Free Claim the Bear by T. S. Joyce Page A

house eventually, and when he did, she would begin the long process of making all of this up to him.

Chapter Eight
    Fear trembled down her spine as the cold desk chilled Breshia’s cheek. She was wearing her favorite skirt, the white one with the coral colored flowers, but Thomas had rucked it up over her hips and any second now, she’d feel his tongue on her wet folds.
    “Please don’t do this,” she begged.
    “Bre, you know I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Thomas said in a strange voice.
    The deep velvet tones of his words halted her fear and pooled warmth in her middle. Baffled, she twisted on the desk to see him.
    Dillon stood behind her, hungry eyes rapt on her bare backside. He looked like he had the first time she’d seen him—clawed shoulder and dark jeans hanging low. Mortified that he was seeing her in such a vulnerable position, she lurched forward.
    “No,” he crooned, dropping to his knees. “You’re beautiful like this.” His hands slid softly down her back, around the curve of her hips, then his fingertips brushed down her thighs to the backs of her knees. “May I taste you?”
    This wasn’t scary anymore. Not like it had been with Thomas. She whimpered with need when she felt the soft brush of his breath against her sex.
    “I won’t touch you until you ask.”
    He was so close to her, she could feel his warmth, and instinctively, she arched her back and spread her legs wider.
    “Say it,” he murmured.
    God, he was close. This would be so different from her time with Thomas. Dillon was good and gentle. He would breed her slowly, especially for her first time. She pressed back toward him and his hands gripped the backs of her knees.
    A warm chuckle filled the air. “No Bre. I want you to ask me.”
    “Please,” she whispered.
    His tongue lapped her, and his chin bumped a sensitive spot that threatened to buckle her legs. She moaned as a clenching sensation filled her. Over and over he drove his tongue into her. Resting her forehead against the desk, she squeezed her eyes closed as pressure built inside of her. Part of her wished she could watch him as his head bobbed to the rhythm of him eating her out. Piles of genetic paperwork sat in neat stacks under her palms, but she crumpled them in her fists as he drove her toward the edge.
    Damn what they said about her people’s future.
    Her body chose Dillon.
    Her heart chose him, too.
    She cried out as his tongue went deeper and something wet bumped her hip.
    What was that?
    It pressed against her again and she frowned and turned.
    She stifled a scream as a giant bear beside her curled his lips over impossibly long teeth.
     
    It was dark in the room except for a single stream of blue moonlight that filtered in through the window. It was enough to illuminate the monstrous grizzly bear astride her bed. Breshia gasped and sat up. From the way her body was still writhing on the inside, she’d been about two seconds away from a wet dream. Did women even get those? Mortification heated her cheeks as she scrambled backward against the headboard.
    “Dillon?” Please, God, let it be him and not some random bear in her bedroom.
    The animal shook his head, as if it were confused.
    “Dillon, if it’s you, can you please change back?” Her voice came out so small, she was afraid he hadn’t heard her, but he sat back on his hind legs and shrank into his human form in moments.
    “Bre?” he asked in a gravelly voice, churning silver eyes almost as wide as the full moon outside. He dragged his gaze down to his open palms, like he couldn’t remember how he’d come to be here.
    He was torn up, to be sure, but not as badly as she’d imagined. She’d waited hours for him to come home, but perhaps him staying bear most of the night was to speed up his shifter healing. Already, the claw marks that crisscrossed his torso looked to be half-healed.
    Dillon clothed was a beautiful sight.
    Dillon naked was about the most mind-altering