Page 53 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

I know I shouldn’t get attached. This is just a night. A stolen moment. But something about the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like it’s more.

And that? That’s dangerous.

His kisses grow desperate, searching as he backs me into the glass, steam curling around us, heat rising in more ways than one.

“Want you sprawled out in bed this time, Sweetheart,” he growls, lips tracing fire along my jaw. “But I think I have to taste you again before I get you there.”

Then he drops to his knees, and I stop thinking altogether.

He nudges my knees open, lifts one leg, and drapes it across his shoulder. I have to hold on to something, and my searching hands grasp at his head, finding purchase in his short dark hair.

“Just look at you. Soft and pink. So pretty, Sweetheart, tell me this pussy is mine. It is, isn’t it? This here is all for me.”

I nod. The unmistakable note of possession has moisture flooding to my core.

Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I moan as he laps at my slit.

“So good, Baby. Gonna drink you all up. Gonna fuck you with my mouth till you’re squirting all over me.”

“I never,” I whimper, but whatever I was going to say doesn’t matter.

Horace is good at this.

Really fucking good.

His mouth is nimble. I don’t know if it’s that talented tongue he keeps shoving into me. Or the way his lips seem to curl and tug at my clit just right. But half a minute into this, and I am humping his face with no shame whatsoever.

“That’s it. Fuck my face. Show me how good I make you feel,” he growls, then shoves to fingers into my pussy and sucks on my clit. Hard.

Stars explode behind my eyes, and then I—well, then I squirt.

A lot.

And he laps it up.

Every last drop.

I am so weak I can’t stand without his support by the time he stops. He tilts his head, grinning at me from his position on the floor, and I know without a doubt I am so screwed.

Literally and metaphorically.

Shit. I’m in love with him.

Chapter18

Horace

After spending the whole night wrapped up in my mate, I wake to an empty bed.

Panic grips me instantly, a sharp, visceral thing that has my Bear raking claws through my insides.

“Carina?” My voice is hoarse, rough from sleep.

From last night, really.

From the way I whispered her name like a prayer against her skin while I claimed her.

Silence.

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