SixBarkPackTabooMobi

by Carys Weldon

  He was just playing with me, though. Kept it up long enough for me to really panic, before he went completely still. I was pinned beneath him, too tight to crinos--or I would have, believe me. That’s when he brought his head up, pushed his nose to mine, and said, “You are no match. Do you understand?”

  Oh, I had it.

  My eyes were bugged out, and I was afraid to move. I did swallow rather heavily, though. And nod.

  Afraid to breathe.

  His cock throbbed between us, heavy, rock solid.

  When he was sure I’d gotten his message, he asked, “Now that we have that straight...see what you did to me?”

  I didn’t know if he was talking about bringing out the wolf, his ardor, or what. But I figured that going for humor to relieve the situation between us was probably my best bet. I smiled, “Not really. If you recall, I asked you to show me.”

  That must’ve unleashed his restraint. He reached down between us, felt my crotch through the pants, rubbed a few times--watching my eyes the whole time. I’m guessing he watched the fear slip right out and the desire creep back in. He knew what he was doing. Rub a pussy’s pussy and you’ve got her looking for cream. It’s as simple as that.

  He told me, “There’s not enough room in here for me to get your pants off of you.”

  I arched beneath him. Man, I wanted to be fucked so bad I couldn’t stand it. My fingers, which had been pushing him just minutes before, were clawing into him. I begged, “You can do it. Just rip them off.”

  See how I like it? A little rough, without real pain. I like to walk the edge. I’m a cat, I like to play at balance, tiptoe the tight rope.

  “Don’t tempt me,” Bark said, but he didn’t stop rubbing. He just kept enjoying the writhing I was doing.

  When he had me half out of my mind, he asked, “What’s your name?”

  I moaned, “Wha--what--?” Nah. I wasn’t thinking at all by then.

  “Your name, pussy.” He swallowed my next moan, kissed me plenty, all the way down my throat, and back to my mouth again.

  I came up for air, gasping, “Letha. My name’s Letha.”

  Mr. Tongue deep-throated me a little, rewarding me for that information. I like necking and petting, and the tease was what I lived for, so it was all good. But, eventually, there comes a point where you gotta ease that itch completely. I had to beg, “Let me up.”

  Surprise of surprises, he did. Just at the asking. Like all that intensity from before was gone completely. Not that we weren’t both hot, ready and rocking. But the minute he backed up the slightest bit, I put my hands to my pants, undid the closure and was squirming them over my hips. Didn’t get them past my knees, though.

  I don’t care how big that car was, it wasn’t big enough. The windows were tinted, though. I liked that. And the seats were custom leather, broad. Roomy. Thank Gaia.

  Bark didn’t have to look down. The minute I had my snatch out from under the cover of the pants, his nose wrinkled with appreciation. His demeanor of control slipped and he rose up over me, undoing his own pants.

  He warned me, “This is gonna hurt.”

  I know my eyes flashed, and darkened. I laid back. “I expect it to hurt good.”

  “Oh, it will,” he promised.

  He pushed my legs apart as far as the pants would let them go, and reached down to feel how wet I was--releasing the scents of eight other men between us. He paused for a minute or two, confused, like he was having second thoughts.

  The man thinks too much.

  “What are you waiting for?” It pissed me off. I reached down and pulled his hand out of the way. “Just put it in. I’m ready.” My attitude worked.

  Holding himself, he brought the head of his cock close, rubbed over my furry patch, probed the lips of my labia, slicked up the outside, teased at the entrance. I closed my eyes, steeling myself for a tight fit and a hard thrust.

  “I want to fuck you deep,” he said, letting go so he could lean over me. I felt him tremble, saw his big arms brace against the door and the seat, and thought again how cool he was, all massive and everything like that.

  “So do it,” I taunted. “Stop thinking about it.”

  I had never had a garou before. Every freaking color, size and shape of cat and man both, but never a dog. Never a werewolf.

  He pushed. Not deep and hard like I expected--like I winced for--like he promised.

  Just popped the head in. And oh, my Gaia. I hung on.

  And he hung on.

  I don’t know what happened to the bracing, ‘cause he came down on me, kissing me again, nuzzling my neck and whispered, “I can’t hold back much more.”

  I couldn’t say anything to that. I was still hanging. There was a true, virginal feel to the way he stretched me. It did hurt so good. I had to gasp out, “Slow. Real slow...pleeease.” And as he slipped the slightest bit farther, “Ah.”

  As I was talking, he was easing into me. Deeper. Deeper. Until he was all in. I started shuddering, because the pressure was tremendous. Don’t get me wrong. I liked it. I liked it a lot. But I was doing nothing but clinging and gasping, letting him swallow my moans with more kisses.

  The shudders set him off, though. That, and my tightness, I guess. Because he came into me hard--a few slamming pumps and we were skyrocketing. Both of us hit the climax in groans of agony.

  Agony. Ecstasy. It was all tightly wound up together.

  And when it was done, we collapsed, afraid to move. Unable to move.

  All in all? I saw stars. I thought I’d shot the fucking moon. I knew in one instant that I’d been hooked, that I’d be no good for anything but that ever again. So? Yeah. You could say, without a doubt, I fell in love with the man right away. I was so head over tail in love with him that I went dreamy.

  When I did start moving, it was languorously stretching, with some “mm’s” and a “That was--”

  Before I could say ‘fantastic’, he said gruffly, “A fucking mistake.” And then he pulled his big paws off of me and his big stumpy manhood from between my legs. Just yanked it right out of there.

  I panicked. “No. No,” reached down between us, to hold it there, to put it back.

  But he pushed my hands away, squeezed the juice from his shaft--onto me, believe it or not. It landed between my fur and my belly button, plenty of it, too, considering he’d come inside me already. Guess the big cock just held more juice than I was used to. Then he did his pants up, reached down, pulled the top of my pants--jerking me around a bit in his pushy-ness. Leaving me to zip them myself.

  “Sit up,” he commanded, but he didn’t wait for me to do it on my own. Like he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t keep his big paws off of me.

  He dragged me around the confined space like I was a rag doll, put me in the corner, and said, “For Gaia’s sake, get your pants closed.”

  Struggling a little with his control. Yeah.

  At first, I thought he was somehow disgusted with me. Or himself? I could tell he wanted out all of a sudden. For not going anywhere or doing much, he sure acted claustrophobic. Cat-a-phobic? Ailurophobic.

  The space and his big, hulking legs made it awkward to do up my pants. I arched off the seat. Trying to do what he’d asked me to do, right?

  “Ack! You came all over me.” I wasn’t grossed out.

  But that really set him off. With a growl, and a “Fuck,” and an added groan, he pounced me again. I’m telling you, there was not enough room in the back seat of that limo for all that.

  I don’t know how he managed to roll and get down on his knees between my legs, but he had his nose buried, licking my belly before I could say ‘shit’, which I said as he soon as he made his move.

  He got an iron grip on my hips, pressed his nose into me and I couldn’t have gone anywhere to save my life.

  But you know a cat likes a good licking. It took me all of about two seconds to beg, “Get them off!” And I was pushing at my pants again. He was peeling them, growling from his chest. But he never li
fted his mouth.

  Yeah. I was arching up, my head in the back window, on the back dash.

  The pants ripped apart. Oh. Make no mistake, as fast as I was pushing them down, he grabbed each side of the zipper and yanked. I felt them split all the way up the back seam, that’s how hard he pulled.

  And his tongue went inside of me not a heartbeat later.

  The dog knew his stuff. I mean, I have never had a man do me with his tongue like that before. He could not reach up in there deep enough to stop my writhing.

  But he did. Licked me right up into another orgasm.

  I totally rocked into his mouth and kept rocking, because his tongue kept laving, hitting that inner spot. I was clawing like a wildcat, squealing for all I was worth, it was so good.

  My legs were up over his shoulders.

  You could not have told me how awesome that was gonna be. I never would have believed it. I don’t know how many times I came in a row, but he ate it all up.

  What stopped it, though, was the scent from the front. I guess it was too much for his chauffeur. He’d relieved himself, too. That shit fills the air, you know. Rises fast.

  That cut all the action short, had Bark grunting, “Fuck,” again.

  I don’t know. Maybe he was getting stiff, all cramped up in that position. Spreading my legs, pawing up me, until he managed to get up, and on the seat beside me, he fell back into his own corner and said, “Fucking Gaia. I need to get you home.”

  I had never felt so fucked before in my life. I didn’t care where he took me.

  Wait. I take that back.

  I knew there was no way in hell I could go home smelling like I did then, because he was all over me. Limp, I struggled to reach out for him, put a hand on his arm. “Please tell me you mean your home.”

  Chapter Three

  Barklay said hoarsely, “Yeah. I meant my home.” To his driver, he said, “The cabin.”

  The car began to move, and I felt relieved.

  He reached up and took my hand, then pulled me to him, rested it over his crotch. His dick was hard again. He asked, “Feel that?”

  Like I couldn’t feel a tree. I let out a little half laugh. “Uh, yeah.”

  He barked, “It’s wrong, Letha. You shouldn’t do this to me.”

  Because I was bastet and he was garou. I hated the fact that he was trying to make what was good into something wrong. I couldn’t let him get away with it.

  I had to squeeze. I couldn’t help it. There is a certain power in knowing that he was ready to go, hot for me. But there was something else, too. After the shooting stars he’d put in the sky for me, I felt a little obligated. “You want...you want me to go down on you?”

  There’s the thing. How could he not want that? He was obviously into that sort of thing. His cock literally bounced in his pants when I asked. But he laid his head back--at the same time pressing my hand down harder on him--and said, “No. Just hold on. Okay?”

  I did. I leaned back, too, squeezing on occasion. It didn’t feel real. The whole scene, I mean. Dark shadows, all smells, emotions, sensations. A lot of groaning and moaning. Even then, while we were driving.

  He was rolling his hips beneath my hand, and I was seriously thinking of going down on him anyway. I knew he wanted it, was thinking about it while we passed through town. Right? And after what I’d just experienced, I thought, the guy deserves it. He deserved the fucking universe.

  I had no idea that there was a man on the planet who could do what he had done.

  But suddenly my head came up. We were definitely heading out of town. My sense of direction kicked in. South.

  I guess my grip indicated my panic. He smoothed his fingers over mine, and said, “Relax, cat. Mm.” He stroked my hand over his manhood. “I can’t wait to get you to my place.”

  Okay. So, my brain’s finally kicking in. I’d been sexually satisfied--multiple times--and now I was starting to think beyond that. I didn’t pull my hand away, because it was definitely soothing the beast, but I asked in a small voice, “Where, exactly, do you live...Barklay?”

  His nose wrinkled. “South of town.”

  Sixth sense or something, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rising. “Where?”

  Garou-ville was bad enough, but I knew there were spots outside the city, outside the suburbs, where it wasn’t safe for anybody to go. Places where the woods were thick, and dog dens were hidden everywhere. They called it a nature preserve, but the only thing nature had preserved there was a safe haven for wolves to lurk. The cats had all been cleaned out of the area. Even Leo and Tommy didn’t go there. So I knew it was no place for me.

  Bark opened one eye, and let his lip curl up on one side. “Puss...you think I’d let somebody hurt you...after that?” The hand that had been holding me to him reached up, slipped around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest. He kissed me, looked me in the eye and promised, “They’d have to kill me first.” Then he kissed me some more.

  Within seconds, we were back to tangoing tongue action.

  By the time the car came to a halt, I was riding his leg, rubbing him harder and harder and practically begging him to screw me in the car again.

  “We’re here, sir.” The interruption probably saved us from that. “You want I should come around and get the door?”

  Barklay eased me off of him, lingering over my lips, looking at the dreaminess in my expression and said, “Yeah. Help me out.”

  I think that’s when he figured out that I was still high on something, because he reached forward, lifting an eyelid with a thumb. “What did you take?”

  My hand came up automatically, brushed through my hair. “Does it matter?” I felt good. Purred a little.

  He didn’t answer.

  The door opened. He handed me out to his man, who stunk like a pisser. That gave me a rude awakening. Okay, a regular human might not have noticed it, but he was all dog, if you know what I mean.

  I bounced back into Bark’s arms the minute he was on his feet. He wrapped his husky self around me. It felt great.

  For the first time in my whole life, I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. In the right arms. Wanted.

  The extra Valium I’d popped before leaving Ali’s--the other two I had--made my legs into noodles. Did I forget to mention taking those? No.

  How the hell else do you think I stayed loose through all that?

  So, the minute he realized I was having a little trouble getting my balance, he slid his arm to my waist and half carried me toward the cabin.

  There were a few guys talking in the distance. My ears perked up, but they sounded busy--weren’t talking about me, or us. Bark called out to them, told them to find something to do--some place else to hang out.

  Before I knew what was happening, or he got me inside, we heard noises, rustling in the bushes, and somebody yelling. Okay, lots of yells, actually, and the flash and snap of a camera. Twice, I think. Not three times, I know that.

  Bark protected me, held my face with his hand. Swore, threw out an order for them to get the guy.

  His man took off, hot on the photographer’s trail.

  Correction, they were all running around. I couldn’t tell how many worked for Bark and who was with the cameraman. But I know some of them were running interference for him as he headed for the trees. It’s like they came out of nowhere, a whole army.

  Two different packs? All garou, though.

  Yeah. Talk about a scaredy-cat.

  Bark got me inside fast. Literally picked me up when my knees totally went out from underneath me.

  Kicked the door open. Felt like it anyway. I know for a fact he kicked it shut. And he put me on the sofa, checked my eyelids again. I’m thinking that all the other shit was loading up in my system.

  I told him, “I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ll get you a drink.” He checked my other eye. “In a minute.” I felt his hand on my pulse. That made me smile. “Leo and Tommy do that.”

  He growled. P
ut his nose to my face and said, “Puss--don’t tell me about other men, unless you want them dead.” He kissed me, though, so I knew he wasn’t really angry at me. And I felt his hand run softly over the side of my face, soft thumb. Sweet.

  I muttered, “You’re all alike, you know.” Tough acts. Mush inside. Needing to be loved.

  That pissed him off. He got up. I heard water running. I moaned, “Not water.”

  He brought it to me anyway, held it to my lips, told me, “Drink it.” I was thirsty enough not to argue, but I wasn’t as out of it as I was playing. I needed to get some specs on where I was. And what had happened outside.

  You know...try and figure out why somebody would want a picture of Barklay, and who he had in his arms.

  While he was in getting the water, I scoped around. The place was posh, but furry. Real furs, nothing faux. It kind of irritated me. I mean...have a little respect for the dead. Ya know? At least there were no cat pelts. No wolf pelts either. Plenty of rabbit, bear and sheep, though. Gaping, rocky fireplace. Heavy wood furniture, made of solid tree trunks, from the looks of it. Burl clock. Very outdoorsy.

  I suspected it to be his getaway. Except it wasn’t exactly private--if someone had been waiting for him. If a whole pack had been standing guard. Right?

  There was nothing to say who he was, or why anyone would care to paparazzi his pic and choice of companions. I never watched the news, or the social columns, or anything like that, so I had no idea.

  No fucking idea.

  You know who I had picked up with? Barklay Wolf. Of Wolf Enterprises.

  C.E.O. of Wolf Enterprises, to be exact.

  You don’t know about Wolf Enterprises? Subsidiary of Lobos International, the biggest garou conglomerate on the planet?

  Wolf E.--known to all bastet as ‘the annihilators.’ Killers of their own kind. Racists of the worst extreme. They didn’t even like their own.

  I didn’t know much, but I knew that.

  I just never cared to get into politics. That’s why the name Barklay never even rang a bell. I mean, he was a guy, I was a girl. That’s as far as I’d gone with my thinking--except there was something going on. Ya know?