE been happier or prouder. Last night had amazed him in ways that he never knew could exist. This morning, he presented Jocasta with her engraved shield, and she burst into happy tears. And now, he was standing (as unobtrusively as a man of his size could stand) in the back of the crowded ballroom, watching bankers and brokers in their best suits talking and hoarding free sandwiches, mingling with ministers who looked thoroughly alarmed at the shoddiness of practices in the outer settlements.

His ears and eyes were on the alert, looking for Nemo. He shouldn’t be hard to find, Girion thought. There were only a dozen Foxes in attendance, and he knew several of them. He concentrated on the ones he didn’t know, passing far enough away to hear without attracting attention.

Girion stood by a portly man with a plate of sandwiches who was talking emphatically to an unfamiliar Fox. “She’s obviously a dark horse. When I heard she was a human from the settlements, a fishing village, yet, I thought she would be a figurehead. Married for her magic. But now, I hear that she’s nothing but action and plans. I suppose that’ll change when she has a family to raise.”

“I don’t know,” the Fox muttered. “I knew her people. Real plain folks. Parents weren’t that bright, but the girl wouldn’t stop. Worked her hands to the bone to keep ahead of the poorhouse, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. Well. She seems bright enough.”

“Could be. You never know who is pulling the strings.”

“What do you mean?”

“This banking summit. Do you really think a little human like her put this together? Humans don’t have it up here,” he tapped his temple.

“That’s such old-fashioned thinking, Mr. Reynard.”

“Nemo. You must have me confused with someone else.”

Girion blinked and turned sharply. “Mr. Nemo. I wanted a word with you.”

The Fox’s eyes widened, and he backed away from his conversation partner. “Who, me? That is, who, me, sire?”