Miss Muffet’s Bears: Freshly Baked Furry Tails, Book 2 Read online

  “Hope you’re hungry,” said Quentin.

  “What’s on the menu tonight?” asked Katrina,

  “Alex’s famous burgers…and my grilled salmon, with crème fraîche, with the kolacky we made for appetizers and dessert,” said Quentin, passing out the plates.

  “Is this the first dinner we’ve had together?” asked Katrina.

  “I suppose it is,” said Quentin, uncorking a bottle of sparkling marionberry wine. “What of it?”

  “I think that makes this…our first date,” said Katrina.

  Quentin poured the wine out into enamel lined tin cups. They weren’t crystal champagne flutes, but they did the job — the job being ‘holding liquid.’

  “To our last first date,” said Alex, holding up his cup.

  “To our what?” asked Katrina.

  “Well…I don’t think I’ll ever have another first date, not after tonight,” said Alex.

  “You mean — “ started Katrina.

  “You’re the last woman we want to date, so this is our last first date,” said Quentin, raising a brow.

  “Then…to our last first date,” said Katrina, raising her cup, and clinking it with Quentin and Alex’s cups at the same time.

  Katrina, Alex, and Quentin enjoyed their late lunch — or was it an early dinner? They drank the sparkling marionberry wine, sobered up with desserts and a bit of coffee from the ever-full pot of coffee in the Hemlock Lodge living room — cups brought out to the table by Quentin.

  “We’ve done it all, haven’t we?” said Katrina.

  “What do you mean?” asked Alex.

  “Well — you two settled your differences, made prototypes of the booth, and we’ve had a nice date together,” said Katrina. “That’s all we had on our docket.”

  “You know…there is one more thing we have to do,” said Quentin.

  “What else is there?” asked Katrina.

  “We have to claim you,” said Quentin.

  Chapter Nine

  Katrina nearly spat out her drink. “Wh-what?”

  “Quentin!” hissed Alex.

  “What? We do!” insisted Quentin. “Well, we don’t have to…”

  “Okay, hold up — so, this is embarrassing, but…let’s pretend for a second that I, uh, had no clue what claiming entails,” said Katrina.

  “You really have no idea?” asked Alex.

  “Well, I mean — I know shifters can claim their mates, but I don’t really ‘get it,’ and I don’t get how it works,” said Katrina.

  “It’s simple,” said Alex. “We have sex with you — both of us, with you, at the same time. If we’re all fated to be in this crazy ménage together, and we manage to earn a sign from Fate, well…then Fate will send us a sign confirming this ménage is meant to be.”

  “So, claiming me…it’s really just a sex thing?” asked Katrina. “No ceremony with a werebear clan?”

  “Never took you for the huge wedding type of gal,” said Alex with a chuckle.

  “Nothing’s more primal than sex — nothing,” said Quentin. “A shifter can have a lot of friends…but they usually only have one mate.”

  “What about me?” asked Katrina. “What does that mean, if I have the two of you?”

  “Technically, we’re not your mates — you’re our mate because you’re not a shifter,” said Quentin.

  “But babe, you can call me whatever you want, as long as you’re calling it out when I fuck you — hard,” said Alex.

  Katrina gulped and wondered if Quentin and Alex could tell that she was blushing. What she didn’t know was that not only could they see her blush, but they could scent out her arousal like sweet mead.

  “Well…when exactly would that be?” asked Katrina nervously.

  “Whenever you wanted,” said Quentin.

  “Whenever I wanted?” asked Katrina. “Wherever I wanted?”

  “You trying to get down and dirty at the bakery, leave an ass-print in flour on the counters?” asked Quentin. “Never took you for the kinky type.”

  “Isn’t taking two guys at the same time kinky?” asked Katrina.

  “That’s bush league — and don’t even get me started on what we’re gonna do in your bush,” said Quentin.

  “Alex?” asked Katrina. “I, uh…do you have any thoughts on this?”

  “Oh? Why does it sound like you want me to fight with Quentin?” asked Alex slyly. “I agree with Quentin on this one. It’s up to you, babe. Whenever you want it, however you want it, you call us — and let’s make some magic happen.” Alex rubbed his hand over his pecs. He didn’t even have to take off his flannel shirt for Katrina to know what he was stroking. He was rubbing his mate mark, the mark that had revealed to Katrina that Alex was meant for her — and so was Quentin.

  “You two…have you discussed it at all?” asked Katrina.

  “What’s there to discuss?” asked Alex in return. “You. Fucked. By us. That’s all there is to it, babe. You pick the time and place — and we’ll be there.”

  “You two haven’t like, arranged anything?” asked Katrina.

  “Nope,” said Alex. “Just let us know when you wanna get down and dirty. The ball’s in your court, babe.”

  The ball was in Katrina’s court.

  Now, the question was, would the balls be whacking against her ass?

  That was the reality of the situation. Katrina’s answer would determine whether or not Quentin and Alex claimed her that night, in Hemlock Lodge.

  “This lodge — it has rooms, right?” Katrina asked Quentin.

  “It has all kinds of rooms — a living room, a dining room, a kitchen,” said Quentin. “You want to see the kitchen?”

  “You know what? I think I do,” said Katrina, getting up from the table. Alex came around and took her by the hand, leading her to Quentin, who led Katrina through the door to the lodge.

  The door opened up to a large room that was rather empty. There were large leather chairs and wooden tables. It was like Grizzlyfir, but at the same time, wholly unlike it, as the lodge’s furniture was far nicer, far older, and far more worn in. Both Grizzlyfir and Hemlock had leather armchairs — but Hemlock’s armchairs had nailhead details. Both Hemlock and Grizzlyfir had wooden coffee tables — but the ones at Camp Grizzlyfir had old boot prints worn into their tops.

  “This way,” said Quentin, leading Katrina into the kitchen area. There were a few cooks there.

  “This your lady, chef?” asked one of the shifters who was making himself a sandwich.

  “If you have to ask, why are you asking, instead of walking?” growled Quentin. Quentin’s bear roared and warned him not to pick fights, and in return, Quentin threatened to fight his bear.

  “I mean, I was already here making a sandwich,” said the other lumberjack lamely.

  “Tell you what — get the fuck out of here, and I’ll bring it out to you,” said Alex with a wink.

  The lumberjack held his hands up and walked out of the kitchen.

  Quentin picked up a pan and a wooden spoon. He banged the pan like a gong and shouted, “If I find anyone in here after I count to ten…well, you won’t eat for a week.” Quentin closed his eyes as he counted backward and listened to the shuffling sounds of feet around him. He banged the pan one more time for good measure.

  Alex went to the cutting board where the lumberjack had been making a sandwich and, while Quentin grabbed Katrina by the waist, lifted her up so that Katrina wrapped her legs around Quentin, and then, she felt something cold underneath her ass — the cold of stainless steel in an air-conditioned kitchen, near the freezer.

  “Are you sure we should be doing this in here?” asked Katrina.

  “It’s my damn kitchen,” Quentin curse-growled — cursed, and growled. “I can do whoever the Hell I want, however the Hell I want, whenever the Hell I want.”

  “And have you done this before?” asked Katrina.

  “If you’re asking if I’m a virgin — I’m not a virgin,” said Quentin. “If you’re askin
g if I’ve ever done anything dirty in the kitchen before — well, that’s one of the few things I haven’t done.”

  “I know another thing you haven’t done,” said Katrina.

  “And what would that be?” asked Quentin.

  “This,” said Katrina, putting Quentin’s hand on the space in between the thighs of her jeans. Katrina knew it was a bold move. But, she wanted Quentin to feel just how badly she wanted him — and Alex.

  Alex went and carried the sandwich out to the lumberjack — along with an apple and some chips, as it was important for all the workers on the mountain to keep their energy levels high, even if they were cockblockers who didn’t know how to read a room.

  Then, Alex stormed back in, pushed Quentin aside, and pulled Katrina up onto the counter and moved her shirt up past her head and started to kiss her breasts.

  “You covered my face!” squealed Katrina.

  “Your face already got its kisses,” said Alex. “These titties need some lovin’ too.”

  Alex pressed his face between her bosom and just started to go to town as if he were at an all-you-can-kiss buffet. Like any pro buffet eater, he knew that the best things to eat at the buffet were the things that cost the most — the finest choice cuts of meat. Katrina’s breasts were choice cuts of meat indeed — soft, fatty, well-marbled, supple, and slightly salty and sweet from working part of the day at the bakery. Alex’s bear roared — as fun as foreplay was, it was by no means the main event. If Alex took his time enjoying every last inch of Katrina before entering her, well, he’d never get to claiming her. There was no reason he couldn’t start with his dessert.

  Katrina was afraid Alex was going to run out of air and faint from enjoying her chest too much, but then, Quentin pushed Alex aside and groped one of Katrina’s ample breasts before putting the nipple in his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. Quentin’s cock throbbed in his pants. He needed to be inside that woman — not just enjoying her, but claiming her, taking her.

  Katrina let out a gasp just as something salty and wet hit her face. She put her hand on her face. Whatever it was, it was just salty water.

  “Wh-what was that?” asked Katrina.

  “Premature ejaculation,” said Alex, who was standing nearby with a turkey baster.

  “Did you just…me…in the face…with that?” asked Katrina.

  “Not into facials?” asked Alex.

  “Not from turkey basters!” said Katrina.

  “Fuck, I gotta stop,” cursed Quentin, pulling Katrina’s shirt back down to cover up her bosom.

  “I thought you were gonna take me,” teased Katrina, pouting and tapping Quentin’s chin. “I thought you were gonna claim me, Quentin. I thought you were gonna make me your mate.”

  “We are — but to do that, we’re going to need a lot more room than a kitchen island,” said Quentin. “Trust me, baby. Feel me.” Quentin took Katrina’s hand and pressed it to his crotch.

  Quentin leaned in close and whispered, “Do you feel that? Do you feel how much I want you?”

  “You must want me real bad,” said Katrina huskily. “You must want me so badly it hurts.”

  Quentin’s cock twitched. “Girl, you know I do — and you saying that in that sexy voice, that doesn’t help matters.”

  “If I’m the one making it hurt, I think I’m the one that can make it better,” said Katrina.

  That was it. Quentin pulled Katrina into his arms and kissed her on the lips quickly before shouting at Alex, “Grab the pan!”

  “Why does he need to — “ started Katrina, but then, Alex grabbed the pan and the wooden spoon and kicked open the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

  “Everybody out!” ordered Alex, banging on the pan like it was his job. “We’ve got to prepare dessert!”

  Katrina blushed bright red as Alex kept on banging on the pan as Quentin carried her up the stairs. The inside of the Hemlock Lodge looked more like an old steel baron’s manse than the dorm-like quarters at Camp Grizzlyfir. Alex knew which door to open and opened it. Katrina didn’t have much time to look around, as she was placed right on the top of some black and red plaid flannel sheets.

  Quentin slammed the door, and Alex threw the pan to the side. It crashed and broke something. That didn’t stop Alex from throwing the spoon.

  “Try not to break his room,” said Katrina.

  “Baby girl, by the time we’re done in here, the whole room’ll be busted,” said Quentin. “He’s just getting it started.”

  “Speaking of getting things started…” started Alex. He sat down on the bed and put Katrina on his lap so she was straddling him. Quentin walked up behind Katrina and gently held her up, supporting her quivering curves.

  Alex put Katrina’s hands on his chest. “Undo me.”

  “That should be pretty easy — I’m basically undone,” Katrina tried to joke, but it came out shaky.

  “Are you nervous?” asked Alex, putting a finger underneath Katrina’s chin.

  “Yes,” admitted Katrina.

  “We can stop,” said Alex.

  “No — I’m just…worried that maybe, maybe I’m not…” started Katrina before trailing off.

  “Not what?” asked Alex.

  “Not our mate,” Quentin answered for Katrina.

  “I can’t promise you’re our mate,” said Alex. “But, Katrina, in ten years — will you look back at this moment and wish you’d taken a chance? Or would you have preferred to have played it safe?”

  “I can’t imagine a world where I don’t at least try,” admitted Katrina.

  “If you end up not being our mate…would you regret having sex with us?” asked Quentin.

  “No — of course not, no,” said Katrina. “I’d be sad, disappointed that I wasn’t your mate…but at least the process of finding out I am — or am not — your mate is pretty fun. I can think of worse consolation prizes than sex with two handsome lumberjack werebears.”

  “Then I think you’re right, Katrina — it’s time for Alex to stop banging up my room, and time for us to start banging you,” said Quentin, putting a kiss on the nape of Katrina’s neck. Quentin reached forward and started to unbutton Katrina’s light cotton blouse. Katrina unbuttoned Alex’s flannel shirt. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt that day. His body was covered with a thin sheen of summer sweat. The humidity of the hidden garden hadn’t made him any drier.

  Katrina ran her hands over Alex’s broad chest. His mate mark was in the center, a prominent black mark that had a texture that made it stand out from the rest of his skin. It was as if it was embossed in his flesh, something poking out of his body, ready to burst out — his passion? His bear? His cock?

  Quentin unhooked Katrina’s bra and tossed it onto the carpet. Katrina pushed Alex’s sleeves down and then, Alex flipped Katrina onto the bed.

  “The bra and panties…they’re a matching set?” asked Quentin.

  “Yes,” said Katrina. “You can see that, right?”

  “Then they belong together,” said Quentin, fingering the top of Katrina’s lacy panties. “That means these belong on the floor.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” said Katrina, raising a brow, and lifting her ample ass, so Quentin could reach up and grab her panties. Katrina was surprised Quentin was taking his time pulling her panties off her body. At first, she thought it must be due to the humidity. Maybe it was causing the panties to stick to her like paint. But, then, she realized Quentin was very intentional with his moves, being slow on purpose. Somehow, being undressed by Quentin made her feel even more vulnerable in front of him than she’d felt in her lingerie and more vulnerable than she’d feel nude. He was on top of her, on top of her body, treating her with both clinical precision and bridled passion at the same time. What would happen when that passion he’d held back was finally unleashed? Could she handle the bear in bed?

  She looked over to Alex, who was by the side of the bed.

  “Your job’s not done yet,” said Alex.

  “If I open
that up, will I find a prize?” asked Katrina, rubbing her hand over the cool metal belt buckle right below Alex’s mountain-hard abs.

  “Why don’t you find out?” asked Alex.

  Katrina undid the belt and the button and the zipper. Alex dropped his pants to the floor, revealing a pair of black silk underwear.

  “Silk?” asked Katrina.

  “There are some luxuries that even I can’t resist,” said Alex. “You’re one of them.”

  “Me? Irresistible? Luxurious?” said Katrina with a laugh. “I’m just a small-town baker!”

  “You’re not ‘just’ anything, my dear,” said Alex, rubbing a hand along Katrina’s face as he got into the bed, between her legs. Alex moved his hand down her chin to her neck, to the space betwixt her breasts, and down, over her thick tummy and broad hips, to her womanly cavern, in which, like those of Plato’s cave, he would become mesmerized by a reality that was and was not at the same time.

  Katrina felt something soft on the bed. She fingered it and pinched it before pulling it up.

  “Is this a rose petal?” asked Katrina.

  “Yeah — you’re not allergic, are you?” asked Quentin.

  “No — but Alex said you two weren’t expecting to have sex with me today,” said Katrina.

  “Technically, I said we hadn’t arranged it,” said Alex. “You’re the one that gave us the go-ahead. We just wanted to be prepared.”

  “Rose petals on the bed, that’s what you call prepared?” asked Katrina, raising a brow.

  “Sexy lacy blue lingerie that smells like it’s fresh from the store? That’s not somehow the same?” asked Quentin.

  “Th-that’s different!” insisted Katrina. “Okay — maybe it’s not that different. The rose petals…they’re very romantic.”

  “Good — because they were a bitch to peel and toss,” said Alex.

  “What would you rather we roll around in? Marionberries?” asked Katrina.

  “Yes — I’d love to lick the juices off your sticky body,” said Alex. “See, I’d do it like…this.” Alex showed Katrina just what he meant. He ran his broad tongue over her curves, tasting her warmth beneath his mouth. She was soft and supple and hot all at the same time. She tasted delicious.