by Briar, Robin
A growl erupts from his throat, slow and continuous. Mason rubs his face against my stomach and nips at the flesh, marking me with his scent again.
His hands reach up behind me, almost to my shoulders, and then trace my spine downward. His touch is light, barely in contact with the skin, teasing me. They pass over my backside, the whisper of a touch, until he reaches the back of my knees. The sensitive flesh that’s always soft.
My knees buckle and I fall into his lap.
I can feel his arousal bookending me, rising up behind my backside. Making sure I can’t get away. He grabs both cheeks and takes my weight. I must feel like a sheet of paper to him today.
He circles my hips, grinding my nub against his stomach muscles. I reach behind my back, grab his girth in one hand, and caress him. He throbs easily at my touch. I lean back and stretch further down to cup his sac, already pulled tight against his body.
I loosen my grip and grab it again, over and over, clenching my fingers harder each time. Now I’m teasing Mason, seeing how much he can take. He’ll have none of it.
Mason grabs me by the waist, lifts me high, and then lowers me down around him. I spread open for him eagerly. The look on his face is like coming home. This is where he belongs, after all. I missed having him inside me more than I realized. I think Mason feels the same way.
How could I have ever let him go over what feels like a trivial matter to me now? A little abstinence was all I needed to realign my thoughts.
The memory of Mason that I’ve nursed and the reality of his body quickly overlap. The reality, however, is better than I remembered. We haven’t had sex in I don’t know how many days, so I’m snug again, just like our first time.
Mason is good to his word. He gently lifts and lowers me on his pillar, controlling our tempo. I may as well be riding a carousel horse for all the work I’m doing. I can tell he doesn’t mind. I think we both needed this, to know that we didn’t dream each other, that we didn’t imagine how good this felt.
This man is even more amazing than all of my recollections, but I need to give back now. I can’t coast forever.
I stretch upward with both arms above my head, elongating my body for him. Assuming the posture of his curve inside me. I’m confident Mason will brace me, and he does. Then, just as my stretch comes to an end, I drop my hands onto his shoulders and lean back, taking a more active role.
My eyes lock on him, able and determined. This will take everything out of me, but I’m okay with that. Resolved. I choke up on Mason between my legs and take him deeper into my well, savoring his girth. Mason is quick to adjust, matching my pace, and times his thrusts to coincide with me crashing against him. Gives me the resistance I want.
My heart is already racing at the effort. It won’t calm down anytime soon, not that Mason keeps me waiting. I feel him stiffen between my legs, the moment before his release. The swelling before the onslaught, which I know all too well. I’m right there with him.
The warmth spreads through my body like a flash sweat. I’m being draw into Mason’s gathering storm. The two of us are ready to pour out of ourselves after being separated for days. The whirlwind of his pleasure becomes my own.
A part of me doubted I could get here, tired as I am. I would have been ecstatic just to be here for him. I should have known better.
Mason jolts out of himself, setting me off like chained lightning. My scream is one part exhaustion, one part relief, but if I think that’s all my orgasm has in store for me, I’m mistaken.
The vision descends on me without ceremony. The grass, river, and trees disappear beneath me as I soar high above it all. I’m outside my body again, looking down at Mason and I in among the trees. I can still see our bodies, but we’re so tiny down there on the ground.
The perspective changes, shifts toward the horizon, and then, without warning, telescopes across land and sea. I’m being transported far away. The speed is incredible. My vision has never been this vivid before.
I’m flying over cities and towns in the blink of an eye. The perspective pitches toward the earth as I approach a mountain. My speed slows, but I’m passing through trees now, moving closer to the surface, until I see the opening of a cave.
It’s pitch black, but that doesn’t stop me from exploring inside. I enter what I realize is a burrow, twisting and turning through underground tunnels. That’s when the vision finally comes to a complete stop.
There’s a presence in front of me. I can feel the enormity of it, a musk so oppressive I can barely breathe. My eyes adjust the dark. There’s a wolf in here with me, curled up and sleeping. It’s massive. I don’t want it to notice me, but what I want can be damned, apparently.
The head of the creature lifts up, and it smells the air, turning to look in my direction. Two glowing eyes fix on me. Red and vicious. They see me. How can they see me? Am I actually here? Or is this part of the vision? I can’t tell anymore. The creature has my scent. There’s no hope for me now.
That’s when I see her. A body nestled into the chest of this monstrous wolf, draped around his neck. A human woman. Naked and peacefully content. She’s the reason I’m here. This is what my vision wanted to see.
There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it. Not at first. Then I see it. The similarities. The shared traits.
It’s Mason’s twin. It’s Sylvia.
4. A Flight of Fancy
I must have passed out on Mason, because when I regain my senses, he’s hovering over me with concern in his eyes. My mouth moves before I know what it’s going to say.
“How did Sylvia scare off the werewolf that bit you?”
Mason is stymied by my question. It did come out of nowhere.
“Are you okay, Jess? You fainted.”
I sit up. Mason helps me.
“I’m fine, just a little lightheaded.”
Mason shakes his head.
“This was a bad idea. I should have taken you home the moment I changed back. I never should have let myself get carried away. I just wanted to be with you so much.”
I reach up and touch Mason’s face, hoping to calm him.
“I’m glad you got carried away. That’s exactly what I wanted as well. Besides, I’m perfectly all right.”
I smile, but truthfully I’m exhausted.
“Maybe I should start playing hard to get if I’m that easy,” Mason says.
“I’m glad you were that easy. I missed you too much. You might have been able to wait, but I couldn’t.”
That part is true. Mason adjusts the hair off my face.
“Then what happened just now? You were there one moment and gone the next. The berries might have helped, but they couldn’t have been enough. You must be starving.”
“I’m sure that’s all it is,” I say, trying to put Mason at ease.
“You asked me how Sylvia scared off the werewolf that bit me, the moment you woke up. Where did that come from?”
“It popped into my head. Random thought. Probably just a detail rolling around in my head since you told me your story.”
I leave the question open. Wait to see if he’ll address it or deflect the subject. He must sense my interest.
“I was seriously out of it, Jess, but I remember how upset she got, swinging a branch at a werewolf. She could have run, but didn’t. She protected me.”
“Did Sylvia ever talk about it afterward?”
“Not really, beyond saying that it was a blur for her as well. I’ve never seen her like that. Totally unhinged. Sylvia didn’t have a chance against that creature, but she stood her ground and defended me. I’ll always remember that.”
I nod, taking it all in. My vision of Sylvia with a red-eyed wolf is a confusing one. I still don’t know what to make of it. Definitely worth pondering more, but not now.
“Pay me no mind. I was just wondering. Like I said, some thoughts pop into my mind out of nowhere. Take me home? I could really use a proper meal, and a shower.”
&
nbsp; “Let me fetch your clothes.”
Mason does. Not only that, but he dresses me as well. I feel like a rag doll, but I like how he takes care of me. For all his feral behavior, I missed his gentleness too.
“What are we going to do about your clothes?” I ask.
“My car is nearby. I keep a spare set in the trunk.”
“Of course. This wouldn’t be your first time in the wild.”
He slips his arms under my body and picks me up off the ground. It makes me feel like wounded bird cupped in his hands.
Mason is actually parked quite a ways off for what I consider nearby. Despite the length of time we spend walking, he doesn’t strain once with my weight. I feel safe in his arms. So much that I could almost fall asleep.
I must have dozed off, because I wake up in the front seat of his car. It’s an old Mustang with leather interior. I remember the year, 1969, for obvious reasons. Mason is already driving when my eyes open.
I sit up and look around groggily, trying to get my bearings. I recognize the back road he’s driving along. We’re almost back at my place.
“How long was I out?”
“Not long.”
“I’ve never been in your car before,” I say, as the realization dawns on me.
“This car and I have put in a lot of mileage together,” Mason says matter-of-factly.
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then stops, and keeps looking at the road instead. I touch his arm lightly with my fingertips. He glances at my hand, then back at the road.
I want him to tell me whatever it is that makes him sad, but when he’s ready. As usual, that turns out to be sooner rather than later.
“I was a few states away when I turned around and drove back here. I couldn’t keep going, but that awareness hit me like a hammer. I knew where I had to be suddenly. I’ve never felt anything with such clarity before. I spun Fancy around and floored it back here. I don’t think her wheels actually touched the ground after that. What had taken me days to drive I covered in a fraction of that time. I slept once in the car. Pulled over, fell asleep, woke up, and then kept going. My one and only thought was of you. To be with you again. I retraced my route all the way back here.”
I look at Mason in astonishment.
He went through all the motions that Sylvia warned me about. He fled at the first sign of trouble, just like she said he would. The moment he felt like our relationship might have soured, he bolted. No hesitation. No looking back.
It didn’t matter whether the problem was real or imagined. He just left. Except he didn’t keep going this time. He stopped himself. Mason faced his fear and chose me instead of his old habits.
The realization sinks in all at once, but even so, it’s still not the first thing that comes out of my mouth.
“You named your car Fancy?”
Mason smirks.
“Yes, I named my car Fancy, because that’s what she is. Fancy. Have you ever seen a more beautiful Mustang? I think not.”
“Sure, but Fancy? I mean, maybe that’s what you name a pouty-lipped Southern belle from a trashy romance novel. But a Mustang? No no no. This car is a more of a Dayton… or a Magnus.”
Mason pats the dashboard of his car.
“Don’t listen to her, Fancy. The pretty lady is still delirious with hunger. Also, I think she may be confusing Fancy with Jessica.”
I react with mock indignation.
“Mr. Boone! I do declare! I daresay you mean to disparage my good name and see it dragged through the mud!”
Mason laughs. I keep going.
“Indeed, if your goal is to see me prostrated in the peach orchard, among the daffodils and honeysuckle, to keep you from savaging my sterling reputation, I might be amenable to your way of thinking.”
“Now you’re just giving me ideas.”
“Maybe a little,” I say with a sly smile.
“You fell into that monologue pretty easily. Are you actually from the South? I’m never asked.”
“Yes, but I lost the accent years ago.”
Mason smiles and wipes a laughter tear from his eye.
“It couldn’t have been that long ago, so feel free to talk however you want around me. Whatever makes you feel the most like yourself.”
“I do,” I say.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Mason interjects. “I’ve never felt more powerfully motivated to be somewhere as I did driving back to you. That’s new for me. I… I was wrong to leave the way I did.”
I have no idea how long he was gone. I knew days were passing, but I couldn’t even say exactly how many without looking at a calendar. All my time was spent painting.
“I’ve been hesitant in the past to give relationships a fair chance,” he says. “I’m afraid to see them through because of what they might become. Or not become. I’m afraid of the disappointment, Jess. Especially after somebody gets even a hint of what I am.
“But not you. You found out what I am and hit the ground running. I was so excited. My heart soared. I’ve mostly come to terms with myself, but I never imagined somebody else would. I certainly didn’t think that somebody like you, a normal person, would accept me.”
I bite my tongue at the normal person part and keep listening. I understand the spirit in which it was intended.
“But then you found out about Sylvia, and I could tell right away that it was upsetting for you. You shut down. I can’t tell you how painful that was for me. Such a high and low, all in the span of one night.
“I didn’t know how to deal with those conflicting emotions. To feel so close to you one moment, to have everything I’ve ever wanted, only to have it taken away from me the next. At least, that’s what it felt like.”
Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put you through that much turmoil. Why are you even here right now?
I reach up and scratch his neck affectionately.
“I just needed time,” I tell him.
“I know. That’s fair. I guess it just took me driving across several states to figure that out.”
“Maybe you just needed to take me for a drive in Fancy. I’ve never heard you talk about your feelings with such clarity before. Thank you.”
Mason actually blushes. I lean over and smash a kiss into his cheek. He’s smiling again when I pull away.
That’s when we pull up in front of my place. I look around, half expecting the local sheriff to be parked outside. The way Mason described splintering my front doors, the downstairs neighbors might think the place was burgled. Something like that is considered a big deal in this community.
“Let me get the door for you,” he says.
Mason steps out of the car and comes around to my side. I look up at my apartment as he opens the door for me. Something is different. I can’t put my finger on it. My mind is still kind of thick. It feels like I’m forgetting something.
“Mason, when you found me, did you notice anything unusual about my place?”
He thinks back to the previous night and shakes his head after a moment.
“Not really, no. Then again, I really wasn’t paying attention. The change was on me. My pendant was the only thing keeping me human. When I saw you on the floor, nothing else mattered after that.”
“How did you find me? You said I was passed out on the floor, but where exactly?”
“By the window where you paint. Nowhere near your bed. Your easel was pushed over, like you grabbed it falling down. I think there were quite a few canvases lying around, but I didn’t look at them. I was more concerned about you. I shook you a little and then slapped your face lightly, but you weren’t waking up.”
“Wow. I don’t remember any of that,” I say.
“You needed something to eat, but I could smell that the food in your fridge had gone off. That’s when I made the decision to bring you with me. It was very spur of the moment. The pain of keeping my human shape was overwhelming at that point. So I draped you over my back, switched the pendant
from my neck to yours, and shifted. I trusted that I wouldn’t hurt you. It felt like a better idea than simply leaving you there.”
I squeeze his hand.
Mason based that decision on a lie I told him. He would have hurt me when he shifted during sex, if not for the spell I cast to protect myself. The spell I can’t tell him anything about.
Except this time Mason changed completely. Not just into a half-man, half-wolf, but into a full wolf. Maybe there really is a part of him that won’t hurt me. Or maybe his silver necklace protected me. I have no way of knowing.
“I’m glad you took me with you,” I tell him.
As we walk toward the downstairs door that leads up to my front door, I’m prepared to see a splintered mess of tinder and wood. What I find is nothing of the sort. The door is perfectly intact.
“Wait? Did you burst through this door? Or the one upstairs?”
Mason looks no less confused than me. He walks up to the door and brushes his hand along the surface.
“No, it was this one. The next one as well. I could swear they broke apart as I moved through them. I mean, I didn’t look back or anything, but I remember feeling it buckle and splinter.”
I look at the door more closely. It’s the same door. All the little nicks and scratches are still there, like the smudges of dirt from my bicycle tire.
I check the handle. It’s unlocked. That’s unusual, but no less than a broken door restored to one piece.
I don’t have my keys on me, so I count myself lucky for now. I really do want to wash up and eat something substantial.
I turn the handle, open the door, and look up. The next door is intact as well. Mason grips my arm and stops me from taking another step.
“Somebody’s here,” he whispers.
“Where?” I ask.
“In your apartment.” Mason inhales deeply. “I don’t recognize the scent.”
“Are you sure? It’s not one of the neighbors from downstairs snooping around? The door was unlocked, after all.”
“No. I can hear your neighbors. They’re still asleep. This person isn’t making a sound, but I can smell her.”
