Chapter Twenty-Two
‡
After entertaining the tavern crowd and answering questions in her after-performance chat, Emma relaxed in the tavern kitchen and savored the light Riesling wine Calum had brought her. The fragrance of popcorn hung in the air from the last batch made, and Vicki’d left a bowlful for Emma to enjoy. The jukebox had been restarted, and Tim McGraw’s “One of Those Nights” drifted down the hallway. Oh, how she’d missed hearing music during her years alone.
Now she had all her heart could desire. Festivals like Beltane last Sunday and these nights at the tavern along with playing guitars with Ryder and Ben at home. She smiled. She could swear she’d heard Minette humming along once or twice.
Emma sipped her drink. Although the sounds of the packed barroom were audible, the kitchen was quiet and empty. She had time to unwind and evaluate her performance.
She did love Thursday nights. Well, actually, both her nights at the tavern were fun. On Sundays, the children listened with touching attention to the traditional ballads and teaching songs. On Thursdays, she could be more versatile, changing her song choices depending on the mood of the crowd.
Tonight, she’d planned a romantic theme, but after seeing Ben and Ryder, she’d changed to some less revealing, more historic choices. No need for everyone in the world to know how she felt.
Someday, she’d have to share her feelings, but…not yet. Maybe she was a coward, but she couldn’t get past the memories of when she’d blurted out her love to her mother and received a dismissive look. Or when she’d hugged the maid and learned her affectionate behavior was inappropriate.
If she said she loved Ben, he wouldn’t be cruel, but…what if he didn’t feel the same? No, she wasn’t ready to expose herself in such a way. Not yet.
Her lips curved up, because…she’d found other ways to show her love. For the last few nights—ever since the Gathering—Ben had taken her to his bed. The first night, she’d tried to object out of a sense of decorum, and he’d laughed, sniffed her wrist, and kissed her so thoroughly she’d forgotten anything other than his body, his taste, his scent.
The male was insatiable, and mating with him had been an education. Sometimes, as the target of his intense passion, she could see and feel nothing beyond desire. At other times, he was sweet and gentle. Or playfully affectionate. Sex could be…fun.
And she’d never felt as safe and loved as when he pulled her against his massive body, wrapped his arms around her, and…simply cuddled her.
Oh, she loved him so, so much. Thank the Goddess, she could show him physically even if her tongue froze on the words.
And Ryder? Slowly, surely, she was sinking under his spell. Did he care for her at all? He’d seemed interested during the full moon, but…perhaps no longer. The thought set up a slow aching, as if she’d bruised her heart.
Brothers often shared their females, but maybe…maybe Ben and Ryder didn’t. She shouldn’t make assumptions.
Maybe Ryder wasn’t interested in her…that way.
With a sigh, she scooped up some popcorn. The buttery scent made her smile. Perhaps one of these days, she’d declare a movie night and make popcorn for Minette.
Tonight, the cub was visiting Bonnie’s children and delighted with the “tradition” of visiting playmates on Thursday nights. After seeing her mother on Tuesday, she’d been subdued, clinging to Emma or Ryder or Ben, and hadn’t wanted to leave the house on Wednesday. Thank goodness, she was almost back to her bright little self.
Emma scowled. The males never hurt females, but females didn’t have such restrictions. Genevieve could certainly benefit from a nice wallop or two.
Of course, someone would have to point her out, since Emma’d never met her.
The thought of Minette’s foul mother had destroyed the quiet of the kitchen. With an annoyed huff, Emma drank the last of her wine and rose.
A glance at her legs lifted her grumpy mood. Earlier, the healer had visited and announced she could give up the leg brace and cane. She could even go on outings into the mountains. Of course, being Donal, he’d scowled and added, “Short outings.”
He’d probably have had a heart attack if she’d kissed him…although she’d been sorely tempted.
Grinning, she walked into the chaotic, mesmerizing bedlam she’d only heard in this tavern. People at the tables talked over the music—and each other. Raucous laughter came from males standing two deep around the bar. Pool table balls clicked and thudded. Females giggled, others hooted with laughter. Older males added baritone notes to the raucous song.
The tavern smelled of popcorn and roasted peanuts, of wood smoke and beer, of human perfume and cologne, and the wild fragrance of shifters.
Near the pool table alcove where Rosie was assigned, Ryder and Ben were with a group of other males. At the sound of Ben’s rumbling laugh, Emma’s heart did a disconcerting, syncopated drumbeat.
In the center of the room, Vicki was taking orders. The rightmost third of the room was waiting to order. Time to work. Emma grabbed a tray and signaled she’d cover the fireplace and surroundings. Grinning, Vicki gave her a half-salute. Rosie offered up a raspy cheer.
After several trips to the bar, Emma had only the section near the big windows left to serve. Without thinking, she’d left the table of young shifter females for last. Someday she’d manage to overcome her nervousness around females in her age group.
As she approached, she was blocked by a burly human male. He swaggered away from the table, zipping his leather jacket up over a stained tank top.
“Hey, babe.” He held up a hand in greeting, and the lights from the wall sconces flashed off gaudy rings. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and he grinned. “Want to hook up later tonight?”
Hook up. Did he mean mate? Ew. She’d rather mate with a vile, ugly boggart. From his cocky stance, he thought himself attractive…and obviously couldn’t smell her lack of interest. “No, thank you.”
Sidestepping around him, she reached the table of females, all wolf-shifters. “Can I get drinks for anyone?”
“Well, it’s about time. We’ve been waiting forever,” Sarah snapped. She probably still resented the song delivered at Wesley’s rites. “I’ll take a glass of the house chardonnay if you think you can get it here before closing.”
“Oh, now, don’t be mean.” Candice flipped her red-brown hair over her shoulder. “The way the tables are crowded together, it’s difficult to get through, especially for someone who is…large.”
“And slow,” someone else said under her breath.
Be polite. Maybe she should be grateful for her mother’s harsh training—except her mother had also made her feel large and slow. “Anyone else need a drink?”
“I’ve heard you’re living in Ben’s house.” The brunette sighed. “Ben is a cahir. And Ryder is to die for.”
True enough. “Did you want something to drink?” Emma asked her.
“You? You’re living with Ben and Ryder?” The stunningly beautiful redhead gave her a top to toe scrutiny.
“Only because she was hurt, and she’s a bear. Calum didn’t want her savaging anyone if she lost control,” Candice said.
“Oh, why you poor dear.” Sympathy dripped from the redhead’s sugary voice. “I’m so glad you’ve healed up well enough to work now.”
“Huh, if you’re working, you can move out of Ben’s house.” The curvy brunette tipped her lips up in a false smile. “When’s the big day?”
Actually, they were correct. The time had come to find her own place. The thought dug a hollow next to her heart. “We haven’t discussed it.”
“Oh, honey, you aren’t staying in hopes of attracting their attention, I hope. I know Ryder. He prefers his females…well, smaller.”
The insult was sharp, sliding soundlessly between her ribs. But it reached her heart. Oh, it did. Emma tightened her fingers on her tray.
The redhead made a sympathetic tsking sound. “He’s probably found other uses for you around the house, but I’d hate for him to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, I guess a female bard would be a good cub-sitter,” Sarah pointed out.
“And a maid and cook. It’s good you’re learning to cook,” Candice said. “Males love cheap help.”
No. Ryder and Ben weren’t like that. They…weren’t. But the sinking feeling in her stomach said she might be wrong.
“But don’t be unhappy. I’m sure other males might be interested in you.” The redhead smiled at Emma. “We heard about the gory Gathering in Pine Knoll. Obviously your looks appealed to at least a couple of males.”
Who fought and died.
The falsely sympathetic words raked over Emma’s senses cruelly. This conversation was worse than blundering into blackberry bushes and emerging covered in blood.
“You know, when I mated with Ben at the last Gathering,” Sarah said, “I had to insist he take me downstairs and let me go. He’s quite possessive.”
Ben had been with her? He’d never mentioned it when they’d been talking about how Wesley died. Emma stiffened. Had he taken Sarah to his home? Enjoyed her in his massive bed? Laughed with her? Tucked her against his side? Rumbled his enjoyment and appreciation? Feeling her lower lip start to quiver, Emma pressed her mouth into a straight line.
“Oh, Ben. He’s so big and strong. I have my eye on him for next Gathering.” The female sitting beside Sarah pushed her curly, blonde hair over her shoulder.
Emma looked around the table. All of the females were pretty. The redhead was spectacular. No male would refuse them.
Standing over them, Emma felt…enormous. And ugly. Realizing her shoulders had started to hunch, she straightened.
Did barmaids have to put up with this kind of sly abuse? Vicki would probably knock them on their asses.
Maybe, someday, Emma would have the courage to get physical. That day had not yet arrived.
But a refusal to be prey could be delivered courteously. Thank you, Mother for those lessons. “I am so very sorry. You are quite right—I’m a slow bear. Since the service isn’t meeting your needs, perhaps you should take your orders to the bar.”
Gratifying sputters came from the females.
Emma walked away with her back straight, head held high.
She still felt ugly.
*
After parking his SUV on the street, Ryder strolled up the sidewalk to the house. A glance at the stars told him the time was around midnight. With the clearing of the sky, the temperature had plummeted. Frost glazed the grass, and the clean scent of glaciers filled the air. After the heat of the tavern, the chill wind was bracing.
He glanced at the dark windows in the main house. In the tower, Ben’s downstairs office and upstairs bedroom windows showed no light. Didn’t look as if anyone was still awake. His littermate had worked a twelve-hour day and would be on the job early tomorrow morning. Even grizzlies wore out eventually.
Ryder didn’t feel tired. Emma’s performance had included several bitterly tragic Daonain tales. Afterward, he, Ben, Quentin, Owen, and Joe had downed a few while dissecting the history behind the stories. Ben had wanted to play a new board game with Minette, so he left early to pick her up. After Quentin and Joe had gone home, Owen had challenged Ryder to a game of chess, which had turned into three.
Good music. Good conversation. Good beer. He hadn’t had so much fun in a decade or more.
Hadn’t had good friends, either.
Years ago, he and Ben hadn’t figured a predominantly shifter village could support a construction company, so formed their construction company in a human town. Their friends there had been human.
During the time with Genevieve, Ryder hadn’t made friends. She threw a screaming fit if he wasn’t dancing constant attendance on her. When they were with others, all conversation revolved around Genevieve. Discussing historic battles would never have happened.
On the fair circuit, he’d enjoyed the humans—some were damned smart—but as in the human towns, he’d had to monitor his words and behavior. Drunken discussions were out.
It was fucking nice to be amongst his people again.
Smiling, he let himself into the house. The various electronics—the glow from the various kitchen devices, a ceiling smoke detector in the foyer, a clock’s digital readout—lent enough light he didn’t turn on the overheads.
The soft strum of a guitar from the great room surprised him. Since the Gathering, Emma had spent her nights with Ben.
Pleased his littermate had slid past her defenses, Ryder’d been content to wait. She was a shy little bear. He wasn’t about to do anything to distress her—she was worth a long, slow hunt.
But why wasn’t she with Ben now? In a mournful minor key, the haunting tune indicated a little bard might be unhappy.
With a feline’s soundless stalk, Ryder entered the room. The only illumination came from the fireplace where a golden salamander basked in the red coals of a dying fire.
On the sectional, Emma was curled around her guitar as if she’d suffered a blow to the gut. With her face turned toward the black forest beyond the windows, she looked…sad. Lonely.
The little bear should never look so lost.
“What happened?” His voice came out gruff.
She startled. “Oh. Hi.”
He removed the guitar from her lap and sat close enough his thigh rubbed against her soft hip.
Her eyes widened…but he could detect no scent of fear. Progress.
“Emma?” he prompted.
“Um. Nothing. Nothing happened.”
He took her hands, feeling calluses on the fingertips from her playing. “Try again, little bear.”
“Enough, Ryder. I’m just in a bad mood.” Her laugh was bitter. “No need to sit with me or try to be nice when you undoubtedly want your bed.”
“Good to know.” He studied her silently. This wasn’t the Emma he knew—not that he knew her well. But he’d never seen her grumpy without a reason. Something had created a storm in her sunny personality. When? During her performance, she’d glowed with delight in the music and the audience. Soon after, he’d seen her laughing and chatting as she served drinks.
But when she’d moved farther away, he’d become immersed in the discussion at his table. “What happened at the tavern?”
“Nothing.” Yet the twitch of her fingers said he was on the right trail.
He considered the possibilities. Had something happened with her friends? Unlikely. With the tough old barmaid, Rosie? Be a hell of a fight, but, no, Rosie appreciated Emma’s music and was grateful for her help afterward.
Maybe a customer had been rude?
A disturbing memory nagged until it came clear. On his way out of the tavern, he’d seen Genevieve. Seated with a group of females, she was in Emma’s section. The trail held a disturbing scent, especially since Genevieve had already mentioned Emma once. The shrew would have gone for her. Yeah. “What did she say to you?”
“What? Who?”
“Genevieve.” At the bard’s confused stare, he prompted, “Redhead, pretty, at the tavern. Sitting with Candice.”
Her amber eyes widened. “She was Genevieve?”
“Oh, yeah. And she’s well-known for sinking her teeth into anyone who provokes her jealousy.”
Damned if the little bear didn’t look even more surprised. “Why in the world would she be jealous of me?”
She didn’t know. Her lack of pretension was more compelling than any flirtatiousness. “Because you’re beautiful, Emma. Because I like you. Because I want you.”
His direct stare let her know exactly what he meant by want.
Her lips formed the word oh, and he had to grin. By the God, she was lovable. He pulled her onto his lap, so her legs dangled off his left side and his right arm braced her back.
Her ass was a warm circle on his thighs. Perfect.
“Ryder.” With her gasp, her breasts strained against her shirt in a carnal invitation. “I’m too heavy. I’ll squish you.”
“Mmm, I’d say you’re just the right weight. Right size.” He pulled her closer, until her hip rubbed his rapidly thickening cock, until he could touch his lips to hers. Then her claim caught up with him, and he frowned. “She said you’re too heavy?”
The stiffness in her shoulders said yes.
“What else? She wouldn’t stop at one insult.”
Emma’s attempted laugh sounded like a sneeze. “It’s nothing.” Her gaze wouldn’t meet his.
He rubbed her cheek with his, marking her with his scent, inhaling hers. He nipped her earlobe. “Talk, bard.”
Her fragrance changed, deepened with arousal. “Ryder.”
“I can torture the information out of you,” he whispered in her ear. And wouldn’t he fucking enjoy that?
When her breathing actually halted, he grinned and teased her ear with his teeth.
“Oh, fine,” she huffed. “She simply said you preferred smaller women, and how you and Ben were probably using me for other things around the house. A cub-sitter and maid were suggested.”
He looked into her wary eyes. “Not a cook as well?”
“One of them said it was good I was learning.”
At the hurt in her face, he wanted to claw something. “I’m sorry, Emma. I should have known she’d come after you.”
Emma shrugged. “She didn’t say anything I didn’t already know about myself. I just—”
When Ryder fisted her hair, Emma forgot what she’d been saying.
He gently, but determinedly, tugged her hair, forcing her to meet his sharp, perceptive gaze.
Her heart did a slow flip-flop within her chest.
“What exactly is it that you know about yourself?”
Lovely. Force her to speak the humiliating words aloud. “That you weren’t interested in me…that way. For mating.”
He gave a deep, masculine laugh. “Oh, little bear, you’re very wrong. Have I mentioned you’re gorgeous?”
“Uh…” He had, hadn’t he? She hadn’t believed him.
“And I don’t usually kiss females unless I want them…that way.” He smiled slightly. “Do you remember that I’d been looking forward to mating with you at the Gathering?”
“Oh. Well. The kissing was you and Ben helping me get used to males. And the effect of the moon.” Wasn’t it? Her heart started to thud rather fast. He meant so much to her. Thinking he didn’t find her attractive had…hurt. Had that female lied to her?
“I see. Little bear, the moon is waning now.” His mouth closed over hers, forceful, demanding.
Her startled inhalation brought the scent of his desire for her. His thick erection pressed against her hip. He wanted her. He did.
He pulled her hair, deepening his possession of her mouth. His other hand held her hips firmly against his cock.
Like icicles under a hot sun, her bones were melting.
He lifted his head. “Genevieve was trying to make you feel bad. Ben and I can cook and clean, although it’s nice you can, too. We don’t need a housekeeper, Emma.”
They weren’t using her. Even more, they were planning a future with her in it. The knowledge was heartening. Frightening. “But…”
“I can find babysitters anywhere for Minette.” Ryder kissed and nipped her jaw, then down her neck, sending shivery sensations outward. “However, a female who loves the cub like you do? Whom she loves? That’s worth more than money—and can’t be bought.”
How had he known how much she loved his cubling?
Slowly, under his lips and teeth, her body was coming alive, even as her spirit revived like flowers in a spring rain.
“Do me a favor and ignore Genevieve and her mean-spirited females.”
His beard-stubbled jaw against her neck created an exciting abrasion that sent tingles all the way to her depths.
“I’d suggest you pay attention to me and Ben, instead. Especially me, right now.” He’d pinned her left arm against his side. His right arm was around her waist; his hand gripped her right elbow. The amusement in his eyes said the werecat knew he had his prey trapped.
A shiver shook her deep inside.
With his free hand, he unbuttoned her shirt until the front gaped open and bared her round belly to his gaze. His gaze smoldered, and he purred in appreciation. Slowly, he stroked from her neck to her breasts. His skillful fingers undid her bra’s front clasp to free her breasts. Cool air wafted over the exposed skin. Barely breathing, she tensed in anticipation of his touch.
“Been wanting to enjoy these.” He cupped his lean, callused hand over her right breast and lifted, as if weighing it. The heat from his palm sank deep, pooling like a sunlit lake in her groin. When his thumb circled the areola, her clit began to pulse with urgency.
“Oooh…” Her breath left her on a long sigh. This desire wasn’t the raging flood caused by a full moon, but a slow, inexorable tide of sensation that wakened nerve after nerve until her entire body felt sensitive. She struggled to touch him, in return.
His grip on her elbow tightened, staying her movement. He considered her, and the corner of his mouth tipped up. “All right.” Releasing her breast, he grasped his T-shirt behind his head and yanked the garment up and off.
He was shirtless. The feeling of his smooth, heated skin against her side and back was more tantalizing than having him entirely bare all at once. The tanned skin was taut over his muscled chest—a lure she couldn’t resist. She made a needy sound.
Releasing her elbow, he kissed her fingers and pressed her palm against his sternum.
Oooh, yes. “You’re so warm,” she whispered.
“You make me that way.” He nuzzled her temple, nibbled the top of her ear, and triggered flutters deep in her core.
She ran her fingers down his neck and frowned at ugly scars from bites and nails. When her gaze met his, she knew. That cruel female had hurt him physically as well as emotionally. Pushing the thought out of her mind, she moved her hand away. Instead, she traced the contours of his chest, the valley between his pectorals. He had satin skin over rock-hard muscles.
He mirrored her movements. When she brushed over his collarbone, he ran his fingertips over hers. She ran her hand over his washboard abdomen and felt him stroke her much softer belly.
Experimentally, she touched his button-flat nipples and gave one a light pinch.
“Good idea.” His fingers tugged on one nipple and then the other.
A storm of sensation blew through her, abolishing inhibitions, leaving only desire in its wake.
“Mmmhmm.” His dark voice held a buzz of satisfaction as he continued. Watching her face, he rolled her sensitive nipples between his fingers, slowly increasing the pressure, until the throbbing peaks jutted into spikes.
The tightness in her clit grew to an aching demand. Her thighs rubbed together uselessly. Despite the dying fire, the room had taken on a pulsating warmth.
Ryder moved his hand down, and her abdominal muscles quivered under his palm. When he unzipped her jeans, she caught her breath.
“Stand up, little bear,” he murmured. “I need a taste of you.”
Gripping her hips, he lifted her to her feet next to the couch. While she was still getting her balance, he yanked her pants down to her thighs and tugged off her shirt and bra. Before she could register that she was naked from the waist up, he rose and scooped her into his arms.
“Ryder.” Why did he and Ben keep carrying her around?
Laughing, he laid her on her back in front of the fireplace. Within a minute, he had her jeans completely off.
Propped up on her elbows, she felt the still-glowing coals bathe her right side in warmth. On one knee, Ryder stared down, his eyes almost black, heating her more than the fire. Silently, he took her in, making her conscious that all of her was revealed, every bulge, every scar.
She started to sit up…Then she scented his lust. It matched hers. His gaze lingered on her breasts, her stomach, the golden down of her sex. Under his hot perusal, she felt…beautiful.
“By the God, you’re too fucking gorgeous. I don’t know where to start.” His gaze passed over her peaked nipples and returned. “There will do.”
His arm behind her back supported her as he pressed feather-light kisses over her breasts. His breath bathed her skin a moment before his mouth closed over one nipple, engulfing it in wet heat. His tongue touched her, tasted her, and a ferocious quivering set up low in her belly. When he sucked, she felt her toes curling.
Oh, by the Mother, yes.
His free hand settled on her other breast, squeezing and caressing. He nipped the peak he was working on, and she gasped at the zing of pleasure. He sucked even more fiercely. Nipped again. His mouth was hot, wet, and determined.
Her breasts swelled, the skin tight and hot. Her nipples ached and tingled, and sent urgent messages south. She ran her hands up into his hair—thick and wavy, cool against her skin.
“You’re so pretty,” she whispered.
He gave her an appalled look and bit her harder.
She gasped. And squirmed. Oh, she needed…more.
“Easy, little bard. We have all the time in the world.” He pulled her arms forward, forcing her to lie flat on the soft Oriental carpet. Following her down, he straddled her hips.
Needing to touch, she ran her hands up his sinewy arms to his powerful shoulders. The way his muscles flexed and bunched as he moved made her breathing hitch. How could someone so graceful be so strong?
He kissed his way in a weaving pattern across her torso, licked around her belly button, and moved down.
Her fingers twitched on his shoulders with a sudden surge of anticipation.
Firmly, he parted her legs. As he settled between them, his abrasive jeans rubbed the inside of her legs. Bending, he inhaled and smiled. “Mmm.”
Her whole body filled with a carnal hunger.
His warm hand on her pussy made her tense in anticipation. He lowered his head. His lips touched her…just above her clit.
Oh, oh, oh.
As he held her folds closed over her clit, his tongue licked long and slow over the top. She could feel it, but it was…too distant. Too tantalizing. “Ryder…please.” Her voice came out in a distinct whine.
“Shhh, little bard.” After a few licks, he opened her a tiny amount, letting more of his tongue graze over the target.
Not enough. With a frustrated sound, she lifted her hips.
“Uh-uh,” he chided under his breath, setting one merciless hand on her pelvis to pin her in place. Then he opened her labia slightly, enough that his tongue could run over one side of her clit, then the other.
Like a whirlwind, urgency spiraled upward through her whole body. “Moooore.” She caught his hair in an unbreakable grip.
“Fuck, you taste good.” His tongue and lips were far too knowledgeable, and exquisite pleasure grew until his tongue moving over that one acutely sensitive spot filled her world.
Her grip in his hair tightened as her thighs started to tremble.
“Emma, look at me.” He lifted his head.
“Don’t stop.” Her eyes opened. “Ry—” The air thickened in her throat.
He was watching her. His gaze was so filled with desire and appreciation that she could only stare back.
And then he lowered his head. As if the momentary break had been hours long, when his lips closed over her clit, the heat of his mouth felt scalding. His lips tightened around her and he…sucked.
Fierce urgency pulled her right under, submerging her in sensation.
He licked and sucked again, and licked… The current turned into a whirlpool, pulling her under, the pressure expanding, widening, engulfing her body. Her pulse roared in her ears as she fell into a tsunami of pleasure, tumbling over and over with each incredible breaker of sensation. She could hear her soft cries echoing from the walls.
As the waves of pleasure diminished, she realized Ryder was stripping off his boots and jeans. He settled himself over her body. So very hard, every muscle seemed to be chiseled from stone.
Propping himself on one arm, he kissed her slowly and deeply, even as he fitted himself to her opening. And paused. One black eyebrow lifted in silent inquiry.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Holding her gaze, he pressed in, his shaft hot. Her breathing hitched as he slid deeper and deeper, startlingly long. He stretched her, filled her. The feeling of being taken was…wonderful.
When he was fully in, he waited, not moving, studying her face.
She tensed. Was he disappointed?
He slid his cock out.
With a gasp, she grabbed his hips to stop him. No success.
“You feel as good as I knew you would, little bear. Fuck, you really do.”
He wasn’t disappointed. She closed her eyes for a moment in relief. And, by the Mother, she liked his bluntness. Neither Ryder nor Ben held anything back. Just laid it out.
But with the happiness came other, more urgent needs. And he wasn’t moving. When she bucked her hips and tried to pull him in, he chuckled.
Wicked werecat.
Then he pressed in, penetrating her deeply, before withdrawing again. In and out, three measured thrusts as if establishing that they fit.
Didn’t the slick hotness convince him? “More,” she breathed.
His black gaze assessed her before his lips curved. “Seems you can take me without a problem.”
He was worried? “Yes.”
Despite her agreement, he idly played with her breasts with one hand as he continued to thrust slowly. Far too slowly. Her clit ached and throbbed as he brushed over it with each stroke. Under his attentions, her nipples tightened.
Her urgency grew. She dug her nails into his rock-hard butt. “Faster.” Her voice came out husky and desperate. “Harder.”
His laugh was deep and pleased. “So be it.”
Abandoning her breasts, he moved fully on top of her, and—oh, Goddess—he cast off his restraints. Each stoke hammered her, hard, deep, and overwhelming.
Her muscles clenched around him as the tension built, spiraling up and up, taking her mind with it. Sweat slickened their skin. Her hips met his with every thrust, and the slap of flesh on flesh echoed in the room. As his cock thickened, her body tensed and then pulsed in glorious waves as another climax rolled over her. “Oh, oh, oh.”
With an approving hum, he slid a hand under her bottom to lift her up. He thrust deeper. Once. Twice. His jaw tightened, and the cords on his neck stood out. He growled as he buried himself to the root and filled her with his heat.
“Mmm.” He lowered his head, rubbed his cheek against hers affectionately, and rolled, setting her on top of him without withdrawing.
Limp and sated, she sprawled, cheek against his chest, and listened to the solid thump, thump, thump of his heart. Cupping her ass in one hand, he rubbed her back with the other in long, slow, mesmerizing strokes. “You’re amazing, little bard. And I like the music you make when you get off. Mating music.”
Now that would be a tune to compose. She grinned. He’d probably be upset if she called it “Ryder’s Ride.”
With a happy sigh, she let herself drift.
Sometime in the night, she wakened to Ben’s rumbly voice. “Ah, I was wondering why she hadn’t joined me. Was afraid she might’ve run into trouble on the way home.”
“Sorry, bro. I didn’t think about you worrying.” Ryder’s hand moved up and down her back. “Genevieve made her worry she was too big to be pretty.”
The grizzly gave a huff of annoyance. “I know some males prefer sleek females, but hopefully, Emma now understands that you and I think she’s just fucking right.”
Ryder’s laugh came from deep within his chest. “Did my best. But she’s a tad insecure. Keep it in mind.”
“Aye.” Ben made an amused sound. “Won’t be any chore to reassure her the same way you did. Good job, bro.”
As his footsteps headed up the stairs to his tower bedroom, Emma let herself fall back asleep, comforted by the slow rise and fall of Ryder’s chest…and the knowledge that she was just fucking right.