Fuck, I need to be back inside her.

“Say. It.” I drop my cock to her entrance again. My body vibrates with the desire to thrust into her. To fuck her until nothing else exists outside the way her body feels with my body. Dragging my throbbing tip against her soaked pussy makes me groan and Claire gasp.

Please say it.

I’m begging her mentally, almost regretting this war I started. Except she is exquisite like this, ravenous and wild in a way that makes me think she’d devour me if I let her go. Rubbing my palm down her slit, I slick my cock with her arousal. Stroking myself over her, I watch her eyes grow hooded. Her throat shudders as she swallows. My cock’s never been harder, every vein bulging, the head red and angry.

Claire stares at me, watching me stroke myself like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. Her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip, and then she’s speaking, her voice hoarse and rough. She’s almost growling at me. The sound sends agony radiating through my already-straining cock.

“I fucking love it.”

My hand freezes midway up my shaft. “Love what, Claire?” My words are authoritative, but my tone isn’t. I sound like the desperate man I am, teetering on the edge of losing control.

Her voice, as hungry as mine, is the only thing that saves me. “I love being run down and taking your big, thick cock.”

My response is instant, instinctive. Hips dropping, I drive in so hard her teeth click together.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” A punishing thrust follows each word. “Good. Little. Deer.”

I release her hands, wanting both my arms for leverage. She claws at my back, my chest, my shoulders, gasping a string of expletives punctuated by my name. All I can do is breathe, every exhale a groan as her clenching pussy squeezes me as hard as a fist. My balls draw up, the pressure and pleasure nearly unbearable.

Claire needs to come with me. After all this, she has to. Sliding my hand between us, I finally rub her clit, knowing I’ve found the right rhythm when her legs tighten, slipping higher up my back.

“Shane,” she cries. “Holy shit, Sh—”

Her words become a shriek as I lean forward, sinking my teeth into her throat. Claire convulses around me, thrashes beneath me. My hips pump erratically as I come with her. There’s nothing but pleasure, all-consuming pleasure. I’m saying something. I think it’s her name, in a voice so raw and feral it sounds like a stranger. My cock keeps flexing inside her, my orgasm going on for what feels like forever. When it ends, I’m spent, soul and balls both feeling pounds lighter. My head falls on her chest.

Her fingers dance in my hair as I catch my breath. It feels good, better than it should. I need to get up. Start heading back because it’s going to be a long trek. I don’t cuddle, and this is casual—business casual, but still. Angling my hips, I ease out of her, tugging up my boxer briefs. Claire’s naked body remains languid under mine. I should stand up, let her move, but I don’t want to. She doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, her heartbeat gradually slowing. I can’t remember the last time I felt this content, this satiated. Closing my eyes, I tell myself I’ll only rest a minute. No longer. Then I’ll get up.

TEN Claire

I wake to rancid, warm air blowing on my face. It smells like garbage, like the time one of my students left a slice of pepperoni pizza in her gym bag for two weeks. I’m scared to open my eyes. Whatever bacteria is being exhaled will probably give me conjunctivitis.

It has to be Shane; his weight is still on me. Catching our breath turned into a full-fledged nap. This scent is a stark contrast to the delicious mintiness from last time. I try to keep my face neutral, not wrinkling my nose the way I want to. It might be a medical condition.

Okay.

Be polite.

Don’t vomit from his dumpster breath.

One. Two. Three.

I open my eyes and swallow a scream. Investigating the ground inches from my face is a massive black bear. I can’t control my body. My hand jerks up to cover my mouth. The bear leaps back at my sudden movement, letting out an offended huff.

“Wh—” Shane starts to sit up. My other hand grips the back of his head, smashing his face into my right tit to silence him.

“Bear,” I hiss. “Big fucking bear.”

He cautiously rotates his head to look.

“It is a bear,” he whispers back, sounding stunned.

“Do you think I don’t know what a bear looks like?” I whisper-hiss.

“Don’t. Move.” Shane’s voice is low and calm, but his body is tense over mine.

The bear cocks its head at the sound, ears twitching.

Oh no.

If I reached out my arm, I could touch its paw. Long, yellowed claws sink into the ground, their length making my stomach tighten. Our options overrun my mind, frantic and conflicting. Be quiet. Yell. Run. Freeze. Shut my eyes. Keep them open. Shane said not to move, so I fight the instinct to put as much distance between the bear and myself as possible. I stay frozen. Despite what Shane said, I feel his body moving. With microscopic shifts, he eases both his legs to one side of mine, torso twisting so he doesn’t put his back toward the animal. He’s moving closer to the bear, not away, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. Tension radiates from his body everywhere we touch, as if he’s a giant rubber band stretched nearly to the breaking point.

Though his lower body shifted, Shane’s head is still over my chest, hovering above where it rested moments before. I wonder if he can hear my heart trying to escape my rib cage. The bear lowers its muzzle, inhaling hard as it steps closer. Loose pieces of my hair flutter with its exhale. Awareness coils in my stomach, dread’s tendrils slithering up my throat. I can’t breathe.

Oh god.

My face.

Specifically, my sunscreen, which smells better than any skin-care product has a right to. Sydney’s cat always tries to lick it off me.

Do bears lick?

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuc—

It lunges. I scream, jerking my head away and hands up to protect myself. Shane’s moving over me, the blur of his hand connecting with the bear’s muzzle the last thing I see before pain explodes through my rib cage. My brain shrieks, It bit me, oh fuck, it bit me as I roll a rotation and a half. Shane shouts. The trees stop spinning. I’m on my stomach, trying to get my hands and knees beneath me while my lungs struggle to take a full breath. Pressing up to all fours, I see the bear’s backside as it bolts into the bushes, and Shane dropping his arms.

Dazed, I rock back on my heels. When the hand I press to my aching side doesn’t come away with blood on it, I’m brave enough to lift my arm and contort my neck to look. There’s a large smudge of dirt on my skin and a red mark that looks like it will bruise, but no bite.

Did he kick me out of the way?

“You punched a bear,” I croak. “Who punches a bear?”

Clad in only black boxer briefs and boots, he’s staring at the brush where it vanished, clearly ready in case the bear returns. “It was more of a smack.”

“Ah, a smack. My mistake.” I let myself take a second to admire his ass, just in case the bear comes back to finish us off. “Well, thank you for not letting it eat my face.” I’m shivering now with some sort of delayed fear response, but I try to keep my voice light.

No big deal, just almost became bear food, that’s all.

He looks over his shoulder at me for a moment before his eyes return to the woods. “You have a nice face; it would be a shame if it got eaten.”