Shifters' Storm Part 18

Even more weary of thinking than she'd been moments ago, she unhooked her bra. Let her arms drop to her sides. Her bra, still held up by the shoulder straps, hung off her, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s drooped. She'd just turned twelve when her mother told her she needed to start wearing a bra, but she'd resisted. Bras meant growing up, and she wanted to remain a child, a free, forest-exploring child.

Finally, wanting to be done with the whole d.a.m.n thing, she pushed the straps off her shoulders and let the garment fall. Practical woman that she was, she bought underpants that rode just below her navel and covered her b.u.t.tocks. Mostly white.

Who the h.e.l.l cared? Who the h.e.l.l wanted the d.a.m.n thing?

103.

By the time the last deed was done, she felt as if she'd climbed a mountain.

"Next," she prompted.

Ber, d.a.m.n him, still felt no need of a winter coat. She might have resented his disregard of cold if not for how his shirt clung to him. Probably static electricity was responsible, she concluded, although maybe the cotton couldn't get enough of him.

Watching her watching him, he discarded his denim jacket. Pulling his shirt out of his waistband, he hauled it up and over him. His hair stood up in places, while other strands caressed his forehead and cheeks. Between that and his stubble, he looked barely human. Dragging her gaze lower, she took in the curling, equally dark mat over his chest and funneling down into his low-slung jeans.

The man's belly b.u.t.ton was exposed. Also the outline of his hip bones.

Ber came from Alaska, so what was he doing with what appeared to be an all-over tan? His coloring wasn't the result of sunlight or a tanning salon. Nature had done this to him, made him perfect in yet another way.

His shoulders, ah his d.a.m.nable solid shoulders, were lightly hair-dusted to give off an air that practically shouted masculine. He was the opposite of a modern and well-manicured man. Civilization barely had a hold on him.

"Go on, please." She was out of breath and close to exploding.

Jeans. Simple things. The uniform of nearly every man she'd ever known. Nothing new. Nothing erotic.

Yeah, right, especially when the owner of said jeans had just unfastened and unzipped, allowing his erection to press through the opening. Instead of finishing the ch.o.r.e, he turned his attention and fingers to his boots. His socks, she noted, were white. Then he slipped them off, and she studied his broad feet and long, st.u.r.dy toes. If need be, he could walk or even run barefoot.

White briefs. Elastic kissing his belly and gripping his b.u.t.tocks. Barely containing his c.o.c.k.

"Do it. Please."

Despite her plea, he took half of forever getting rid of his jeans. Still moving achingly slow, he pulled his briefs over and then under his c.o.c.k. Like Songan, he hadn't been circ.u.mcised.

Stepping out of his final garment, Ber jerked his head at Songan. "Now you." She'd seen Songan naked before, nothing new there. Except either her memory had deserted her or her short-circuiting brain and body kept her in the moment. Like Ber, Songan did a decent striptease. There was no wasted movement, no taunting her with his form, and yet her b.r.e.a.s.t.s expanded and her p.u.s.s.y oozed.

She didn't now and couldn't imagine ever comparing c.o.c.k size. Both were perfect.

For her. Today at least.

Stay human. Please.

104.

Killing the s.p.a.ce between them, Ber placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head. "Do you have any idea how far I traveled to find you? How long I searched?" His heat, his awesome heat, flowed through her. "You were in the Chinook before I returned, weren't you? I wouldn't be here if Mom-"

"Don't go there." Bending a little, he covered her mouth with his. He smelled of wind and wilderness, and she became instantly drunk. Whimpering under her breath, she started to wrap her arms around him.

Grabbing her wrists, he worked her arms behind her back. Still kissing and being kissed, she arched her back so she could keep her balance. His c.o.c.k touched her, possessed.

There might not be any rope today, but he'd still captured her and now held her where he wanted her.

Drunk on the thought, she parted her lips. His tongue dove into the s.p.a.ce she'd created. A shadow to her right and slightly behind distracted her. She was still trying to make sense of it when Songan lightly slipped his hands around her throat.

"I can feel your pulse." He pressed a little. "Is your heart racing?" Before she could tell him yes, Ber kissed her again. Thrilled by the touch of mouth against mouth, she closed her eyes. Songan's body heat claimed her spine, b.u.t.tocks and legs. Ber's body was like fire against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and belly. Opening her mouth even more, she went in search of everything the bear shifter chose to give her. Their tongues danced, first one and then the other invading, exploring, igniting. If Ber wanted her all to himself, he gave no indication, and if Songan resented the newcomer, he kept that to himself.

Right now at least, they were content to share her.

Drive her insane.

Songan pressed into her. She felt truly trapped between him and Ber. The elk shifter's hand remained on her throat while the other reached around her and began a maddening and exciting journey toward her breast. Crazed, she struggled to offer it to him. Her lips started to slide off Ber's mouth.

Muttering something she couldn't understand, Ber caught her lower lip with his teeth. His hold on her wrists tightened, and his c.o.c.k pressed against her middle.

This wasn't happening! Two men at once was beyond anything she'd ever imagined, and yet, oh G.o.d, and yet- Her mind whirling, she relaxed. A moment later, Ber's hold relaxed, and her lip slid out. Before she could comprehend the loss, Songan found her breast. A hand made for wielding logging equipment swallowed her mound. Opening her eyes again, she tried to blink her world into focus. Ber's form dominated.

All except for Songan behind her.

105.

Flesh against flesh, not just hers against male, but male touching male. Those realities and more separated themselves out in her mind then fell apart. In contrast to the shifters, she was small and slight, her strength laughable. Yet these naked giants couldn't get enough of her. Wanted her. Owned her.

The heated blanket of Songan's other hand now covered the breast that had brushed against Ber. No longer having fingers against her throat should allow her to relax, shouldn't it?

Didn't matter.

"Me first," she heard Ber say. "Then you."

"Maybe."

"What about me?" she demanded. "Don't I get a say?"

Ber answered, if that was his intention, by crossing one of her wrists over the other and pressing them against the base of her spine so he could effortlessly keep her in place. That done, he gathered up her left a.s.s cheek and squeezed it.

Startled, she tried to pull free. "Oh that's funny! Think you're a comedian do you?" His hold on her b.u.t.tock increased. She imagined his knuckles sliding over Songan's c.o.c.k.

"What about this?" Songan roughly ma.s.saged her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Is it something you like?" Truth was she loved everything they were doing to her; she just wasn't ready to admit it. Maybe she would once she didn't feel so overwhelmed or possessed.

Maybe.

"No major complaints," she belatedly came up with. "But Ber, an a.s.s isn't the erotic equivalent to a breast." Hoping to prove her point, she gave it as much of a shake as she could. "Grab and grope is juvenile."

He didn't say anything, not this man who hadn't shaved for the better part of a week and had traveled hundreds of miles to reach this part of the country. Freeing her b.u.t.tock, he began stroking it with calloused fingertips. She melted a little.

"Your turn," Songan said. "For now."

106.

Chapter Sixteen.

Just like that, the elk shifter was gone, taking his life-warmth with him and leaving Rane's b.r.e.a.s.t.s exposed and lonely. When her arms dropped to her sides, she dimly realized Ber had let go of them as well.

She now stood before the bear shifter with the tip of his c.o.c.k kissing her belly every time she exhaled and his breath showering heat over her.

She wanted to know what Ber had in mind, and yet she didn't. Needed to antic.i.p.ate and lived for every breath the two of them took. This wasn't about shared or not shared bondage dreams, the past or future. Everything was now. Him. Her.

Taking her hand, Ber walked her over to the bed. Instead of climbing onto it and telling or asking her to join him as she thought he would, he turned her so her back was to him and her knees against the mattress. She hadn't noted where Songan was but felt his eyes on her. Watching. An audience of one. Next in line.

Ber ran something, a knuckle maybe, up from the base of her spine to her nape. Gripping the bedspread so hard she risked bending her short nails, she stared up at where wall and ceiling met. Ber's touch was so light, an exploration maybe, a half man testing both their boundaries.

Another knuckle joined the first. The second journey was firmer, slower, deeper, touching her core and making her shudder. Looking down, she fixed on her loose b.r.e.a.s.t.s and whitened fingers half buried in the spread. His fingers slid over each vertebra, caressing them. Outside, wind and rain slapped at the cabin, but it didn't matter.

"You'd make a good deer," he muttered. "You're sleek and beautiful." Beautiful. "I'm not prey."

"Aren't you?"

He should have given her time to answer, not that she had any idea what her response would be. But suddenly she was on her stomach on the bed, and she realized he'd effortlessly lifted her. Positioned her for s.e.x?

"How do you want it?" he asked, joining her.

He was on his knees beside her, prompting her to roll onto her side so she could study him. Weighing twice as much as she did, he flat out dominated her world, and yet she didn't feel intimidated. Much.

Risking losing her balance, she cupped a hand around his c.o.c.k and absorbed heat and strength. His eyes took on the look of a man on alert. Thank goodness he and Songan hadn't found anything to concern them during their study of the area. If they had, they wouldn't be here with her. This wouldn't be about to begin.

Studying his c.o.c.k and her hold on it, Ber drew back a little. As she increased her hold, it occurred to her that the shifters might not have had their full attention on what they should have been doing outside, but it was too late for that to matter.

The three of them were here.

"How do I want it?" She repeated his question. "Deep. As deep as you can go." He frowned. "I might be too much for you."

"Let me make that decision," she said, instead of reminding him of the times she'd welcomed Songan into her.

"I might lose control. You need to know that."

"I do."

Despite his warning, she trusted him not to forget his length and breadth or the strength difference between them. Letting him go, she rolled over onto her back and bent her knees, opening her legs as she did. So much for self-restraint and decorum. She needed it all, now!

Songan stood at the foot of the bed. Cradling his c.o.c.k, his gaze burning into her. She sensed the man was reaching his own limits.

Both at once?

Satisfying and being satisfied by two at the same time?

Too much to think about.

Instead of accepting the invitation she'd offered Ber with her take me, big boy position, Ber slipped his hands under her b.u.t.tocks and lifted her lower body. Once her a.s.s was off the mattress and the back of her shoulders pressed into it, he repositioned himself between her legs and pulled her toward him. She had no leverage, could barely move on her own.

Bottom line, Ber could do anything he wanted to her.

His c.o.c.k touched her entrance. Grabbing his forearms and straightening her knees, she let her feet reach for the ceiling. Opened herself to him. Turned her body over to this man. Needing to simply experience the ultimate loss of control, she once more closed her eyes.

There, his tip pressing against her wet, swollen and sensitive l.a.b.i.a. She could barely think how to swallow. Gripping her by her waist, Ber drew her even closer and brought her into his s.p.a.ce. His c.o.c.k slipped into her. Claimed her. Limp with antic.i.p.ation, she rested the backs of her calves against his shoulders and willed herself to relax.

"All right?" he asked.

"All right." Her mouth felt dry.

"Good."

108.

Breathing fast and deep, he continued to pull until her a.s.s jammed against his knees. Instead of leaving her there, he guided her up and closer yet so her b.u.t.tocks rested on his thighs. His c.o.c.k dove deeper, filled her. Laid claim to her stretched channel.

Opening her eyes, she tried to study his expression, but d.a.m.n it, having him inside her felt so good!

Her recently freed b.r.e.a.s.t.s splayed outward. When he lightly squeezed them, she thanked him by closing her thighs and gripping his c.o.c.k.

Satisfying! Her p.u.s.s.y weeping.

"Don't need to ask, do I?" he said. His palms pressed against her nipples. "It's still good for you."

"Don't talk. Just, please, do."

Between the storm sounds and her heart hammering in her temples, she lost touch with everything except f.u.c.king and being f.u.c.ked. The bear shifter's expression said everything and nothing. One moment she caught flashes of pleasure and determination in him. The next, a guarded shadow slipped over his features. Should she try to do the same instead of letting him know how ripped and raw she'd become?

Too late. Nothing mattered except this complex man looming over her with his hands once more against her ribs and their bodies locked together. She was helpless, couldn't escape!

Didn't want to.

Ber's hip bones ground against her a.s.s as he worked her lower body even higher until her back arched and her fingers dug into his forearms. When he pulled back, she struggled to find a way to join him in the coupling, to be his partner, his equal, but maybe she existed simply to pleasure him-and be pleasured.

Ber hadn't lost any strength during his journey from Alaska to Oregon, as witnessed by thundering thrust after thundering thrust. Her channel stretched and stretched again. With each attack she felt as if she was racing down a mountain, falling out of an airplane, running cla.s.s five rapids.

Heat bloomed everywhere on her. Her lungs strained to bring in enough air, and she could no longer see. Years ago she'd left these mountains because their hold on her had frightened her. Now she was back and lost. Lost and dying. Being reborn.

No matter that her only anchor came from her hold on Ber's forearms. No matter that he'd found a way to reduce her strength to nothing. She'd get back in touch with herself, ride the storm. Mouth open and eyes still unfocused, she chewed on the insides of her cheeks. The pain barely registered. Her head thrashed. Leaning down and over her, Ber pushed. Relaxed. Pushed again.

"Can't-" she started. What had she been going to say?

"Yes, you can!"

Distracted by Songan's unexpected voice, she tried to look back at the elk shifter. Just then Ber hammered himself at and into her. Branded her. Even with him anchoring her, she slid about a little. If she continued to move like this, he might lose his tempo and desperate strength.