Sin: Alpha Males and Taboo Tales (The Naughty List Bundles Volume Three)

by Raminar Dixon

  The red-headed girl laughed to herself. No one had actually seen these wolves that were supposedly attacking the sheep, and for all they knew the huntsman had tumbled down a hill and hit his head. All the same, while the path was sun-dappled, the forest looked dark and treacherous. Rowan paused for a moment, watching the shadows twist and curl in the trees, her heart pounding. She took one tentative step, and then another, slowly beginning her journey into the center of the wood.

  “You, girl,” a voice boomed behind her. “What are you doing? This is no place to play.”

  Rowan let out a yelp, dropping the basket and turned to face the man who had spoken. The huntsman, Grygor, was a huge man. He was a good head and shoulders taller than her father, and his body was covered in a thick pelt of wiry black hair. His massive hands could easily have picked Rowan up and tossed her over his shoulder. Even worse, he was practically standing on top of her. She could smell the heavy, musky, manly scent of him. Rowan felt very small and delicate next to him and suddenly the hushed conversations of all the maids in town came rushing back to her memory.

  “He’s not just big in stature,” her friend Masie had whispered to her outside church one day. “Della says his manhood’s as big as one of the oxen on her father’s farm.”

  Rowan had tossed her head, her face the beet-red of the innocent. “As if Della has ever seen anyone’s manhood aside from her baby brother’s.”

  But Masie had been insistent. “She caught him coming out of the creek. She said his… thing,” she had made a gesture down to her waist, “swung between his legs thick like a tree branch, and I’ve seen the barmaid after he’s taken his ease from her. She walks like the spent she entire day riding bareback.”

  Rowan reddened as she stared into his hard, brown eyes. Would she walk like that too if he carried her off into the forest?

  “Did you hear me,” Grygor said again, his loud voice echoing into the depths of the forest. “What are you doing?”

  “I… My mother sent a basket of goodies for Granny Dacianna,” Rowan gestured at the basket behind her. “She’s been alone in her cabin since the attacks started. Mother wants to know she’s OK.” Rowan straightened her back a bit, irritation flooding over her. “And I’m no girl off to play in the woods. I’ll have you know I’m eighteen.”

  Amusement crinkled the large man’s face. “Eighteen, eh? That dress looks like you’ve worn it for all eighteen years.”

  Rowan flushed again, feeling the man’s eyes caress her curves that she knew were visible in her dress. His eyes hovered on the rounded globes beneath the taut fabric on her chest and her nipples prickled as they tightened and hardened. She crossed her arms over them with a scowl.

  “No, you are definitely no girl,” Grygor’s voice turned low and husky.

  For a moment, Rowan was really afraid he would snatch her up and take her into the forest. He certainly seemed wild enough to do so, and she just might let him. She took a step backwards, only to feel the heel of her foot connect with the basket sitting on the ground behind her. For a brief, terrifying moment, she was certain she was going to go flying onto the forest floor, then a huge hand grasped her arm and pulled her back. She stumbled forward and found herself pressed against the immovable wall of Grygor’s chest.

  Her hands splayed out as she braced herself against him, her nose practically touching his body. She slowly looked up, and up, until her head was tilted far back. His dark, deep, brown eyes bored into hers and she swallowed thickly. They stood there, unmoving. His hand loosened on her arm, a brief caress as it dropped to her waist. His thumb absently stroked a hard nipple through the flimsy fabric. Rowan could feel her body respond, her breasts swell beneath his touch. A small line of liquid heat began to pool beneath her belly, and then she felt panic at her own desire. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “I really do need to go,” she whispered.

  He released her then, stepping back and putting distance between them. Rowan felt a pang of loss as cool air passed between them, and looked back up at Grygor. His face looked fierce and gruff.

  “Go then, girl,” his voice was harsh and unforgiving. “Stay on the path, and be home before nightfall. The creature still lurks in those woods.”

  Rowan picked up her basket and fled. She looked back only once, when she was safe into the depths of the trees. Grygor stood where she had left him, still as a stone wall, and she could feel the heat of his eyes following her retreating form. Breathlessly, Rowan continued down the path, nearly running, until she was out of sight of the huntsman. She paused then, the forest thrumming with life around her. Looking around, she caught her breath, her eyes falling on a patch of beautiful pink flowers. Granny would love those, she thought to herself. And so, she spent time gathering some of the flowers. As she plucked at the flowers, her mind landed on the thought of the huntsman. The icy hot sensation gathered in her loins again. An image rose in her mind’s eye. She had once caught her brother rolling around with Della, the pair of them as nude as babes. Rowan tried to imagine herself and Grygor lying on the thickly carpeted forest floor the same way, tangled in the flowers, their naked bodies wrapped around each other. She tried to imagine the work-worn hands stroking her thighs, the way her brother had stroked Della. Would his heavy hands be gentle on her tender flesh? Would he lower his head to her secret places, making her sigh the way Della had?

  Rowan squeezed her thighs together tightly, and knelt in the tall grass, sliding her skirts up to her waist. Her skin burned with desire. Her fingers traced a soft path up her alabaster thighs, pausing at the tickle of hair between her legs. She slipped a finger in between the shy folds that sheltered her womanhood. The small nub of flesh begged for her attention, and she sighed softly, her thighs parting like water as she leaned back in the warm sunlight, idly stroking the slick, slippery flesh. Her hips surged against her touch, the heat of her longing causing little rivulets of sweat to course down from beneath her breasts.

  Slowly, she paused in her attentions, allowing her heart to slow down as she stroked her labia, smearing the slippery juices across her flesh and probing the untried channel. Her body responded by gripping her single finger tightly, and Rowan felt the pit of longing grow inside her. She wanted more, something bigger, thicker, something that would fill her completely. She sighed and raised her fingers back to draw circles around her clit, reveling in the growing tightness in her womb.

  She caressed and teased, pushing her fist in her mouth to stifle the small, high-pitched cries threatening to burst forth from her throat. The coil in her belly tightened, almost painfully, before golden pleasure swept over her, as hot and bright as the sun. She couldn’t hold back her yells anymore. She cried out sharply, her body contracting and shivering. She lay there panting in the grass like a wanton, legs splayed as the warm sun and the cool wind spun the scents of the flowers and her own arousal around her. She studied the pale blue of the sky and the cottony white clouds while her body coasted from arousal to calmness. As she came back to her senses, she noticed how still the forest was. The birds had quieted down as she brought herself pleasure and now the only sound was the rustling of the trees. Rowan was certain someone or something, perhaps even Grygor himself, was watching her and her shameful behavior. Had he seen her touch herself? Had he been touching himself? She quickly shoved her skirts down and gathered the basket and flowers and fled from the idea, and the wish that he had joined her in the glade.

  The rest of the trip through the trees followed her usual pattern. She’d get a little further on and find another flower patch, spend a few minutes gathering the flowers, and then wander a little further down the path. The day wore slowly on as Rowan meandered on her mission, her mind still wandering to the thick, muscular man. Eventually, she noticed the sun starting to sink in the sky and she picked up her feet a little more. Mother was going to be furious. At this rate, she would be out after dark and the creature was still loose. The sky was deepening from orange to d
ark blue, and Rowan could make out the pinpoints of stars through the branches of the trees as she entered the clearing where Granny’s house stood.

  The lone, thatched cabin had been there for years, much like the woman who lived there. The garden that Rowan and her brothers had prepared for Granny seemed slightly unkempt, as though the inhabitant had only recently stopped caring for it. Concern painted the young girl’s face, and she hurried to the door. As she reached the lintel, a nearby howl pierced the wood. Rowan shrieked softly and whirled around, searching for the creature in the darkness. She faced the door again, pounding rapidly. After what seemed an eternity, Granny’s voice bid her enter. Rowan pushed in the door, shutting it firmly behind her and drawing the latch.

  The room was dark and cold; a heavy, musky animal scent hung in the air. No fire had been built in the oven, and the table was bare and gouged. A lone, wooden chair lay on its side on the floor. Rowan saw a faint, flickering light from Granny’s bedroom.

  “Granny, are you there?” She tried to peer through the darkness.

  “I am here, child.” It was Granny’s voice, but not Granny’s voice.

  “Are you unwell?” Rowan thought of the illness that had swept through the village last year, a violent cough that had killed two infants and the village’s oldest man.

  “Just a cold, dear,” Granny’s voice weakened, and ended in a cough.

  “Let me build a fire for you, Granny,” Rowan called. “I’ll prepare you some dinner.”

  “Oh what a sweet child you are,” Granny called out. “But perhaps just some tea. I’ll eat later.”

  Rowan bustled around the kitchen, starting the fire and feeding it tinder and kindling until it burned bright in the oven. She set a kettle in the flames and collected the necessary herbs for tea from the garden, also plucking some of the ripened vegetables from their plants as the last of the sunlight faded from the sky. The moon shone through the trees, casting a luminous, pale glow over the cottage. When she returned to the kitchen, the kettle was boiling merrily, and Rowan hummed as she prepared the tea.

  She took the cup carefully into the bedroom. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, barely illuminating the room. The only sign of Granny was a pile of blankets on the bed, the glint of her eyes peering out from the shadows.

  “Oh Granny,” Rowan breathed softly. “What bright eyes you have.”

  “The better to see you with, lovely,” the old woman’s voice was querulous and harsh. Rowan thought her throat must be sore. The blanket covering Granny’s head twitched restlessly.

  “What big ears you must have, Granny,” Rowan joked, moving over to the nightstand and setting the cup down with a soft clink.

  “All the better to hear your dulcet tone, my sweet,” Granny’s voice had deepened into a near growl.

  Rowan paused, a sense of fear settling in her chest. Something was very wrong here. She peered beneath the hood, certain she saw a wolf’s snout curled around sharp, pointed, white teeth.

  “What big teeth you have,” she squeaked.

  “The better to eat you with,” the creature roared, throwing off the blanket. Rowan screamed and stumbled backwards, pressing herself to the wall.

  The pink, shiny skin peeked out from tufts of lanky, gray hair. The heavy sway of the drooping teats on its chest indicated this was a female. Rowan realized Granny had been replaced by this lanky half-human creature. Her arms and legs seemed to be a cross of wolf and human, each toe and finger tipped in thick, sharp claws that reached out to grab Rowan, slicing through the front of her dress. Rowan screamed again, her eyes meeting the merciless, yellow eyes of the predator in front of her. Granny hovered over Rowan, a continuous, low growl pouring from her as her head moved closer and closer. Rowan could smell the scent of rotting meat as the creature huffed in her face. A strong, claw twisted in Rowan’s apron, ripping it from her body, tattering her skirt. Rowan called for help, but recognized with despair that she was alone in the woods. Then. the shutters on the window opposite them rattled madly and the Granny-wolf paused in her assault on the young woman, her ears twitching to the snarling, growling howl outside. Rowan took advantage of the distraction to bolt for the kitchen. As she scrambled through the doorway, the shutters burst inward.

  The new creature was taller than any man she had seen, and definitely male judging from the solid, thick member hanging between his legs. A thick black pelt covered his heavily muscled frame. He roared at the old female, the muscles in his body rippling with power. The woman responded in kind, her body more wiry and spare.

  The male faced off against the old woman, the pair circling each other, looking for an opening to attack. They snarled and snapped at each other, mouths full of spear-like teeth. Rowan scrambled to her feet. Her eyes glued to the battle brewing inside the bedroom. The werewolves flew at each other; the solid sound of bodies connecting reverberated through the small space. Rowan covered her mouth, watching them trade bites and blows. Granny bit down on the newcomer’s arm, blood welling up around her teeth; in response, the male delivered a vicious cuff to her face, knocking her into the bedpost and splintering it. With that, Rowan bolted, leaving the animalistic sounds of rage behind her.

  She fled deeper into the forest, ignoring the stings of the branches as the smacked her face and skin, tearing at the remnants of her dress and catching her cloak. The sound of a long, drawn out howl spurred her panic more, sending her on a wild race. She tripped over a branch and went flying through the air, tumbling to the ground. She lay there, curled into a ball, sobbing hysterically as the large, golden eyed creature padded out of the dark towards her. She tried to climb to her feet, only to collapse back down as a sharp pain ripped through her ankle. It was the male, she noted, his black fur blending into the shadows. The muzzle of his face was coated in blood, and Rowan started to scoot backwards. He moved forward in determination, placing a clawed hand on the edge of her cloak, halting her retreat. She huddled there as he crept over her, his massive form dominating her.

  He snuffled at her face, one huge paw resting on her arm before dropping to her waist, his thumb stroking her nipple through the remnants of her dress. The cold shock of realization washed over her like a bucket of water from the stream. Rowan looked up at him, her mouth agape.

  “Grygor?”

  The creature sniffed at her neck, his cold nose pressed against her skin. The clawed hand tugged at the shreds of her dress, pulling them from her body until she lay nude beneath him. His head lowered over her bare skin, shining silver in the moonlight. His head paused over her breasts, nuzzling them lightly, His tongue lapped at the scratches left by the branches, bathing her skin in warmth. He went lower down her body, snuffling at her belly button, and then lower still. She gasped as his cold nose worked its way between her thighs. He growled softly, and then lapped at her womanly flesh. She whimpered softly as his tongue stroked the little nob of flesh, curling around it. The heat began to pool in her belly again, and she shifted beneath him. He raised his head, his feral eyes glinting in the moonlight, and placed his paw in the center of her chest, pushing her inexorably down. He then lowered his head again, slipping his tongue inside the entrance to her body. She cried out, her hips rising to meet his mouth as he grunted, feasting on her sweet nectar.

  Just as the knot in her belly began to break, he pulled away, looming over her. He climbed up her body, his massive member swinging in front of her face, the head nudging at her lips, painting them with the sticky evidence of his arousal. His staff was as big around as her wrist and a dark brown, like polished wood. It was covered in fine, short fur, save for the knob which glistened a bright pink in the moonlight. The shaft jutted out a good ten inches from his heavy ballsack, hanging pendulous with two, goose egg sized testicles. Rowan could see the blood pumping through the veins that traced this cock, and as she watched, it seemed to harden even more under her innocent gaze.

  He growled at her, pressing it against her mouth, smearing more of the slippery pre-cum on her face.
She obediently opened her lips and felt the skin stretch as her mouth widened to accommodate its size. Rowan balanced her hands on his hips, trying in futility to control the entrance of his cock into her mouth. He grunted again, pumping his hips against her face, forcing his thick tool deeper and deeper into her throat until her nose was tickled by the hair on his body. His rod filled her mouth and down her throat, and he began to pump into her. Rowan caught her breath between thrusts, but he always plunged back in, his shaft filling and stretching her. She could only imagine it between her thighs. Her inner muscles twitched, either in excitement or fear, she couldn’t tell.

  As he thrust into her throat, his breathing harshened. She could feel the muscles in his body tightening beneath the pelt of fur. With a jerk, he pulled out of her mouth, leaving a long, silvery string trailing from her lips down her body. He backed away, eyeing her as she climbed up on her elbows. He hunkered at her feet, low growls echoing around him. His cock still hung, long and full, between his thighs. It bounced with ever breath he took, springing back to hardness. The creature lifted his head, sniffing the air around them, his nostrils expanding to pull in every scent, and then he lowered those eyes to hers.

  “Grygor,” she tried again, her voice soft and tremulous. She hoped she could escape, maybe run through the forest to get home.

  A giant paw curled around her waist, flipping her onto her belly. She grunted as she landed hard and felt his nose sniff between her thighs again, before he growled against her. For the first time, she felt fear as clearly as she felt the press of his teeth against her skin. He clambered over her, and she lurched to her knees, preparing to scramble away. Two arms pinned her in place and she could feel his hot breath against the nape of her neck.