Bride of Glass (Brides of the Hunt Book 2)

by Jeanette Lynn

  “Ah... big fella.” My hands shot out, on the brink of touching him before they faltered. “Big, hairy fella. I... don’t... know... how... to... seduce... you...” I tittered nervously, jumping and jerking as I squeaked to get the words out.

  Rolling towards him, I tried not to freak out, reminding myself of my purpose. Lifting myself up, leaning in closer, I gripped his face.

  Tokre startled at the action, grunting and jumping a little in place as if to pull back. Quickly, before he could, I pulled myself into a sitting position—bringing us eye level, the way he was slumped—and smashed my lips to his.

  A barked sound erupted from his throat and he froze, air rushing past his shocked lips in a quiet whoosh, but I held tight. My hands gripped his fuzzy mug so hard his cheeks smooshed, his lips pressing into the funkiest goldfish face I’d ever laid eyes on.

  What started off as a fury of small but wild, pecking kisses, quickly turned into more. My lips pressed harder, more insistently, until all that was left to do was shove my tongue down the darned beast’s throat and mount the hulking brute.

  And still, he sat there, frozen, a bump on a log.

  Kiss me back, you furry fool!

  We stayed like that, stuck in place, our lips mashed together firmly in a messy, wet first kiss, careful of his crazy teeth. Tokre’s eyes remained wide open the whole time as he stared down at me, stunned, bug-eyed. Those dark eyes widened by the minute, his chest hitching, breathing heavily against my lips.

  Reaching out, I smoothed a hand up his chest, playing in the thick fur covering an abundance of ropy muscle. My hand tightened and I tugged a little. I was running on autopilot, but the action felt right. Tokre made a deep, mewling sound, pressing into my fingertips, protesting when I stopped and my hand dropped.

  When I finally released him to flop back, he swallowed hard, breathing heavily, and chuffed. More, that sound said. He did it again. More, please.

  Scooting closer, hunched forward, knees bent, his long arms resting on them, his fingers played at his lips.

  His tongue darted out and he swallowed hard, his thick Adam’s apple bobbing. Tokre growled softly at the taste, shuddering lightly. That dark, heat filled gaze glued itself to my lips.

  “Mate,” I told him, pressing my hand between my heaving breasts, the other to his chest.

  Tokre followed the action, his eyes straying to the small but rounded swells—straining between the soft grey cotton cups of my worn bra—before finding their way to my lips again.

  Getting to his hands and knees, his legs thudding heavily to the floor, he leaned in close, until our noses were almost touching, and inhaled deeply. Pressing closer, he grunted as our noses bumped. He couldn’t get close enough, slowly pressing himself forward, sending me bending backwards, until I thought I might flop right on my ass, and then our foreheads knocked and I yelped.

  Grunting again, an unhappy noise in his throat, he winced on a growl.

  “Ouch!” Reaching up, I rubbed at the spot that would surely have a knot on mine, leaning away.

  Tokre growled again and pulled back too, sneezing as he rubbed at his own.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” I murmured softly, reaching up and grabbing his thick wrists to gently tug him back down to me.

  Uncertain, Tokre balked at first, starting to bristle, but curiosity won out and he slowly relented. Once he was right before me, I tilted my head and lifted up, bringing our faces that much closer. It was strange, this whole thing was just fucking strange, and awkward as hell to maneuver my thick booty around with my legs trapped as they were; and yet a small part of me was thrumming like a hummingbird, my heart beating wildly as it hammered my chest.

  I shouldn’t feel like this—this shouldn’t be sort of, kinda turning me on—I should be running for the hills.

  I’ve watched too many damned movies, read too many of Joanie’s weirder books. Hah! Read a few too many weird ones of my own! I’m broken, and my body’s reaction—reactions—just proved it.

  Was I, dare I say, excited by all of this? About all of this? I wasn’t going to even think about it—didn’t want to—let alone force myself to answer that.

  Tokre grunted hesitantly as my eyes started to close, our lips a hair’s breadth away. Leaning in closer, I cupped his fuzzy cheeks, closing that last, tiny bit of distance separating us, pressing my lips to his firmly. He was so warm, his skin so damned soft, even softer than parts of his puppy soft fur. I wanted to smooth my hands all over him, dig my fingers beneath that first furry layer, see if he was like that everywhere. And while all of this was running through my head, my mind in a haze, there was this other part of me, a very large part, that wanted to slap me silly.

  His skin was so much warmer than mine, his lips a lot thicker but still rather soft. As my mouth moved over his he growled, his lips parting, and my tongue darted out to taste him. He tasted like honey and lemon, like he’d eaten or drank something sweet yet citrusy not too long before. There was a hint of bitterness to it, making me think maybe it had been some kind of tea.

  Honey lemon beastly tea, now with ginseng and let’s catch us a woman! Yep… I’m still not that funny.

  Tokre’s growls grew louder as his mounting excitement grew, and soon he was reaching for me, gripping the back of my head, mashing his lips to mine. He was rough, untrained, not an ounce of gentleness to him or his gruff, fumbling explorations. This, much like he seemed to do everything—or so it felt—had become a taking. Tokre didn’t ask, he took.

  Panting heavily, his tongue slipped inside my mouth, and he groaned, dipping it in to slip back out, tasting and taking, tangling his tongue with mine. Soon he took over entirely, eating at my mouth as he sucked on my tongue hungrily. His teeth grazing mine over and over grew just shy of nipping my lips one too many times.

  Gasping for air, I nudged him when it grew to be too much, and pulled back. Tokre took that as his cue to taste the rest of me, a snarl in his throat as he gripped a handful of my ass, jerking our bodies together. I squeaked like a startled mouse, inadvertently pushing my breasts closer to his face as he sat up with me in his lap, my tangled pants and legs off to one side of his large frame while his massive erection dug into my hip.

  “This,” I panted out, breathless and pink cheeked, my body lit up like it was on fire, heat fanning my face, “this is really happening. We’re really- Oooh- Oop!”

  Snarling low in his throat, Tokre lifted me up one-handed by the hand cupping my rump, his long fingers squeezing my ass unmercifully like he just couldn’t get enough, and he buried his face in my breasts.

  My hands went around his head as I made little incoherent noises. Tokre’s wide hand splayed on my ass cheeks, digging in. His face, nuzzling my breasts, nipped and sucked the soft swells just a little too hard.

  Soon Tokre’s clawed fingertips turned searching, slipping lower to my crotch, shredding my panties. A few harsh tugs, the sound of material ripping rending the air, and he quickly divested me of them. Again, he was eager and any kind of gentleness just wasn’t in him. Then he was reaching along the seam of my exposed, bared bottom, following it along the top to the bottom, and straight to my nether lips.

  Squirming, wet even as his knuckles strummed my sex, my legs still partially trapped, knees half bent, I bucked when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, kicking at my pants as my fingers, practically digging into his scalp, tugged at his hair.

  My awkward movements just pushed my ass out, my legs folding, sending my feet towards my ass, knees popping up towards my face. This pressed Tokre’s hand to my pussy firmly, the warmth of his searching fingers and open palm hot against my flesh.

  Easily finding my entrance, Tokre snarled hard as a knuckle slowly pushed inside my depths, dipping and pulling out, dipping and pulling out, over and over.

  Dipping in to pull out once more, grunting when I let out a sharp gasp and my sex clenched reflexively, he rubbed his knuckle along my slit teasingly, playing in the moisture he found there. Hips swiveling, I chas
ed the sensations, shuddering as each teasing stroke across my pussy grazed my clit.

  Oh. “Oh. Ah!”

  Alright, so maybe I was liking this get down and dirty with the beastie thing a little too much, but who the hell was hanging around this joint to judge me? No effin’ one, that’s who.

  Joanie did say she’d always wondered when the freak in the sheets hiding within me would be unleashed, I thought offhandedly. I just hadn’t expected it to be set free by a freaky beast, literally.

  Hunching his massive body forward, I felt his lips pull back, his fangs brushing my breast, his huge body bent at an impossible, inhuman angle, right as his grip on my ass tightened, spreading my cheeks, and something hard, thick and bulbous nudged my sex. It stretched my sheath as he suddenly drove forward, without a single gods be damned warning. Tugging, pressing, straining my flesh, his baseball bat shot up, trying to ram itself right on in. That thick hunk of beast meat pressed its advance, whether I was completely prepared or not.

  “I- Tokre- Ah-ah-ah...”

  Snarling low, his voice a deep, menacing growl, Tokre mouthed mine again, and then everything happened at once, too fast for my addled brain to fully comprehend. Tokre lifted me up, pinning my legs up near my chest, almost crushingly so. Adjusting himself, letting go of his hold on my ass, that fat, gnarly cockhead forced its way forward, ready to ram right home, taking any barriers it perceived with it, hard and insistent.

  “I’m okay! I’m okay!” I lied, unaware I was desperately shouting the words out, clenching my shit around him tight enough to make him groan. Oh god, and he hadn’t even made it past that magical halfway point?!

  Afraid to try and catch a peek of just how much monster beast peen I was actually taking, my grip tightened until my fingers ached. Unable to handle it, I squeezed my eyes shut.

  The horrible sounds I was making as he tried to work his way in and the way I was taking actual clumps of his hair out of his head with every pass he made making him stop, eventually halted his advance. My body locked up around him tight, my inner walls clamping down hard enough he grunted, shivered, and groaned.

  Tokre snarled at this unforeseen-to-him impediment as it halted any further progress, pulling back just enough to make me think he was going to slam that shit right back into me, hair on his head and my body be damned, to release me entirely in favor of watching me slowly slink down on his thick length, impaling myself on his impressive shaft.

  “Oh… lord help me,” I gritted out between sharp, poorly muffled groans. My hands slid down to his shoulders to dig in, as if this new position might ground me somehow.

  His teeth sank into my breast then, the sting of it, the bite of everything, the sound of puncturing flesh, that popping feeling, burning bad but not nearly as badly as the monster beast cock trying to saw me in two. I was squealing past clenched teeth, my eyes practically bugging out of my head as he gave a hard thrust.

  “Ho-ly shit!” I gasped out, digging my nails into his shoulders hard enough to break the skin. I could pull back, as he was no longer pinning me to him, as if to leave the choice up to me, but did I want to? Would that hurt worse? I was terrified to find out. It hurt bad enough as is, and we’d already come so far.

  The tit-biting thing, he could lose that now, pronto—I was done with that, but if we could just get past this last part… I’m supposed to stretch to accommodate him, aren’t I? Doesn’t the purple prose filled dude in the love story always insist it’ll work, no matter how much he resembles a deformed porn star?

  This isn’t a love story, and he’s the last thing from purple-prose-y I’ll ever come across, I had to remind myself.

  As if he felt I was taking too long, my internal debate fraying the last of his patience, my beast-kidnapper grew more and more impatient by the minute as I did my best impaled Popsicle impression. I was frozen in place for fear of moving and further injuring my person. Seeing this, thinking to fix it for both us, he took control. The fingers roaming over my back and backside freely tightened, his hips shifting right before he gave a quick, short, jabbing thrust upward. By short I mean he rammed that shit home, and by jabbing thrust I mean stabbed my lady parts like I was a dragon and he was King Arthur’s favorite Knight of the Round Table, eager to do his bidding.

  My response was a short, shocked cry as my inner walls protested the abrupt invasion.

  Groaning as he seated himself fully, working his cock in until I felt his balls almost flush against me—a feat I wouldn’t have thought possible at this point—Tokre picked me up by my hips, pulling out partially, and slammed back in.

  Shocked to the point thinking, let alone sucking in oxygen, was difficult, breathing in short, choppy pants, lightheaded and dizzy, pain and a strange, inkling of pleasure all mixing together until I didn’t know up from down, my own head from my damned ass—stunned was putting it mildly.

  There was a brief sense of numbness that washed over me, right before I felt it all, every fucking bit. Too shocked to speak, I made odd mewling sounds, panting faster than my crazy heartbeat.

  I was pretty sure my newly anointed beast lover came at some point, as his movement suddenly grew choppy, sloppy, and he groaned deeply, almost gutturally seconds later.

  His hips working frantically beneath me, and something warm filled me, his dick jerking as he gave a few more shallow but eager, grunt filled thrusts, then promptly ground himself into me until I wondered if I might split.

  Nails digging into his shoulders harder, eyes bulging, my face an unbecoming purple, all I could manage right that second was a strangled cry and a few desperate gasps for breath. Pain. Lots and lots of pain... I jerked with every grind of his pelvis, forgetting how to breathe with every determined press. Split… in half… I’m going to split in half!

  Sex Ed and all those stupid romance movies via Joanie had not prepared me for... “Ah, this,” I got out on a gasp, attempting to pull back, finishing my thoughts aloud.

  Tokre, still lost in his haze of sexual euphoria, was deaf to my panted out pleas, my hands rhythmically gripping his shoulders, imploring him to ease up. His grip tightened further, and his thrusts started up again. It was too much, too soon, he was already practically sawing me in half and I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t take it.

  At first, shock was the appropriate word to describe how I was feeling, and then pain, lots and lots of pain. Cramping, stomach twisting cramps. Did I mention lots of, like a shit-ton, of fucking pain? As it all wore off, that dazed haze I realized I hadn’t completely snapped out of—washing over me—lifted, and the realization of what I had actually just done—I, we, had just done it, actually just had sex—along with it.

  I’d screwed a monkey man, the beast claiming me as his. Step two had actually reached fruition. Along with all of that was the horrifying pain of being de-virgin-ized by a hairy battering ram, the strange, split second of euphoria I’d briefly succumbed to back in the beginning there, and the shock I’d obviously fallen into morphing into throbbing, wince inducing twinges.

  Allowing myself a few quiet moments for myself for all of this, whether to let it sink in or let my brain reboot, once those two or three minutes that felt like hours had passed, like any real chicken fly, I did the appropriate thing, what any rational, human being in my situation, faced with a shit balls wad of the unknown would do and a giant dick piercing their cunt: I screamed my bloody head off, followed by a long bout of pitiful crying and cringing.

  ˜˙˜*˜˙˜

  Tokre pulled me off of him like his cock had just pierced my inwards. Maybe not exactly like the look on his face said, but pretty darned close, sir!

  Blood streaked fluid marked my leg as his oddly pale, veiny penis slid free, his softening shaft grazing my inner thigh.

  War paint, I told myself, though I certainly wasn’t feeling it. And if anyone looked as if they’d gone to war, honestly, it was the big guy making funny noises, choking on his own spit as he stared down between us. Our spread legs formed a tangled diamond shape, my legs
resting over his, both of our sexes equally as exposed for him to study.

  The tang of cum was in the air, stronger than I recalled since my last fumble at foreplay with a guy, pungent—even after that one time I’d jacked a then boyfriend off, Mo Lodapfren, and the inconsiderate prick just let loose without warning, shooting his load all over my favorite sweater—no, hey, I’m going to come soon, like, right now—and I’d had to walk of shame my ass home like that. The jerk. The tiny dingle berry for a dick, bicycle riding because it’s “better for the environment” jerk. And he’d had the gall to bitch to all his buddies about how bad I sucked at handys afterward. Ignoramus.

  A sound escaped Tokre and he slid his thumb and forefinger down his waning erection, pulling his fingers away to examine the quickly cooling mess. His thick fingers rubbed together, smearing the thin trail of creamy white with tinges of red, turning the mixture a barely detectable light pink.

  The dark-eyed beast’s brow furrowed heavily and he brought the mixture to his face to sniff. A louder, funnier noise left him as he jerked back, away from it, to glare down at his hand like it was the perpetrator. His mouth opened slowly, his tongue darting out, and I was somewhat reminded of a snake tasting the air. My all out crying jag ceased for a moment, cut off abruptly to taper off into loud, ugly cry aftermath sniffles, because I knew, before he’d even made a move, what he planned to do.

  Don’t- Don’t tast- Oh, gross! He did. He actually did! He just- Ick! I thought to myself, too busy sniffling and carrying on in my post wail snuffles, on the outside, my junk throbbing in every sense possible, pain, this sense of incompletion, more pain, struggling to go back to its original shape, I was sure, from my recent impalement... and did I mention pain? To properly express how not cool watching him dart his tongue out for- Gah! He did it again! Ugh. I couldn’t even think it.