Two Bears are Better Than One (Alpha Werebear Romance) (Broken Pine Bears Book 1) (21 page)

“How’s the vodka?” Jill asked. “You kinda downed all that pretty quickly, you sure you’re okay?”

“He weighs about three-fifty. I think he can handle some baby shots. Hey, big guy, is there anything else in there?”

“Why can’t we just go to the store like normal people? We coulda bought half the stock of that place on the corner for what his experiment with sorority drinking just cost.”

“Do they have Fat Tire?” Rogue asked, rolling over like a hookah smoking caterpillar to ask.

Jill quirked a half smile in his direction. “It’s a corner store in the United States, of which you all are now a part, and it sells beer. Yes, it has Fat Tire.”

“You’ve never been there, how do you know?”

“Because
everywhere
has Fat Tire. I’ll even go get it if you want, although it’s kind of sad that two giant bears are going to let their busted up mate go buy beer for them.”

Oh my God I can’t wait to see these two try to navigate an exchange of currency,
she thought, getting a little giddy at the idea.
This is so mean, but... shit I’m not lying about that bar tab he just rang up.

A look of suspicion came over Rogue’s face, his stunning eyes darkening slightly. The dimple in his left cheek went a tad deeper, and Jill felt a quailing in her stomach. King stood up and frowned. “Why do I feel like I should be having more fun?” he asked.

“Well at least you moved on from the loincloths when we came back to civilization. As much as I liked them, I doubt you’d be able to convince one of Santa Barbara’s finest that you weren’t a crazy person.”

“You’re Santa Barbara’s finest,” King said in a flat tone.

He didn’t catch his slip of the tongue.

“That’s very sweet,” Jill said, “and I can almost see you two exchanging a high-five over that one, but I don’t want to have to explain to Tripp why there’s no liquor left in any of his tiny fridges, nor do I want to pay for it. Come on.”

Rogue and King exchanged a glance, Rogue shrugged and flicked off the TV. As soon as Jill stood, she winced, ever so slightly, and before she took her next step, there was one arm from each of her bears, gently around her waist.

The walk to The Corner Emporium was short, even with Jill’s unsure hobbling, and the store was far less impressive than the name would indicate. For a second upon entering, Jill considered talking her bears into trying a vast array of hobo wines – Wild Irish Rose, maybe some Boone’s Farm – but decided that something that could turn normal men into hooting beasts? Probably not the best thing to give to men who could do that anytime they wanted.

“There’s... so much,” Rogue said, his voice an awe-struck whisper.

This is absolutely ridiculous
, Jill thought, stifling a laugh.

King, for his part, immediately went to work turning every single bottle on the nearest shelf so that the labels were lined up, facing outward. The clerk at the counter, a slight man, bald on the top and round around the middle, wore a slightly frayed cardigan, and was watching the spectacle with just about the same look on his face that Rogue had when he walked past the beer cooler to the shelf filed with singles from all over the world.

Jill, sensing his confusion, shambled over and propped herself on the counter.

“They’re from Virginia,” she said.

The clerk look more confused. “I mean, like,
in the woods
Virginia.”

“Oh,” he said, in a long, drawn out way. “You mean like the part of Virginia that may as well be a different planet?”

“You have no idea,” she said with a grin.

“Whoa!” she turned back to the pair of man-bear-children, just in time to see Rogue teetering around with about forty bottles in his arms. “Holy... hey, can you get him a basket or something?”

With a heavy sigh and a little less enthusiasm than she’d like to have seen, the old guy rounded the counter and helped Rogue fill a shopping cart. As the man filled the basket, the bemused bear wandered off again, chasing some other squirrel.

King had straightened an entire row of bourbon bottles, and was just finishing his adjustments to the Wild Turkey section when he stood up very straight, very stiff, and then just started laughing.

“I thought you said they were from Virginia,” the shop keep said pointedly. “Not the damn loony bin.”

Jill bit down on her lip, once again trying to keep from cracking up like an idiot. Of all the trials they’d been through, all the pain and the fear, to think that the biggest obstacle to their getting on with life was safely escorting these two through the process of buying beer without dying from laughter?

Things could definitely, definitely be a lot worse
, she thought.

At least Rogue had enough experience with the human world to know he had to pay for the stuff he was gathering, instead of just smiling at the panic-stricken turkey on the label and trying to walk out the front door.

“This... all together?” The shop keep looked slightly amazed, but she knew he’d seen some rough characters walk through here before. Jill just nodded.

“They’re trying new things,” she said.

“Do you have Fat Tire?” Rogue asked, over top of Jill and the clerk’s exchange. “I didn’t see any.”

“Ahhh,” the old man groaned, pinching one of his eyes up in what might’ve been a practiced tic. “We’re out. Truck usually comes Thursday, but it’s running late. Sorry about that.”

Rogue let out a long, low grumble, and caught Jill’s eye with a look so smug she could have set him up with Tripp and they’d be able to float an iceberg with their combined smug might.

“He said they were out of it,” Jill said, “not that they didn’t carry it.”

Rogue kept right on looking smug. “It feels good to be right.”

Jill rolled her eyes so hard they could’ve clacked against her teeth.

As she took out her credit card and scanned an absolutely ungodly amount of booze through, she couldn’t help but smile when she felt first Rogue’s hands, and then King’s, on the small of her back.
I bet this guy thinks this is some weird cousin-dating circle
, she thought with a little grin.

That tiny, impish grin grew a lot wider when King got a little adventurous – apparently drinking a bunch of baby shots made him randy – and stuck a pair of fingers down the loose waistband of Jill’s comfy cotton trousers. She twisted away, but at the same time, kinda wanted to just let go, let the wild ride just keep right on.

Then again, a PDA ticket probably wasn’t the best way to make her California homecoming memorable.

With a box hoisted onto each of Rogue’s shoulders, and a paper bag in King’s arms, the unlikely trio made their way back to the Stop N Drop, though it was much slower than the trip to the store. Each step, each moment that they walked, Jill watched her two bears, their muscles moving under their shirts, their shoulders rising and falling with every breath they took.

This
, she thought,
is a much better way to remember coming home than getting thrown in the can for making out in a corner store
.

––––––––

W
ith the cubs asleep in their multitude of rooms, and the Spectravision turned off from the front desk – Arrow discovered the thrill of pay-per-view the night before – Jill, Rogue and King made their way downstairs just after midnight. The agreement was that they could swim after hours if they kept it quiet, and didn’t make a mess.

Tripp really did turn out to be a pretty good guy
.

She slid below the surface, letting the cool water lap away the soreness in her sides. Without her bandages, walking was harder, but in the water, she didn’t feel anything but free.

That’s not true. She felt a pair of hands glide around her hips, and then she spun around to find one
very
intense looking bear with one green eye and one amber one, staring straight into her soul.

“Oh look out there, cowboy,” Jill said with a quirk in the left corner of her mouth.

King’s hands on her back, sliding underneath the one-piece she had on – no one wants to go for a bikini when they’ve got big bruises running down their sides, even if it
was
after midnight – sent trills of excitement up and down her spine. Everywhere his huge, rough hands went, goosebumps rose right after.

The calluses on his palms catching her swimsuit’s fabric got Jill thinking things, naughty things, that she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about in a public swimming pool. Mostly because she was almost certain that
plenty
of other people had those same thoughts, followed by the resulting actions, in the pool at the Stop N Drop, so maybe it was best to avoid...

“I can’t wait,” Rogue said, gliding up beside her in the water so close she could smell the vague remnants of the CK1 she had him try. It had always been her favorite, but she found that she preferred the raw scent of bear to something from a lab. “Just seeing you like this, moving, healthy—“

“Yeah, I’m sure being wet in a skintight swimsuit has nothing to do with it?” Jill asked, arching her neck to rest her head on his chest, but not looking away from the other bear for a second. She reached out, tickled King’s chest and then indulged in sliding her hand the rest of the way down his body and ran her palm along the swelling length of him.

“I hate these,” King grunted, pulling up a leg and yanking his swim trunks off. Before she could even giggle – and she absolutely giggled – Jill wrapped her hand around his free nakedness, gliding it from the tip to the base. Somehow his skin was burning hot, even in the water.

She felt Rogue surge behind her, his cock pressing against the small of her back. “Oh God, you guys,” she said, feigning embarrassment, “we’re going to get in so much trouble if they find us doing this.”

“Who finds us doing what?” Rogue asked, genuine surprise in his voice.

King joined in. “We haven’t taken anyone’s mate except our own.” His hands held her upright and he forced her head back with a kiss that pushed her right into Rogue’s muscled chest. It was long, hungry, deep, and left her breathless when he finally pulled away, sucking gently on her full bottom lip.

Before she could say anything else, Rogue swirled her around in the water, pushing her backward against King this time. The first thing she felt was his tongue, exploring her lips, then dipping deep inside her and mingling with hers. The next thing she felt was
Rogue’s
erection, free in the water, when he bent his knees and guided it between her thighs.

She took a sharp breath, her lungs filling with hotel pool chlorine, the remnants of that cologne, and the sweet taste of craft beer on Rogue’s lips. “How do you do this?” she asked in a whisper.

“I took my shorts off and then I kissed you,” Rogue said in the way that belied his lack of full understanding of human society. “What’s the big deal?”

With a cock in each of her hands, Jill wanted to let them ravish her, she wanted to feel both of them inside her
right that second
, but... it’s tough for a biologist to turn off the science part of her brain, even when she’s pinned between two man-bears who want to make her come so hard she gets the cops called.

Instead of trying to teach them a crash course on why you
really
don’t want to have sex in a pool you don’t control the chemicals for, or the population that enters, she decided on subtlety.

With a tug on each of them, and a kiss that went from one set of sweet-tasting lips to a set that tasted more like Guinness, Jill successfully lead the bears from the six-foot part of the pool to the four foot. She looked down, able to make out the very clear line of hair running down Rogue’s chest and surrounding his erection, almost above the surface of the water.

As much gentleness as you can have while still mauling someone with lusty, groping fingers, Rogue displayed as he kissed her again, sliding his tongue deep, and biting down on Jill’s lip. Her up and down stroking grew a little faster, matching the surges of tension that went through her body every time one of them moved or touched or kissed.

“I can’t handle this,” she said, “I can’t—“

“You’re not hurt are you?” King asked with incredible quiet power that made the curlicue of excitement wiggling in Jill’s belly into a whole herd of butterflies. “I thought you’d taken on our healing? If not, then we’ll stop. Rogue,” he said. “I, uh,” he trailed off as Jill slid down his body and took him in her mouth, beneath the water.

“Guess she’s not hurt
that
bad,” Rogue said, smiling and running his hands through the mass of brown curls that fanned out behind his mate’s head. A half second later, he, too, was under water, nibbling his way from Jill’s calves to the curves of her thighs that he loved so much, and then to her hips.

The pool’s worn-but-still-prickly plaster bottom scratched the bare skin on Jill’s knees. Her nipples hardened as Rogue’s teeth scraped her legs and then he bit at her sides and her ass through the swimsuit’s Lycra-polyester-whatever blend.

King’s softest, smoothest skin filled her entire hand, with no room to spare – her fingers didn’t touch on either side. She put as much of him in her mouth as she could manage, flicking her tongue to explore his lines and ridges. If his hands were hot, his cock was molten iron that melted her from the core outward. Everywhere the warmth went, her skin prickled and flushed.

Everywhere Rogue’s kisses, his teeth, his hands, dragged, she felt herself tremble and quiver.

And Jill? Totally not a regular quiverer. She laughed to herself, sliding her tongue over King’s tip and tasting him all the way to her toes.

There is sex in a pool
, she thought.
And then there’s this
.

Air was running out, but Jill couldn’t stand the thought of stopping, could not handle the idea of this heat that filled her receding, even for a second. But even with a touch of bear healing, a person with bruised up ribs can only hold her breath for so long.

She took one last, long suck on King, and cupped him in her trembling hands for just a second before the air started burning in her lungs. She broke the surface and had time for approximately one and a half breaths of fresh air before King locked his mouth over hers, and Rogue rose up behind her, furiously biting and sucking at her neck.