by Angela Foxxe
He pulled her skirt up to her waist. Monique broke her mouth away for his for a second to look down and pull his fly open. His massive cock sprang loose and pushed against her pussy. She guided the tip against her slit.
“Oh god, fuck me, do it now!”
He grunted as he slid the head of his dick into her. Monique clawed at his back.
She screamed as she fell over backward. The room was empty. Monique lay on the floor for a few minutes, desperate to collect her thoughts. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t think. Carver told her about pheromones, but she never imagined they would be like this. What she needed was to get as far away from that man as she could. But she couldn’t leave Kirk. The cabin on the north face, the one they sent the kid to for the winter… she could go there.
Monique leaped up and began packing. There was no time to lose. If she stayed she would cheat on Carver, and that wasn’t something she wanted to take a chance with. A knock on the door interrupted her. She took a deep breath praying it wasn’t Paul.
“Come in,” she said from behind her bed.
“Mom, can I ask you something?” It was Kirk, his human form looked like the definition of a teenager. Shaggy brown hair, hands in his pockets, and clothes one size too big. It hid the taut young man underneath it. Like all wolves, Kirk’s physique matched that of a professional athlete, in his case, he looked like a runner.
“Sure, baby, it’s good to see you made the switch. If I had to guess, it’s because of a certain blonde, isn’t it?” she asked.
Kirk blushed as he shut the door behind him. He sat in the corner chair, slumped down with his legs stretched out.
“I didn’t think it would be this hard, you know? I understood everything about life for a long time now. Growing up as a wolf has its advantages but… god, Mom, I can’t breathe when I’m around her.”
Monique smiled at him. Her heart beat with joy and love for her adopted son. Each time he called her ‘Mom’ made her want to leap for joy. She slipped on a pair of cargo pants under her long skirt then discarded the skirt. Next she pulled a turtle neck sweater over her head.
“You going on a trip?” Kirk asked.
“Listen honey, I say go where your heart is. From my experience, your wolf instincts know what’s best for you,” she said while she pulled on her hiking boots.
“Mom, you can’t leave, this guy Paul is out of Dad’s league, he needs you to help him.”
At the mention of his name, her cheeks burned red. She turned away from her son, but there was no hiding her emotions from a wolf. It was only a matter of time until Carver figured it out.
“Oh… Mom… What are you going to do?”
“Obviously, I’m running. I’m not a wolf, Kirk, how long can I resist?”
Kirk ran his hands through his hair. She could see the interplay on his face. He was thinking about it, scanning through his knowledge of wolf behavior, and she could see him come to the same conclusion.
“A day, maybe two.” He sighed.
“I’ve seen it happen a dozen times here at the resort. Men, women, they come up here, and they’re lonely, they meet one of our pack, and…” She slapped her hands together. “I just thought if you were already in love, it would protect you,” she said. She sniffed. Crying wouldn’t help her, but she felt it coming on. Kirk put his arm around her and squeezed.
“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”
Monique smiled and ran her hands through his hair. He was a little taller than her now, which made it weird for him to stand next to her. She wasn’t exactly short.
“You didn’t choose this, and neither did I. None of that changes anything regardless. I have to go.”
“You have to stay until tomorrow, Mom. By then, things will calm down and Paul will be on our side,” he said.
Monique held him out to arm’s length. She studied his face, trying to figure out what was going on behind his gray eyes.
“How can you be sure? And how do I fight this?”
“Well, let’s just say things have a way of working themselves out. Trust me, after tomorrow you can still leave, but you may not have to.”
*
Portia had her own room, which pleased her. The last thing she needed was her father’s advice on what to wear for dinner. The bad news, for her, was that she hadn’t planned for a nice weekend. The sexiest thing she brought were her under garments, and she couldn’t exactly go to dinner with the entire pack wearing a red satin bra and a black thong. Her jeans were too casual, her shirts too frumpy; she tossed her suitcase against the wall. The mirror in the corner mocked her. At five-foot-nine she was considered tall, with a taut stomach from her daily swimming, and large breasts that came naturally; she was a knock out, and she knew it. But without the right clothes…
Kirk’s mom! She wasn’t exactly the same height as Portia, but close enough, surely she could spare something. She grabbed her robe, threw it on around her, and charged out the door. Her determination erased her uncertainty of not knowing where to go. After a few minutes of knocking on people’s doors, she found the right one.
Kirk opened the door. Portia’s heart nearly exploded as it beat in her ears. Everything went fuzzy and indistinct.
“Kirk, who is it?” Monique’s voice came from the room beyond.
“It’s Portia,” he said, his own voice breaking in mid-sentence.
It cleared her head. She broke a smile, he returned it. They sat there smiling awkwardly at each other for a few seconds before Monique opened the door the rest of the way.
“Go,” the older black woman said to her son, “get ready for dinner.”
Portia unconsciously pushed against him as he brushed past her. She bit her lip to suppress a little cry. When she looked back to the door, Monique stood there staring at her.
“I see,” she said to her.
“It’s not what you think.” Portia started to defend herself.
Monique held up her hands. “Stop, I’m fully in favor of you two, now why are you here? In a bath robe no less?”
Portia looked down, her mind catching up with her. Kirk saw me in a robe… Her hands flew to her face, she wore no makeup. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her hair wasn’t done either.
Suddenly she was sobbing, and pointing, trying to make Monique understand the monumental catastrophe her life had just undergone. The woman put her hands on her shoulders and guided her in.
“It’s okay, honey, he was too startled to see you, trust me.”
*
The main hall was unrecognizable. Converted to a dining room by the staff, the tables were covered in silky cloth and artfully carved wooden chairs. For this dinner, Carver brought in a catering company (approved by the body guards) so that his pack could enjoy the special occasion. The sweet scent of roasted pork filled the hall. An entire wild boar lay slow roasting over a spit in the middle. A long buffet table ran the length, covered in meat, cheeses of all flavors, and fresh fruits and vegetables fried in olive oil. At the head of the table sat Carver, to his right, Monique. Opposite her sat the guest of honor, Paul, to his left was Portia, opposite Kirk.
Monique let out a quiet sigh as Carver stood to give a short speech. He had a gift for speaking, but she couldn’t focus on it. Helping Portia get ready took her mind off her own problems, and she had to admit, it was fun having some girl time with her. Portia’s natural good looks made it easy. Monique put her hair in an empire braid, dressed her in a blue, backless dress that never looked good on Monique, but it looked like it belonged on Portia. The soft swell of her breasts filled out the front, while giving her a hint of womanhood. The leggy blonde did the rest with her deft touch at makeup. She wore a dark red lipstick with just a hint of eye shadow, and finished off by splashing her face with a touch of glitter.
When every man in the room’s mouth dropped open, Monique considered her a success. Her own dress was far more modest, and classically black, which wasn’t what she normally wore. But she was trying to downplay herself, and let
Portia be the center of attention. She briefly considered not even coming, but with such an effort put forward by Carver, she had to.
Applause brought her attention back to the present. Paul’s blue eyes gazed at her from across the table. She blushed and looked away. Desperate for her hands to do something, she grabbed her champagne and took a long pull.
“I’d like to thank the senator for taking the time to review our home, and I hope he finds it in his heart to vote against taking it away from us!” More applause. Monique lifted her glass with everyone else, but it was empty.
One of the servers quietly made his way to her and refilled it.
The dining room filled with the quiet roar of conversation. Monique sipped her champagne, and tried to focus on anything but Paul. Carver’s hand touched her thigh and she sighed. He was conversing with one of the senator’s aides, but his fingers made small circles on her thigh. Inch by inch he pulled the hem of her dress up until his fingers touched naked skin.
“What are you doing?” she whispered into his ear.
“Distracting you, and reminding you,” he said back.
He knows? Of course he knows, he can smell me. God what must he think?
“Monique, your husband tells me you’re quite the outdoors woman, how did that come to be?”
She turned her head to Carver, her mouth open to answer and the words came out before she could stop them. “He’s not my husband.” She didn’t mean it that way, they hadn’t formally gotten married, or even talked about it. The bond they shared seemed stronger than that.
The smirk on Paul’s face sent heat to hers. The temperature in the room shot up sharply. She downed her drink and held it out for another one. Carver’s hand disappeared from her thigh, and he turned slightly away from her. She shot Paul a glare. He tipped his glass to her in return.
***
Portia glared at her father. She wasn’t the most observant person but she could tell Monique and Carver were in love, why was her father digging at her like that? Well, if he doesn’t like him, he’s going to hate me dating his son. The delicious thought made her lips split into a slow smile. She ran one hand down the side of her dress, accentuating the swell of her breasts, her heart raced as Kirk’s eyes followed her every move. She could look at him forever.
She took a drink of the apple juice, she wasn’t allowed wine, and smiled at Monique. The woman smiled back, somewhat haggardly. She doesn’t look like she’s having a good time. Portia picked up her glass and spilled it on her dress. The juice soaked right through rendering the material somewhat translucent. Kirk gagged on his food as her nipples became crystal clear.
“Oh dear,” she said with an exaggerated tone, “look what I’ve done. Daddy, I’m afraid I have to go change.”
Paul didn’t take his eyes of Monique when he waved to her in response.
“Monique, would you help me?”
“Of course, dear.”
“Now, I don’t think...” her dad said as he turned to look at her. His face immediately burned red as he glimpsed his daughters navel. “Yes of course, go make yourself decent,” he muttered. Portia winked to Kirk as Monique held her arm to walk her out.
Once they were outside she whispered to her, “I’m sorry my dad is being such an ass. He has this way with women, and… well…” Portia let it trail off.
“It’s not your fault, and to be honest, it’s not entirely his either.”
“My mom didn’t seem to think that, it’s why she left him. He always seemed to have a girl on the side, commitment be dammed.” Portia loved her dad, but there were things about him that drove her crazy.
“Have you ever heard the story of the scorpion and the fox?” Monique asked her as they made their way outside. It was very cold in the mountains and her wet dress instantly flattened against her chest. The sudden cold material made her gasp for breath.
“Wow, cold. No, I haven’t heard of it.”
Monique hurried them to the second floor of residence. One inside the room, she turned up the heat while Portia stripped out of her dress.
“Once upon a time,” she smiled at the girl, “a scorpion was trying to cross a river. He couldn’t swim, and there was no spot to cross. Along came a fox,” she continued, helping Portia out of her dress and giving her a towel to dry off, “and the scorpion asked him if he could ride across on his back.”
“Well, that’s just dumb, the scorpion would sting him,” Portia interjected. From Monique’s smile she gathered she guessed the ending.
“Wanting to help, the fox agreed. On the condition that the scorpion promised not to sting him. The scorpion agreed.”
Dried off, Portia pulled on a thin pink sweater.
“The scorpion climbed on the fox’s back and they swam across. Halfway there, the scorpion stung him. As the fox started to drown he asked, ‘Why did you do it? Now we’ll both die!' The scorpion responded, ‘It’s my nature.’”
Portia pondered it for a moment. “You’re saying my dad can’t help being a misogynistic asshole?”
Monique laughed. “Well, maybe he can, but it’s his nature. He’s a wolf, he hunts, he dominates, and there are women,” she couldn’t help but blush, “who find that irresistible.”
CHAPTER 15
The rest of the dinner passed by in a blur after Portia left. The food on Kirk’s plate tasted bland, the drink like water. In his mind, he pictured Portia next to him, smiling, laughing, eyes begging him to come to her. It was all he could do to not run away right that instant.
“What do you think of the use of the land?”
His father’s voice drifted across the table. A moment of silence followed and he realized both men were looking at him. It was an old argument, and he picked up on most of it. There were groups who felt that people had no business being in the mountains, and there were groups who wanted to exploit the mountains.
“Animals and trees are a renewable resource if the caretakers are responsible about how they handle them. Our guides direct hunters so that they don’t take strong mothers or endanger the predators or grazers. We work hard alongside the forest service to make sure we keep our numbers in check. While nature can certainly balance herself, we feel that we’re helping the local wildlife stay vibrant and energetic. Considering the number of elk on the mountain stands at over two hundred where it was less than a hundred before, I’d say were doing a good job.” He took a long pull from his apple juice after he spoke. He looked to the door in hopes that Portia was back, but there was still no sign of her.
Paul coughed, then chuckled, followed by his father.
“That’s quite the young man you have there Carver,” Paul said.
“He certainly pays attention, even when you don’t think he is.”
“If you’ll excuse me, dad, I’m going to… uh,” he was going to say ‘check on Portia’ but realized he couldn’t say that, “make sure Mom has everything she needs.”
He nodded to both men as he left. The dull roar of the dining room faded behind him as he headed upstairs to his room. Empty. One of the waiters walked by him and he caught a scent of fear on the man. He turned to follow when Monique came up behind him.
“Kirk, is everything okay?”
“Yes, I was just… uh,” his face blushed.
She smiled. “I left her in the guest quarters; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you stopping by.”
Kirk kissed her offered cheek before taking the steps down two at a time, the smell of fear on the caterer forgotten. He restrained himself from running, tension building in him with each step. What would he say to her? How could he explain the way he felt? Technically, he had only been a man for a few days, but his heart burst with love for her. With each step closer to the guest quarters, he felt that his chest would explode. At the top of the stairs her door opened. She was leaving for something. Or someone. His heart fell.
She wore her hair up, with little blonde trails falling down the side of her face. Her feet were all that was visible under a white
robe she swaddled herself in.
“Kirk,” she squeaked, “what are you doing here?”
He struggled for words; how could he explain his presence? Did he even know?
“Uhm, I wanted to see you,” he said lamely, his face heated with each word, “but if you’re seeing someone else I’ll go.” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning toward the stairs letting each footfall land like a drum at a funeral.
A hand pulled at his shoulder, he shrugged it off, anger building in him.
“Kirk, you idiot, I was coming to see you,” she said behind him.
He spun around. “Really? You like me?” he asked, hating the way he sounded so eager.
“Come into my room and I’ll show you,” she said as she turned. She let the robe fall open and he caught a glimpse of her creamy white skin underneath it.
Heat rolled out of the room as he entered. The guest rooms were not huge, but large enough for a double bed, dresser, and a stand with a flat screen TV. Portia twirled to face him, letting the robe slide off her shoulders as she did so. Each inch revealed creamy white skin; it slipped over her melon sized breasts, resting for a moment on her nipples before falling to the floor.
Kirk gulped, unable to take his eyes off of her gorgeous body.
“Are you going to stand there, or do something about it?”
He pulled off his shirt revealing his hard six-pack and taut muscles that his oversized clothes hid.
“Wow,” she whispered. He pulled her close to him; she smelled of jasmine and vanilla. He buried his face in her neck, his tongue exploring the curve to her ear. She gasped as his hands roamed down to her ass. She moaned as he traced her jaw to her lips and kissed her deeply. Their hot tongues mingled and fought as they explored each other’s mouths. He walked with her to the wall, never leaving her mouth with his. Bracing her, he lifted her up and she hooked her ankles behind his back. He could feel his erection pressing against her sensitive areas through his pants.
