Page 15 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)
BEN
T he couch creaks as I shift for the hundredth time, trying to find a position that’s comfortable, but it’s just not going to happen. I can’t relax. Not because of the couch, but because she’s just down the hall.
I should be grateful for the distance while I struggle to maintain appropriate boundaries, but instead, my bear prowls restlessly, hating every inch of separation.
One arm is over my eyes with my guilt and frustration gnawing at my insides. Beau left her in my care; he’d kill me if he knew what was going through my mind.
Or he’d try.
The darkness presses in, but I’ve given up on sleeping. All I can do is lie here and breathe through the torture of having her so close.
Then I hear it.
A soft gasp, barely audible to human ears. But I’m no mere human, and my enhanced hearing picks up everything. The whisper of sheets. A quickening breath. Another small sound that sends heat racing through my veins.
She can’t be…
But then, her scent hits me. Sweet with unmistakable arousal, and so potent, it makes my head spin. And even stronger than earlier when she was on her knees before me.
My hands clench into fists as I fight the urge to go to her.
“Ben.”
My name on her lips, whispered like a prayer. So quiet, she probably doesn’t even realise she said it aloud.
But I hear it. Feel it like a physical touch, and inside, my bear roars with pride.
She’s in my bed and thinking of me as she pleasures herself.
My control snaps.
This is torture of the sweetest kind, knowing she wants me, but I’m unable to do anything about it. My bear claws at my insides, demanding I go to her and claim what’s ours. Insisting she wants us to touch her, for our hands to bring her to climax.
But I can’t. Won’t. She doesn’t know what I am and doesn’t understand that I can hear everything.
She thinks she’s alone with her desires.
Another soft moan drifts down the hall, and I have to bite back my growl.
The need is overwhelming and made worse by the memory of this morning.
Her mouth on my thumb. The accidental brush of her hand against my cock.
The way she looked up at me while down on her knees, wide-eyed, but eyelids heavy with lust.
I can’t take this. If I don’t find release, I’ll do something unforgivable. Something rash that will destroy the fragile trust between us.
My hand moves to the waistband of my sweatpants, hesitating only a moment, before giving in to necessity. The alternative is barging into that room and showing her exactly what she’s doing to me.
I wrap my fingers around myself, already painfully hard from her sounds and scent. It’s wrong to listen, wrong to take pleasure from her private moment, but I couldn’t block it out if I tried. I couldn’t pretend I don’t know she’s touching herself while thinking of me, even if I wanted to.
My thumb—the one she sucked—leads the rhythm as I stroke myself. I can still feel the ghost of her mouth, warm and wet. Can imagine what else that mouth could do.
Her breathing quickens down the hall, and mine matches pace. We’re connected in this moment even though she doesn’t know it. Moving together toward the same inevitable conclusion.
When she gasps my name again, louder this time, I have to turn my face into the couch cushion to muffle my own shouts.
Release crashes through me as I hear her find her own, her pleasure triggering mine in a way that speaks to something primal and possessive.
For long moments after, I lie still but breathe hard, ashamed and satisfied in equal measure. The scent of our combined arousal hangs in the air, marking my space with something we both want.
My bear settles slightly, temporarily sated, but far from satisfied. He wants more. He wants her mouth filled with our cock, and her belly full of our seed. Wants her beneath us, surrounding us, claimed and marked as ours.
But we can’t have that tonight. And maybe never will.