Charlie turned her body and took more sniffs, letting her nose lead her up to his neck, taking in Berg’s scent.
When she pulled away, about to say again how awesome he smelled, she found his gaze locked on her face, jaw tight, brow pulled low. It should have frightened her, that particular expression, but nope.
Charlie leaned in, keeping her eyes locked on his, not wanting to lose the contact. Not wanting to lose him.
As she had earlier that morning—Christ, had that only been this morning?—Charlie pressed her lips against Berg’s.
She really wasn’t tired anymore. The thought of going to sleep now . . . no. She didn’t want to do that.
She continued to kiss him, his body rigid beneath her.
Maybe he’d suggested getting some sleep because once he was alone with her, he wasn’t really interested. Didn’t really want to be bothered with a crazy female and her even crazier sisters and the psychotic family they belonged to despite the fact the family wanted nothing to do with Charlie and her siblings.
What sane male wanted to be part of all that?
Realizing she’d made a mistake, Charlie started to pull away, but he must have felt it. Must have felt her retreat because his big hands suddenly framed her face and he kissed her back. Hard and wonderfully overwhelming.
His tongue slid into her mouth, tangled with hers, while he pulled her onto his lap.
All sleepiness and doubt wiped from her mind, Charlie could only think about getting Berg Dunn’s clothes off. She went for his T-shirt first, gripping the fabric with her hands and lifting, revealing abs and a chest that Charlie had assumed she’d only find in comic book hero movies.
Berg pulled back and lifted his arms so she could remove his shirt, then quickly returned, kissing her again, like he was trying to crawl inside her. Become one with her.
She should have been freaked out by his intensity. When guys she’d dated in the past, full-humans, attempted to come on to her like this, she couldn’t get away fast enough. They’d made her uncomfortable, made her envision hard breakups that involved stalking.
But not Berg. She didn’t get that vibe with him. So she let him overwhelm her. She let him grab her tight around the waist and pull her even closer, his lips never leaving hers.
His hands moved over her skin, fingertips sliding over scars and bumps, and he didn’t seem to care. Scars weren’t ugly to him, just reminders of what it meant to be the daughter of Freddy MacKilligan.
She didn’t even know when he got her shirt off. Or her bra. She just knew her top half was naked and his mouth was on her breasts, sucking her nipples, his hands enjoying the weight before moving to her back, her waist.
Charlie gasped, his mouth on her nipples felt . . . different. Weird. Not bad, though. Not bad at all. More like outstanding. Yes. Outstanding. Like he had two mouths on one nipple.
Yeah. That was definitely weird. Weird she’d even thought of that.
But before she could try to figure out what was happening, he had her on her back, her jeans and panties down around her ankles.
She thought he’d take off her jeans completely but he didn’t. He just lifted her legs, her knees bent, and pushed them practically over her head. It was like the jeans were ropes, keeping her legs trapped. Just the thought had her wet.
Then his face disappeared and his mouth was on her pussy.
Charlie gasped. She felt it again. Like there were two mouths on her rather than just the one. She didn’t get it. Didn’t understand it. But couldn’t really even think about it too much. Not when he began to eat her out. His tongue was sliding inside her like he wanted to devour her. Lips playing with her clit. Twisting it this way and that. Owning it. Ruling it.
Reaching above her head, Charlie grasped the arm of the couch and held on for dear life. Twisting from one side to the other. It seemed like her body wanted to get away. That what it was feeling was just too intense. But no. She didn’t want to get away. She wanted to stay here as long as she could, letting Berg Dunn twist her around his big fingers like the finest bread dough.
Her grip on the couch tightened. Her legs trembled. She heard roaring and realized it was in her ears. Like a tsunami crashing down on her.
Her back arched off the couch, but Berg—thank God!—held on. Kept her grounded to this moment as he made her come once . . . then again. One orgasm right after the other and she couldn’t stop it. Not that she wanted to but it didn’t matter.
She cried out at some point, but she didn’t know when. She just knew that she was coming all over Berg’s face and he didn’t seem to care. He just kept licking and playing and holding her pinned to that giant couch that she wanted to take with her wherever she might move in the next ten thousand years.
When the second orgasm finally left her body, she realized she had Berg trapped between her thighs, unwilling to let him go.
She forced herself to release the man, panting harshly as she turned on her side.
Charlie gave herself a moment to calm down. She didn’t want to say anything stupid. Do anything stupid that could ruin what had just happened. But she made the foolish mistake of looking up at the bear sitting beside her. His arms were stretched out across the back of the couch, his gaze focused straight ahead. Then his tongue lashed out and licked her juices from his face.
It was like he was licking the remnants of that honey bun they’d had earlier. Like he’d never tasted anything better.
And he was tasting her.
She shoved her jeans, panties, and sneakers off, then launched herself at the bear, shoving him down on the couch.
His eyes widened in shock.
“What’s happening?” he demanded.
“Shut up,” she ordered. She unzipped his jeans and yanked them down far enough to get his cock out. She grabbed a condom from Dutch’s stupid—but helpful—love basket.
She had the condom on him, and that’s when he decided to start talking.
“Charlie—”
She covered his face with her hand before grabbing his cock with the other and holding it steady so she could drop her pussy on it. She did and . . . holy shit.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit . . .
* * *
All his best intentions out the window.
He’d planned to do the whole taking his time, getting her to another orgasm thing. He’d planned on a good half hour for their first time. But then she’d attacked him. She’d come after him like a cheetah after a gazelle in one of those Animal Planet documentaries.
And God, he’d liked it. Loved it. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
The problem now was that the bear in him wanted her. Not the man. The bear wanted her and Berg wasn’t sure he could do much about it.
He decided to risk it. To take a chance that Charlie MacKilligan was really up for this ride.
He gripped her hips and in one move rolled them over—while keeping his cock inside her—putting her in the same position he’d had her when he’d given her head.
She gasped in surprise but she didn’t try to push him off. She didn’t seem pissed. Just curious.
He bent her knees and pushed her legs back so that when he leaned in, her ankles rested on his shoulders.
Placing his arms on either side of her, he loomed over her. And, again, she didn’t seem to mind. He moved his hips a bit. This way. That. Until he heard her make a sound that was distinct. And he felt it. The way her pussy clenched hard. Knowing he’d hit the right spot, he plowed into her. Not taking his time. Not really thinking about much besides how good she felt.
He just fucked her. Hard. But he’d been smart, like most bears. Found the right spot so that, as he fucked her, his cock kept hitting it. Kept slamming into it.
Now her entire body clenched around him. Her hands reached up and grabbed hold of the couch arm again. He was grateful, too, because her claws came out, ripping into the leather rather than his flesh.
Her eyes were open wi
de and she stared right through him. Her breath shortening, her body beginning to shake. And he just kept going. The grizzly had taken over, claiming what was his, making Charlie his . . . at least as far as the bear was concerned.
She began to curse. The same phrase over and over. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” Until it was one, long word: “Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit!”
Charlie exploded around him, her curses becoming a silent shout, her sweat mingling with Berg’s, the couch arm devastated by those claws.
And he came right behind her. Unable to stop himself once he’d looked down into that beautiful face and saw such pleasure. Such happiness at what he was doing to her. Oblivious to what she was doing to him.
When the last spasm rolled through him, he collapsed on top of her, unable to move for at least two minutes. Then he was afraid he would crush her, so he moved them both onto their sides, staring at each other. Panting. Sweating. Smiling.
“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” she finally said, not hurting his feelings because he could hear the teasing in her voice.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. It could just be the haze of first time sex. I bet, if we try again . . . we’ll find out it was a fluke.”
To Berg’s amazement, even before he registered what she was really saying to him, his cock understood. It twitched, still inside her. Still wearing the condom.
“We should definitely try again.” He was still panting, but his body didn’t care. He reached over her to the basket, grabbed another condom. “You know . . . to be sure.”
chapter TWENTY-FOUR
With her head buried in the mattress, blocking the scream she couldn’t stop, the orgasm shot through Charlie’s body. She couldn’t really move, though. Berg had his hand on her back, keeping her pinned to the mattress, her ass in the air so he could fuck her from behind. His free hand teasing her clit. Managing to get yet another orgasm out of her.
She felt him stiffen above her and then he was coming, roaring. The goddamn windows shook a bit.
When he was wrung dry, he collapsed next to her, but he didn’t relax until he’d pulled her into his body, holding her against his chest.
“Okay,” she admitted, “maybe it’s more than just a first-time sex haze.”
“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Maybe.”
No longer wearing her watch because all her clothes were in the other room, Charlie asked, “What time is it?”
“No idea.” He blindly grabbed the remote control by the bed and hit a button. The dark drapes flew back and they both screamed at the bright morning sun flooding their room.
“Close it!” she yelled at him. “Close it!”
The drapes quickly closed and they again collapsed onto the mattress.
“We’ve been fucking all night,” she admitted out loud.
“Yes. We have been fucking all night.”
“Awesome,” she sighed, enjoying Berg’s laugh as he hugged her tight.
* * *
They ordered breakfast from room service and nothing was more enjoyable than watching Charlie’s reaction to the amount of waffles, bacon, and honey that was brought.
“Who is going to eat all this?” she demanded, staring at the platters of food.
Like Berg, she wore one of the hotel terrycloth robes, but this was a bear suite so it was a robe for someone Britta’s size and Charlie was swimming in it. The back dragged behind her like some medieval train, and she looked like a queen to Berg.
“Is your brother coming?” she asked while Berg walked around the large table on the terrace.
“He is not coming and stop making me feel bad about how much food I eat. I’m a bear! I have an appetite.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, eyeing him when he ended up behind her and pulled out her chair. She jumped a bit. “What are you doing?”
“Being a gentleman. Enjoy it, this won’t last.”
She laughed. “That’s probably a good thing. I’m not used to gentlemen.”
Berg sat down in the chair next to her but leaned over to kiss her before he started to eat. She kissed him back, her mouth smiling against his; the palms of her hands pressed against the sides of his neck.
When he pulled back, his gaze focused on her lips, she pointed at him. “My stomach is growling. We’re eating.”
He grinned. Knowing she still wanted him, even after their long night, meant he could wait to get her back to bed.
They ate and talked, enjoying being on the terrace without anyone attempting to kill Charlie at that very moment. It was windy, but the walls on either side that separated them from the other terraces cut down on that problem considerably.
“Tell me about your mom,” he said after a little time.
“My mom?”
“You talk about your father all the time. What about your mom?”
“She was amazing. And I’m not saying that simply because I lost her early.” Her smile was so warm, so loving that Berg felt it in his chest. “She was the hardcore artist type, although she had no artistic skill whatsoever. She called herself a muse. She was there to inspire others to feats of greatness,” she said while stretching her arms in the air, and Berg had the feeling that was a move her mother used to make. “Stevie’s mom, although I never forgave her for just deserting her child, knew that there was no one better for Stevie than my mom. She knew how to get brilliance out of people without pressuring. Without pushing. You never want to push Stevie.”
“How long has Stevie been . . .” He searched for the least insulting word.
“Nervous, high strung, and panicky?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Always. When you have an IQ as high as . . . possibly anyone. . . ever, it’s hard not to also be kind of a mess. We’re lucky she only has a panic disorder. She could have just as easily turned into the Unabomber.” Charlie lowered her voice. “And that nearly happened. But we managed it.”
“And Max?”
She went back to her normal voice. “Max was the first to move in with us. Her mother called mine, asked her to babysit while she took on a job. Turned out the job was a jewelry heist that my father arranged. When things went bad . . . he ran, leaving her and the others behind. After that, Max just never left us.”
“And what about your mother?” she asked, bringing the mug of coffee to her lips.
“My mother smokes pot.”
He wasn’t really surprised when her sip of coffee spewed across the table.
* * *
“Pardon?” Charlie asked, unable to stop her giggling.
“My mother has, as long as I’ve known her, been an aficionado of the leaf.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. She’s a very laid-back bear. Of course, now she’s got the business.”
“The business?”
“She used to make THC-infused honey for her and her friends, but now . . . she makes it for anyone willing to pay for it. Her business is getting huge . . . much to my sister’s shame.”
“Britta’s not a fan?”
“My mother has always embarrassed her. She’d come to parent-teacher conferences in her tie-dye dresses with Bob Marley silk-screened on the front. She never smoked, though, when she was pregnant with us, which I appreciate.”
“I thought she bred dogs.”
“She did that, you know, legally.”
“I am loving this story.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No. Not at all. My mother wasn’t exactly a saint, you know. She was just . . . awesome. And that sounds like your mom, too. I love awesome moms. And your dad?”
“Just a regular grizzly. If he could hibernate part of his life away in a cave . . . he would. Instead he just sleeps in his recliner, watches a lot of TV, and manages the hives my mother uses for her honey business. They’re a good couple. At some point, I’m assuming, you’ll meet her.”
She swallowed her bacon, noticing that Berg was staring at her.
&nb
sp; “Am I supposed to be freaked out because you mentioned meeting your parents?” Charlie asked, snorting when he gave a small, adorably embarrassed shrug. “I guess you forgot I’m half wolf. And we attach. I just spent all night fucking you. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon. And since you seem to have poor decision-making skills when it comes to choosing a woman, I’m going to assume that’s not a problem for you.”
“It’s not,” he said quickly, smiling.
“This doesn’t mean we’re married,” she felt the need to amend. “It just means I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. We just do what normal people do.”
Berg looked off, thinking. And she knew he was trying to figure out what “normal people do.”
“Date, dumb ass,” she explained. “Get to know each other better. Keep having sex.”
“Oh!” His smile returned. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Charlie grabbed another strip of bacon and sighed out, “Bears.”
* * *
Berg was having such a good time hanging out with Charlie—alone for once—that he was definitely annoyed when he heard a doorbell.
Frowning, they both stared at each other.
“Was that a doorbell?” Charlie finally asked.
“Yeah.”
“This room has a doorbell? Like a house?”
“Apparently.” He pushed back from the table, went inside, and across the room. He pulled open the door and blinked in surprise.
“Hi, Hannah.”
Hannah Jameson was a bear hybrid and a close friend of Britta’s. They’d played in the hockey minors together a few years back. Hannah went on to become Hannah “The Destroyer of Worlds” Jameson on the Carnivores team. A “power forward” that his bear friends who loved hockey worshipped. She was a high scorer or whatever and almost every time she was on the ice, she had two grinder foxes who protected her. The Gallo twins. At least one of his younger cousins had a poster of the three women on his bedroom ceiling. They were in full hockey gear except for their helmets and looked absolutely terrifying, but the kid loved them.
But Hannah also did investigative work for the Group. They’d rescued her years ago from a pit fighting operation somewhere up north and had paid for her room and board and education. She never did the “wet work” as guys in the Marines used to call that sort of thing.