by T. S. Joyce
“Matt,” she said on a sigh.
“Does it hurt too bad?” he asked.
“No. You feel good inside of me.”
A breathtaking smile took his face as he wrapped his arm under her hips and pushed deeply into her again.
“Oooh,” she drawled out, mesmerized at how something someone else was doing could feel so good.
He brushed his tongue against hers, his muscles contracting each time he was buried deeply within her, as if his control was slipping.
“Willa,” he rasped out, pumping into her faster. “God, I can’t stop anymore. I can’t—”
“Shh, then don’t. I don’t want you to. Ah!” She closed her eyes against the pressure building inside of her. The pleasure was so intense with each stroke, she couldn’t form thoughts anymore. Couldn’t do anything other than absorb each sensual blow.
Matt stroked into her faster and faster, holding her so tightly against him. A growl ripped through his chest and brought her closer to the edge.
Matt closed his eyes tightly, but opened them again, silver, churning, his animal right there, looking at her like she was everything good in his world. His breath shaking, muscles twitching, riding her harder, and she didn’t care about the sting of pain in her middle. Not when it felt this good to be with him.
The growl settled in his chest, and he yelled out just as a pulsing orgasm exploded through her. A shot of wet heat filled her, and then another as Matt gritted out her name. She met his hips, crashing together as release filled them both.
Matt slowed, breathing hard, but his eyes on her—always on her. “Are you okay?”
Another aftershock pulsed through her, and she giggled, feeling high as a kite. “Better than okay.” Was she sore? Yes, but that didn’t take away from the beauty of this moment with the man she was falling hopelessly in love with.
She dragged kisses across a long scar near his collar bone, then nuzzled her face against him. “You did good, Griz. I knew you could be gentle.”
Matt chuckled and eased out of her. A gush of warmth pulsed from between her legs.
“Shit,” he said, startled. “You’re bleeding. Not a lot, but I can smell iron.”
She sat up as he looked down between them where they’d been connected. “Stay here.” His voice had gone hard.
Had she done something wrong? Maybe she hadn’t been as good at this as she’d felt a minute ago. Her confidence plunged as Matt disappeared into a small bathroom. The sound of the tap was loud in the sudden silence. It seemed to run forever before Matt turned it off and returned. He held a gray washrag, and when he pressed it between her legs, it was warm and comforting.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured in a broken voice.
“Hey.” She cupped his cheek and pulled his attention to her. “I’m not sorry. That was always going to happen. Especially the first time.”
His nostrils flared as he inhaled, then let out a long breath. “I thought I hurt you.”
Stunned, she whispered, “I’m not a virgin anymore.” A smile stretched her face. “It feels so weird. I’ve been waiting and wondering what it would be like for so long.”
“And?” he asked, pulling the washrag gently across her sex again.
“And it was more amazing that I could’ve ever imagined.”
Matt huffed a relieved sigh and kissed the nub of her oversensitive clit gently before he crawled up on the bed beside her. Curling his body around hers, he brushed his lips onto the back of her neck and said, “I’m glad you waited for me.”
Willa smiled at the cream-colored wall of his room as happiness flooded her. Pulling at the edge of the comforter, she threw it over their legs and snuggled back against Matt. Her Matt.
All safe and warm and his, she whispered, “Me, too.”
Chapter Seven
“No!” Matt yelled, rocketing out of bed.
Willa’s heart pounded against her ribcage as she sat straight up and squinted her eyes against the darkness. “What is it? Matt, what’s wrong?”
He was crouched in the corner of his room, encased in shadows, the moonlight streaming through the window, illuminating his eyes and making them glow. His breath was loud, ragged, and the look on his face terrifying.
“It was a dream,” he rasped out. “Only a dream. You’re okay. Are you okay?”
“Yes, babe, come here. I’m okay.”
Matt slunk to the bed, his gait uneven and hitched, as if his bear was still wary of danger. She pulled him down against her. “Tell me the dream.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“My mom always told me that when you have a bad dream, you should tell someone so it won’t come true.”
Matt’s skin was clammy and cold under her hand, and she rubbed his back over and over to work warmth back into him.
He swallowed audibly in the dark. “You were in the Menagerie with me and Cassie, and Reynolds was taking you away to the tissue sample room.”
“What’s the Menagerie? And who is Reynolds?”
“And I was beating on the window, screaming for them to bring you back to me, but they dragged you into the room, and I couldn’t see you anymore. And then I heard you screaming. Pain. I couldn’t Change to save you. My sister and I beat on the window until our fists were bloody and the glass finally broke, but your screams had already died to nothing. I threw open the door, but it wasn’t the tissue sample room anymore. It was woods. Piney woods. Hot. Sun shining through the canopy. And you were laying on this bloody, ripped up mattress, and I thought you were dead. So much blood. But you opened your eyes and…and…”
“Finish it fast,” she said, so scared she couldn’t move.
“And your eyes were silver, like mine.”
“It was just a dream, Matt. Only a dream,” she chanted to calm him as much as herself. She’d had nightmares before, but never about someone she cared about being hurt. “What’s the Menagerie?” she asked again, quieter this time.
“Don’t want to talk no more,” he said in a gravelly deep voice she didn’t recognize. His eyes blazed in the moonlight as he pulled her ankles to the end of the bed.
“Okay,” she whispered, spreading her bare legs. “Do you need me?”
“Too soon. You’ll hurt.” His fingers were frantic as he worked the panties she’d put on after dinner down her legs.
“Then what do you—” Oooh.
He plunged his tongue into her, lapping, his fingers digging into her hips as she arched back against the bed. She gripped his hair when he slowed down and rolled her hips with each stroke. Easing out of her, he sucked gently on her clit. A soft growl rattled between her legs, and she cried out his name at how good it felt. Tongue in her again, Matt gripped her ass and pulled her closer.
This time, she wasn’t sore at all. There was no pinch of pain, no reservation. Only pleasure. Matt ate her as if he’d known her body for years. Kissing, thrusting, drawing her closer to orgasm with every deep, lapping lick.
“Oh my gosh,” she cried out, louder than she’d intended, but fuck it all, this was awesome. Release pounded through her, and before her aftershocks were even done, he leapt up on the bed and straddled her hips, stroking his long shaft hard and fast.
Desperate to feel his completion in some form, she pulled her sleepshirt over her head just as he leaned forward on the balls of his feet and groaned. Hot, creamy jets shot from the swollen head of his cock, and she gripped his tensed legs as he showered her breasts and stomach. Holy shit, this was hot—sexy Matt, coming on her skin like he was marking his territory.
Warmth wept down her ribs and onto the comforter, but she didn’t care about keeping his bed clean. She cared that his muscles were relaxing and the effects of that awful nightmare were being washed away from him.
With a groan, he lay down beside her and cuddled her close. He released a sigh against her hair and trailed his fingers up and down the curve of her waist. Her sexy bear shifter, taken with lust for her, but caring enough to make sure she knew she wa
s adored afterward.
Willa hugged him tight and pressed her knee in between his, thankful he was okay.
“Sleep,” he urged. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The last words he’d spoken like a promise to himself.
Chapter Eight
His mate was a sound sleeper. The smell of bacon and the sound of the sizzling skillet hadn’t woken her, and the glass he’d dropped on the counter and nearly broken hadn’t stirred her either.
A wave of cocky pride washed over him, and he allowed a private smile. Hell yeah, she was sleeping like a stone. He’d rocked her world last night. No. He frowned down at the orange juice he was pouring. Last night hadn’t been like anything he’d done with any other girl. It wasn’t some wild night for the brag book. Sex with Willa had changed everything.
Last night was the first time his bear had ever gotten the urge to claim a woman. He’d have to keep sex with her to missionary position since going at her from behind was going to make it really hard for him not to sink his teeth into her neck and Turn her. She was his mate. Had been since the first time he’d seen her, but Willa was human and was going to stay that way.
If he told her how devoted he was to her already, it would scare her. Hell, it scared him.
All right—bacon, eggs, toast with a little bowl of strawberry jam, and orange juice. This was the first time he’d ever made a woman breakfast in bed, and once again, as he often was around Willa, he found himself nervous. Her opinion meant the world. More than Kong’s or Creed’s or Cassie’s even.
Willa didn’t know it yet, but she toted the power to destroy him.
He padded into his bedroom with the tray of breakfast. He wore only a pair of low slung sweat pants. For the first time ever, he didn’t care that his scars were on display in front of a woman. She’d seemed disappointed when he’d put on a shirt to sleep in last night when they’d crawled into bed together, so he’d pulled it off and let her run her fingers absently over his uneven skin as she drifted off to sleep.
When he saw her face in the early morning light, he stopped short, almost toppling the glass of juice. A couple of strands of her bright red hair had fallen over her face as she hugged the pillow next to her, but not even that could hide how beautiful she was.
He smiled at her death grip on the pillow. She was a cuddler. He’d learned that last night when she moved with him every time he rolled over or moved his leg. He was usually restless in his sleep, but last night hadn’t been so bad. She chased away his ghosts, and after the nightmare, she’d given him peace.
He wasn’t into cuddling in general, but it was different with Willa. Holding her settled his restless animal.
Outside, Creed whistled an ear-splitting sound. Ten minutes until it was time to load into their trucks and head up the mountain road to the new jobsite the big boss-man, Damon Daye, had assigned them.
God, he was going to miss Willa.
Creed gave a second whistle. That one was for Clinton, who never woke up on time.
Willa opened her eyes a crack and stretched with the cutest fucking squeak he’d ever heard.
“I made you breakfast.” It was the least he could do after coming to her needy and barely in control after that nightmare.
Willa sat up, hair ruffled with a big old grin stretching her face. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I feel like I’m in a romantic movie.”
He chuckled and set the tray on the table. He was pretty sure no one would ever make a movie that involved bear shifters.
“How long do you have before work?” she asked.
“Creed just gave the ten minute warning. I don’t want to leave you, but we have to make up for bad timber numbers yesterday. Easton picked a fight and cut our day short.”
“Is that why you were all torn up when I met you at the falls yesterday?”
“Yeah. It’s Gray Back tradition.”
“What is?”
“To fight like hell and make everything more difficult than it has to be.”
She laughed, but she wouldn’t if she knew how serious he was being. Gray Backs probably bled more than any other crew.
“Okay, give me a minute.” Willa slid off the bed and jogged for the bathroom.
She beamed at him just before she closed the door. What was she doing?
The tap turned on, and he could hear the rhythmic brushing of her teeth. “Your juice is going to taste nasty now,” he called through the door.
By the time she finished in the bathroom, he had about five minutes before Creed came busting down his door.
She threw open the bathroom door and ran for him, then leapt into his arms with a giggle. Knuckles on her forehead, she arched back and said, “Take me, sexy grizzly man.”
“Take you? Woman, I have five minutes max, and I imagine you’re sore as hell this morning. Bad idea.”
“Or awesome idea. Five minute challenge. Stop telling me no.” She pulled at the elastic waist of his sweats. “This is going to happen. I will be driving all over creation today trying to keep busy while you work, and this has to tide me over until I get to see you again. And besides, I’m not that sore. Come on, man. You’re wasting seconds.”
With a growl, he gave in and laid her on the edge of the bed, then tore through her panties with a satisfying riiip.
“Matt! Those are my favorite—”
He kissed her hard, swallowing the rest of her complaint. She tasted like Willa and cool mint, and when that sexy moan she did so well sounded, he plunged his finger into her to make sure she was ready. She was. His mate got wet on a dime for him, and pride surged through him that he’d found someone so perfect for him. God, he was hard. Harder than hard, he was already throbbing, as if he was ready to come just thinking about her wet pussy.
He slid into her halfway. Damn, she was tight. Tight and wet and perfect. Easing out, he reveled in the little pleading sound she gave him. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her. He slid into her until she gasped when he hit her just right. Another stroke, and he was losing control. Bear snarling through him, he bucked into her again. Trying to keep from hurting her, he gripped the comforter and set his teeth against her neck, grazing her but not biting down. Never biting down. He wouldn’t Turn her. Wouldn’t ruin Willa’s life.
“Do it,” she said.
“What?”
“Bite me.” Her voice came out desperate, husky as her hips moved against his.
“You don’t know what that means.”
“I do so. Claim me.”
Shit. Focus. So close. Gonna blow…
He slammed into her faster, and she met him stroke for stroke. He could hear them now, skin slapping together, the slick sound of his dick sliding in and out of her. So tight. All of his nerve endings were having a fucking holiday. God, oh God.
“Fuck,” he gritted out as he blew his load into her.
She yelled as she clamped down around him in quick pulses. Yes, that was his girl. Coming for him fast and hard. His hips jerked as he shot into her a few more times, emptying himself completely.
“Let’s load up!” Creed yelled outside.
Matt kissed Willa, lapping his tongue against hers just to taste his mate. Her eyes had gone hazy. “Stay as long as you want.” Stay your whole life if you want. “I have to go. I’ll be home around seven if you want to come back here. Or I can meet you in town.”
“Here. I’ll meet you here,” she murmured in a dreamy voice.
He nibbled her lip and slid out of her slowly. There was that scent of iron in the air again. She was bleeding. He couldn’t wait until she was totally healed and could take his size without pain or damage. That right there was a big part of the reason he hadn’t ever slept with a virgin. But Willa wasn’t just any virgin. She was his. His Willa, his woman, his mate.
Matt dressed in a rush, conscious of her eyes on him the entire time. He kissed her quick, and said, “I can’t wait to see you tonight,” then ran for the door. He threw it open just as
Creed was jogging up his porch steps looking pissed.
“I’m coming.”
“From what I heard, you already came. What the fuck did I tell you about potential mates in the trailer park, Barns?”
Okay, Creed was irate. As he should be. There was no more denying Willa was a potential mate. She was the one. Fuck, Creed was going to hurt him today.
“Ream me out on the landing. I don’t want Willa to hear,” he pleaded low.
“I’m not going to ream you out, Barns. I’m going to bleed you for disobeying my orders.” Creed spun around and strode for his truck where Clinton was hanging out the window pointing and silently laughing, the prick.
“Get the fuck out of my ride,” Creed yelled at Clinton. “Go ride with Easton.”
“Aw, man,” Clinton said. “I don’t want to ride with Easton. He’s weird and will probably drive us off a cliff just for funsies.”
Creed stopped in his tracks. “Why does everyone think that whatever I say is a suggestion? That’s a fuckin’ order, Clinton. I swear to God…” Creed kept muttering, but Matt couldn’t hear what he was saying under his breath anymore as he stomped around the back of his truck. “Get in, Matt!”
“This is your fault,” Clinton said, kicking a rock as he sauntered toward Easton’s truck.
Easton stood leaned against his old beat-up Ford, green eyes dancing as he gave Clinton a predatory grin.
Aw, shit, Matt did feel bad now. Today was going to suck for everyone. Everyone except Jason, who had the day off and was enjoying the show from his front porch with a big old grin on his face as he blew on a mug cupped in his hands. He was also incredibly naked, as he always enjoyed his coffee in the mornings, dick out for all to see.
Fuck it all, Creed was right. A woman didn’t belong up here.
His inner bear snarled his disagreement.
Sack lunch in hand, Matt slid into the passenger’s seat of Creed’s truck and slammed the door beside him.
“You need to cut that snarly shit out, Matt.”
