Bear Mountain Clan Brides: romantic bbw werebear menage

by Werebear Bundle

  All the sound in the heat of the tiny cabin was the heavy breath of the three big men, Hayley’s hot panting, and the hard rain that drummed on the thin wooden roof.

  Hayley breathed the warm scent of old pine as Ben pressed her face against the cabin wall. His breath was hot on her back as his strong hands slid her skirt up to the tops of her shaking legs.

  Her knees weakened as his fingers slipped up along the insides of her thighs and found her hot, soft wetness. The rumble of his voice made her chest swell and shake. The thrum of the growls vibrated the wood floor beneath her feet.

  His hands parted her thighs wider and his strong fingers made her gasp and convulse. His hand cupped her, then dragged back and forth along her furrow.

  “Barney, Bruno,” Ben said, “I think she’s about ready.”

  Hayley should probably have been afraid of the bear. She was uphill from him, but with two bounds he could be on her. He would have to leap uphill, but if she tried to run then so would he. He was huge and he looked like he could move very fast.

  A breeze cooled her back and the shine in his dark treacle-colored eyes held her as his snout lifted to sniff her on the air. Maybe she was just stupid like all the idiot tourists who ignored the warnings about bears. Bears and food, bears and trash, bears and babies. Bears and just about anything with a pulse. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so close.

  When she had first seen him, when she looked down the grassy slope and spotted the golden-brown ridge of his back, she should have remained still. She should have stayed half-hidden behind the rough silver-gray tree-trunk. He might not have noticed her. But he did.

  “The bear is a top predator,” her teacher, Mr. Grant, had said. “It means there isn’t a living thing that will eat the bear, nor is there a living thing that the bear can’t eat.” He’d been looking right at Hayley when he said, “And that includes you.”

  Even back then in high school, Hayley had been fascinated by bears. In her small town, there were stories of children taken by them, and almost every year it was a pretext for her Uncle Jonas and his drinking buddies to go onto the mountain and hunt the bear.

  In heavy wool, plaid jackets the men loaded their pickups with camping kits, ammunition, and whiskey. After a few nights on the mountainside they returned with stories of heroic encounters.

  They told brash, unbelievable tales of strength and quick-witted agility, qualities which none of the surly crew ever showed in their normal lives.

  Jonas said, “Mortal danger can find the hero in a man.” Hayley thought, Whiskey can help some men find a hero when they look in a mirror, but she kept that to herself.

  Once Hayley saw the matted carcass of a bear draped in the back of Uncle Jonas’ pickup. The men displayed the poor dead creature like a captured flag or an Olympic torch. After that, Hayley tried to avoid seeing their grim trophies.

  It still made no sense to Hayley that a bear would risk venturing to the edges of town to hunt children. Not when deer ran through the woods, squirrels scampered in the trees, and salmon leapt up the streams.

  Even Uncle Jonas had been able to bring back a salmon on occasion, and Uncle Jonas was no bear.

  This bear had been snuffling low among the trees. Hayley almost missed seeing him as she walked along the ridge when the corner of her eye caught the ripple of his coat. She’d stopped, transfixed.

  The sight of the strong beast stirred Hayley immediately. Her pulse thickened. Her heart pounded and her chest swelled. Something primal called to her. Something familiar and ancient.

  Dark golden-brown fur fanned over the thick shoulder blade. The hump of his back was unmistakable. She took two steps down the slope without thinking. When his ears pricked up and his long head began to rise, Hayley froze on the spot. His front paws lifted as he turned his head to look straight at her.

  Her breath halted in her chest. Slowly, in the shade of the tree he stood to face her. His mouth was open and the breeze ruffled through his fur as he sniffed the air. Hayley’s mouth dried. He was huge. He was splendid. He was very near.

  Of course Hayley had glimpsed a live bear before, but always from a long way away. He leaned forward and dropped his paws to the ground. His snout stretched towards her.

  A movement in the bushes behind the bear took her eye off him. A thick furry hat and a plaid jacket rose up. A shaft of dull metal pointed at the back of the bear.

  “NO!” Hayley’s hands flew up and without thinking she started forward.

  She almost reached the bear when the hunter shouted, “Git outa the way!”

  As the bear was turning to face him, the rifle’s muzzle flashed and a dull crack echoed in the trees. The bear dove and the hunter sprang back. With a roar the bear loped downhill fast into the darkness of the woods.

  Before he was gone, Hayley was sure he was limping on one front paw. Her eyes blazed and stung as she swung her gaze from the disappearing bear to the trigger-happy idiot.

  It wasn’t Jonas, but a man a lot like him. Big and red in the face with narrow, furtive eyes. He held his lips tight and his thin tongue flicked between them often.

  “You could thank me any way you want, Miss.”

  “I’ll thank you to fuck right off, if you’d be so kind, before I tell you what I really think.”

  “You entitled young bitch, I just saved your ample ass.”

  “Don’t pretend you took a shot at that fine creature on my account.” She glowered, her eyes misting. “If I hadn’t been here, you would have taken the shot just the same.”

  “If you hadn’t have been there, I wouldn’t have missed,” he snarled.

  “Then you weren’t protecting me at all. You’re here just to kill the bear.”

  The hunter glowered at Hayley. She stood her ground and stared right back at him. Eventually he snarled then he whirled around and he left with his rifle over his shoulder, pointed idly back toward her.

  She first followed the path that the bear had taken. Her head shook with fury and sadness as her eyes raked the ground and the bushes for traces of his path. She was sure he must have been injured.

  High mountain paths had become Hayley’s refuge when she was at school, and when she’d moved to the city, the passion hadn’t left her. This morning she had as much need as ever for the quiet, the solitude, and the space to think that the mountainsides gave her.

  Setting out early, she drove up as far as the paved road took her, up to the lot in front of a country-style store, Hank’s Hike and Hunt. She took her pack and left her trusty Toyota, heading straight up into the trees. She climbed until she found a view to stop her.

  Blue-gray morning mist rose slowly through the trees in the long valley. The mist hazed the low sunlight and the limbs and fingers of the trees glowed in silhouette.

  The soft air, the sound of the breeze in the high forest, the cool stillness all cleared her mind and washed her spirit clean from the grit and grime of city life.

  When the hard-edged clatter and bustle of urban life all got too noisy to bear, Hayley’s sturdy boots and her little backpack took her out on the high slopes, out through the pines and into the rare, clean air.

  Her life was about to change, probably for the worse, and she couldn’t face it all. She needed to breathe, to walk and to think.

  Drawing and painting with watercolor was like meditation for Hayley. Looking long at a subject with soft concentration, a soft intensity, making light, precise marks on the thick paper, so faint they were hardly visible.

  Then washing the color across, quickly blending the hues to give the streaky sky and the shape of the green and gray terrain. At the end came the foreground detail. A tree, a path, a cabin with a rising plume of smoke. A deer, maybe, or an eagle.

  The concentration took her out of the world that she knew, and it parked her city life in orbit. She was one with the world as she walked, observed, studied, and recorded, and she forgot her worries about the job, the bills, and now the apartment.

  Today she had more to forg
et than usual. Her little life was about to run hard into a major crisis and she had no idea how she would be able to deal with it. As far as Hayley could see it, setting her thoughts and fears aside for the day would be the best preparation.

  As she watched the mist in the valley, Hayley took in a long breath. It would be wonderful to sketch out the deep fissure of the rocky valley and wash watercolors over it to capture the magic of the morning light, but she contented herself with the picture in her mind and another snapped on her phone. Maybe she would use it to paint the scene later.

  Long ago, Hayley had fantasized about living at the top of a Park Lane mansion and being waited on hand and foot in exchange for her sexual favors. She’d imagined herself the kept concubine of a tycoon with a dark secret.

  Her days would pass in jewels and silk pajamas or diaphanous negligées as she awaited the sudden, savage, and unpredictable demands of her master. He would be tall and heavy-set with a luxuriant golden-brown beard, deep, dark brown eyes, and prone to sudden rages.

  His needs would be as outrageous as they were obscene. He would be insatiable and tireless. His strength would match his depraved inventiveness.

  He would arrive unannounced. The huge, heavy double doors would slam against the walls when he burst them open. Filling the gaping doorway he would stand, panting so hard a low growl grated under his breath.

  With his feet wide apart and his hands balled in big, round fists he would shout from the doorway, “Hayley! Where are you?” and his fierce eyes would scour the expanse of soft white rugs and cushions.

  Raging through the apartment he would find her in the kitchen, bent over some luscious morsel she had meticulously prepared to tempt him. Or bent over her keyboard, straining for the perfect rhyme to delight him with.

  His huge, hairy hand would seize her wrist and drag her to her feet. The wet heat of his breath would soak her sheer robe to her skin. The thin cotton would shape itself around her pert nipples.

  He would be inflamed by the sight of her full breasts as they heaved under the flimsy white cotton. His hands would grasp and hold them and his face would fall to her.

  The rough press of his tongue, the clamp of his strong lips, and the hot suction from his breath would flash dark thrills through her body to boil in her pelvis. Her hips would seek him. She would throw her legs around him.

  She would soothe him, lull and quell his rage, and make him forget his persecution. He would enfold her, constrain her, and violate her in unimaginable ways.

  His rough passions would use up and exhaust her. Her pain and occasional scratch or grazed skin would melt his heart and inspire him to fetch more and more extravagant gifts for her.

  She would be his prisoner, a beautiful bird kept and pampered in a gilded cage high above the city. She would be Beauty, and he would be the beast to torment her.

  In wilder moments, she imagined that he had a brother just as savage as he. Maybe two brothers.

  It looked as if she was going to have to leave her shitty little apartment as her shitty little landlord had decided it was time to extort a huge and unwarranted increase from all of his tenants.

  Life in the city was hard enough. Her job in the mall wasn’t exactly uplifting. Her second job waitressing in the diner was anything but. All this so that she could scrape together the rent for two rooms by an overhead railway, and now she wouldn’t even be able to afford that because Ratzinger had decided that he was due a raise.

  He had told her, “You know, you’re a very beautiful girl, Hayley,” and his beady little eyes had danced as they peered up at her. “Maybe there’s another way this could work out, hmm?”

  It was amazing how one little phrase, a tiny slip like that could plunge a man instantly from “Definitely Not Impossible” to, “Not if All My Fingers Fell Off, Batteries Stopped Working, and the World ran Out of Shampoo Bottles.”

  “Definitely Not Impossible” was a really small group. Significantly smaller now that Ratzinger had flushed himself out. Hayley’s luck with men had always been bad. The dry season that started when she’d arrived in the city had gone on so long now that Texas would have sent aid if they’d heard.

  Following the path down through the speckled shadows of the forest, Hayley had descended far enough to have met the morning mist coming up. She held her hand up to shield her eyes against the low sun.

  She burst into a clearing and the light splashed, making her wince. As she turned from the glare her foot stepped into a hollow and she stumbled and began to plunge.

  Her fall was halted by a strong grip and she bumped against a soft, woolen shirt with a huge, hard chest inside it. A low voice vibrated the chest and the firm stomach. She felt more than heard the skip of amusement in the voice as it rumbled down to her.

  “Are you lost in the woods, little girl?”

  Big, strong hands held her steady. The touch seemed to awaken every part of her as they held her around her waist. One by one, parts of her insides felt as though they opened like flowers in sunlight. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

  Nobody called Hayley that. She didn’t remember anybody ever calling her that. The voice was thick like dark honey. When she looked up, she had to shield her eyes against the light again.

  The bearded man’s brown eyes shone from under his tousled, tawny thatch. She saw the edge of a smile, but the face was in the glow of the haze. His hands still held her.

  Irrationally, Hayley didn’t want him to let go. She felt as though she had arrived somewhere, like she had reached a destination. His trunk was warm and hard.

  His hands were strong but they held her tenderly, like his nerves were finding her. Learning her. His body was warm against her in the cold morning air. She felt an urge to hug him.

  “Are you okay?” There was definitely a chuckle in his voice now. Definitely Not Impossible, she thought.

  Hayley cleared her throat and said, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She put her hands on his to remove them. When her their skin touched a shock bolted through her. It made her mouth sag open and her eyes opened wider. She felt a well open at her core, like a discovery.

  Against her fluttering stomach and behind the heavy denim of his work jeans, a long, hard rock uncoiled and straightened. Her heart thumped.

  Somehow Hayley felt as though she knew the big stranger. He seemed dangerous and cuddly at the same time, in a way that felt familiar.

  Hayley pulled back, but he didn’t let go. She said, “Thank you.” Her voice was breathy. “I must have lost my footing.”

  “Lucky that’s all you lost.” There was a twinkle in his voice and a smile tugged at his full lips. “Could have hurt your fine self.” His eyes raked over her heaving breasts and her quivering frame.

  “Don’t see nearly enough beautiful women on the mountain. Wouldn’t want to lose one.”

  Still off balance, she relished the sensation of her waist feeling so small and delicate in his grasp. She put her hands on his big chest to steady herself.

  Her jaw dropped open and she pressed her tongue against her lip as she felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. His lower lip trembled and his nostrils flared. His chest rumbled as he spoke again. “We must find something hot to get inside you.”

  Hayley felt a thrill rise as he said it. She hadn’t stopped to have breakfast before she left, and she was feeling a little weak. She knew what he said was true.

  His lip curled, baring his sharp, white teeth. “C’mon. There’s a little place nearby serves good country cooking.” As he guided her to the path, he told her, “I’m Ben,” and he bowed his head a little as he said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”