tighter on her neck until his twisting motion hurt her, but that commanding presence looming over her only excited her even more.
He pushed his hip against her flank, but he held her too tightly for her to move. What was he trying to do? Did he intend to do it holding her by the throat?
He stepped over her and positioned his enormous back feet on either side of her pelvis. His midsection flexed, but he didn’t descend on her. He went still and quiet, pinning her down by the neck.
He didn’t move. She gazed up at the stars waiting for him to make his move, but he didn’t. He rolled his eyes upward, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of his face. He was waiting for something, but what?
She tried to look around and came back to staring straight up. She didn’t understand this mating ritual. He beat her in a fair fight—two fights, actually. What more could he want?
Then the answer came to her, and she completely relaxed in his grip. She sank onto the ground and went limp in his grasp. She stretched her neck back. If he wanted to close a more deadly hold on her, he could do it. She wouldn’t stop him.
The moment she fully submitted, he picked up one foot and kicked her over. At the same instant, he let go of her neck. She flipped onto her stomach. For one split second, she was completely free. She could bolt and run if she wanted to.
The next instant, he grabbed her by the back of the neck again and pushed her down. He didn’t squeeze this time, and he didn’t pin her under his weight. Those teeth digging into her skin fired her desire as never before.
He pumped his hips into her from behind, but he didn’t attack. With every move he made, he waited for her to respond. He waited for her to meet him halfway.
He paused again. These constant hesitations annoyed her. She wanted him. Didn’t he know that yet? Apparently not.
She rotated around in his hold and growled up at him. She pushed her teeth at him, but she couldn’t grab him in this position. When she pretended to bite him, he clamped down and overpowered her.
That sensation of being completely in his power drove her over the edge. Her growl turned to a deep rumble of insatiable desire. She arched her spine and shoved her ass toward him.
He responded in an instant. He bent his abdomen, and his hips touched hers. They met in a tempest of visceral physical turmoil with no interference from concern or mental angst.
His hot shaft touched her engorged slit, and the storm hit her in all its power. He growled through gritted teeth, and sheer pleasure exploded her out of her mind. He drove into her with colossal force that would have destroyed her if she had been human.
He lowered his weight on top of her stabbing into her, and she released herself to the animal that she was. She held nothing back. She kicked and fought and roared, but not in protest. She needed something to hurl herself against, and he gave her that.
The harder she struggled, the tighter he held her. He didn’t just receive her energy passively. He attacked her in return. He smashed her under his own catastrophic desire and forced her to submit.
At that moment, she could finally accept what was happening to her. She wasn’t disgusting or inhuman. She just…was. She didn’t have to be anything else for him, but she already knew that. By submitting to him, she became enough for herself.
The sequence followed a different trajectory from any other encounter she had as a woman. She didn’t cycle into climax the way she normally did. This bear body didn’t seem to have the capacity for orgasm.
Energy coursed through her and filled her with an overpowering thrill that enervated her being. It electrified her, but it didn’t crescendo into an explosive peak. No matter how he thrust into her and pumped her full of himself, she never teetered over the edge of intolerable hedonism because she was already there. Being a bear was intolerable hedonism enough for one person—one being.
He bellowed in her ear and slammed into her harder than ever. A jet of heat coursed into her, and he sank on top of her, still gripping her by the scruff of the neck. Without ceremony, he rolled off and trotted a few paces away. He shook out