Page 102 of The Grizzly Situation
“Uly, love of my life, this isn’t on you. It’s something we will face together, as a family. One that’s about to grow a little bigger.”
I lifted my head. “What do you mean about to grow? When is she due?”
He smirked. “Last week.”
I tried to get up, but Brent held me in place and resumed his strokes which reduced me to a gibbering mess.
“But I—we—have a lot to do,” I said, a list forming in my head.
“Right now you need to relax and let me take care of you.”
“Brent, I?—”
“Have to shut up for a while,” he told me, thrusting hard and pegging my gland, the friction enough to make me squeak.
“You know,” he said, “every time we do this it’s like the first one. You’re every bit as tight and beautiful as that night in our bed.”
And then he started ramming into me in earnest. He leaned in as I reached up and wrapped my arm around his neck. He settled into the familiar rhythm, pounding hard, drawing out my inner slut, and making it beg him not to stop. Pleading him to drive in deeper. To make me remember how much I was loved.
“Gonna cum,” he growled.
Our first session was always fast, then he’d take me again two or three times, each within a few minutes of stopping the first, he was back to slamming me once more. It was so different than anything I could have imagined. And I craved him more each time.
The remainder of the night was filled with my moans and cries of pleasure, culminating in Brent’s roar and a smug smile as his bellow echoed off the surrounding mountains.
Afterward, we lay there, staring up at the stars. I was exhausted, but so damned fulfilled.
“What should we name him?” he asked, pulling me out of my post-orgasmic bliss.
A boy? I sighed. I would have another son. “How about Lucas James to satisfy my parents? We can call him Luke for short.”
Brent nuzzled my neck, nibbling on the skin, then laving it with his very talented tongue. “I like it.”
For the ride home and afterward lying in bed, we talked about how things in our house would change. And we both decided it was for the better.
All in all, it was a very good evening.
The next morning I crawled out of bed, aching in the best way. I was walking with a hitch in my step, which always made the kids and staff give a knowing laugh. After pouring a cup of coffee, I took a seat on the couch—the one with the thickest cushions—called Jamie and spoke to him and Deb. They were hesitant to accept, worried that they might become nuisances if they lived too close.
“You’re both pains in my ass anyway,” I argued, although the twinge I was feeling was more to do with Brent than anything else. “And I’ll be honest, I’d love to have you closer. All of you.”
“We’ll have to discuss it,” Jamie said. “Wyatt has friends here, and he might not want to move elsewhere.”
“Let’s try to make it happen, okay?”
We exchanged pleasantries a bit longer, then I told them about our decision to adopt. Both of them were over the moon for us.
That night as we lay in bed, Brent’s phone rang. I curled up against him as he answered, his voice filled with sleep. It wasn’t unusual for us to get a call, sometimes even later than midnight. With him being leader of the sleuth, things always cropped up that demanded his attention.
“‘Lo?” A moment later he jolted. “We’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call, then turned to me. “The baby is coming. Get up.”
I was out of bed and dressed in moments. Brent was still faster. We hurried to the hospital, making our way to the delivery room where we found we had just made it. As a bear shifter, labor was far faster than as a human, and Alessandra had given birth to a perfect seven pound baby boy, with red hair and blue eyes. He stared at the world and all the wonders he beheld.
When Alessandra held him, she cried.
“I love you so much,” she whispered. “But I can’t give you the life these guys can.” She tried to blink back the tears, but it wasn’t working. “I hope you’ll understand when you’re older.”
I wanted to tell her we could make it work if she wanted to keep the baby, but she handed him over to me, and was then whisked away to recovery.
