Holly’s Grizzly (Monster Relations Bureau #4)

13

Holly

I could get used to being in Irving’s arms.

Held steady, tucked into his embrace and still trembling with the last aftershocks of the orgasm he just gave me, I relax into his arms as he carries me to his bed and sets me down on soft flannel sheets.

I’m bare-ass naked, but he’s still fully clothed in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He watches me with dark, intent, half-hooded eyes as he strips beside the bed.

His shirt goes first, stripped away to reveal the broad, hairy expanse of his chest and stomach. Then his pants, slid so slowly down his legs that I just know he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying watching me squirm, enjoying the needy, demanding noise I make and the way I can’t stop myself from reaching for him.

Irving climbs into bed wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs. Crawling up the length of me, he settles between my spread thighs and rubs his fabric-covered erection against my bare pussy. The friction is amazing, even more so when he puts some of his weight into it, pinning me to the bed.

But it’s not enough.

“Irving,” I whisper, reaching down to tug at his waistband.

He kisses me long and slow and deep, continuing to rub his cock against me, but not allowing enough space between us for me to get them off of him. The pressure of him, the steady bulk of him on top of me, the warm kisses he presses to my lips and neck and breasts, all of it sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I thought dry-humping was just for teenagers, but god this is good. Good enough to have that low warmth building in my core again. Good enough for me to wrap my thighs around his waist and squeeze hard, a moan slipping out of me.

“I could make you come just like this, couldn’t I, sweetheart?”

I don’t even bother trying to disagree with that. I don’t do anything but rock my hips again, pressing closer, trying to get more friction so I can—

Irving pulls away.

I let out a wordless cry of protest, but he just chuckles, dropping his face to the crook of my neck and running his teeth over my too-sensitive skin while he finally, finally slides his boxers off.

“The next time you come, I want it to be on my cock. Can you do that for me, Holly? Can you let me feel that tight pussy of yours strangling me while I fill you up?”

Well, damn.

I already knew Irving had a way with words, but hearing that filth from him really, really does something for me.

“Yes,” I pant, arching my hips up in a silent demand. “Yes, I can do that.”

And I know I can.

I know Irving won’t let me stop myself from feeling every little bit of pleasure he has to give me. He’ll stay with me, right here with me, until I get exactly what I need.

He rumbles his approval before reaching over to open the bedside table drawer. I hear a rustle of foil, and my next words slip out before I can fully think them through.

“You don’t have to… I mean… I have an IUD. And I was tested. After Cody and I split, I got tested, and there hasn’t been… there hasn’t been anyone since then.”

Irving freezes above me.

He withdraws his hand from the drawer and brings it to my face, smoothing back my hair and running his thumb over the heated crest of my cheek.

“I’ve been tested too, and it’s been a long, long time since there’s been anyone else for me, but… is that what you want? I’m more than alright either way, all that matters here is what you’re comfortable with.”

The words are slow, measured, earnest, and I can’t hear anything within them that makes me think they’re just platitudes. He really does want me to be comfortable, and I absolutely believe that no matter what I choose, he’ll be just fine.

But his eyes tell a different story.

There’s a light shining in his deep brown gaze, an edge I haven’t seen there before.

It’s focused, hungry, feral, like the idea of him fucking me bare is driving him just as wild as it’s driving me. Like as much as he might want to be all noble and considerate, there’s also a part of him that wants to see me filled with his come, dripping with it.

I recognize that edge because I’m feeling it too.

Unhinged, irrational, undeniable, I’ve never felt anything like it. The deep-seated urge to have him just how he is, not even a thin layer of latex between us. So yes, this will be fine either way, but I want so much fucking more than fine .

“Yes,” I tell him, and all that hunger in his eyes grows even sharper. “Yes, that’s what I want, Irving. I want your cock in me. I want you to come in me, mark me, make me—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence before his mouth crashes into mine. Open, carnal, devouring, he growls his approval into the kiss.

Irving takes his cock in hand and nudges it toward my entrance. Just like downstairs, though, he’s in no hurry to get where he’s going. He takes his time to tease me, to make sure I’m desperate and begging for it before he gives me what I want.

The thick head of his cock runs over my slick pussy. He wets himself thoroughly before sliding it up to bump against my clit. Once, twice, again, keeping the press of his warm skin oh so light against mine.

I can already feel the first stirrings of another orgasm building deep in my belly by the time he notches himself at my entrance and pushes forward an inch.

Just one.

Just enough to test me a little, to hint at everything he has to give me, before he withdraws and runs himself up the length of my slit again.

He does that a few more times. Teasing, just teasing, until I’m squirming beneath him, nails scoring his back, teeth pressed to his throat in a bite that’s half warning, half plea.

“Irving,” I rasp into his skin. “Irving, please. Please.”

Apparently that’s the magick word, because he takes my lips again as he sinks into me. Slowly, steadily, letting me feel every single inch.

Even with as ready as I am for him, the stretch still has a little sting to it. A delicious sting. A sting that feeds the feral need in me. A sting that has me breathing deep and willing my body to soften for him, to take all of him, to—

“Holly,” Irving murmurs, stilling his hips. “Easy, now. I’m going to take care of you. You just relax.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

I bury my face in his throat and inhale the impossible pine and winter scent of him while he works himself inside in a series of short, gentle thrusts. And when he’s finally pressed all the way inside, I let out a fractured, shuddering moan, canting my hips as I try to get used to the feel of him.

“Just wait, sweetheart,” he says, with a hand tightening on my hip to keep me still. “I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

A rush of warm satisfaction runs through me as I meet his gaze. Pleasure, so much pleasure there, along with tight, fraying control as he tries to get a handle on himself.

I bask in it. The heave of his chest against mine, the heavy press of his belly and the damp warmth of his skin, the slight tremble in his muscles as he grasps for control, I bask in it all.

And when he finally, finally starts moving, I bask in that, too.

I meet his deep thrust with a buck of my hips, wrap my thighs around him and squeeze, clutch at his shoulders and neck and back and let out a groan of wordless want as I draw his mouth to mine and claim that, too.

He drops a hand between our bodies and finds my clit, rubbing firm strokes in perfect time with the thrust of his cock inside me, the caress of his tongue devouring each little moan and cry and whimper as he builds me towards my climax.

It hits me harder and faster than I expected, crashing over me with enough force for every one of my muscles to go taut, every nerve ending sparking to life.

Devastating, complete, more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt.

The groan Irving lets out sounds like it comes from the bottom of his soul as his cock swells inside of me, as I’m filled with a rush of liquid warmth. Head thrown back, every inch of him shuddering and straining, he pours himself into me, fucking me through every spasm of his climax, filling me so deep and so well.

“Holly,” he gasps, falling into me. “Fuck, Holly. That was…”

“I know.” My voice is shaking a little, words hoarse and thready.

We stay that way for a few long minutes. Trembling, sweaty, sharing breath and body and pleasure, and I never want it to end.

But apparently Irving gets his sanity back before I do.

“I’m going to crush you,” he mutters, moving like he’s about to lift himself off me.

“No,” I groan. The word is breathless, desperate as I get as much of myself wrapped around him as I can. It’s a losing effort. There’s just so much of him above me, far too much for me to do anything but cling to him with grasping arms and straining thighs. “Stay.”

He relents with a low chuckle, bracing his elbows on the bed and giving me more of his wonderful weight. His hips settle against mine, the snug fit of his cock and the warm, obscene wetness of our combined release trailing out of me as he thrusts in a lazy, languid rut of his body against mine. No urgency, no peak to chase, nothing but heat and tenderness so exquisite it makes my eyes sting.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” he says gruffly, a hitch in his breath when I meet his thrust with a tight squeeze of thighs around his waist. “Was it good for you, too?”

My laugh is starlight and tinsel, delightful absurdity that he would even have to ask.

Still, his dark eyes watch me carefully, something uncertain in them tugging at the tender thing in the center of my chest.

“Yes. It was good for me, Irving.”

The best I’ve ever had.

I don’t say that part, because admitting it and knowing that all of this is going to end in just a couple of days makes my chest feel fluttery and tight. Panicked, like if I don’t admit it to myself, then maybe this doesn’t have to end.

Irving starts to slide out of me, and I tighten my legs around his waist, holding him in place.

“You don’t have to… you could just… leave it.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and when I meet his gaze he’s got one dark brow raised.

“Leave it… in?”

Oh, lord.

I blush all the way to my hairline.

He huffs a low, gruff laugh. “You’re going to get cleaned up first. Then we can figure out how to keep you full all night.”

I grumble a little, but he just swats my ass.

“Up. You’re not getting a UTI on my watch.”

After a little more half-hearted grumbling—he’s right, after all, about the UTI thing—and a quick trip to the bathroom for both of us, we crawl back into bed.

Irving lets out a satisfied rumble as he pulls me into the cradle of his body, kissing my shoulder, the nape of my neck, nuzzling into my hair and finding the shell of my ear.

“You still want my cock, sweetheart?”

I can only moan, craning my neck back and catching his lips as he snakes a hand down between our bodies. He works his fingers in me to make sure I’m ready for him.

The blunt head of his cock presses into my pussy, and I moan again. He swallows the sound as he fills me with one sure thrust, burying himself deep and rumbling his satisfaction into the kiss.

I’ve never felt this impossibly cozy.

And maybe that’s a little weird, all things considered. Maybe cozy isn’t exactly what I should be feeling in the bed of a grizzly shifter I’ve only known for a couple of days, with his cock tucked inside me as we start to drift off, but that’s the only word for it.

Cozy. Impossibly cozy.

Safe and warm and cared for.

Perfectly, throat-tighteningly at peace, like this is all I’ll ever need.