by Casey Morgan
With a sexy, hungry snarl to match the snap in my bleeding voice, Cole presses his hand (one of them) into the small of my back, holding me closer. The other he reaches up between us and begins to fondle my breasts and nipples. Nipples that are already stiff and rubbing against the skin of his chest. He pinches them as well, enjoying their heat and hardness.
Cole scolds me as I begin to cuss and howl. “Ava, you’re so naughty,” he says, still in the Southern drawl I’ve come to love and crave along with his cock, which is still pounding in and out of me deliberately. “Still craving more? Even after I’ve filled your virgin pussy with my cock? Even then, you’re still a greedy little girl, aren’t you?”
I whimper at him, pleading no contest to those charges. “Yes, yes, I am, Cole!” I squeak, surprising myself with my boldness. My pussy muscles contract under another wave of pleasure. With aching goodness, I finish my reply, “I’m such a greedy, naughty little girl, Cole! Come in me! Come in me until I can’t take anymore!”
I groan, just after saying this. I’m collapsing, relenting and yielding to a new explosion of sensitivity all throughout my body. Not just in my pussy, around my stretched and filled hole, but down the length of my legs. From there, tingles run up through my belly, chest and back.
Cole runs his hand down my stomach and finds my hood and my clit beneath it. He touches the tender bud and starts to rub it. His movements are fast and jerky. Just what I need to feel, as I sense my core beginning to tighten, twist and spin toward the cliff of an orgasm.
I grit my teeth against it, just as Cole pushes his finger into my clit, and grasps the part of my back he still pressing down on and scratches me. It’s painful, and I cry out against it, but it’s quickly buried under another barrage of fast, hard, merciless fucking; pounding against my numb and burning ass cheeks.
I growl, almost roar, as I feel my pussy twitch. It clamps down on Cole’s dick and begins to pulse with thick, roiling spasms. I feel my stomach churning and tightening, forcing electric currents to gather and then shoot along my body.
Cole roars with me, digging his fingernails into my back deeper (to my sensitive, overstimulated mind they began to feel like wolf’s claws), even though I can still feel his hands and human body writhing around me.
“Take all of me, Ava!” He growls this out, leans forward and bites me on the neck, just as I cum all over his dick.
Shuddering and shakings take me over immediately after that, and it’s because I feel another orgasm exploding through me. It washes over me like the nuclear energy from an atom bomb. I’m squeezing my pussy wall so tightly, and so strongly, that I’m starting to shove him out, muscle him out of me, against my will.
But Cole, a true alpha, doesn’t let me get my way. He pushes himself further into my pussy, grabbing my ass with both hands as he does. There, he spreads me open again, and forces me to appreciate being stuffed to my limits. There’s so much cock in me, and so much of his balls slamming against my ass, I’m crying. It reaches a fevered pitch of desire and delight as I let another orgasm finally overtake me. It blissfully breaks over my horizons, spilling my soul into unknown but hungry territory.
At the same time, Cole finds his release. With a manly grunt, he pushes into me hard. His cock strains and pulses shooting thick, hot cum into my waiting womb. Load after load fills me up, coating the cock he is still thrusting in and out of me with more lube. He slows his movements, then leans forward against me and puts his hands on the table.
Wrapped around his panting body, I’m feeling satisfied and satiated, but something is growing in me. It’s a feeling that’s writhing free at the back end of that last orgasm like a shadow on the back of the light. Before I’ve even finished coming down, I feel something coming awake in me. Something snarling and growling to life, filled with ravaging hunger.
Chapter 12
Ava
For a long time, it’s almost impossible to come down from the sex I’ve just had. To relax from the total and complete release, I’ve just experienced. All of my sexual tension and unworthiness, and all of my fears and insecurities are gone. I have been freed not once, but twice over.
I’m blissfully spent. I’m unable to move anything in my body, or think anything very clearly, but for the first time in my life, I don’t care about being so out of it. I’m out of control, out of my mind, out of my body, and it’s blissful. It’s peaceful here, and part of me wishes I could stay this way forever.
If I did, I could linger with Cole, my first lover. I feel that there is no difference between him and me. As I’m lying collapsed over the work desk, that I’ve just started to register underneath me again, I feel like I’m complete and whole lying spent before Cole. His masculine, fiery beauty is something I still sense and feel smoldering beside me, even as he rests his tired, sweaty body next to mine.
It is both strangely comforting and suffocating at the same time, his presence. The feeling of his heat on me, and it’s that that gradually brings me back to myself, back to my body, after being disembodied for so long. As it is, I barely remember anything about the actual sex itself. It’s almost like I was here and not here, for how much I feel the lingering effects of it, but don’t have any concrete images. I have no concrete sense that I actually went through it at all.
Continuing to come back to my “self” — I start to feel more turbulent emotions. More complicated and difficult ones, now that I’m no longer blissed out on relief or release of the physical, sexual kind.
What did I just do?! my mind screeches. He’s a complete stranger! And without a condom!
Now, I’m beginning to feel devoured by a new kind of tension, a new kind of emotion. This one is bordering—bubbling—on rage. I feel strangely manipulated, strung along, like I was bewitched somehow, at the same time that I felt I was being set free.
These feelings percolate. They drive down into the nooks and crannies Cole’s cock had formed in me as he used me for his pleasure, and I wonder what the fuck I’ve just done. What the fuck I’ve just allowed him to do; since, in addition to my growing feelings of being bewitched, charmed in some way (though I know I wanted this), I’m feeling the scratches and bite marks he left on my back and neck, now beginning to sear and scream in the open air.
As I become aware of this, I also become aware of the sound of Cole’s heavy, muscular body getting up, clothing being slipped on and then the sound of a zipper being brought back up. His shirt being tucked into his waistband.
He doesn’t bother to help put me put myself back together. He just immediately disengages and leaves the storage room, to go get involved in something. Something involving preparing the set for the performance for Christmas.
I don’t hear him speak over my quickly fading bliss and growing anger. And hunger. I feel a strange hunger. I just hear myself growling dryly. Snarling, as I pull up my own clothing, and wondering why the hell I’m so angry. Why the hell I want to do nothing more than claw everything to death. To bite something, including Cole’s face, now that he’s fucked me.
Coming out of the far-flung storage room, I feel no more at peace. No better about the situation, or Cole. If anything, as the hours continue to tick by, and the whole theater goes from practicing things on stage, and perfecting and finalizing the sets and lighting, I’m feeling worse. Angrier than I was before. At everything. At nothing. At Cole. At myself.
At something I don’t quite understand and fear. Something I want to embrace in me, and also bury at the same time. And all of this is continually worsened and “renewed” in my spirit, every time I catch a glimpse of Cole. Every time I see him watching me out of the corner of his eye.
He’s smiling, the bastard. He’s grinning at me from every corner, every bit of shadow, looking like a hungry, hunting wolf. A fact I can’t quite feel safe about with all the inexplicable rage boiling around inside of me.
I dash up to my office in search of peace. None comes. I don’t know how it’s possible, but even in here, even in a completely d
ifferent room, I swear I can feel Cole watching me. He’s smiling and laughing at me, just waiting for me to give myself over to the hunger and rage completely. To give myself to the beast I feel awakening inside.
An awakening that coalesces with the rise of the full moon, bit by bit.
I can’t stand to be around him. This shouldn’t have even happened. I shouldn’t even be here right now.
Time stops with a knock at my office door. Uninvited, Cole lets himself in and frowns at me.
“Ava, are you okay, luv?” he asks, his beautiful face pinched with concern.
I growl at him. “I…I can’t think straight. I just feel…” I clip my words not knowing what to say or how to describe the rage within me.
He reaches a hand up and runs it through his hair. He looks worried, but tires to hide it with a smile. “Sarah’s called for a dinner break. Let’s get a meal in you. One of the stagehands told me about a fantastic German restaurant close by.”
Somehow, despite my heart and soul roaring at me that I want nothing to do with him and that, no, I’m not interested in dinner and I’m certainly not interested in it if I’m accompanying him, Cole guides me down the stairs, out of the theater and to my car. He buckles me into the passenger seat and drives us down the road.
Somewhere in the angry, busy hive my mind and soul have become, I can’t fathom this. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with him driving so calmly. I’m actually, thinking about enjoying the food while I’m there, maybe even enjoying a drink or two. I’m allowing him to be near me, though I still don’t want anything of the sort. Not really.
“Against my will” definitely describes the current situation I’m in as far as my heart’s concerned, but he’s doing something to me. He’s somehow bewitching me again and making me enjoy his company. Making me look forward to this food that he’s promised, authentic German.
And, as we pull up to the restaurant, a place I see is named Red Hood Wolf, with the subtitle that says, “the area’s best, oldest German cuisine,” I wonder how I never saw it before. Never ran across it, since it’s not that far from the theater. It’s like it just popped up out of nowhere, suddenly went into business, and became successful literally overnight.
As Cole gets out of his side of the car once he’s parked, I spend another moment in personal disbelief. I’ve never been that eager for German food as a general rule. It’s not typically my thing, with all the sausage and whatnot. I enjoy meat regularly, but that’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. I’m literally starving. Hungry, as if I could eat five steaks.
Still, I can’t shake my rage. And it only gets stronger, when Cole comes over and collects me. He practically pulls me from the car, coaxes me to lock up, and then lock arms with him as we head into the restaurant.
Once inside, we are immediately seated. The place is mostly empty on Christmas Eve. Cole jokes carelessly with the hostess and the waitress, bending them both with his charm. He seems to orchestrate everything around him like a king. He demands attention. I see it on his face, but don’t say anything. Instead, I file it away as further proof I don’t like him and shouldn’t be spending any more time with him.
And yet, here I am. Having dinner with the man I shouldn’t be spending any more time with and for whom I really have no feelings. I sit down at the table that’s been selected just for us, begin to stare at some menus that are placed on the table just for us, and try to convince myself I really, truly feel this way. That I really do hate him. Everything about him, and it’s just sheer coincidence, sheer mind-fuckery that I’m here with him right now.
I try to, but it fails under the delicious smells of food, and under the tender, mischievous smile he’s giving me. Both are things I want to hate with a passion but can’t seem to feel strongly enough.
“I’ll order for us,” he murmurs. “Both food and drink, since I know you’re new to all of this, despite some appetites that might be being whetted.” The cockiness in his eyes and mouth after that drive me nuts. It makes me want to snarl at him and kiss him at the same time.
I nod and let him order the wine, and the meal we’re going to share. He chooses sauerkraut and bratwurst for one meal, currywurst and greens for another, and liver and onions for a third. It seems like an excessive amount of food, but he tells me that we will need it when I question him.
I growl out some kind of thank you for this, and then wait anxiously for my wine. Anything to shove my face into before I throw myself across the table and maul or fuck him to death.
The wine comes, red and dry. After nearly guzzling down my first glass, and getting a good ways in on another glass, the food finally arrives, three plates of it. Cole is smiling the entire time, sipping his wine. It’s a needy, suffocating grin. One I swear says, See? Look how sexy and nice I am. Aren’t I just the best, greatest potential boyfriend ever? Don’t you just love me with every fiber of your being?
He watches me as I take my first bites and I stare at him darkly. I send out my own silent reply of: yes, I do, God dammit. Every fiber of my being seems to be compelled to love you, but I’m not going to show that to you. I’m not going to act like I love you that much or let you control me. You are so sexy and nice, but I’m not going to play along with that. You are the best, greatest potential boyfriend I’ve ever had, but fuck you anyway.
That’s the message I sent to him loud and clear through my body language. I scowl and scorch into him as I take bites of food, big, quick and deadly ones. Particularly the sausage, which I chomp on and try to send the vibes of this is your dick, and what I’m going to do to it, all over the thing as I eat.
Cole, unfortunately for me, seems to be turned on by my insinuated violence. He turns it on its head, locking eyes with me and licking a sausage, saying things with his glare like: See, luv? That is going to be you in a few moments if you keep that up.
I look away, scowling. “Knock it off,” I say, surprised by the gravel in my throat.
Cole’s answer is as simple as it is commanding. And he gives it only when he’s completely finished his wine and comes around to my chair. Pulling me out of it, “No,” he says, “I’m not the one who’s going to be knocking anything off. You’re going to be watching that attitude of yours, Ava.”
He begins to pull me with him towards the back part of the restaurant. A part labeled with restroom signs and populated with only a few people. “You’re going to obey. Especially if you want any chance of fucking me again the way I know you want to. The way your scowling, hungry eyes paint for me,” he whispers, holding open the bathroom door me.
Amazingly, I walk obediently through.
Like every other movement and gesture that’s gotten me into this mess to begin with—such as following him to this damn restaurant even though I clearly didn’t want to— I do it willingly. Uncontrollably, like he’s got some kind of spell on me that nullifies any and all rebellion before I’ve even had a chance to taste it.
Reflecting on this fact, I also reflect on another, whether he actually is going to let me fuck him again, or if he’s just fucking with me. Fucking with my head, the way he has been all day and since I met him.
I decide it’s the latter, since, as he closes the main bathroom door, and barricades it with an innocently, haphazardly placed trashcan, he looks hungry for me. He wants my body to submit to him, not the other way around.
It’s a fact that makes me love him and hate him even more. I snarl audibly in the room. I’ve never going to be able to truly hate you, am I? I think. I lost the ability to resist you the moment I took your hand yesterday evening, didn’t I?
The answering, mocking smile in his eyes as he pulls me into a bathroom stall, settles everything. It seals my lack of self-control, now and forever. I guessed right. I have been his plaything since that very moment. I just now noticed, and now all I can do is accept my fate.
Or try to eat him whole. Gobble him up, until there’s nothing left.
Chapter 13
Cole
Before, back at the theater, after an hour or two of setting up the whole layout of the Christmas play, Ava almost bit the heads off two stagehands who didn’t know anything about her production. Everyone was working skittishly, sensing the dark, thick rage surrounding Ava. The barely bridled violence she was exuding. I knew I must be present to help her manage and get her in line. Unless she wants to end up running wild through her small town, picking off small children, and getting us werewolves discovered and fucked over all over again. Same problem, different time period.
In no mood for that, I did my best to soothe her. To calm her, but unfortunately, she’s started to hate me as her inner wolf grows stronger. She’s resisting my dominance, my role as her leader and alpha. This happens sometimes with alpha females, as they lose the control they have had for so long. The rage will subside, once she accepts me as her mate for life and knows that my intentions are for the best. Only then will she calm down.
As I watched her bark and snarl orders at the other helpers around her (literally with some of these sounds entering in at the ends of words), I began to think maybe I didn’t plan this out as well as I think I did. That I haven’t done things just right, just perfectly, like I’d hoped.
I pushed away the thought and feeling that I may have done this all too soon, too quickly and violently for Ava to handle properly. After standing back and watching all of this for at least an hour, I decided to get her under hand, and under control in some way. Preferably fed some meat to calm her, away from the rest of her teammates.
So now we are at a restaurant, seeking solace in food. I ordered enough to feed us both. The sausage is rich and filling but it’s not enough. She finishes her meal with the same angry glare that she held at the theater.
