Werewolf Journals 01 - Wild in the City

by Camille Anthony

  “Not yet,” she rasped, eyes pleading, her features stark, face stripped bare of all pretenses. Her hot little box clamped down on my toe like a vise.

  “You’re very hungry, aren’t you, baby?” Giving her an encouraging smile, I wrestled my toe out of her snug hole. It cleared her clinging lips with an audible pop.

  I’m a big man--raw-boned, my dad says, like all the males in my family. My big toe is thick, a good four and a half inches long and I’d had every inch of it crammed in her tight hole.

  I discovered that black women blush; at least, this one did. I saw and smelled the hot color wash over her chagrined features just before she gave in to her still seething desires. “Oh, please, I need to be filled. Put your toe back in me!”

  “No. Remember, we are in a public place. You need to calm down.”

  Tearing off a small hunk of bread, I dipped it in the seasoned olive oil and offered it to her. She shook her head, lips tight. She was angry with me and her fierce frown let me know it in no uncertain terms. Inwardly amused by her courageous streak, I persisted, rubbing the oiled bread over her lips when she didn’t open them fast enough to suit me.

  “Please!”

  Her word cut off abruptly when I pushed the chunk of bread into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed truculently, eyes begging me, conveying her frantic need to come.

  “Eat,” I suggested calmly. “You need to focus your attention on something less exciting than having my long, thick toe flexing in your juicy little pussy.”

  My nostrils quivered, catching the fragrant scent of the heated fluid spilling from her pussy. My hunger flared and I frowned, agitated and displeased over not being able to feast on that slick, sweet moisture. I took my displeasure out on her. “Don’t waste my cream!”

  “Wh-what?”

  “You’ve creamed onto your seat,” I growled, uncaring that I’d been the cause of that syrupy gushing.

  “I can’t help it. This is your fault. You’ve gotten me so hot!”

  Every sense I possessed focused on the woman seated across from me. All else, the diners, the staff…everything faded into the background to become just so much white noise. My job required that I always stay alert and conscious of any suspicious movement, but tonight, any one of those diners could have snuck up on me, captured or killed me unawares.

  “Tonight belongs to us. I want to claim every piece and particle of your body. I want every drop, every ounce of passion you produce. Like nectar for my thirsty soul, I will drink from your sweet pussy as reverently as Galahad drank from the Holy Grail. In return, you shall have pleasures such as you have never known. Your body’s honey is the elixir of life and belongs in the living receptacle of my mouth. Don’t waste it on a lifeless chair.”

  She moaned, squirming at my words, releasing yet more of her fragrant fluid. “Damn, you are so freaking romantic.”

  “I’m not anything of the sort, and you’re--” I broke off, shuddering, as the call of the moon swept over my flesh. Outside, true dark had fallen and the ascending moon summoned my beast. A rash of goose bumps shivered over my shoulders and down my arms, followed by an involuntary lengthening of nails and teeth, curbed only by the most intense effort. It was time to howl and my beast no longer heeled at my command. I knew I didn’t have much time to play. “I think I’d better cool you off.”

  The two walls of our half booth offered a modicum of privacy. Examining the dimensions of our cloth-draped table, I found it adequate for my plans. My voice rumbling from my throat in a deep growl, I ordered, “Get your dress up about your hips, out of my way.”

  Our conversations had revealed she was an independent thinker, but she didn’t question me on this. In a couple of discreet movements, she shimmied until that tight red flag of seduction rode above her thighs, the tablecloth hiding her machinations and her state of undress from the rest of the room’s occupants.

  My cock thrummed and balls tingled as I watched her ready herself for me. The wulf in me was so close to the surface I feared losing control, something I hadn’t done since my long-ago puppyhood.

  “I want you to know what I am going to do to you.” I held my teaspoon up, waved it before her face. “Do you see this?”

  She bobbed her head in a shaky nod, pouty lips parted as she audibly released her pent-up breath.

  “I’ll drop this on the floor. When I get down and pretend to retrieve it, I want you to nibble on the rest of your bread, maybe take a few sips of your soda. At no time should you allow your mouth to be empty. Do you understand?”

  “No.” She gulped. “Why?”

  I took pity on her, realizing she had been aroused beyond simple deductive reasoning. So had I.

  “If I said, ‘Because I command it!’ that would be reason enough.” I forgot myself so far as to give her orders. Shaking my head, I remembered she did not consider herself my bitch, didn’t consider I had the right to command her obedience. My aberrant behavior gave me grave cause for concern, but I could not draw back. I had to taste her or go insane.

  “I’m going to make you come hard enough to scream. Food in your mouth might help keep your cries to a minimum.” I shrugged. “It is your choice.” I tossed a dismissive glance at the couples sharing the room with us. I grinned, carefully hiding my elongated canines. “If you wish these others to know what I am doing to you…”

  Snatching up a small piece of bread, she stuffed it in her mouth and commenced chewing frantically, making me chuckle with delight at her panicked response.

  Smiling widely, I sat the spoon near the corner of the table, inching it in deliberate increments toward the edge with the tip of one finger. Her eyes, helplessly enthralled, followed the utensil’s measured, haphazard path across the pristine cloth, watched as it tumbled in slow motion, over the edge and out of sight. When it thudded onto the floor, her eyes snapped back to mine. Her throat convulsed as she tried to swallow around her mouth full of dry bread.

  “Sip,” I suggested gruffly, folding her shaking fingers about her glass. The ice rattled against the sides as she gripped it in unsteady hands.

  “Why, look,” I drawled for the benefit of the other diners and staff, pushing my chair back as I spoke. “I seem to have dropped my spoon.” With my foot, I nudged the spoon further under the table until the trailing cloth totally concealed it. Dipping my head because my grin had grown too wide to hide my fangs, I promised, “Be right back.” I winked at her.

  Making a drawn-out production of sliding from my chair and easing under our table, I left her gasping for air and wriggling in her seat.

  The small dark space, bordered and enclosed by the floor-length tablecloth, trapped the fragrant scent of my woman’s arousal within. Grinning, mouth drooling, I saw she had obeyed me, baring her thighs and mons in readiness of my use. My stomach growled, hunger roaring through me as I surveyed the feast spread before me. Howling with lust and attacking her feminine meat in urgent satisfaction of my desires would not go over well, I imagined.

  My nostrils quivered as I breathed in deeply, allowing her musk to swamp my senses. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of her sex made my head light.

  Oh, yeah! I licked my lips. There were no cold leftovers here. I found myself confronting a ripe, hot pussy, spilling spicy juices, waiting for me to dive into it, nothing preventing me from eating my fill.

  Swirling a finger in the spilled cream on her wooden seat, I painted her legs, daubing invisible patterns on her knees, thighs and labia. Bending my head, I lapped the soft bend of her knee. Moving up to lick between her thighs, swirling my tongue over her puffy outer lips, I meticulously removed my cooling handiwork with firm, broad strokes. I concentrated my attention on the plump, dark skin of her inner thighs, swiping at the slick moisture sheening her quivering skin. They jiggled just enough to make my balls ache.

  “Mmmhhmmmm…” Moaning in ecstasy, I released my tight control over my beast, allowing him a moment of freedom.

  Licking her tasty skin, I made my way up toward her
hot, chocolaty gooey center, unable to resist interspersing a few stinging nips along the way. My sharp hearing picked up her low-voiced, incoherent moans and the high, sharp retort of the drinking glass clinking against her teeth.

  Hold on, baby girl, this ride’s about to get bumpy!

  Tired of teasing, wanting to get at the main entree, I hunkered down before her. Placing my hands between her legs, I yanked her knees wide apart, forcing her dress up higher, exposing her cunt fully to my greedy gaze.

  Freezing in arrested awe, I stared down upon sheer perfection. She had the prettiest, plumpest vagina I had ever seen. Its moist, dark folds were a mouth-watering, shocking pink nestled in a bed of rich cocoa-tinted flesh.

  Leaning closer, I buried my nose in her folds and inhaled, actually feeling my heart flutter as I drank in her luscious bouquet. Beneath her rich scent, I caught an unrecognizable smell and puzzled over it a moment, trying to place the elusive odor. It bothered me that I could not call to mind what that faint smell meant. I sniffed again. Just that suddenly, worry over the unrecognizable scent fled. My thoughts whirled, all a jumble, muscles locked in shock as another strong aroma flooded my astounded senses. This smell I knew, knew as well or better than I knew my own mark!

  Breed!

  No wonder I found it hard to control myself around her. Moon and stars above, but I’d stumbled across a Breed female, unclaimed and, if I recognized the signs, unaware. A Breed made exactly to my lustful specifications: A dark-skinned, generously full-bodied female that was mine for the taking…if I wanted her. Oh, hell, yes, I wanted her!

  Immediately, everything changed. My intentions became honorable.

  I Sneak a Slice of Chocolate Cream Pie

  In a perfect world, at a different time in the moon’s cycle, I would have wooed her with all the romance I sensed she wanted and needed. Unfortunately--or, depending how one looked at it, fortunately--I’d found her now, while I teetered on the brink of change. I didn’t have the luxury of courting my mate-to-be.

  Though I’d yet to learn her name, a visceral connection twined and unfurled between us, growing stronger as I lingered in her presence, drinking in her intoxicating scent. Unless I moved now, the growing connection would not be enough to protect her or me from the mate-hungry werewulves of San Francisco.

  Being heir to the Pack Prime of the Western American Pack, I was second only to my father and the other ruling alphas. If this weren’t a matter of mating, my word would be enough to command obedience. However, as it stood, even my position as Ascendant Prime would not stop the mating frenzy that would ensue when my fellow wulves caught the musk of an unmated Breed female.

  Unease snaked within. I recalled that lone werewulf, pacing the streets, howling his loneliness to the moon. He’d been close enough, and might have been hunting the same scent that had lured my own feet to the corner of Divisidero and Webster. If he or another wulf found her before I could mate her, all hell would break loose.

  I had been attracted to her when I thought her only human. Now that I knew her to be a Breed, she was fast becoming irresistible to me. I had waited a long time for a female of her caliber to come along. Damned if I would give her up without a fight.

  A whimper bled from my mouth as I stared at her tasty clit. The fat little button rose demandingly from beneath its hooded cover, exposed and vulnerable, just begging me to bite it. Giving in to temptation, I did so, with a voracious hunger that threatened to consume us both here in this public place.

  Like a puppy at his mam’s teat, I latched onto the stiff bit of flesh, worrying it, holding it firmly between my teeth. I shook my head gently from side to side. It was easy to sense her agonized struggle to maintain outward appearances as she clamped her knees like a vise over my ears. I wouldn’t allow her to contain my actions.

  Still nibbling on her clit, I brought my right hand up and opened her more fully, spreading her vaginal lips wide between my splayed fingers. When I had her opened up to my satisfaction, I began administering long, hard swipes over the entire surface with my flattened tongue. I pushed so hard against her sex, her back thudded against the back of the bench. She grasped the edge of the table, fighting to stay upright.

  I used my teeth on her, biting and nipping hard enough to startle, yet not breaking the skin. I knew the small discomforts, mixed with the escalating pleasure, would drive her up and over in a short time.

  Moving back up to her clit, I again engulfed it, sucking it hard into my mouth, drawing on it to a point just shy of pain, feeling it swell and throb in response.

  Her thighs trembled hard enough to rattle my brains, signaling her rapid approach to critical mass. Reluctantly, I released my new plaything and tilted my head sideways. Opening my mouth wide, I captured both her swollen pussy lips between my jaws. Biting down on her, I pressed my chin against her covered clit, working my jaws firmly but carefully.

  She exploded in lonely splendor above me.

  Her drinking glass hit the table with a dull thud. Her knees jerked up, bumping against the bottom of the table. She panted and moaned, managing to stop shy of a scream by plugging her mouth with bread. It is possible that I am the only one who heard and witnessed her climax, but at that point, neither of us gave a fuck.

  I waited for her to regain control and once her shudders ceased, released the grip of my mouth on her pussy, using both hands to pry her open. Burying my mouth over her opening, I suckled her, determined to get at every drop of cream I’d trapped behind her sealed opening. Growling, whining under my breath, I lapped her juices up with hungry slurps, forgetting myself so far as to allow a rumbling snarl of possession to escape my mouth. My beast rode me hard, demanding I claim this woman, this pussy, as my own.

  Mine to lick.

  Mine to fuck.

  Never again, would anyone touch this dark, sweet confection and live. Call me a selfish dog, but my kind doesn’t share.

  A long while later, with a last, soothing lick to her chapped clit, I reluctantly bid farewell to her pussy.

  Poor little darling, I commiserated. Both her clit and her pussy glowed red-hot with the heat of raw, chafed flesh. I had not been gentle with her little jewel box at all.

  I floated, light-headed from the euphoria of having tasted her sweetness, having made her come. I didn’t feel much guilt, since I hadn’t really injured her, just used her well and thoroughly. Though she did not know it yet, she and her delectable pussy would soon belong exclusively to me. As her mate, I intended to fuck her frequently and hard. In fact, her pussy would be a lot redder and rawer in an hour or so, as I fully planned to claim her tonight, fill her tight pussy with my cock and ride her into oblivion. My instincts demanded I tie her to me in any way I could. My present level of horniness pretty much ensured she’d be bow-legged by morning.

  Smoothing my hair and clothes before emerging from under the table, I rose with spoon in hand. Only after I finished seating myself did I look over at her. She wore a blank, vacant look reminiscent of victims suffering from shellshock. Her lips trembled and her breasts were still heaving, her nipples little hillocks butting against the thin material of her dress. Slowly, languidly, her mouth turned up and she smiled in repletion. Never had I seen such a beautiful sight. Her scent bathed my senses, rose about her like a cloud of incense and cloaked her in a robe of shimmering desire.

  I grinned back at her, impudently licking my lips. “I forgot to mention this restaurant is best known for its spectacular appetizers.”

  I Ask For Her Name and Her Hand

  “So, what is your name? It seems strange to know your pussy so intimately, yet not know what name your mam whispered over your wet head.”

  I had reinserted my toe into her pussy as soon as I sat back down. Not moving it, simply letting it lie quiescently just within the opening of her lips, using it as a plug to stop any more of my cream from spilling out. I questioned her, interested in learning as much as possible about her.

  Our server came and went, leaving our main dish and
clearing away the residue of our bread sticks and seasoned oil. We both played with our pasta, appetites gone way beyond food.

  She didn’t say anything for a while. Frowning at my question, she stopped swirling her fork through her pasta to look up at me from under a fan of thick, long eyelashes. “Whatever you want to call me, I guess.” She pressed down on me, pussy rippling hard about my toe, revealing the state of her renewed arousal.

  Irritation flashed through me at her evasive answer. “I want to call you by your name. Your real one. And don’t lie to me,” I warned her. “I will know if you do. I can smell a lie.”

  She shifted nervously on her seat. Paused to deal with the ripples of delight her movement caused. Her heart rate picked up as she undulated on my long toe, riding me, trying to get me to push farther up. I refused, staying right where I was. I wanted to push her to the edge, withhold her climax until she succumbed to my will.

  “I don’t give out my real name to my johns.” The sultry droop to her eyelids was a dead giveaway of her mood. She wanted fucking, and I wasn’t giving. She couldn’t hide her frustration.

  I raised my eyebrows at her tone. “I won’t be just another one of your johns. I’ve decided I want a more involved relationship than that.”

  “A relationship is not part of our agreement. I can’t have a more involved relationship with you, white boy,” she said, mocking my choice of words. “Why would I want to?”

  Now, I’m a great server of sarcasm and can dish it out with the best of them. However, I do not care to have it served up to me. Her attitude pissed me off, raised my hackles, even as my admiration for her courage grew. She didn’t fear me, though by rights, she had reason to.

  Gripping her hand, I tugged her upper body toward me, pulling her off center. Feeding her an inch more of my toe, I wiggled it hard inside her, countering snidely, “Maybe because your pussy is still singing the Ode to Joy?”