Doanald appraised the two of us, “Nay, I do no challenge you. You lead this pack, an I would no have it otherwise.”
Samwell watched us also, his earlier rage transformed into something else. Heat still burned in his eyes, but they now traveled down my body, lingering at my ample breasts and my scandalously bared legs. He licked his lips, a beastial affectation.
Through the cold night, under a bright moon and in these primal woods, something inside me stirred. I could smell Wynn, and I wanted more. His woody scent, his hot hand, the length that hung under his kilt. In my nethers, an ember of lust was smoking, threatening to consume me. Some strange part of me made me turn my head and bite his hand.
Doanald bellowed a laugh, “Oh Pack Leader, ye have a biter on your hands! You’ll have to teach that pup some manners.”
“We have a long day tomorrow,” Wynn said, looking down at me, his hand held out of range, “Get some rest.”
All four of us curled up around the fire. I had made a small sleeping pad out of some cloth around the wagon. I watched as the men all unwound their sashes and kilts, one impossibly long length of green wool that could also double as a bed and cover.
Try as I might, I could not sleep. One always pictured the woods as dark and quiet. Dark they are, quiet they are not! Small creatures scurried about, owls hooted and even the wind blew through the trees.
Quickly the fire died down, and the true cold of the night crept in. I lay, trying not to chatter my teeth too loudly, but eventually I couldn’t take it any longer. I chastised myself as I crawled slowly over toward Wynn’s sleeping form.
The moonlight cast a cool blue light over the camp. I looked over at the prone bodies of Doanald and Samwell. Their snores were deep, much like their sleep.
Looking back to Wynn, I saw his blue eyes looking right at me. I must have shivered at that point, because his hand lifted the side of his blanket in offer. The last part of my modesty died as I scurried to lie next to the tall naked man. I was not sure how I should share this tight space with him, but his arm sliding under my neck made his chest a natural pillow.
I took in his scent for the second time that evening. This time, much more intimately, I breathed in deeply. Pine, smoke from the campfire and his own primal musk: I took it all in with relish.
I was a virgin, this much was true, but I was no prude. I merely acted in a way required by my station in society. Those chains now destroyed, freed from a fate that was torture just to contemplate, I was eager to take charge of my fate going forward.
“Thoughts stir in you,” Wynn said, quietly.
“Do you mind a woman who has thoughts?” I asked playfully.
He let out a quiet laugh, “Nay, but this is a time for sleeping.”
“Is that all you Linneigh men do at night?” I asked. I kissed the small part of his hand I had bitten before.
Wynn’s chest reverberated with a deep, gutteral growl. I’d heard him growl before, but that was out of anger. This sound held some of the same passion, but there was no anger in it. It was something more akin to hunger. Lust.
I took one of his fingers in my mouth and sucked upon it. I’d heard the maids on the estate talk to one another about how they’d use their mouths on their men.
“Claire,” Wynn said, “Claire, stop.”
“No,” I said, going back to sucking his finger. I laid a thigh across his, bringing it maddeningly far up. My cooze ached to be touched, to be rubbed, to be filled. My little button sent bolts through me as it rubbed against his hard muscled leg.
“Damnit, lass, this isn’t a tavern fling!” Wynn said, his voice straining. “It’s different for us Lycan. A bond forms, long lasting. An’ it’s not between man and woman, it’s with the whole pack.”
I was taken aback a moment, thinking of beasts rutting in the deep forests. Could I fall from my station to lie on all fours, a bitch in heat? But then I just had to remind myself where my station in society had gotten me: betrothed against my will to a loveless cruel scoundrel. At least if I laid with wolves, it would be my own choice!
“I hear your words, Wynn. They do not frighten me,” I said, my hand creeping down his chest. Every hair of his stood on end, like running my fingers through curly gray grass. His stomach was smooth, and the muscles underneath tensed as I reached his belly button.
“Are you going to submit to me?” Wynn said through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing gold for a moment. “Are you going to be mine? For me to pounce upon whenever I favor?” His hand caught my face and brought it up to his. “Or you could go back to your life of foppish leisure.”
I looked into his eyes and bared my teeth. “I’ll die before I go back to that,” I said. My hand passed his belly button and through his nest of fur above his manhood. I grabbed him by his base, swallowing the apprehension of this piece of meat entering me. “I think I found what I was looking for.”
His eyes went half-lidded, his animal lust now at the forefront. I stroked his cock under the blanket, amazed at how it got harder, thicker and longer. He bucked his hips, his rod sliding through my grasp. I leaned down and kissed him, our lips meeting in pure ecstasy. I’d read the sultry stories in my library, books I hoped my father never paid attention to. They talked about what it was like when the princess finally met her prince.
This kiss told me I had met my prince. A world of emotions spun through me as I lay half on top this rugged man, his gray hair lit with a blue glow from the moon overhead. His tongue swept over my lips, then barged through them, absolutely taking my mouth for his. No nook or cranny was left unexplored by his relentless tongue. I moaned into his mouth, my cunny getting wet.
I broke off the kiss, nibbling my way down his body. His scars were like some maps I’d seen in my father’s boring books about trade. Long lines went this way and that, crisscrossing the continent of his chest like greedy traders with gold on their mind. I kissed each one as I passed it, honoring his sacrifices and combat prowess. I could see he had earned his place as Pack Leader.
I opened my mouth and took in the head of his cock. A slick salty liquid met my tongue, which I knew must be his seed. I relished the musk and flavor of it: I could not put it into words, but it was indescribably him. I could tell he liked this, as he moaned loudly and placed a hand in my hair. He grabbed it hard, forcing my mouth further down his massive prick. I obeyed as best I could, submitting to his dominance and trying my best to fit more of him into my mouth. When it seemed I could fit no more, he pulled my head back then forced it down again.
My hand sought the heavy hairy sack below his member, heavy with two hot stones. If their weight reflected the amount of seed he had, he was positively brimming with it! I massaged his balls, enjoying the feeling of the heavy smoothness inside his bag.
Wynn’s other hand grabbed my thigh and he roughly pulled my rear closer to his head. I was pleased with myself that I kept him in my mouth during this transition. With my fanny near to his face, his hand flung my nightgown up over and exposed me to all God’s creatures.
My quim pulsed when it hit the cold air, a shocking contrast to the warmth under his blanket. I could feel a line of my juice running from my slit down my leg, first hot then growing colder. I desperately needed to be touched, and I whined softly around his cock.
Wynn’s hand ran up the damp leg, and he brought his wet fingers to his nose and inhaled. Like a Frenchman sampling a fine wine, he was enjoying my scent, my physical proof of eagerness. “Claire,” he said, “Your fields are fertile. Tis the time of the month when you can take seed.”
I stopped sucking his manhood. “My fields need tending, and should God see it fit to sprout your seed inside me, so be it,” I said, massaging his balls. I was more than ready, more than eager. I needed him.
His fingers went back to my slit and played in my lady folds. I closed my eyes and made noises no human should make. When his fingers roughly brushed my clitty, I let out a squeal of pleasure. That brought a smile to his face so he continued to assault m
y sensitive bit.
I could feel a wave come over me, like being alive for the first time. It crashed through me and I cried out, warmth and electricity and light pushing through me as I came to know true ecstasy. My hands shot down to my privates to stop Wynn’s continued assault.
After perhaps a minute my breathing returned to normal and his fingers dipped inside me. He stopped abruptly. “Be this ye maidenhead?” he asked, amazed.
“I have known no man,” I responded, “but I will know you tonight.”
“Then I shall take you into the Pack, Claire. We will be mated,” he said gruffly, his mouth meeting mine for a brief tongue wrestle. Pulling away, he stood up over me. His rod was thick and heavy, hanging down like a butcher’s sausage. “Samwell would have you as well,” he said, looking over across the campfire.
I looked over to see Samwell standing, looking down at me. He was nude, his bare skin pale in the moonlight from above. His hand stroked his cock, hard and defiant of the cold. I could not see his face, but gold eyes glinted at me in the darkness. A guttural growl came from him, and he slowly stalked around the campfire. “I will not fight you to breed her, Pack Leader,” he said. “She is yours, though she does tempt me.”
Wynn nodded then looked down to me, “I am going to mount you like a bitch in heat. I will relieve my hot need inside you. Will you relieve Samwell?”
I looked between the two men, then nodded. “I will do that.”
Wynn was upon me before I could utter another word. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, spun me around, and plopped me down on all fours. On the forest floor, under a bright moon above, Claire Lawry was on all fours waiting to be mounted. And I wouldn’t have to wait long.
There is something about the swagger of a man as he moves behind you. He goes from being your partner to being your dominant. I could sense him above and behind me, and I felt the leaves beneath my knees shift as he knelt behind me.
He bent forward, a large hand grabbing my shoulder while the other one grabbed his hard cock. He pressed the mushroom shaped head to my Venus mound and pressed into me. He was not gentle, he was not polite. He came upon my maidenhead and plunged through it. He was a grunting, thrusting animal on my back.
I grimaced through the pain, which soon dissipated and was replaced by an itch. An itch only he could scratch. His whole cock filled me from bottom to belly, and I could feel him inside me, stretching my tunnel to accomodate him. I reached one hand back and grabbed his wrist, bringing it to my breast. His hand squeezed and caressed my soft flesh, and soon his other hand went to my other breast.
Samwell was now kneeling in front of me, cock in hand. His eyes spoke of a desperate need, a lust to be sated. I obeyed, lowering my head and taking him in my mouth. His bulbous head pushed past my lips, and soon I was tasting his own flavor of seed as it leaked out of his prick. Every time I would lick it away and swallow it, more would appear soon after. I loved the taste, and I enjoyed the tickle of his short hairs when my mouth engulfed all of him. I brought my head up and down on his shaft, and held his balls with one hand while doing it. I could feel another wave building, approaching the shores of my soul.
Atop me, Wynn continued his hammering. His rigid staff ploughed my field, rutting like the beast he truly was. His heavy sack would swing forward on every stroke, slapping my clitty and bringing that wave ever closer in wonderful little jumps. His hands found my hard pink nipples and squeezed them mercilessly.
Samwell’s need was indeed urgent, for without delay he threw his head back and howled. The cock in my mouth shook with a violent eruption. His seed launching into my hungry mouth, and I swallowed every salty, creamy drop. I squeezed his balls, hoping more of him could be coaxed out. Another two pumps and he was done: his well was dry. He collapsed backwards, splaying spread eagle on the damp earth.
My packmate sated, I could now focus on my dear Leader. I crossed my arms and leaned my upper body down, presenting my ass to this alpha male. His pounding got even faster, and I felt my wave coming in, along the whole horizon of my being. I would drown in it, happily.
Wynn’s fucking got incredibly rapid, then he slammed into me one last time and lock his hips against my ass. He, too, let out a howl to announce to the world he had taken his prize.
I felt him throb inside me, and I felt his warmth bloom inside my womb. Thick ropes of his seed filled me. My wave came crashing in, this one much more intense than before. I shook, my legs giving out under me. I made to fall forward, but the stiff rod in my cunny didn’t allow it. My greedy pussy milked his rod, wanting more of this man’s seed inside it.
Wynn fell off to the side, collapsing in bliss. I put my head on his chest and pulled the blanket over us.
“An’ now can we maybe git some sleep?” A loud voice boomed from across the campfire.
I couldn’t supress the laugh, and was joined by Wynn and Samwell. “Do you need relieving too, Doanald?” I asked, still laughing.
“Nay lass, lest you’ve hidden a cock beneath that night gown!” he shot back, joining us in laughter.
I didn’t know what the future would hold, but I knew one thing. It would be a future of my choosing. I kissed my Pack Leader goodnight and was asleep before my head hit his chest.
The Pirate And The Alpha
by
Becca Fanning
Nothing got me into the mood like a good sea shanty. The fiddler in the corner of the dark room was swinging him arm as fast as he could, the drummer next to him hammering for all he was worth.
I leapt into the middle of the room, other dancers making way for me. My long skirts shook and swayed as I kicked this way and that. The Queen of England might want my head, but tonight I would drink and dance!
A lanky lad caught my attention. Dark hair cropped short, his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the tavern. That little act of defiance drew me to him, the need to make him mine.
No man ignores Lady Brass. I’d been the captain of the Salt Shake these past six years, commanding a crew of the roughest cut-throats ‘cross the seven seas. We’d plundered. We’d done murder. We’d done it all and we’d do it again. And I wasn’t going to have some little land bug ignore me.
I swayed in front of him, letting my hips do the talking. That’d get his prick nice and hard, ready for me to take him. The thought made me wet, my pussy needing a long hard ride, a good horse to break in. I glanced back and his eyes were only on me. That’s the look I knew, the one I was waiting for.
I took his hand in mine, dragging him back towards the private rooms. Ignoring the cheers from the common room, I pushed him through the door to my chamber. He fell back on the bed, looking up at me with soft eyes.
I crawled on top of him. “You ready, boy-o? You’re gonna get nice and stiff for me, give me a proper in and out,” I kissed him, his mouth completely still as my tongue plunged into it.
My hand went down to his crotch, feeling his member coming to life through his trousers. Maybe I’d let him swab my tongue with it. If I was feeling charitable, that is. I wasn’t known for it.
“I…” he said, his voice a scared croak.
Ahh, the poor lad was a virgin. He’d never had his prick wet before. “S’alright, lad. Just let nature lead your hand.”
“I…I don’t want to die,” he said. His face was pure terror. “Please, have mercy.”
“No,” I said, though I don’t know where the word came from. “Luck is a fickle mistress. Some have it good, some have it bad. Nothing personal.” Again, my voice, but the words were from somewhere else.
The man beneath me fell into water where the bed was. Disappearing through dark blue ripples, his face was frozen in shock. In moments he was gone, as if he’d never existed.
“Nothing personal.”
My eyes flew open, bright blazing sunlight slamming into them like a canon. The sound of lapping waves was joined by the sensation of water gently running over my feet. A light breeze carried salty spray onto my face. Where was I?
&nb
sp;
Amir (BBW Bear Shifter Moonshiner Romance) (120 Proof Honey Book 3) Page 143
