The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan (7 page)

He pressed against her, his fingers tugging at the waist of her shorts, tearing them down over her hips, baring her ass to him.

Oh my god, this is happening, she thought.

She lied there a moment, still, the smell of the earth filling her lungs. Her heart was pounding, the sound of it pulsing in her ears as the bare skin of her ass grew cool in the open air. Then she heard the sound of his own jeans being unfastened, the belt and zipper being opened. She felt him settle himself over her, spitting into his hand. 

She thrust herself up from the ground, just enough to pull her legs free from beneath him, and took off around the tree, back towards the truck, her shorts falling off as he tried to hold onto her. She heard him growling behind her.

She ran bareassed through the woods, blind to the world around her, save for the truck headlights.

You want a hunt you scary bastard, I’ll give you a damn hunt, she thought.

She heard him call after her, a foreboding tone to his voice. “There’s nowhere to run.”

She dodged around another tree and felt a familiar tickle at her shoulder, spinning around the swat it away, another of the twig figures dangling from the tree. This time she took hold of it in both hands and yanked it down from the branch, raging at John. Did he know these were here? Had he put them there to scare her?

Asshole! She thought and flung it into the darkness just as his solid frame slammed against her back, pinning her face to the tree trunk. He pushed her arms flat, forcing her to hug the tree, then without so much as a moment’s pause, slid his hand up between her legs. She screamed against the sudden touch, and screamed only louder as his fingers slid inside her, his lips pressed to her ears, whispering in such warning tones that she shivered against him. The realization that John Fenn was touching her like that nearly knocked the wind out of her.

“Be a good girl,” he said, and she shivered.

Catherine took a deep breath, exhaling in ragged cries as he clenched her ass tight in his hands, opening her to him. A moment later, she felt the hard head of his cock slide against her, missing its target by just so. He retreated, grabbing her hips and pulling her ass away from the tree just enough to redirect himself, and with that, plunged home, pressing his full weight onto her and pinning her to the tree. She cried out, loud enough for anyone to hear. Yet she knew no one would. There was no one for miles in any direction.

He pressed his mouth to her ear, letting her feel the labored breaths, brushing her hair into her face as she braced against him. She clutched the bark of the tree, her hips pinned so roughly that the jagged surface was scraping at her bare skin. She didn’t protest. Her cheek pinned to the bark, and he thrust into her, his body curling around her.

“This is what you get for running,” he whispered, then bit into her shoulder, causing her to scream. She flailed her arms back at him, trying to hit whatever she could reach, but he simply grabbed her by the wrist and pinned her hand against the tree.

My God, John Fenn is inside me, she thought. The man she’d dreamed of for so many years, was taking her with such passion, she could barely keep her feet under her. Nothing had ever felt like this – the helplessness, the ache in her belly to be his. She wanted to tear her fingers into him and make him hers. He seemed to want the very same as he clamped his teeth into her shoulder again.

To keep her there, John’s entire body was in contact with hers; his knees knocking into the backs of her legs, his hips pressed against her ass as he drove inside her over and over, his chest pinned to her back. The only piece of him not wholly pressed to her was his head, as he moved from whispering in her ear to pressing his nose into the waves of her hair, smelling her like some hungry animal.

His breathing grew hoarser with each thrust and Catherine pressed her hands between her hips and the bark, feeling the sting of broken skin from John’s rough handling. He thrust into her then with such force that it lifted her to her toes, scraping her bare hips across the bark. She cried out, softly, bracing herself for more. John’s hands took hold of her hips and he retreated from inside her, pulling her away from the tree. Catherine hissed at the touch of his fingers at her hips and he spun her around, forcing her to face him.

In the moment he took to turn her, Catherine pulled from him, running deeper into the woods, her heart pounding. She heard him behind her, crashing through the underbrush, gaining on her. He was faster than she would ever be, and she knew it, but she realized as her frightened screams gave way to mischievous laughter, she loved it when he chased her.

He grabbed her just twenty yards further into the woods and took her to the ground, straddling over her bare backside as he pinned her down. 

He lowered himself to her ear. “You’re really gonna get it now, aren’t you?”

She giggled nervously, feeling John move over her. She whined, softly, wriggling beneath his weight as he squeezed her ass again, teasing her.

“Are you going to behave?”

Catherine nodded, her cheek rubbing deeper in the leaves on the ground.

“Say it. Say you’ll behave.”

“I will!” She whispered, half crying out as he pressed against her.

“Good,” he said, a wicked laugh hidden beneath the tone, and then pushed himself lower, seeking his prize. He found it, groaning his approval as he slipped inside her again. This time he wasted no time, straddling over her, pushing her into the earth as he rode her, slipping in and out with deliberate force. She was pinned, prone and helpless against the damp earth as he grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled them behind her back, holding them for leverage as he moved in her. Her breathing grew harsh, blowing leaves across the ground beside them. His groans were slow and soothing, taking his time. Then he moved over her, pressing his knees between her legs, opening her to him. He grabbed her hips, yanking her back into his lap, and returned to his work, slamming into her anew, now with better purchase. She felt him, deep enough to be too much, and she cried out against the sensation, bordering close to pain. He dug his fingers into her injured hips, pulling her up into his lap as he thrust, her legs worthless and bouncing at his sides, unable to settle her knees in the dirt. She braced her arms under her, lifting her face from the ground. He grabbed her hair, tugging it back just once as she screamed, then released her, returning to this pummeling. She began to scream with each thrust as her body grew acclimated to his force, willing it on as she braced against it.

He growled, lifting her. He rose on his knees, her face falling back toward the dirt as he suddenly tripled his speed. She screamed, smelling the soil and dead leaves that kicked up from her exhale.

“I want to hear you scream,” he whispered, his words coming in a near hiss as he slammed into her. She clenched her legs around him, trying to slow him, but it was no use, he held her off the ground like a weightless thing, taking her as deep and fast as he liked. Her muscles failed her, exhausted from his battering, and she collapsed into the soil, letting her whole body go limp. He seemed to notice the surrender and rewarded it by slipping from inside her.

He grabbed her by the arms and lifted her onto her knees, pulling her back against his chest. “Is my girl done fighting?” He asked, his breath labored in her ear.

Catherine swallowed. “Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Turn around.”

Catherine made to move, but her legs revolted beneath her, every muscle shaking from exhaustion. She moved slow, turning on her knees to face him. Even in the dark, she could see the stern glare to his beautiful blue eyes. She shivered.

“Come here,” he commanded, grabbing her just under the knees and yanking her legs out from under her, forcing her back into the dirt. She gasped, startled by the forceful movement, fighting to hide the smile that crept onto her face. Catherine braced her hands against his chest as he lowered himself over her, prying her legs wide apart as he settled on his knees before her. He took hold of himself, guiding his cock back inside as he watched her.

“Look at me while I take you.”

He planted his hand into the dirt at her side and thrust down into her with such force, she couldn’t so much as make a sound. Then he moved again with equal force, watching her face.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you?”

She gasped as he did it again, his eyes still fixed on her face, waiting for her to meet his gaze only to thrust home again, relishing in the way she flinched.

“Not so hard,” she whispered, begging.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“Please!”

Her voice was beginning to carry as he moved inside her, his speed picking up with aching precision.

“Please? Don’t beg. You know what I want to hear.”

Despite the challenging smirk on his face, his thrusts retreated just enough to ease the pain, letting her feel the warm sensation of his body against hers, the smooth friction of his skin. She reached down to his hips, grabbing at the waistband of his jeans and pulling him deeper. “I’m yours.”

He chuckled, and with the steady confidence of a man who knew his job well, lowered his weight onto her, digging his knees into the dirt for purchase. John thrust there, his weight rocking over her, moving her in the dirt. She could feel the dead leaves and the dirt beneath her head grinding into her hair with each thrust. She didn’t protest. He settled onto his elbows then, taking hold of her head in his hands, turning her to look at him.

“You’re going to come for me now, aren’t you?”

God, she loved the way he spoke to her. “Yes! God! Where have you been all my life?”

He laughed. “That’s right. Come for me.”

He moved with force, grinding into her as her body wore grooves into the soil. She lifted her legs high around him, letting her heels kick against his ass with the force of his movements. She was close enough to release, but she wanted more, wanted the searing, shuddering agony of it.

She reached down, clutching his ass.  “More!”

“More?” He asked, his voice hoarse with effort. He responded with precision, grabbing hold of the collar of her red t-shirt and tearing it open. She startled at the force of it, whimpering under him as he grabbed the fabric of her brassiere and yanked the cups down to expose her breasts. He kept his rhythm, grunting louder and louder with each thrust, then planted his hot mouth over her breast, and bit her. She screamed, clutching her fingers in his hair as the bite lessened to a purposeful sucking, teasing her with his tongue. She pressed his head against her, as though the tighter she held his dark hair, the faster he’d go, the faster his tongue would move. He read her signals like a code breaker and pounded into her, teasing her other nipple with his fingers. It was enough. She flung her head back into the dirt, her mouth wide in a silent scream, and shook violently beneath him. He kept going, kept thrusting, carrying her through. Then she shuddered, exhaling in loud, desperate wails, riding the waves of her release. He arched his back over her, moving with deliberation as he held his breath, then like some ravenous thing, he roared over her, his body quaking. His thrusts softened, slowing until he was barely moving over her.

“Tell me you came,” he said.

Catherine chuckled, her fingers still curled into the tendrils of his hair. “You couldn’t tell?”

He lifted his head to look at her. “Yeah, but was it a good one?”

She laughed, reaching down to touch his hips. “It was a good one.”

John made a subtle gesture, pretending to punch the air in quiet celebration. She laughed again.

John slumped down beside her, taking her face in his hands. “I want you to be mine, Catherine.”

His words were so intense, it almost frightened her. No man had ever looked at her the way John did, never kissed her or made her laugh like John did. This must be too good to be true.

“I thought you just claimed me,” she said, smirking at him.

“You have no idea,” he said, grinning. “But I mean it. I want you. I don’t want some passing thing. I want you to be mine.”

Catherine swallowed. He’d gone from a ravenous beast, to this stern lover, declaring his desires as though he meant to plan the next six lifetimes. “How do you know you want me?”

He touched her face. “I’ve always wanted you to be mine.”

“Then why didn’t you make me yours last time?”

“Because I had to know you meant it. That if you were going to be mine, you’d be mine always.”

Catherine gasped. How could he ask something so powerful? How could he declare this kind of devotion so confidently when other men couldn’t even agree to second dates without drama? Was he really that sure?

Finally, as he watched every inch of her face, she took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. I want to be yours.”

John smiled and kissed her. Then he rose from the ground, hoisting her onto her feet. She stood there naked from the waist down, her torso barely covered now by a torn red t-shirt. He scanned the forest floor, searching for her shorts, and handed them to her, returning to the chivalrous creature he was when the sun was up. He stood there, rubbing his thighs as he complained of sore muscles.

She glared at him. “Don’t complain to me about sore.”

She made a point of letting him see her dust off her backside before she pulled on her shorts.