Blake, Her Bad Bear: A Paranormal Bad Boy Romance by Amy Star Read Free Book Online Page B

tightly.
    A clear fluid gushed from her groin, dribbling down her thighs, and she felt a raw ache between her legs. Blake came moments later as her climax clenched her vaginal muscles around his organ. His cry was more sullen, more laid back, as if he’d been hit by a bullet. A second warmth penetrated deep into her, burning her insides like a match, and she struggled against the sensation but Blake’s hands had turned to claws, plastering her ass to his groin. The white-hot jet of his semen burst around his shaft, even as he held himself inside her, and she reached between her legs again and felt his seed sticky in her fingers where it was already clotting against her pubic hair.
    “Unnhh,” she murmured, finally collapsing—all the muscles in her body could not contain their lovemaking and she went limp until at last Blake finally let her go and she settled onto her side. She could barely keep her eyes open, even though the phantom sensation of his penis inside her remained. She stroked herself fondly between her legs, rubbing off the last vestiges of her orgasm, and cooing pleasantly.
    Blake nestled in beside her, his thick muscled arm wrapping around her chest and drawing her close, and she gave in to the sense of security it offered. It was a long time later when she finally opened her eyes and a sense of clarity returned—but it was still surreal. The window of the hotel room was layered with drops of rain, but the sky was clearer now, equally exhausted as the two of them on top of the sheets.
    Lily traced the tattoos on Blake’s arm, reveling in the artwork. There was something Norse about them, the angular use of geometric shapes to evoke animals. Almost mythical , she thought, and then suddenly felt a sense of revulsion. All her training returned, and though she had given in willingly to her own desires, she now felt like she’d somehow betrayed herself—or rather, the side of her that was carefree and wild had betrayed the side of her that valued her job. What the fuck did I do? she wondered, feeling another sickness come on, but it was only a sense of repugnance at her own recklessness.
    Carefully she slid out of Blake’s arms and stood up, naked. Looking down at Blake, she saw he was deep in sleep, and hadn’t even flinched. A sudden desire to flee gripped her and she found herself already pulling her panties back on along with her pants. Carefully and quietly she redressed and looked down at Blake again—he was still sleeping and hadn’t stirred. Yes, he was handsome.
    But that was as far as she was willing to let herself go.
    I need to get out of here , she thought again, picking up her small backpack. It was a cold thing to do, she knew that instinctively. What did it matter? Blake was the leader of a biker gang. He wasn’t looking for anything permanent or long-term, and she wasn’t either—still, just as she opened the door and shut it again quietly with a gentle snick of the lock she allowed herself a final look at the tattooed man in her bed, half-draped in the sheets like a painting out of Boticelli.
    Goodbye Blake, she said in her own thoughts, thanks for a good time.
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
              “Something wrong with the Spondon arm,” the mechanic informed, pulling his head out from under the Harley and tapping the side of his filthy head with the edge of a wrench. Jimmy was the best damn mechanic in Beaver Creek, and had earned a reputation as such—he was a weird kid though, skinny as a broom and had already started to lose his hair. What was left of it had turned prematurely grey and stuck out of the sides of his head and under his Blue Jays cap.
    Blake rubbed the bridge of his nose and pulled a cigarette from the pack in his jeans. Two left. He didn’t consider himself a smoker per se, but the last two weeks had been hell. It almost didn’t seem real, but he knew, looking out at the weather as it tried to make up its mind, that he was running out of time. First