Caleb
Miranda and I need to talk but I’ve been too busy f*****g her brains out. I had her in my bed. On the living room floor. Over the couch. Against the kitchen counter. On the bed again. She’s there now, a limp rag doll, panting as she recovers.
I was gentle at first, feeling terrible about the torture she endured, and the gash I gave her with my claws. But then I lost control and had to take her roughly. In every position imaginable.
I pretty much kept her up all night. Now that I’ve decided I can have her, I’m ravenous. My bear wants to claim her permanently.
It’s strange for a bear to get the urge to permanently mate. Even stranger that I’ve had it twice. Of course, I can’t mate Miranda. She’s not a shifter. But the fact that I want to is a delicious conundrum. I feel more alive
