Monday, 1 December 2014
Bear by MariaLisa deMora
Rob Crew had purpose in his life. He was a devoted husband, doting father, and committed Navy man…then his life changed forever. Cast adrift, he finds friendships in the Rebel Wayfarers Motorcycle Club and fulfillment as he transitions into the role of loyal and supportive club member. He becomes Bear, a man who fills an important position in this brotherhood of bikers.
A caregiver by nature, Eddie’s chosen career focuses on helping the most vulnerable – teaching special needs children and young adults. Surrounded by loving family and friends, she is content with what she considers her full and satisfying life…until she meets Bear, an enforcer for the local MC. Even through their initial encounter is brief, she can’t make herself forget the pain in his eyes as he turned away from her.
Their lives intersect at surprising intervals, with each contact underscoring the attraction and connection they share. Can Eddie convince Bear that it is okay to move past his pain and love again?
Chapter 12 – Chicago
A man Rob presumed was Deke motioned him over towards a staircase. “Guest rooms are on the second floor, right at the top of the stairs. It’s got a shitter and a shower, so you’re good to go. What time are you heading out in the morning?”
Rob answered, “I dunno. When I get up, I expect. You need me out by a particular time?”
“Naw, Bear, this ain’t no fucking hotel. I’m just trying to make sure we’ll have a breakfast for you before you hit the road, man. You can fucking stay all day if you want. Bingo’s made you welcome.” Deke laughed a little.
“Hey, I have a question for you,” Rob started, and waited for Deke’s encouraging nod. “Bingo said things are going to get wild? What does that mean, exactly?”
“Drinking, fucking, dancing, drinking…probably fucking some more.” Deke shrugged. “If you aren’t interested, just come up to your room. Most of the bitches will respect a closed door. If you want company though, you can leave it open. You’ll tempt one in quick that way.”
Rob nodded, not truly understanding, but he was now positive he’d be spending the evening in this room. He was right about where he stayed; however, the noises and sounds of the unrestrained party emanating from the main room downstairs fed his dreams, filling them with dark hair and grey eyes, and he woke in the middle of the night so aroused and engorged that his cock hurt. He wondered if anyone was still around, and got up to open his door slightly, acting without wasting too much time rationalizing it.
He got back in bed, and loosely cupping the shaft of his cock in his hand, he deliberately palmed it up and then down, circling with finger and thumb around the sensitive head. Hips thrusting restlessly, pushing his cock into his hand as he tightened his fingers slightly, still holding it loosely. His eyes were closed to enhance the sensations, so the first indication he had company was when the edge of the bed dipped. He froze, opening his eyes and looking to see a pretty, naked brunette resting quietly on the mattress, sitting with her legs crossed, her pussy in dark shadow while her full breasts were on proud display.
Seeing she’d gained his attention, she reached up and cupped her bare breasts. “Bear,” she called his name and moaned as she twisted her nipples between the forefinger and thumb of each hand. His cock jumped at the sound, and his hips thrust impatiently again, his fingers now tighter around the hard length of his cock. She shifted, looking as if she was going to move towards him, and he growled out, “Stay there. Keep doing that. Keep touching yourself.” He couldn’t see her eyes, but knew they weren’t brown…or grey.
She smiled and nodded, her hands once more cupping her breasts. Molding and pressing them together, she massaged and pinched her nipples again and again, pulling them into erect peaks and drawing another low-pitched moan from her own lips. Rob’s back arched, his shoulders pressing into the mattress as he slid his hand quickly up and down his shaft. Holding tightly at the base with one hand, he slipped the fingers of his other up to the head, rapidly jacking the rim of his cock, imagining the small hands of the woman today as she’d clutched the straps of her backpack.
The brunette slid a finger into her mouth and sucked, pulling it out with an audible pop. She stroked her nipples with the wet fingertip, and he watched her areolas pebble and tighten with the stimulation. Blindly, he reached out with his left hand, scarcely spanning the space between them, his fingertips tracing the outer curve of one breast.
She made a sound in the back of her throat, using her hands to raise and lift herself into his touch. As he cupped the warmth and softness of her breast, trailing the pad of his thumb gently around the erect nipple, he groaned deep in his chest and stilled. His hand and fingers tight around his cock, shooting thick ropes of semen as he came, painting his chest and stomach with his hot come.
He felt the bed shift, and thought she was leaving, but her voice came from beside his head, humming with awe in her tone, “That was beautiful.”
He jerked to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, elbows on his thighs and head in his hands. He asked her quietly, “Can you leave, please? Shut the door?”
“Sure, baby. Want me to clean you up first?” she asked as he felt the mattress move again, hopefully confirmation of her pending departure.
“No,” he responded to her curtly.
“Okay, baby,” she replied sweetly, seemingly unflustered at his selfish behavior and tolerant of his request that she leave. He hadn’t even asked her name, hadn’t worried about her pleasure. He sat there silently until he heard the door close and latch in the frame.
“Fuucck,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He’d touched her. He’d reached his hand out and…touched another woman. Not even someone he knew, or cared about—just some random woman. What the hell was wrong with him? Surging to his feet, tense with anger at himself, he went into the attached bathroom and turned the shower on as cold as it would go. Standing in the freezing water for as long as he thought he could manage, he gritted his teeth and pushed himself to stay another five minutes, then ten—not yielding until his teeth were chattering uncontrollably and the muscles in his arms and legs were shuddering with cold.
Resting on the mattress, he tapped his still-icy fingertips against the place over his heart where the envelope would be if he were at home. His mind empty, the taps kept cadence with a heart not his own, a restless, phantom heartbeat.
Raised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available, I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.”
A hockey fan, hiker, gamer, and single mom of a special needs son, she embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field for a publishing company for a couple decades.
Music is a driving passion, and she says, “I love music of nearly any genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap, hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing through the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live music. My favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila, then that’s a plus!”