“Say it.”
Fine. If that’s what it takes to stop this torture. No one was here. No one would know. She whispered it. “Master.” In thrust his fingers, thrusting and pumping while, at the same time, he applied pressure to her nub.
The orgasm was incredible. But her capitulation didn’t end it. Oh no. As it turned out, it was just the beginning. Tika, against all odds, was chosen.
Author Bio
Hello, my name is Eve Langlais and I am an International Bestselling author who loves to write hot romance, usually with werewolves, cyborgs or aliens .
I should warn you, I have a twisted imagination and a sarcastic sense of humor something I like to let loose in my writing. While well known for my shifter stories, I am also extremely partial to aliens, the kind who like to abduct humans and then drive them insane...with pleasure. Or do you like something a little darker, more serious? Then check out my cyborgs whose battle with humanity have captivated readers worldwide.
If you'd like to know more, read some excerpts or find out what I’m working on, then please visit me at http://www.EveLanglais.com
Happy reading, ~Eve
Taming the Wolf
By
Anne Ferrer Odom
A lurch in his gut and an odd squelch sucked Ellory back to 1863 and the time machine’s transport chamber.
He should have landed on the leather bench, intentionally well-padded for sudden returns. But the bench yipped and squirmed beneath him, and he pitched forward into the dash.
“The devil take you, Manuel, why are you here?” Ellory turned to face the wolf, but with Manuel scrabbling to give him room, he wound up on his arse in the half-meter between the bench and the controls. One foot jutted out the door, and the other jammed up under the dash, shoving his knee into his face. He’d planned for a lot of things during construction, but fitting a man of over six feet beneath the dash wasn’t one.
Now hold on... Ellory squinted through the chamber’s window at the machine’s steam tubes curling toward the ceiling like so many tentacles. Steam belched from all but one. Manuel butted Ellory’s knee, but Ellory only nudged him back and wiggled for a better view. If I could just—
Fire seared through Ellory’s upper arm, as his injured shoulder scraped against the bench. Manuel lurched toward him, and Ellory coughed violently as he inhaled a mouthful of black wolf hair. “Be—” hack, cough “—still!”
Manuel ignored him, grabbing Ellory’s wrist in his mouth. He kept his teeth gentle, and tugged Ellory’s arm onto the seat. Ellory hissed again, and Manuel whined. Blood soaked the shoulder of Ellory’s torn shirt.
“It’s not bad, love,” Ellory reassured his mate. “The bullet just winged me. Hurts like bloody hell, though.”
Manuel growled and licked the blood from Ellory’s dark skin to better see the wound.
“I told you. Just a nasty scratch.”
Manuel chuffed and nuzzled him. Ellory reached up with his good arm and buried his fingers in Manuel’s fur. So soft. If only it wasn’t shedding in all my mechanical bits.
“I love you, too. I’m glad you took the earlier airship home from Mexica. Still, you know you shouldn’t be in here as a wolf.” Already, Manuel’s fur covered the seat and filled the crevices around the knobs and levers. An unsettling wheeze escaped the automated bellows. Bollocks. “Go on. Get out.”
Manuel sighed against Ellory’s neck, the warm tingle softening his frustration. The wolf squirmed round to the door, putting a paw in Ellory’s groin and whacking him in the face with his tail. Ellory pulled his knees to his chest in self-defense, accidentally jabbing one into Manuel’s underbelly and banging the other on the dash. Fantastic. I was in sore need of an additional injury.
Manuel sprang from the chamber, dropping ten feet to the workshop floor. Ellory grappled the bench and dash to get himself upright on the seat. Not being part-wolf himself, he’d be using the ladder. Ellory glanced down at his bleeding arm and winced. Best get to it. Waiting won’t stop the pain.
He moved to the doorway, and sucked in a breath to see Manuel, human, barefoot, and barechested, at the ladder’s base. The aether lamps drew out every curve and shadow of his lean body. He winked at Ellory and held out his arms. “Jump.”
“Not a chance.”
“You can fall or you can jump.” Manuel grinned and rattled the ladder until Ellory stumbled.
He caught himself and made to protest, irked at the order. But he’d missed the arms of his mate while Manuel visited his homeland. He jumped. Manuel caught him ’round the waist, avoiding his wounded shoulder, and pulled him close. Ellory slid down the naked planes of muscle, and rested his arms around Manuel’s neck. “I missed you, Manuel.”
Manuel kissed him then, softly at first. A kiss that asked, Still mine? He’d been gone three weeks, and they counted only eight months to their relationship.
Ellory took the gentle kiss further, teasing Manuel’s lips with his tongue, taking a small nip at the bottom. Yes. Let me in.
Manuel growled approval, and the kiss turned hard—hungry. Ellory groaned as Manuel walked him backward into the time machine’s warm metal housing. Nudging Manuel’s head aside, Ellory scraped his teeth down his mate’s neck, taking a firm bite where it met the shoulder. Manuel grunted and rocked into him. When their cocks touched, Ellory came up for air, his vision blurred.
All the buttons on his waistcoat gave way at once, and Manuel shoved it down Ellory’s shoulders. Pain lanced through Ellory’s arm. “Wait!” Manuel backed off, brow furrowed. “My shoulder.”
The wolfman released a breath and gave a short nod. He gently peeled the waistcoat off, followed by Ellory’s shirt. As he inspected the wound, his shaggy hair, black like his wolf, skimmed Ellory’s chest. “You will tell me how this happened.”
And just that fast, irritation crawled up Ellory’s neck. “Ask, please, Manuel. Don’t order. We’ve talked about this.”
Manuel looked up, his eyes alight with mischief. Just like every other time they’d had this conversation. “Semantics. Tell me.”
“Not semantics. I’m tired of this, Manuel. I’m not one of your pack—”
Manuel snapped up and barked a laugh. “The hell you’re not. What do you think it means to be my mate?”
“I’m not one of your pack to be ordered about. I am your partner. Therefore your equal.”
Manuel’s mouth quirked. “Won’t you please tell me what happened?”
A victory of a sort. “You know I’ve only been able to jump to White’s Gentlemen’s Club 100 years ago, regardless the machine’s programming. Well, it’s still not working. I wound up there again this morning.”
“Ha. You should christen it the White’s in 1763 Machine and be done with it. Does that make four times you’ve popped into the midst of their tea and brandy? Those shameless white playboys don’t want our kind in their club now, much less then.”
“Our kind? Would that be black?” Ellory pointed at himself. “Mexican?” He pointed at Manuel. “Confirmed bachelors?” He gestured between the two of them. “Werewolf?” He tapped Manuel’s warm chest.
“Yes.”
Ellory sighed. Manuel had the truth of it. “Well, they were waiting for me this time, with pistols. I expect they’d placed bets on who could lay me out first.”
“I envy the purse of whomever wagered you’d get away.” Manuel’s easy smile faltered. “I’ve been more than patient, Ellory. I can’t let you risk yourself further for this…” He gestured at the machine, squatting like a giant brass octopus in the workshop’s center “This… monstrosity.”
“Won’t let me?” Ellory’s neck flashed hot with anger. “You don’t get to let me do anything.”
Manuel pushed his hair back. “The wolf doesn’t like challenge, Ell.”
Ellory’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t swallow. Too far? Too late. He’d waited too long to set these boundaries. “You control the wolf, Manuel. I won’t seek your pe
rmission for my work. And I expect my rules to be followed. I will work on this machine. You will obey me and stay out of it in your wolf form. The last thing I need is precise instruments clogged with fur.”
Manuel rolled his shoulders back. “I obey no one.”
“You’ll obey me.” Ellory held his breath.
Manuel stood still as a waiting hunter. When he dropped his arms and stepped forward, it took all Ellory’s willpower to hold his ground. Manuel only pressed him back into the time machine again. A touch of imp grace his smile before he ran his nose lightly along the underside of Ellory’s jaw. The air burned between them.
“Listen to me, Ellory. The thing smells like you inside. Copper. Brass. Oil.” He licked at Ellory’s neck. “Sweat. That shaving soap your sister gave you last Christmas. The leather of your smock. Iron from your tools you’ve used.” He pulled back, raising his rich brown eyes to Ellory’s. “Months of you working in there, filling it with everything you are. You know I can savor those scents more deeply when I’m wolf.”
“Beautiful words.” Ellory rested his hands at Manuel’s ribs. “I, too, use your scent for comfort when you’re away. Fresh wet grass after rain, a hint of forest, and something deeper. Something dark and shadowed. Do you know where I curl up to indulge in those scents when I’m alone?”
Manuel pressed his brow to Ellory’s. “The woods?”
“No. The bed.” Ellory shoved Manuel back. “I know good and well the bed also smells like me. You want to make this all better with pretty words and your slick tongue. But there were also teeth marks on the bench leather. I saw them from my ungainly position on the transport chamber floor.”
Manuel’s eyebrows winged up in devilry. “It tasted like you?”
“I taste like leather?”
Manuel shrugged, but he didn’t suppress a smile. He’d be a hundred years old one day and still nothing but a pup.
The air cleaner whirred and dinged in the corner. Ellory looked over to see the red indicator lamp flashing. Time to change the filter. But next to it… Well, now.
Ellory strode to the wall and fingered his sharpening strop. He unhooked it, let it sag in the middle, then pulled it tight. Hard.
Crack.
The sound bounced off the walls, changing the game. “We’re going to do things differently this time. My rules are important.”
Manuel snarled and took a step back. Ellory held up a hand. “Stay.”
His heart skipped as Manuel’s growl dropped a pitch. His mate’s teeth lengthened. Ellory screwed up his courage and closed the distance between them.
Still, Manuel stayed.
Crack.
The muscles in Manuel’s shoulders tightened the barest fraction. Ellory circled him. “Of the two of us you’re the strongest. The deadliest. Whatever you want, you take. That won’t work here, pet.”
“Pet?” A shiver crawled up Ellory’s spine at the beast in Manuel’s voice. Just that slip of sound made him hard.
“Control yourself.” Ellory began to sweat. “I’ve spoiled you. Tonight I will rectify that.”
Crack.
Ellory ceased his circling at Manuel’s back. Gripping his mate’s shoulder to keep him in place, Ellory felt muscles ripple beneath his hand. “No, Manuel. No changing.”
Just below the level of human hearing, Manuel’s growl tremored through his body like a plucked bowstring. Ellory lifted the strop and brought it down hard on Manuel’s backside. The low rumble morphed into a whine. Ellory’s cock jumped. He should have spanked his wolf long ago.
Manuel shifted his feet, but Ellory tightened his grip, welcoming the resulting pain in his shoulder. “We’re not done, pet. Where do wolves nap?”
Nothing. Manuel clenched his fists, and his clawed fingers drew blood. A drop hit the floor next to his boot. Ellory came down with the strop again.
“Where do wolves nap, Manuel?”
Again, Manuel’s muscles undulated beneath Ellory’s hand. Ellory held his breath, but Manuel kept control of both his wolf and his tongue.
Ellory lifted the strop and brought it down, even harder this time. Manuel whimpered, and his breath came faster.
“Where?”
“In. The. House.” Manuel ground the words out, distorted by lengthened canines and his barely controlled beast.
“Correct.” Ellory let the strop dangle dangle and stepped closer, skin to skin. “Whose rules do you follow in this workshop?” Ellory ran his hand down Manuel’s arm, feeling the perspiration from his struggle to remain human. When threatened, Manuel’s instinct called him to shift, but he must learn. Ellory wasn’t a threat. He was simply in charge.
Ellory slipped his hand around his lover’s waist, then lower, to find Manuel as hard as himself. He dropped the strop and set his other hand on Manel’s rear cheek. “Whose rules?” he whispered so only wolf ears would hear, following with a bare-handed smack.
Manuel shuddered, jerking forward into Ellory’s hand against his cock. “Yours,” he choked out. “Oh, God in heaven, yours.”
Ellory spun Manuel to face him and took his mouth hard enough to bruise. “Mine. And I’m far from done with you, pet. Far from done.”
Author Bio
Taming the Wolf is both my first published work and my first spanking fiction, both of which are quite exciting. I’m a student of philosophy, linguistics, and computer science, who spends long evenings debating the ethics of human-tech biological integration with my remarkable sentient household appliances. In real life, I have a day job developing video games, and I write “steamy” steampunk adventure with my co-author Rose Hunt. I’m pretty sure this is the best life ever.
Get a taste of our Steampunk at www.gaslightfantasy.com
On my own, I indulge in flash fiction of any genre at www.flashinganne.com
Got Twitter? Give a follow: @AFOdom
Replicated Consequences
By
Jessica E. Subject
Darryl sank into his chair, form-fitted by age. With his foot, he brushed the papers and dishes on the ottoman to the floor. He winced at the crash, but had little motivation to clean it up or do anything. Stretching out his legs, he rested them atop the cleared surface and closed his eyes. Opening them meant he would see her again, dressed in her pressed and polished uniform or naked with him in bed. But the memories of Beth simply fucked with his head. She was gone forever. Nothing he said or did would ever bring her back.
He cringed at the abrupt stabbing pain in his chest. No one said living with a broken heart was easy. He’d known the risks of dating her, but his awareness did nothing to prepare him for the agony of losing her.
Though a military woman marrying a civilian remained a rare occurrence at Beth’s base, they’d celebrated their seventh anniversary four months ago, right before she deployed for the last time.
A knock interrupted his memories. Darryl flicked his eyes open and stared at the door. Perspiration beaded his skin. The last time someone had knocked—most rang the doorbell—bad news had followed. Two weeks ago. And he’d holed up inside ever since, only emerging for Beth’s funeral.
He set his feet on the floor before walking on wobbly legs toward the entrance. What dark tidings would he receive?
Palms slick from sweat, he turned the knob. Catching sight of the two people on his stoop, he stepped back with a startled gasp. No way the people standing in front of him existed. He had to be dreaming.
The man in full military dress gave him a quick nod. “Mr. Malloy?”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you.” The man touched the woman’s back, ushering her forward. “She’s all yours. Take care of her.”
She? His? But.... Beth had died. He’d watched her body lowered into the ground, received the country’s flag. No way could his wife be standing there. “There must be some mistake. Beth died.”
Strolling down the walkway, the man paused and gla
nced back at him. “That’s not Sergeant Malloy. It’s her clone.”
Hardly an it. Rather a copy of his wife. Darryl griped the doorjamb. His mind spun. Human cloning had just become public knowledge. And those created remained the property of the military. “Shouldn’t she be in a lab somewhere? Or training for a mission?”
The man, at his parked Humvee, shook his head. “We had special instructions to bring her here should anything happen to the sergeant.”
Darryl rubbed the back of his neck, studying the woman in his care. While she resembled his late wife in every way, from her tight bun to her sexy pout, he had no idea what to do with her. “So, you’re a clone?”
She tilted her head, pointing to the raised ring of skin on her long, creamy-white neck.
Darryl groaned, fighting the urge to lick her skin from her collarbone to the scar remaining from the removal of her information portal. She wasn’t his wife, but that didn’t matter to his libido. He craved her the same.
Not once had he strayed from his commitment to Beth. And when she’d arrived home after months away, they hadn’t wasted any time reuniting . Even though he knew the clone wasn’t his wife, his hormones raced.
With a brief smile, she glanced inside. “May I come in?”
In? To live with him? Taking Beth’s place in bed? He could turn his studio into a second bedroom, but hadn’t expected to have another person to worry about. At least not for some time. “I...I don’t even know your name.”
“I am B17.” She leaned close. Her uniform covered breasts pressed against him. “But Beth always called me Bryn.”
He sucked air through his teeth, and imagined lifting her by her ass to carry her straight to bed. He recognized the name, remembered Beth talking about her as if her best friend. Now he knew why his wife had never invited her over.
Clinging to his last ounces of control, he stepped aside and followed the sway of her curved ass. But she didn’t tread very far, stopping inside the foyer.
