The Bear's House Guest

by Amy Star

  He traced his fingers in circles over her skin, trailing them in complex designs across her stomach, waist, and hips, until it felt like she was going to scream if he didn’t actually start touching her, and it left every inch of her skin that he brushed over feeling as if she had licked battery.

  She wasn’t going to just ask him, though. He wanted her to do that—she was pretty sure he wanted her to beg, actually—and really, where was the fun in just giving him what he wanted? She couldn’t do that; it would be inconceivable, or at least it would be in that specific moment, and she would most likely change her mind on the matter as soon as the moment passed.

  Just then, though, asking wasn’t an option. She could be patient, after all. She could wait it out until he finally decided to simply get it over with and truly touch her. She knew it was inevitable, considering how intoxicated he seemed to get at just the idea of touching her in the past.

  Her hips lifted every so often, both to flaunt herself and to try to press closer to his feather-light touch, and she would give her hips a delicate little wiggle before letting them settle back down on the bed once again. She swore she could practically see his patience beginning to fray. Even if she was the one who needed to wait, she was still going to be the one to win.

  Granted, thoughts of winning quickly vanished the moment his fingers finally touched her sex, though it was just the lightest graze along the outside of the lips as he dragged his fingertips from one end to the other and then back again. When he allowed his fingers to brush over her clit, it was just the faintest amount of pressure, and even that had her feeling as if she might burst into flames after how long he had teased her. Her grip on the rungs of the headboard tightened, until her knuckles began to tingle, and she could feel her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

  She sighed out a breath that was more of a moan as he continued his gentle teasing, and Ambrose’s response was a rumble of laughter. “Just remember to keep your hands there,” he informed her, as if she hadn’t already figured that out, though she didn’t even have time to roll her eyes before he pressed two fingers to her entrance—already warm and nearly dripping after such a prolonged tease—and let them slide in. Her back arched, she moaned, and her grip around the headboard rungs flexed. Her thighs twitched as if to close, to pull his hand closer, but she overcame the urge and kept her knees spread well apart.

  After that, he wasted no time with teasing or delicate brushes of fingertips against her skin, and once he began thrusting his fingers, he didn’t stop. He crooked his fingers at just the right angle, so each rapid thrust and each turn of his hand felt as if she was being struck by lightning in the best way. It seemed as if no time passed at all before she was coming, every muscle going taut and her grip around the headboard rungs tightening until she swore she might break them. When she moaned, it was no louder than usual, but it was long, as if it would never end.

  Ambrose kept thrusting his fingers, not slowing at all, working her through her orgasm and then past it, until one orgasm seemed to blend seamlessly into a second. She was trembling as he coaxed her through the second, and his movements finally slowed, until each thrust was almost gentle as he urged her towards a third without a sign of stopping. Elizabeth was reduced to wordless sighing at that point, her voice almost entirely robbed of her.

  She shook and whimpered as a third orgasm swept over her, and still he kept thrusting his fingers into her, until she was so nearly at the edge of another orgasm. He stopped before she could get too close, though, and finally he pulled his fingers away. He wiped them hastily on the blanket before he cupped his fingers behind her knees, lifting her legs and pushing them towards her chest, practically bending her in half and baring her still dripping sex to him completely as he shuffled closer to her on his knees. Her chest still heaved as she caught her breath, lungs rapidly expanding and contracting, though it seemed to all be for naught as the head of Ambrose’s erection—dark, heavy, and leaking at the tip, and she couldn’t imagine how long he had been hard at that point—prodded at her entrance for a moment before it slipped in.

  Elizabeth gasped, her head lolling back to one side. It seemed as if all of her muscles had been replaced with putty at that point, and all she could do was gasp and whimper and cling to the headboard with shaking fingers as Ambrose took a few slow, experimental thrusts before he rapidly began to build up speed, until he was pounding into her, each thrust jarring her towards the headboard and seeming to come faster than the one before it.

  She had already been so close when he began to fuck her in earnest, and after three orgasms, her stamina was nearly nonexistent. It was no surprise when her next orgasm came after what seemed to be only a few moments, sending a delicious shudder down her spine. Ambrose groaned quietly as she tightened around him, shivering with overstimulation afterwards as she gradually went limp, until even her grip on the headboard relaxed.

  If Ambrose even noticed, he made no mention of it, and he simply picked up his pace, pressing her knees closer to her chest so he could get better leverage. It wasn’t until his own orgasm was nearly upon him that he really began to make noise, huffing out quiet, panting groans with each thrust. His rhythm began to falter slowly, until with a few last, stuttering thrusts, he came, his hips coming to rest against the backs of Elizabeth’s thighs, his cock buried deep within her.

  For a short time, neither of them moved, and the room was nearly silent, save for the sounds of breathing.

  They stayed tangled together for a long moment, until finally Ambrose rolled aside, his cock slipping out of her as he did. Elizabeth gradually let go of the headboard, fingers aching, and her posture loosened as she sprawled on her back beside him, one arm flopping over his chest.

  “Comfortable?” he wondered dryly.

  “Very,” she returned, sliding him a lazy, half-lidded glance. “I might never get up again.”

  “You’re going to have to pee eventually,” he reminded her, doing his best to sound like he was simply being practical. “Or eat eventually. One or the other.”

  “You’re ruining the moment,” she stated simply, “but I guess you’re right. I’m hungry.” With that decided, she rolled to the side until she could sling her legs over the side of the bed and sit up. “You should make me dinner. Be a gentleman.”

  “Do I get to put my clothes back on, or should I just go cook like this?” he asked as he rolled towards his edge of the bed, already reaching down to grope around for his shirt.

  “That sounds uncomfortable,” she mused, “so I guess you can put some clothes on. I’m sure I’ll be able to live with the disappointment.”

  Their conversation continued along a similar vein all the way down the stairs, wheedling and poking and needling at each other the entire way. It was comfortable. It was almost hard for Elizabeth to believe that she had been kidnapped and watched someone die the day before.

  Despite everything that had happened, the evening felt almost…normal. Maybe that was strange, given the circumstances, but Elizabeth wasn’t going to object.

  It was a good evening, all things considered, even if they didn’t manage to fall back to sleep until nearly two in the morning.

  *

  Elizabeth stared up at her house through the car window. It felt like she had been gone for months, rather than just a couple weeks. She was supposed to wait in the car until Yusuke finished scouting the place out, but she knew it was safe, and she shoved the car door open and climbed out. She pulled her bag out of the backseat and slammed the door closed, and she stepped over the pile of Yusuke’s clothes on the driveway as she headed towards the porch. She left her bag at the top of the steps before she stepped back down into the yard, where she plopped down onto the ground and tipped over backwards so she could sprawl on her back in the grass, her arms spread out to either side.

  She watched the clouds pass overhead, not even bothering to move when she heard paws heading her way. She only acknowledged Yusuke when he looked right down at her, bl
ocking out her view of the sky with his head. His whiskers twitched, and his ears folded back against his head in irritation as the end of his tail twitched.

  “I know, I know,” Elizabeth sighed, forcing him to back up a few steps as she sat up. “I was supposed to wait in the car. But it seemed silly, considering we already know the problem’s been dealt with.”

  Yusuke rolled his eyes, but he seemed to accept her reasoning easily enough, and he turned towards the house, heading towards the porch at a trot. Elizabeth heaved herself back to her feet and jogged after him, grabbing her bag again in passing as she headed for the front door. She rooted her key out of a pocket of her bag, and a moment later, the door was swinging open as Elizabeth turned the knob.

  She stepped inside carefully, and while she was vaguely aware of Yusuke following her in, she paid him no attention.

  There was a light coat of dust on everything and the house smelled sort of stale, but she still felt the same as she always did when she walked through the doors. It felt like she was home.

  Yusuke left soon enough, leaving Elizabeth to get reacquainted with her house once it was apparent that there was nothing lurking in the darkness or ready to jump out of the corners. It was sort of surreal, in a sense. She had sort of come to think of her stay at Ambrose’s house as…not necessarily a vacation, but something that occupied a rather vacation-shaped space. And so it felt sort of surreal to walk into her house and see everything in as much of a state of disarray as it had been when she left: plates in the sink, mail and newspapers on the table, a laundry basket sitting on the kitchen counter. Had she truly been on vacation, she would have tidied everything up before she left.

  She made her way through the house slowly, picking things up and putting them away as she went, until the surfaces were clear enough for her to make a second lap to dust everything off and then a third lap to sweep. She saved the kitchen for last, not looking forward to dealing with dishes that had been sitting in their own filth for days on end.

  Soon enough, though, she threw open her windows to let the stale air out, and it felt like her house again. She took a deep breath and let it out, and she meandered from room to room once again just to make sure that everything was as she remembered it and nothing was missing or in the wrong place.

  Finally, Elizabeth headed to her bedroom to take a shower and put on some more comfortable clothes. She couldn’t quite keep herself from peering out of the bathroom window as if she was going to see something she wasn’t supposed to, though. The yard was empty, though, and she dragged her gaze away soon enough and headed back into her room.

  She sat down on the edge of her bed, the bedding still just as disheveled as when she last left. She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and stared down at it for a moment, before she opened up her contact list and scrolled to Ambrose’s number. A few taps of her finger later, and she started typing out a text message.

  Hey. I know I only just left, but do you want to come over tonight? The woods are clear, and the weather seems like it will stay pretty mild if you don’t want to drive.

  It took only a moment before a return text arrived, her phone buzzing in her hand.

  Sure thing. You owe me a tour, anyway.

  But I think I’m going to drive tonight, to at least make sure I’ve got a change of clothes there for when I do just waltz through the woods to come over.

  Elizabeth smiled quietly down at her phone and mused to herself that everything had worked out so much better than she had ever expected it to, considering all of the trouble she had found herself in. Her life wouldn’t even look the way it did at that point without the trouble she had stumbled into, even if she had no plans on giving Maxwell any credit for any of it.

  She started typing.

  Sounds like a plan.

  I can’t wait to see you.

  * *

  Hey sexy. Thanks for reading, you are the best!

  This book is from the “Bears With Money” series and all the other available books are listed below.

  BOOK 1 – THE BEAR'S FAKE BRIDE

  BOOK 2 – THE BEARS SECRET SURROGATE

  BOOK 3 – THE BEAR'S NANNY

  BOOK 4 – THE BEARS TRIPLETS

  BOOK 5 – HER HERO WAS A BEAR..

  Go grab a bear with money right now and collect them all!

  You are a star!

  Amy x

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