“Took you long enough to figure out, Care Bear.” She licked the sweat on his neck, tasted salt and heat. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
He hoisted her off the ground and pinned her between the woodshed and his body, the rough pine scraping her back through her shirt. She hooked her ankles behind him, using every inch of her smaller frame as leverage, and ground down until she could feel the blunt line of his cock through the denim of her jeans. The friction set off sparks along every nerve ending in her body. She was already soaked—had been since the second she saw him swinging that axe—and moaned into his mouth.
He fumbled with the button on her jeans and growled with frustration. “Fuck, these are tight.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to put her down so she could get them off, but then heard the pop of buttons, the rip of fabric.
She looked down and saw four shiny copper buttons on the ground, like shotgun pellets. She laughed, wild and sharp. “You owe me a pair.”
He didn’t answer. He just set her on her feet again and yanked the denim down past her hips. He slid his massive hand between her thighs, his palm so broad it covered everything, from hipbone to the seam where she wanted him most. Then his hand was inside her underwear, his fingers thick and callused and gloriously rough.
“Shit,” he groaned, voice shredded at the edges, “you’re already wet.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” She tried for sarcasm, but it came out as a gasp.
He pulled her panties aside and pushed two fingers in, hooking them in a way that made her see little bursts of light. She ground down, squeezing around his fingers, and wishing like hell it was his thick cock instead.
“Get inside me,” she panted. “Now.”
He withdrew his hand, slow and slick, and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact.
She nearly came just from that. “Bear… Oh my God… please.
He laughed, but the sound was broken and raw, not really laughter at all. He gripped her ass in both hands and lifted her, lined himself up, and filled her with one hard, blind thrust.
The breath punched out of her.
He was so goddamn big. She’d always thought she liked men her size or smaller—easier to throw off, less likely to smotheror trap her. But now, she reveled in his size. He pinned her so thoroughly that she could only cling for the ride. She’d definitely leave claw marks on his back.
Good. She wanted him to carry that proof.
His cock was thick, and she felt every inch of it stretch her wide, fill her, scrape places she’d never let anyone reach. He didn’t give her a moment to adjust, just slammed in again and again, bottoming out so deep it bordered on too much.
She wanted too much.
She wanted everything this man would give her.
She nipped his neck, just below the jaw.
“Jesus fucking Christ. You’re like a vise.” He pulled her up slowly until just his tip remained inside her, then slammed her down again. He fucked her like he wanted to break something. Like he’d been holding back for years, and now there was nothing between him and the want. Every thrust set her spine against the rough wood, and she felt bark dig into the backs of her arms, the bite of splinters through her shirt. She loved it. She wanted more. She wanted to leave a Greta-shaped dent in the side of his shed, wanted to leave a streak of herself on every surface he ever touched.
He was frantic now, the rhythm uneven, hips snapping up so hard she couldn’t breathe. He rocked her up and down the wall like she weighed nothing, and she clung to his biceps for dear life, fingers digging so hard she’d leave bruises for sure. God, she wanted to mark this man. She wanted him to see her when he looked in the mirror tomorrow, see the bite on his neck, the raw scratches down his back, and think of her.
He buried his face in the side of her throat, mouth open and desperate, gasping for air like he was drowning in her. His beard rasped her skin raw.
She’d always wondered what Bear looked like out of control.
Now she knew.
He was beautiful.
His muscles bunched and released under his tattoos, and the tendons in his neck flexed with every trust. There was sweat on his forehead, dampening his dark hair, and his pupils swallowed up the brown in his eyes, leaving only black and the ring of gold in the sunlight.
She fixated on those dark eyes. On how his hands dwarfed her waist and his cock took up so much room inside her that it felt like he was excavating her. Digging down to the roots, to the splintered and feral core she never dared show anyone.
She didn’t hide it now. She met every motion, slammed herself down to meet him, took him to the hilt, and flexed around the thick shaft until he shuddered and made a noise she’d never heard from him before—a desperate, choked sound. He let go of her ass long enough to wedge his thumb between their bodies and press right above where he was splitting her open.
She was right on the edge. Every hot, frictionless pump of his cock made her grit her teeth and swear. Every flick of his thumb on her clit sent her spiraling higher.
