Page 73 of Bear Naked Truth
She was soaked already. Aching. Not just with want, but with need. That deep, soul-hungry kind that wrapped around your bones and didn’t let go.
He sat up slightly, letting her shift beneath him as he undid the buttons of her flannel pajama pants. She lifted her hips,helping him peel them down, and then her panties—cotton, soft, damp with arousal. When she lay bare beneath him, her thighs parted in silent invitation, she saw the restraint in his eyes snap like a tether.
He didn’t dive in. Didn’t rush.
He knelt between her legs and just looked.
“Dorian…” she breathed, thighs trembling as the air kissed her slick folds.
“I want to remember everything about this,” he said, voice thick with emotion, not lust. His fingers skimmed up the inside of her thigh, not yet touching where she needed him most. “The way you look when you want me. The way your skin smells like lavender and firewood. The way you let me see you when nobody else gets to.”
His fingers found her slit and slid through, gathering her wetness. Autumn gasped, her head tipping back into the pillow.
“Gods, you’re soaked for me, sweetheart.”
Her hips lifted involuntarily as he teased her entrance with just the tip of his finger. She bit her lip, trying to keep her composure, but every part of her was trembling.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want to feel you.”
Dorian leaned down and kissed her again, slower this time—his tongue tangling with hers like it had all the time in the world. When he pulled away, it was only to push his sweatpants down, revealing the thick, flushed length of his cock—hard, veined, and curving slightly toward his abdomen. Her breath hitched at the sight of it, heart thudding like a war drum.
“Touch me,” she said softly, reaching out to wrap her fingers around him.
His head dropped back with a hiss through his teeth, hips flexing into her grip. “Shit… Autumn.”
She stroked him slowly, savoring the weight and heat of him in her palm. He was thick, the skin velvety over steel. When hestarted to rut gently into her hand, she let go with a final squeeze and pulled him down to her again.
“No more waiting,” she said. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He groaned low in his throat and nudged her thighs wider with his knees, his hips settling into the cradle of hers. The tip of his cock brushed her folds, and she gasped at the contact—at the way he just fit.
Then he pushed in—slowly, carefully, inch by thick inch.
Her mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched her open. The pressure was delicious, a burn that bordered on pain, edged with the pleasure of being filled.
“Gods, you feel like heaven,” he rasped, forehead dropping to hers. “Tight… perfect…”
Tears pricked her eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming rightness of it. Of him. Of this moment.
He bottomed out with a trembling breath, and they stayed like that for a moment—bodies joined, hearts pounding in sync, the silence saying more than any words ever could.
Then he moved.
A slow, steady pull-out that made her whimper from the emptiness, followed by a deep, rolling thrust that had her seeing stars. He kept the rhythm torturously slow, their foreheads pressed together, every movement designed to drag pleasure out until it frayed her nerves and made her voice shake when she said his name.
“Dorian… I love you,” she said, barely louder than a breath, her voice cracking.
His hips stilled.
His eyes met hers—wide, raw, as if she’d just torn open the center of him.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love you,” she said louder this time, her hands cupping his face. “I love you. All of you.”
A sound broke from his chest—half growl, half groan—and then he kissed her like a drowning man, hips picking up pace. The slow drag turned urgent, a rhythm built on desperation and reverence. His cock stroked her deep, every thrust brushing her most sensitive spot, lighting her up from the inside out.
He shifted slightly, angling her hips higher, and the next stroke made her cry out, her pussy clenching tight around him.
