An American Wereslut In London
Seeking revenge for all the pain and misery Thom has wrought, Bryce travels to London in search of a method to break his curse. He’s heard tell of a witch who can turn him from a wereslut into a normal man again, and he’s only too eager to take back his life.
But the witch is just one part of removing the spell. The other is seducing the wereslut who turned him in the first place. And that means he’ll have to sleep with Thom.
Thankfully, a magical amulet in the witch’s possession will allow Bryce to turn into Brittney without the aid of the full moon. Can he trust her to go down without a fight? Will he find freedom, or more misery, in Thom’s arms?
Can the curse of the wereslut truly be broken, and in the end, will Bryce even want to?
An American Wereslut In London
(‘Curse Of The Wereslut’ Book 3 of 3)
Nora Nix and Meghan Archer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All participants in these fictitious events are consenting, non-related adults over the age of eighteen.
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2015 True Desire Publishing
All rights reserved.
Do You Like to Stay In The Know?
For all of my lovely readers, my entire catalog is totally FREE TO READ to anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription!
Be sure to check out my entire naughty Meghan Archer catalog by clicking RIGHT HERE!
Do you have KINDLE UNLIMITED? Do you LOVE the kind of stories that will leave you needing a cold shower or time with someone special between the sheets? Want to get your hands on ALL the hottest Meghan Archer new releases FOR FREE with your Kindle Unlimited subscription? Sign up for THE MEGHAN ARCHER LOVELY LIST!
Sign up for the MEGHAN ARCHER LOVELY LIST by clicking RIGHT HERE!
Renowned bestselling authors Nora Nix and Meghan Archer are back with a STEAMY Paranormal Gender-Swap Romance series!
ALL THREE PARTS OF THE WERESLUT TRILOGY ARE AVAILABLE RIGHT NOW!
Book 1: Curse Of The Wereslut
Book 2: Revenge Of The Wereslut
Book 3: An American Wereslut In London
An American Wereslut In London
The woman’s warm, silky skin felt like butter as she undulated beneath Brittney’s eager ministrations. She couldn’t rightly remember the woman’s name, but in her situation, names meant less than what the woman in question could offer the voracious wereslut—a warm pussy and the promise of an earth-shattering orgasm.
“Oh, fuck!” the girl cried out, biting on her bottom lip as she felt the wereslut slipping yet another finger into the folds of her velvety cunt. Brittney cooed in satisfaction as she felt the warmth of her latest victim’s tight, wet sex clamping around her fingers. “Oh, my God!”
“That’s a good girl,” Brittney said with a purr, her breath catching as her other hand teased at the throbbing nub of her own clit. “Such a tight little pussy.”
“My boyfriend’s never made me feel this way,” the girl moaned, looking up into Brittney’s eyes as her hips bucked against the wereslut’s darting fingers.
“Maybe it’s time you traded him in for something a little more experienced with a pussy,” the horny shapeshifter said, smirking as her fingers began to tap a steady beat on her one-night stand. “Women know their way around a cunt in ways men never can.”
“Yes!” the girl cried, her back arching as she felt the swelling tide of her orgasm barreling toward her. “Fuck, yes!”
“That’s it,” Brittney urged, biting her lip in anticipation.
“Oh, God!” she squealed, throwing her head back before her body went almost entirely limp. Her eyes opened, staring blankly up at the ceiling as she began to speak in an oddly loud and neutral tone.
“Attention, passengers: we are beginning our descent into London International Airport. The captain his turned on the ‘fasten seatbelts’ sign and asks that you remain seated. Welcome to London, England. We hope you enjoy your stay, and thank you for flying with us.”
Bryce’s eyes shot open as the plane began to jostle. He blinked the sleep away and turned to look over the passenger to his right, hoping to catch a glimpse of London has they glided toward the Earth. It took him a moment to notice the odd stare that he was getting from his neighbor, signaling that the dream he’d just had was not, in fact, a silent one.
Bryce’s face burned bright red and he turned his gaze back to the seat in front of him. His escapades as his female alter ego had a habit of showing up over and over in his dreams, something that Brittney was surely enjoying. While the two of them were technically the same person, Bryce knew that Brittney very much had a mind of her own, often acting as a nagging voice in the back of his mind, telling him to give in to his more physical desires—especially when it involved sex.
Oh, come on, he felt the familiar, lilting voice echo through his mind, that one was one of my favorites. I always love turning girls to the “dark side.” Bryce sighed as she giggled maniacally.
Bryce made his way out into the terminal after the plane had safely landed, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder as he headed toward the exit. He’d made sure to pack light, with a few spare clothes for himself and a couple of things for Brittney if they ended up staying past the time of the full moon. He felt like he was so close to revenge that he could almost taste it.
A month ago, Bryce had gotten something he’d always wanted: a sexual encounter with his lesbian best friend, Julie. But his perfect night was blemished by his own curse, and the very person who had turned him into the monster that he was now, another wereslut named Tina—or Thom, as he called himself when the moon wasn’t full. The only lead he had was his name and that fact that Thom made his home in London when he wasn’t jetting around the world ruining other peoples’ lives.
A month of research and scouring Facebook had gotten Bryce a vague area that told him just where Thom spent most of his time. By following his “check-ins,” Bryce could tell just were he’d be on any given day of the week. And his hard-spent time poring over any reference to his own condition had led him to a little known part of the city—an odd bazaar hidden in the back alleys of London’s seediest part of town. From what he had gathered, if someone knew how to fix him, he’d find them there.
Do you really want me gone that badly, Bryce? Brittney asked him, her consciousness slithering against his own like a cat brushing against someone’s leg. Bryce shivered, a tightness in his pants creeping in. We have so much fun together. Don’t we, baby?
As much as he wanted to deny it, Bryce’s sex life had never been better since he had become a wereslut. Even the transformations were beginning to lose their agonizing edge and inching toward almost being enjoyable. He had even started to anticipate the almost orgasmic shift as his body smoothed and he went from slightly-average man to buxom, horny wereslut.
“I’ve got to be rid of this forever,” Bryce said as he made his way out of the airport, doing his best to wave down a taxi. To his surprise it took only a moment to find a free cab, but when he told the man the address, he thought the driver might throw him out.
“You crazy, lad? The hell you want to go there for? There’s nothin’ but toughs in that bit’a town. Don’t you want to maybe see the London Eye or Big Ben? Kinda business does a lad like you got in that part of the city?”
“I’ve got someone I need to see about a dog. Are you going to take me, or not?” Bryce asked as he showed the man a fifty-pound no
te.
“Right you are,” the cabbie grumbled as he put the car into gear and headed toward the address Bryce had given him.
After the better part of an hour, the cab trundled down a cobbled street that almost seemed to have been skipped by the march of progress. Dark and dirty street lamps lined the roads, casting muddled haloes against the grimy sidewalks. As he looked out the window, Bryce realized that this wasn’t the address he’d asked for.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing out into the gloomy mist beyond. Something strange hung over this place, an odd miasma that permeated every inch of the world beyond the window.
“I’m not goin’ no farther, sir. Your destination’s just down that street there, but you’ll not catch me down those alleyways no matter how high the sun is,” the cabbie said, clicking the switch at his console that ordered the doors to unlock. “You can leave my cab now, if you don’t mind.”
Bryce got the feeling he didn’t have much of a choice. Reluctantly, he pushed the door wide open and pulled himself and his scant luggage out into the street. Before he could turn to say something scathing to the spooked driver, the door had already closed and the man was making a hasty three-point turn, heading away from the creeping fog that told Bryce he was exactly where he needed to be.
“Great,” he sighed. Then he hefted his backpack over his shoulder and marched deeper into the mists.
The walk felt as though it went on forever, the steady cadence of his footfalls filling his ears as the silhouettes of buildings passed him by just far enough away to be nothing more than hazy, hulking shadows. He’d begun to tell himself to turn back, to turn and run toward the light.
But Bryce didn’t have that option anymore. The only choice he had left was to keep walking down deeper into the darkness and closer to what he could only hope was an end to his curse. The fog swirled, pulling at him with icy fingers that left damp trails across his cheek. Even though he’d been walking in a straight line, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lost.
That was when he heard it. The second his mind questioned whether it knew the way back or forward, a sound drifted from the mists—the sound of laughter.
It wasn’t a warm kind of laughter, but instead a strange, cackling that sent a stab of fear through him, seizing at his gut and tightening his insides. He didn’t think he want to meet the person that laugh belonged to.
More sounds slowly floated toward him from the fog: arguing, shouting, more laughter. It went from the faintest whisper to a roaring cacophony, drowning out his own thoughts as shapes grew within the mist. Dark shadows appeared before him that grew startlingly clearer the closer Bryce got. When the fog dissipated and everything around him was clear, he knew that had found the right place.
Men and women in dark clothes huddled around makeshift stalls set up along the street. Vendors of only the most sinister variety occupied what seemed little better than lean-tos in most cases, save for a few sturdy, wooden structures with the most gruesome of oddities hanging like prizes at a carnival.
As he walked past, Bryce saw the most alluring woman hanging from windows, beckoning him to come join her upstairs. Brittney stirred inside of him at the thought
Come on, Bryce. We could have a little fun, Brittney cooed. They look so yummy.
“Not now,” Bryce grumbled, glancing furtively at the addresses of the houses and storefronts they passed in the unnatural twilight of the marketplace.
“Lookin’ fer somefin?” a gruff voice asked from an alleyway.
Bryce turned just in time to see a hulking creature rise up in the darkness, the smell of its breath rolling over him in waves of nausea-inducing stink.
“N-No, I—” he started to say, covering his mouth and nose to stave off being overwhelmed by the thing’s breath. “I’m trying to find 1881 Druid Drive,” he finally managed to choke out, taking a step back from the creature in the hope of some relief.
“The witch’s house,” the monster rumbled, disapproving. “Two doors down, boy. Be careful what you bargain with.”
Without another word, the monster slunk back deeper into the alleyway, a woeful grunt accompanying each of its massive footfalls. Bryce couldn’t help but hear its last words echoing in his mind.
Be careful what you bargain with.
Two doors down, Bryce found the house he was looking for, just like the monster had promised. But when he saw the door, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out who lived inside.
The paint was peeling with dark stains smeared across the front in a pattern that hurt Bryce’s head just to look at. Something inside of him told him to run, remembering once again the monster’s words. This was a witch’s house.
Images of disgusting old crones with pulsating boils and green skin filled his mind. He couldn’t understand his fear, or why all of a sudden his curse seemed a small price to pay if it meant never setting foot in that house. He knew that he had to leave, to run away and learn to deal with his monthly transformations into an insatiable nymphomaniac.
But then the door began to open, and suddenly Bryce couldn’t think at all.
Standing in front of him was not the grotesque creature he expected, but instead a woman the likes of which he’d never seen. Her skin was the color of cocoa and she had long, black hair that came down to the point where her ass met her thighs. Her lips were painted black and he eyes sparkled like rubies in the dimness of the street outside.
“Hello there, sweet boy,” she cooed in an accent he couldn’t identify. “Come for business, or something more delightful?”
“I…” Bryce began, struck dumb by not only her beauty, but the fact that she was completely naked in front of him and for all the people in the street beyond to see. He stared at her pert breasts and dark nipples as they came to attention under his gaze.
“Maybe a little bit of both?” she said with a sly grin before moving aside. “Come in then, little wereslut.”
Before he even understood what he was doing, Bryce had made his way inside and the door had shut behind him.
“You know what I am?” he managed to blurt out.
“Plain as day, I can spot a horny little shapeshifter a mile away,” the witch chuckled as she turned down the tiny foyer and deeper into the darkness of her home. “Come with me.”
Bryce followed, unsure of what he would find, but unable to keep his eyes off of the roundness of her tight backside as it swayed with each step.
“I’m guessing you’re wanting a cure,” she said as she led him into a room filled with warm firelight. “They always want a cure, until they realize how much fun you can have when you’re a horny skank once a month.”
The witch let out a soft chuckle as she motioned for Bryce to sit down on one of her over-stuffed couches.
“I don’t want to be this way,” Bryce said, sitting though he never remembered wanting to. “There’s someone—”
“True love?” the witch asked, a grin spreading over her full succulent lips.
“I think so,” Bryce said, unsure whether he liked the way the naked witch was looking at him. “I’ve always felt this way about her.”
“And what price would you pay, sweet boy? What will you give me for this cure to your little curse?” The witch sauntered closer, biting her lip as she looked down into his eyes.
“I—I don’t…” Bryce stammered, all too aware of how close and how naked she was. His eyes lingered on her bare, glistening pussy, wet and ready for him.
“Anything,” Bryce said, his eyes turning back up to meet her own. “I’ll give you anything you want if you help me break this curse.”
“Your seed is my price, little wereslut,” the witch whispered. “How I get it, I’ll leave up to you.”
“My what?” Bryce asked, his eyes wide.
“You seed. Your essence,” the witch explained, “I want you to give me your cum, my sweet little wereslut.”
“Why?” Bryce asked, though he could feel Brittney’s mind brushing over his own,
filling him with thoughts of the witch bent over her own armchair, his cock buried deep inside the pink depths of her tight, chocolate body.
His cock began to stiffen as his alter-ego bombarded him with encouragement to ravage the witch right then and there.
“Whatever I choose?” he asked, biting his lip as he began to give in to Brittney’s influence.
“I’m not picky about how I get it,” the witch said with a smirk.
Without another word Bryce undid his fly, working his jeans from around his hips until his cock was free in the warm air of the witch’s sitting room.
“Oh,” she gasped in appreciation, biting harder on her lip as she knelt down to run her fingers along Bryce’s shaft. “I always like it when they’re nice and thick.”
Bryce couldn’t help but grin, the sweltering waves of Brittney’s influence over him taking hold and drowning his better judgement beneath the tide of his own lust.
An American Wereslut In London Page 1
