Page 56 of The Bear King’s Bride

“I don’t want to hurt anything,” he cautioned.

“Ohh, it doesn’t hurt. It’s addictive, Girion, how it fills every inch. Pleasures that I never knew existed are running through me. You are touching every hidden nerve and spot at once.”

Girion sighed in relief and let his body set the pace, making sure Jocasta matched it, feeling the resistance in her body fade until he was grunting, rutting in her hard, kissing her between smothered screams of ecstasy. “Is it truly that good?” he wanted to know.

She nodded, eyes closed, her hands on her own breasts, tugging hard on her nipples. He leaned and captured one, sucking like a feral creature, growling over his treasure.

Her breast in my mouth. Her slit stuffed full of me. His hardest thrusts hit the unyielding entrance to her womb and made her gasp. A thousand lewd thoughts came to mind when he watched her writhing in pleasure, taking his cock to the hilt, until he could see her belly slightly round when he was buried. He sat back on his knees to observe the sight of her spread around him, pink walls stretched tight, and juices wetting their curls, spread over their thighs.

Every intimacy in one sacred, secret picture, he thought, taking his thumb over her nub and rubbing her as she toyed with her nipples. “When you peak, I will fill you,” he panted.

“Soon. Soon, God, yes, Girion. Soon!” Jo moaned, digging her fingers into his hand where it rested on her mound.

“Soon?” he encouraged, feeling her walls tighten, flutter, and then seeing her face twist. His hand flew against her bead, pushing her into a climax and keeping her there as his own body fell, unable to resist the peak any longer.

Thick ropes of cum, hot and sticky, poured from him, decorating her insides, marking her.

“My love. My queen,” Girion whispered, sweating, heaving from bowing low to kiss her.

“My love. My king.” She stroked his scared face with a smile.

He lowered himself slowly, making sure he stayed inside of her, unwilling to leave her warmth. Unwilling to leave her, ever. “Have I told you yet today that I am so grateful you are my bride? My wife?” he asked.

Jocasta chuckled. “I am very confident that you showed me a thousand times over.” She looked at him with something sweet and seductive in her eyes.

Girion growled playfully and kissed her neck. “Give me ten minutes, beloved, and I’ll show you a thousand times more.”

Five Days Later...

Jocasta shut her book and looked outside their hidden cottage’s window. She’d heard the splash, and the roar. The giant polar bear that was her husband in shifted form gamboled in the snow, leaving her to rest after another bout of fevered love making that had left her aching and eager to sleep.

Without servants, he showed himself to be the best servant of all, even though he was a ruler. He’d brought her a tray of her favorite foods and a flagon of wine (far too much for her taste, but enough for his generous heart), and run her a steaming bath, and set out books and maps for her to study, and then left her to restore herself.

And restored she was. And restless.

Walking with slow, measured steps, she exited the cottage. Girion’s head turned toward the sound of the opening door and he began to run, still in his bear form.

Jo took a deep breath and pulled the closure of her robe open. Let it drop. For a second, the cold air threatened to break her, even as secluded as things were in their dense ring of pines. She slid backwards into the warmth of their little home, naked and beckoning. Girion came at full speed—shifting halfway as he ran, white bulk turning to humanoid bulk, covered in glistening snow-colored fur, blue eyes gleaming.

“Stay like that!” Jocasta demanded, breathless voice whipped away by a sudden gust of arctic wind. He froze. “Stay in that form. Your Bearfolk form—but come here. Come inside.”

Girion moved slowly now, muscles shifting, head twisting slowly. His voice was a dangerously low growl as he stood on the threshold, barred by her naked body. “Did my queen command me enter our home—or enter her?”

“Both,” she whispered, easing back.

“Did my queen ask me to come in this door, or in her soft, warm haven, so pink and wet?” Girion licked his lips, nostrils moving in a lazy sweep.

“Both,” Jocasta said, reaching out her arm and seizing his paw-like hand. She pulled him in, huffing impatiently when he stopped to retrieve her fallen cloak.

“So impatient,” he teased.

“I think you have no room to talk, Sire.” Jocasta’s other hand moved down, into the thick furry spot between his legs—gripping the pink protrusion eagerly rising to meet her.

Girion was immediately her willing follower, eyes wide, mouth slightly open as she turned and led him by the cock to their rumpled bed. She looked over her shoulder with a seductive smile and saw Girion looking her up and down, mostly down. His hands reached out and clawed fingertips dug into her cheeks, gripping them when she reached the bed.

Girion growled and pushed her forward, lifting her by the waist until her knees and hands hit the bed. He came and stood behind her, the tip of his cock rubbing a furious line up and down her slit, stopping at her pearl and worrying it, pressing both of their most highly sensitive pieces together.

Jocasta let out a long, low moan, arching back for him. “Will it fit?” was her only question.