Boarlander Bash Bear 2(40)

Safe, so safe. She was safe with her Bash Bear.

He slid his shaft deep inside her, his stomach flexing against hers with every graceful movement. He wouldn’t bite her, but she’d made no such promises to him. She wanted him to bear her mark. Wanted his skin to tell shifters he was claimed by her. Emerson drew away from his kiss and pressed her lips on his pec, right above his pounding heartbeat. His hand slid up her arm and around the back of her neck, and gently, he drew her closer, encouraging her. Daring her.

With one last smile against his skin, she bit him hard. Harder. Harder still until she tasted iron, but he held her there like he felt no pain at all. The snarl in his throat sounded possessive as he jerked his hips and thrust into her. With one last effort, she tensed her jaws, then released his torn skin. She watched three rivers of crimson wash down his chest over his perfect, puckered nipple, down the defined crease under his pec as they faded from red to pink under the water. The watered-down bloodstreams ran over the mounds of his flexed abs before they pooled where her and Bash’s bodies met. She should feel horrified. She should be mortified by what she’d done to the man she adored, but when she looked into his face, she couldn’t muster the regret. He looked so fucking proud of her. His fiery green eyes drank her in as he whispered out the words, “You. Honor. Me.”

Her eyes burned with how big this moment had turned out to be. That mark on him felt huge. Bigger than a human marriage contract. Deep down, on an instinctive level, she knew she’d just bound them in ways that would echo through their lives for always. “I love you,” she said, her murmur breaking on the emotion. With a kiss laid above the mark she’d made, she whispered, “Mine now.”

His, “I love you, too,” came out gravelly and low, beautiful. God, what his admission did to her. She wanted to laugh and cry and hug him tight because it was the first time he’d uttered those words. Bash pushed into her again, and now he wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t drawing them out. His control had slipped, and the growl in his throat had turned rough as tree bark. When he pulled all the way out and slammed into her again, she arched her back against the cold tiles, crying out his name. Bash pumped into her harder, pushing her toward the edge with every graceful stroke into her body. With a gasp, she closed her eyes and let her body take over. No thoughts, or fears, or questions were welcome here now. Only sensation, and Bash knew how to take care of her. He was so big, so thick, but the stretch felt good as he bucked into her faster. His arms wrapped around her back, Bash pulled her tightly against him as he gritted out her name, the last syllable tapering into a snarl.

Emerson was chanting nonsensical sounds now, completely out of control, completely gone, tipping over the edge as the tingling pressure in her middle built to an inferno. The first pounding pulse of her orgasm rocked her from the middle out, and with her, Bash gritted out a helpless groan and froze. His dick swelled and throbbed, and her insides went warm, then cool, then warm again with every burst of release he shot into her. Pulsing, beautiful sensation—sex hadn’t ever felt like this, wild but fulfilling, as if something about her life had come full circle.

There was no doubt in her mind her entire life, all of her choices, all of the heartbreak and triumph, had led her to this moment with him. The one. Her Bash. Her mate. Her everything.

She ran her fingernails gently up and down the uneven skin of his back and left sucking kisses on his neck as he emptied himself completely inside of her. Her aftershocks pulsed on and on, matching his. The water went cold against their legs, but she didn’t care. Bash didn’t seem to mind either since he was massaging the back of her head now, rubbing the scruff of his face gently against her cheek in animalistic affection, coveting her. She wished she could stay here in this moment forever with Bash telling her without words that he loved her. That he adored her, and she was more than enough for him.

“I never said I love you to another girl,” he said low, his lips right near her earlobe.

Emerson hugged his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. God, what that combination of words meant to her. Hidden between each one was a secret admission.

You are my only.

She brushed her cheek against his, matching his affection, and said softly, “You’re my only, too.”





Chapter Fifteen




The last two weeks had been easily the best of her life. Emerson had somehow managed to only get a warning for the editing ‘mistake,’ and had even been given permission to submit articles. Margee had seemed excited that Emerson was taking initiative to be a voice against anti-shifter propaganda in the paper. She suspected it was from a combination of Margee’s belief that shifters deserved a fair shake and her disdain for Bartleby. In fact, Margee hadn’t been able to get through the meeting where she was supposed to give Emerson her formal warning without laughing, and she’d bought her a drink at Sammy’s Bar afterward.