by Unknown
"About the two you named. Are they still wild?"
She assumed he already had dossiers on them. But he wouldn't know about their progress.
"They are learning fast. And they are very strong."
He nodded, and she gave him a serious look. "Charlie, there's something that I need to ask you, and I want a straight answer."
He raised an eyebrow. "If I can, I will."
"Why are shifters in the Hunt?" She searched his expression.
His face remained passive but she saw lines of stress crease his forehead, and his eyes dilated.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied. Then he looked down the hall. "I should be going. I need to ratify this deal before the rest of the Council change their minds." As he turned, he glanced over his shoulder. "We'll talk again."
She stood in shock, watching him leave. He was tough as nails; he stared down mountain lions, and ate powerful politicians for lunch. It would take something serious to spook the older clan leader.
With her jaw set she strode back to her love, her long red hair streaming behind her like a trail of fire. The Hunt was not what it seemed, and she was determined to uncover the truth. Even if it's the last thing I do, she vowed.
* * * *
The conclusion to the Wolfman saga sees Mark and Lacey returning to urban society with their loving, and loyal pack. With the knowledge, and financial support of the Clans, they have built a thriving community of help, and awareness for all werewolves in need.
Cole asked for Ursula's hand in marriage, and the two couples remain close friends to this day.
Rebecca continues her search for answers in the quirky, rain soaked city of Seattle. Jeremiah has a few issues adjusting, and laments the years he spent in the woods. But he has also focused on solving the mystery, and tracking down his former ranger, Jax.
Although this part of the tale has come to an end, another has just begun.
Suburban Wolfman
As Mark opened the front door, the bright morning light caressed his face, wakening his senses. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of wet grass and jasmine. Birds chirped as they flew by, and a squirrel jumped along the sidewalk.
He let out a monstrous yawn and stretched his arms. The sun felt great, shining down on his light bathrobe and warming the doorstep under his matching slippers. He couldn't think of a better way to spend his morning than with a cup of coffee and a brief read through the news.
As he bent down to pick up the paper, another thought occurred to him. Well there is one other way it could be better. A grin played on his face and his cock twinged as he heard Lacey setting out plates in the kitchen.
"Mornin' neighbor!"
Mark straightened and shielded his eyes from the glare. Across the street, Cole waved with his own newspaper in hand. Bare-chested, he only wore a pair of jeans and his long, disheveled blonde hair spilled over his shoulders.
"Morning," Mark shouted back. "How's Ursula doing?"
"She's not showing yet but the doc says things are going well." Cole beamed with pride.
Everyone in the neighborhood was surprised when the couple spilled the good news. Who knew that a werewolf and a werebear could breed? Now the only question was what the kid would look like when it shifted. Well, they had years yet before anyone would figure that out.
He also wondered if there was something more to werewolf genetics than the Council was letting on. For the past month, he'd poured through research journals on genetic pairings for any shred of a clue. Although nothing stood out for him, yet, he was confident that he would know when he saw it. And he would find what he was looking for.
But that would have to wait until after he'd had his coffee.
"I'm really happy for you both." Mark cocked his head. "You know we'll help with anything you need."
Cole grinned and cupped his mouth. "He's going to have the best godparents in the world!"
"He?" Mark raised his eyebrow.
"I just have a feeling, ya' know."
Mark smiled. "Will we see you at the meeting tonight?"
"Yeah," Cole yelled back. "We'll bring a casserole."
"Just as long as you don't bring any raw steak. We don't want a repeat of last week." Mark chuckled as he opened the door.
"Oh hey, Mark. If it's okay with Lacey, could she bring my hat tonight? I know she likes it but—you know—I kinda miss it." Cole passed a hand over his blonde hair.
"Yeah. Sure partner." Mark waved to his friend and headed into the house.
He shuffled down the hall and stopped as he rounded the corner.
From a huge picture window, sunlight spilled into the kitchen and across the round breakfast table.
Lacey stood in front of the stove, the gray cowboy hat perched on her head. Her long brown hair glistened in the light, dangling down her semi-bare back. A thin camisole hung from spaghetti strings to vaguely cover her breasts. Tight over her hips, a tiny thong did nothing to hide her ass. Mark licked his lips as his cock lurched.
"Here's your paper, ma'am," Mark quipped in an exaggerated, youthful voice.
"Oh thank you, paperboy." Lacey turned with a seductive grin. "I always enjoy your deliveries."
She placed her hand on her side and one of the shoulder strings slid down her arm.
"What's wrong with your shirt, ma'am?" Mark asked as he slowly swaggered over to her.
Looking down at her cami, her expression changed into fabricated surprise. "It must have ripped. I'm no good at these things. Maybe you can fix it."
"I'll give it a shot." Mark moved closer and slipped the other string off her shoulder. "Oops, I ripped it more."
"Oh shoot." She pouted, her lips pursing together. "Now I'll have to take it off."
The loose cloth slid down around her waist, exposing her perky breasts. His hands cupped the curved skin and his thumbs rubbed over her hard nipples.
"I hope you don't mind me sayin', but you've got a pretty body. Poor paperboys don't get to see very many beautiful ladies." He smiled as their lips touched.
She hummed into his kiss, then leaned back with a shocked look. "You're forward for a young paperboy. What if my husband finds out?"
"He'll give me a tip for doing such a good job pleasuring his wife." His hands slipped down to her ass, and slowly spread her cheeks apart.
She backed away and he maneuvered her over to the table.
"But you're a stranger," she whispered. "I wouldn't give myself to just anyone."
He shrugged out of his robe and let it drop to the ground. She looked down with amazement while stepping away from him. Then her rear bumped the wooden edge of the table, and he pressed his body into hers. His hard cock brushed the thin cloth covering her mound. "You'll know me soon enough," he growled with a playful grin.
"You're a big boy. Be gentle. You might hurt me with that." Running her fingers over his chest, she cocked her head and he latched on her lips. His tongue invaded her mouth, and he inhaled the smell of her clean hair. Fighting back the bestial urge that wrestled within him, he gently caressed her back while slipping his cock between her thighs, stroking the head along her covered slit. He could feel her wetness through the thong and his desire flared.
Everything about her drove him wild: her playful banter, her alluring dark eyes, the feel of her soft skin.
He crushed against her and, having nowhere else to go, she backed her ass up on the table. The sturdy oak supported her with ease and she squirmed further away from him.
But he gripped her hips, roughly pulling her back to the edge of the smooth wood top. The cowboy hat tipped off her head, landing, forgotten, on the kitchen floor.
Spreading her legs, he slid her thong aside and explored her tender folds with his fingers.
"I know you want it," he murmured to her, his face close to hers. "You can't hide your arousal." He gripped his dick and rubbed the tip over her opening, coating it in her slick juices.
"Take me, paperboy," she whispered. Laying back, she pulled him closer. H
is cock slipped into her, stretching her, and she gasped.
With his rod invading her, he stared down. The sun beamed in from the large window, covering her in a warm glow. He was struck but just how beautiful she looked; the way the shining light played on her silky hair, her smiling face, the smooth skin of her neck and breasts. Licking his lips, he watched her for a long moment, saturating his mind with her image, filling his heart with her presence.
I never want to forget this.
Then he pulled back, his cock slipping just out of her. With excitement, he saw her desire, glistening on his thick rod. He wanted to take her into him, to devour the essence of her spirit. To become one with her.
Holding her pelvis, he watched the head part her lips as it plunged back into her. She moaned as his thrusts bumped her, sliding her back and forth on the table. Her pussy gripped his shaft, massaging the sensitive flesh along his length.
The curtains were drawn back and the street plainly visible. Anyone passing by would see their lovemaking through the window. But he didn't care. Let them see what true love is.
Her hands played in his hair and traced his shoulders. Nails scratched him as the tips of her fingers dug in, urging him with each thrust.
Bending her knees, she brought her legs up and he gripped her ankles, stretching her further apart as he pumped. His pelvis made a wet smacking sound against her, as her juices covered him.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and her breath came in short pants. He wanted more of her.
Pulling out, he twisted her hips, forcing her to roll over on her belly. She gripped the other end of the table, bracing for him as her legs dangled in the air. He slipped her thong down and off one foot, letting it hang from the other. Then he gripped her sides, holding her for a moment, examining her vulnerable position.
As she glanced over her shoulder, the sun illuminated her grinning face, the flowing hair across her back. His gaze followed her perfect skin down to her round ass and the glistening lips that waited for him.
He split her open, impaling her, pulling her body onto his cock. Dropping her head, she moaned against her arms.
The muscles on his back tensed with each thrust, feeling his member bumping deep into her. The aroma of their sex wafted up to his nose and his control slipped. A growl escaped his lips as he pounded her.
She whimpered and her knuckles turned white as she fought to hold on to the table. Her legs stretched behind him and she crossed her ankles, trapping him, pulling him onto her.
Sweat was slick on her skin and his hands gripped tight on her flesh. With each slam, he forced her across the table, then yanked her back to meet the next. His balls slapped her mound and she turned her face to the side, mouth open as she whined against the smooth surface. His sharpened teeth clenched as his mouth elongated into a muzzle, and fur sprouted over his limbs.
He felt the urge in him build, from a tiny spark into a roaring surge of pleasure. As her pussy clenched around his girth and her asshole spasmed, his half-monstrous body bucked with abandon. His cock throbbed, pumping, gushing his seed, filling her quivering sheath.
"My—God—" he growled as his back arched. The wave of ecstasy pulsed along his rod, twitching his limbs, humming in his nerves. His knot filled her, locking the two in place.
Lacey panted as she lay her head down on her arms, her body jerking with aftershocks. Mark rested on her back, his dark fur silhouetted against the creamy curves of her skin. It was as if she defined him when they were paired like this—whether they were human or wolves. She gave him purpose and lent resolve to his maleness. Their monstrous transformations had only strengthened that fact.
Someone shouted from outside the house. Mark turned his wolfish head to the window.
A couple from down the block stood on the sidewalk. The young man gave a thumbs up with a wink and the blushing woman stared wide-eyed with a hand clapped over her lips.
Still gripping the table, Lacey burst into laughter and hid her crimson face. Mark returned an awkward grin and waved, his semi-hard cock still trapped in her sex.
Then as the couple chuckled, continuing on their walk, Mark gently placed his clawed fingers on Lacey's back and traced her skin. She gazed back at him, her face flushed with afterglow and embarrassment, a warm smile curving her lips.
As he stared at her with affection, he found he rather liked being stuck to her, publicly, on display for the world. He knew in his heart that she was all he ever wanted.
The End
About the Author
Julianne Reyer writes erotica and romantic genre fiction in her spare time, when she can shrug off the chains of her corporate job. She discovered erotica many years ago, after devouring Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles and then stumbling upon the, much naughtier, Sleeping Beauty books. Since then, her love of kinky fairy tales and paranormal romance has only deepened. Her writing is also influenced by her interests in LGBTQ fiction, sci-fi/fantasy, and retro pulp stories. She lives with her closest friend (who happens to be her husband), and some very peculiar pets.
You can find me online:
http://www.juliannereyer.com/
Twitter.com/JulianneReyer
[email protected]
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For more kinky werewolf adventures, check out Red Wolf Collection, a BDSM ménage tale of a werewolf college boy, his love for a werewolf college girl, and the dark alpha male werewolf with sadistic plans of his own.
Cat Lover (Book 1) by Selena Kitt
Copyright © 2013 Selena Kitt – All Rights Reserved.
All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Chapter One
Sebastian remembered only one good thing about living with Katie in that little basement apartment—it was cool in the summer. Otherwise, it totally sucked. They could hear everything in the whole house. They knew one tenant had a dog because he barked rabidly every morning at seven, and of course, Sebastian’s first class didn’t start until ten. Plus, the big dog owner used the back stoop and its very small area of grass as a doggie-toilet, and judging by the size of what he deposited there, the dog was at least as big as the St. Bernard from Cujo.
Katie kept saying how gross it was and the landlord knocked on their door one morning (again, before nine—couldn’t people respect a college guy’s schedule?) demanding to know if they were the one with the dog. Sebastian just had to point to their house full of cats in response.
Their landlord was one of the few on campus who allowed pets. It was the reason he and Katie had moved into the little basement apartment—Katie loved cats. Cats that jumped right onto the soft part of his stomach in the middle of the night—or, even worse, his crotch. They mewed for food, they scratched up the furniture, they stretched out on all available seating area and looked at you with disdain.
Katie said he would get used to them, and for the most part, he had. But he’d never been a cat lover, not in the way Katie was, chucking them under the chin and kissing their wide, pink noses and petting them neck to tail so their kitty asses rose up into the air, their tails making a strange question mark, as if they weren’t sure they should be enjoying such pleasure from a life form as lowly as a human.
So while Sebastian would have been quite happy living a petless existence—he didn’t even like goldfish, to be honest—he knew, if he wanted Katie, he had to accept the cats. And he did his best. In spite of himself, he did enjoy the way they curled up in his lap or next to him on the couch, purring contentedly. If it weren’t for the interrupted sleep, he could have been swayed to the pet side. Seba
stian loved sleep, almost as much as he loved Katie, and the cats managed to get in the way of both of those things.
But every morning, the dog barked upstairs, followed by the whine of the can opener from the kitchen. Six a.m., like clockwork—reer-reer-reer—followed by a hundred thousand thumpity-thumps from every direction, accompanied by a cacophony of meows. Sebastian was doomed to waking up far earlier than he wanted to, simply because he’d fallen head over heels in love with a girl.
But to be fair, she was an amazing girl. And if someone asked him, he would definitely say she was worth it. He’d given up living in a nice high rise apartment with a proper number on the door and a balcony with a barbeque just so Katie could have her cats. They were stuck in a converted old house, living in a basement apartment too small for the two of them let alone the army of cats. It sucked. Except, of course, for Katie.
The other thing about the basement that sucked was living next to the laundry room. The noise wasn’t bad—it was better than the cats and that damned dog—but the issue was the flooding. Once in a while, a sock would get stuck in the wash tub and it would overflow during the rinse cycle. Someone’s brilliant design idea in re-vamping the old house as a rental had placed another door to their apartment between the machine and the drain. The carpet always had a faint mildew smell to it.
One morning long before Sebastian should have been awake, he heard Katie doing that “Here, kittykittykitty,” run-on cat lovers always used—like cats ever came when you called them? She would have had better luck bringing the can opener. He was thinking all of this with the pillow pulled over his head to block out the light. There was one other good thing about their basement apartment—less light streamed through the little windows near the ceiling.
“Bad kitty!” He heard her admonishing, but it was when he heard the splashing and knew the tub had overflowed again that he groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sebastian to the rescue! He just needed a super-suit. His bare feet squished on the soggy carpet. He was trying to remember where he’d put the box fan they used to dry it out while he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and opened the door to the laundry room.
