Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Berengaria Brown
ISBN: 978-1-77130-734-5
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
WOULD YOU TRUST A WEREWOLF?
Romance on the Go TM
Berengaria Brown
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Cordell Waylon shook his shaggy black hair off his face and stamped his boots on the cold sidewalk. Oh God how he hated Christmas. Hated it with a passion. Despised and detested the plastic Santa Clauses in every store window, the never-ending, sickly-sweet holiday music piped through every building, the pressure to donate to every charity ever invented so the poor, the homeless, and the needy, could have a Christmas as happy as his.
No one in their right mind would want a holiday season like his. It was manifestly unhappy. For some reason known only to that bitch, Karma, his were genes were almost uncontrollable during the Christmas–New Year period. As soon as the tinsel started appearing in stores and street decorations at the beginning of December, his skin started to itch and his head to ache.
His usual method of dealing with the holidays was to book his vacation time from mid-December and to flee as far south as his finances would permit. Somewhere hot and sunny, preferably where the season was not celebrated at all. He’d still have an uncontrollable urge to turn and run as a wolf, night after night, but at least he was unlikely to meet anyone who knew him. Besides, napping on the beach or by the hotel swimming pool on a hot afternoon was almost obligatory in such places, which was a good thing after he’d spent half the night trying to exercise the itch out of his system.
But this year his plans had been derailed by a series of events. First, his boss had insisted he remain in the office until after the twenty-first of the month, when the head office was sending the CFO down in person to hand out the holiday bonuses. Cord would have much preferred his bonus to simply be deposited in his bank account just like his salary regularly was. But no. A Public Relations Extravaganza was planned, and he had to be there for it.
Then the most delicious man on Earth, the man he’d been lusting after for months, had agreed to meet him for a meal after work. For five dizzying seconds he’d though Dillon meant immediately. But once again, no. Dillon’s first available free night had been the twenty-third. So here Cord was, stomping his feet to stop his toes from freezing and his body from itching even worse than it already was, waiting for Dillon outside the restaurant. He’d considered waiting inside, in the warmth, but then realized sitting still this close to the holiday would be torture, so pacing up and down was much smarter. Although damn cold.
He thought longingly of the beach he should be lying on right now. Of hot sun and refreshingly cool waves. Of long stretches of golden sand where he could run for hours and no one would raise an eyebrow.
Then Cord thought of Dillon Granville. His light-brown, curly hair cut close to his elegantly shaped skull. His deep brown eyes, with their sparkling depths. His olive-toned skin and long, lean limbs. Cord’s dick stretched and ached at the thought of Dillon’s tight, lush ass. Of how heavenly it would be to plunge deep inside it.
A little premature there, old man. This is the first date, remember? Somehow his cock wasn’t listening. Cord had first been attracted to Dillon months ago, but it had taken a long time to move from casual water-cooler exchanges of ephemeral information, to longer conversations, and finally, Dillon agreeing to meet for a meal together.
He wasn’t even certain that Dillon was a were. His senses seemed to indicate Dillon was, but there was no backup information, no hints in the way the man walked or spoke. And it wasn’t like he was going to say, “By the way I’m a werewolf. Wanna fuck? And please can I mate you?”
No this would be a very simple first date. A meal, maybe some kissing and touching, but nothing more. Just the foundation of what would hopefully lead to a real relationship. Only after they’d developed that relationship could he talk about his heritage, and hope that Dillon was also a were, or at least sympathetic to them.
****
Dillon was not, absolutely, categorically not, going to change into were form. He was only one quarter were, and the three-quarters of him which was human would never ever let that one quarter were part of him triumph. It was just a rotten shame the one man who really attracted him, the one man he could see himself tucked into bed with having his brains fucked out, was a werewolf.
Dillon hated that his mother’s father had been a werewolf. His own father had never minded Dillon’s mom changing and running from time to time, but Dillon had vowed to himself he never would. Never ever would change. Never ever would acknowledge the twenty-five percent of his heritage he hated. Nope. He was human—well, mostly human—and human he would stay. And that was final. Which was why he’d fought against meeting Cordell. The man was so hunkalicious that sex was inevitable. Sex with a werewolf. Nope. Not going to happen.
Yet here he was, meeting the wolf for a meal. And looking forward to it. Just a meal. No sex. No wolf stuff. Just a meal. Period.
Nervously Dillon pumped the little stress-ball he always carried in his jacket pocket. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the tiny, squishy ball as he worked to relax his tense muscles. The stress-ball was made of soft orange plastic, and the regular squeeze and relax hand movement gradually soothed him. Whether it would be enough to stop him jumping into bed with the dark-haired, muscular wolf was something else again. Dillon, sighed, then straightened his shoulders and marched around the street corner into the road where the restaurant was. The moment he did, he could see Cordell standing out the front of The Emperor’s Palace.
Oh my, the wolf looked yummy. His black hair just resting on his collar in back, and falling across his forehead in front. His shoulders so broad under the heavy winter-weight coat. His feet stomping rhythmically up and down on the sidewalk making Dillon think of other rhythmical movements he’d like to see Cord make.
No sex. No going back to anyone’s apartment afterward. Just a meal, he reminded himself. Yeah right. He could feel his plans slipping farther away from him with every step he walked forward.
Just then Cord looked up and smiled at Dillon. In that instant Dillon had the hard-on from hell and no amount of rolling the stress-ball was going to reduce the size of his cock. Dillon took his hand out of his pocket and pulled his jacket out from his sides a little to cover his dick a bit more—although the bandy-legged way he was walking was a dead giveaway to how his dick felt about seeing Cord.
He knew he had a stupid, cheesy grin plastered all over his face, but he couldn’t help it. The man was sex-on-a-stick and even though there was no way in hell this evening was going to be more than two men sharing a meal, his cock—his entire body—was thrumming with happiness.
“Hey, Dillon. Good to see the rain has stayed away. Shall we go inside?” Cord greeted him.
Dillon nodded and walked through as Cord help the door open for them both.
Their hips brushed against each other as they maneuvered through the narrow space between a fish aquarium on a stand, a row of potted plants and the entry into the dining area. For a brie
f moment Dillon thrilled at the touch of this man, then he told himself to behave. They weren’t even real friends. More like casual work acquaintances. It was time for his cock to lie down and be quiet. It would not be getting any action tonight.
The server took their drinks order and gave them menus, and during the conversation Dillon got a grip on himself and his erection relaxed a bit. Thank God!
They talked and talked. It was amazing how often they felt the same about issues, had watched the same movies, had been to the same exhibitions at the Art Gallery and Natural History Museum.
At the end of the meal, over coffee, Dillon said, “You’re usually away on vacation at this time of year. Most people take vacation over summer. Where do you go? Skiing somewhere?”
“No, I follow the sun. I head south. Mexico often. Somewhere hot with beaches, or at least a decent swimming pool where I can lie in the sun and be warm.”
“Now that sounds wonderful. I wish I could escape the annual family gathering and do that too.”
“Ah. Do you have Great-Uncle Albert wanting to know when you’re going to ‘settle down’, or your fourth cousin twice removed getting drunk and coming on to you? I absolutely hated that shit, year in year out. That’s one reason why I never go to those type of events anymore,” said Cord.
“When my sister, Shona, first got married she was annoying, always bringing people for me to meet. But then she had twins, and now she’s fully occupied keeping them from destroying my parents’ home so it’s all good.”
Dillon couldn’t help looking at Cord, his eyes so darkly enticing, with tiny little gleams of light sparkling from them…his shaggy, black hair just a fraction messy…the first signs of a dark beard showing as a five o’clock shadow on the skin of his face.
Dillon knew if he kissed Cord he’d get a little whisker burn from that roughened skin. That was something he really enjoyed about fucking men. That edge of toughness, of danger, of harsh passion. That’s what turned him on, lit his fire in a way a relationship with a woman never could.
But there was no be no sex. No kissing. Cord was a wolf, remember. This was just a meal. Regretfully Dillon waggled his butt to relax the pressure on his dick, which was hard again, and suggested, “How about we walk down to Main Street and look at the holiday light display. I haven’t seen it yet this year.”
For a moment he thought Cord was going to refuse, and a shard of panic ripped through him. Had he been reading the signs all wrong? Was Cord just being polite? Not attracted to him? Then the wolf smiled and nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
Dillon heaved a sigh of relief as Cord signaled for the check.
****
Inside the restaurant all Cord’d had to worry about was keeping his dick inside his pants, instead of pushing delicious Dillon against the nearest wall and fucking his brains out.
God, the man was tempting. The way his eyebrows quirked up as he asked a question. The way he constantly fiddled with things—the silverware, the condiment jars, the menu. His fingers were always playing with something. Cord just wished those fingers were on his own aching dick, not the lucky bottle of soy sauce.
But as soon as they stepped outside again he heard a band playing Christmas carols, and looking at the street decorations made his head ache. He must have been insane to agree to go see the holidays lights display. Where was his head? Oh yeah. He’d been thinking with his other head, that’s right.
His whole body was itchy with the need to turn. He had to get away from the city for at least a week. To get away from this whole ghastly holiday setting. Maybe instead of spending his money on heading south for vacations he should start saving it, and buy a little cabin in the mountains where he could completely ignore the time of year. Make believe it was always February or something.
Then he looked at Dillon walking beside him and knew he had to have this man. Knew that he wouldn’t be complete until his cock was buried to the hilt in that luscious ass, and his hand was wrapped around Dillon’s cock, their hips pumping in time to each other. All he had to do was survive this little trip to look at the lights, and then find a way to invite Dillon back to his apartment. It should be simple enough, shouldn’t it?
The closer they got to Main Street, the more Cord’s body itched and his head ached. He was starting to realize that coming here was a truly stupid thing to do. But there was no way he could avoid it without hurting Dillon’s feelings.
No one would believe him if he said that as a werewolf he was allergic to the holiday. But more than that, Dillon’s feelings would be hurt and likely Dillon would never speak to him again. After it’d taken months to get Dillon to agree to join him for a meal, there was no way in hell he was going to risk Dillon feeling rebuffed now.
So Cord tried to distract himself by chatting about anything but the holiday to Dillon as they walked. It didn’t work. Between the holiday and the need to fuck Dillon, he was a mass of nerves and stress. Finally, he draped an arm over Dillon’s shoulders as casually as he possibly could, hoping that being connected to the man he lusted after would help him adjust.
The lights really were pretty, he supposed. In the town square a huge tree was lit with electric candles, in red, gold and green. Underneath it was a mountain of gifts. Overhead an enormous arch spelled out “Happy Holidays” in red and green flashing lights. To one side was Santa Claus, his sleigh and reindeer, and to the other a manger scene, with Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus.
They walked around looking at everything, and finally ended up beside the giant city fountain, which had been decorated with golden lights for the season. Cord pressed his body into Dillon’s and whispered, “I want you. I need you. Please say you’ll come home with me now.” For emphasis he rubbed his cock against Dillon’s thigh, letting the other man feel how hard he was.
Dillon turned and rubbed against him in rely. Damn, the man had a huge dick. Good to know he was aroused too.
“All right,” was the reply.
“Do you want to follow me? Where did you park?” asked Cord.
“A couple of blocks south of the restaurant. Where’s your car?”
“Pretty much there too. Let’s go.” Cord rested his hands on the other man’s shoulder, turning him around, and they walked back together in silence.
So much for this being the first date. All he could think about was sliding into that hot ass, holding Dillon in his arms and fucking the man seven ways from Sunday. He’d never been this aroused before. Never wanted any man as much he wanted Dillon. Every inch of his skin was screaming to touch and hold, to take, possess, ravish and adore.
He wasn’t sure how he’d gone from attraction to desperation in a few short hours, but the facts were indisputable. All he could think of was Dillon. All he wanted was Dillon. It’d be a miracle if he could keep his hands out of his pants all the way home, his cock was aching so much. He wanted to take the edge of his raging hard-on so bad, but he also wanted to save himself for Dillon.
“I need you so much,” Cord said softly when they got to Dillon’s car.
“It’s mutual,” Dillon grunted in reply.
“Well then, we should be in for a hell of a good night,” he replied, unable to resist pressing a kiss to Dillon’s mouth, before he walked on to his truck, which was parked in the next block.
Chapter Two
You need your fucking head read. Going off to fuck a werewolf. Where’s your brain? Dillon chastised himself as he followed Cord’s truck to Cord’s home. Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s in your pants. Well you deserve everything that happens to you then.
Yeah, but all that’s going to happen, is that I’m going to get laid. And it’ll be excellent, I know, because Cord’s so yummy.
Idiot.
Quite likely. But I’ll be a contented, satiated idiot.
Having lost the argument with himself on the drive there, and being unaccountably happy and excited at the thought of spending the night with Cord, Dillon jumped out of his car, beeped the security system on, and bo
unced across the parking lot to where Cord was standing waiting for him.
Oh my, the man did look yummy. Hunkalicious. Dillon was tempted to lick his lips but managed to refrain. He didn’t dare look down to check, but he was almost certain his dick was leading the way to Cord. To bed. Oh yes!
Cord kicked the apartment door shut and pressed Dillon to the wall. Dillon stared into Cord’s gaze. Their faces were almost on a level. Cord was just the slightest bit taller than him. His breath hitched at what he saw in Cord’s gaze. Lust. Desire. Passion. “Kiss me,” he breathed.
“I plan to do a whole lot more than kissing,” said Cord, holding Dillon’s chin in one hand.
Dillon licked his lips. He couldn’t help himself this time. Then he leaned forward and very deliberately rubbed his cock over Cord’s.
Cord hissed, then leaned his full bodyweight against Dillon, pressing Dillon hard against the wall. When Cord was plastered tight against Dillon’s body covering him from hips to shoulders, Cord flicked his tongue across Dillon’s nose, eyelids, forehead and jawline, as if savoring the flavor.
Dillon reached up and grabbed Cord’s head, sliding his hands through the thick, silky hair, then holding tight. “I thought you said you were going to kiss me. That’s not a kiss.”
“This is though,” said Cord in a half-strangled, husky tone, before plunging his tongue into Dillon’s mouth.
Cord’s tongue was everywhere, tangling with his tongue, rubbing along the insides of his cheeks, sliding over the roof of his mouth. Dillon tightened his grip on Cord’s head, holding it still so he could thrust his own tongue back in return, matching Cord thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke, until they were both breathless and gasping for air.
Would You Trust a Werewolf? Page 1
