Page 25 of Step Brother Bear

“Oh shut up.” I roll my eyes. Clearly, he’s playing into his character, but he’s laying it on a little thick. His hands dive underneath my skirt, and he squeezes my cheeks. My exhale is breathy, but I protest nonetheless. “Derek!”

“Your body betrays your mouth.”

“We’re in public.”

“I can fix that.”

Someone grabs my shoulder, and I turn to a glassy-eyed Chrishell. Derek releases me. She leans into my curls and yells into my ear. “I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m going home with him.” She points to Count Dracula behind her, his expression bored.

“Wait, what? You’re my ride!” It’s not until now that I realize I watched my ride take three shots tonight. How did I expect her to get me home? But still, we could have Ubered together.

She clucks. “I don’t know, babe. Call a cab. Or go home with the guy currently groping your ass.”

I’m mortified until I remember she doesn’t know my masked dance partner's identity. “What about Rachel?”

“She left already.” She moves back. “Alright, bye.” And with that, her vampire pulls her through the crowd.

“What the fuck?” I whisper as I watch her go.

“Did she leave you?” Derek asks, pulling me close again.

“Yeah.” I hate to admit it. I hate for Derek to be right about her.

He grabs my hand and yanks me through the mass of bodies, toward the back of the club. “Where are we going?” I yell.

“I’m going to do something stupid if I don’t fuck the disappointment off your face.”

I don’t have time to respond. He pushes past people until we’re clear of the crowd and rushing into the quiet outskirts. He keeps dragging me to a black-painted door, flinging it open to reveal an even darker utility closet.

I stumble to catch up, to demand an explanation, but it’s too late. The masked stranger slams the door shut, enveloping me in darkness. Music shakes our small corridors, but all my senses are heightened after escaping the noise and flashing lights from the main room. My bear-shifter stepbrother must be attuned to the sudden darkness because before I can even utter a question, he’s pressed against me, hands roaming over my body as if I’m the source of his salvation.

He picks me up by the ass, and I wrap my legs around him as he backs me up to a shelf. “What are you doing?” I ask, not pushing him away as he sits me down on a box and lifts my dress.

He runs a clawed hand down my face. “To give you what you came here seeking.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t come here for this.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. You wanted a distraction, maybe to fuck a stranger to forget yourself. I can be that stranger.” With his other hand, he pulls my lace panties to the side, grazing my seam with a gentle touch. I shudder, attempting to keep my spine straight but failing by the second.

“Don’t fight me, baby. Let me fuck you like the scary stranger you want me to be.”

I moan as he dives his fingers deeper, parting me and playing the obscene sounds of my wetness. “Derek.” The words spill out like a prayer, my reserve softening as he increases his strokes.

“I can be Derek. I can be whatever you want me to be.” He thrusts his finger inside of me, and I cry out. “That’s it. That’s a good girl.” He adds another, fucking me senseless with his fingers. Everything is too much, too fast, and when he flips his hand and thumbs my clit, I’m already sputtering over my edge, convulsing and clawing at his back.

The moment my body relaxes, he pulls back. “On your knees, Goldie.”

I’m in no position to refuse him. I jump off the box, following orders, staring up at the white face looming above me.

He traces my lips with a clawed thumb, his fur mixing in with the art covering his arms. In costume, his bear-self is even more alarming. “So perfect,” he whispers.

I’m a sucker for his praise, my nipples pricking at his words. As if he senses the sensation, he pulls my breasts free from my top. It’s quick work since they’re so close to spilling out.

“I’m going to paint these, make them even prettier for me.” He yanks at his belt, unbuttons his slacks, and pulls himself out.