The first wolf spoke. “You see you’re outnumbered, brother. You should leave now. She belongs to us.”
Zack shook his head—sadly, Lucy thought. He said, “I did warn you.”
Zack took a step, and he was seven feet tall. Another, and now he topped eight feet. Lucy could not tear her eyes away from his power. Every muscle rippled. He was almost upon the two wolves.
Lucy expected they would grow to equal Zack, but they looked confused. And they stayed the size they were.
Zack was almost nine feet tall by the time he reached for the wolves, who seemed frozen in place, fear widening their eyes. He grabbed each of them by the throat, lifted them from the ground, and threw back his head and howled.
The trees shook, and Lucy’s ears rang with the fierce supremacy in his roar. The sound died off to a snarl, and Zack squeezed. The heads of the two wolves popped off with a wet snap, and blood volcanoed into the air from their headless corpses.
Zack growled, breathing hard, and flung the carcasses into the trees. And then he turned towards Lucy.
She stared at the fearsome creature before her. He could end her life with one swipe of those scimitar-sharp claws. Or those slavering fangs. Or the muscles that swelled and undulated with his every movement.
And yet she was not afraid.
As if realizing how he must appear to her, Zack paused. He shook his head, the mane of black fur around his neck rustling, and a low whimper escaped his lips. When he looked at her now, his ice-blue eyes were filled with sorrow.
He took a step, and now he was seven feet tall. Another, and he was once again his normal size. His face returned to the gorgeous features that had first attracted Lucy to him.
And he was still naked. Stunningly, beautifully naked.
“I am sorry,” he rumbled, vestiges of the wolf still in his voice. He fixed his now-human eyes on hers. They were wet. “I never wanted you to see that part of me. I will return you safely to your apartment, and then I will go. You won’t see me again.”
“No,” Lucy whispered.
“Those two,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken, “were thugs. Transforming and succumbing to the blood lust is a choice with us, not a necessity. The movies and books are wrong—we are in control, if we choose to be.” He shook that sad head shake again. “They chose wrongly.” He reached out his hand to her. “Come, Lucy. I will take you home now.”
“No!” Lucy yelled.
Zack frowned. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Lucy looked up at him, her naked ass cold from sitting on the dirt, her body vibrating with the fading adrenaline and fear from before. But none of that mattered. Her heart spoke loudest of all.
She could see from the look on his face that words would not sway him. He must have suffered so in his life, never allowing himself to get close to anyone, always fearful for their safety if he brought them into his world.
And she didn’t care. With him, fearsome as he was in his wolf form, she felt safer than she ever had in her twenty-eight years.
Looking up at him, moving forward onto her hands and knees, she began to crawl. Keeping her eyes on his the entire time, she crept closer to him. The dirt and fallen leaves felt soft and comforting under her knees and palms. His look as he watched her was perplexed.
When she reached him, she sat back on her folded legs, knees spread wide, the micro-skirt pulled up so he could see her naked pussy. She rested the backs of her hands on her thighs, palms open, and bowed her head.
Realization dawned in his eyes. “Lucy,” he whispered. “You can’t.”
She gazed at his bare feet. Strong feet, tendons and muscles flexing as he shifted his weight. Her eyes slid up his muscled calves, his sculpted thighs, and stopped. She saw his cock twitch as she gazed at it.
“I can,” she murmured. “Because you are him. My One.”
Before he could respond, she rose up and clasped his rapidly stiffening cock in her small hands. He groaned, the blood filling his shaft and swelling the head. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his erection, reveling in its heat, its power, his arousal. She was tiny, and no match for his wolf, but she could give him this. For as long as he wanted her.
“Lucy,” he moaned, the sound filled with lust and anguish. His hands found their way to the back of her head and grasped her hair.
She responded by gliding her tongue up his long shaft, flicking the tip under and around the massive flared head until he growled, and taking him into her mouth.
He was so big she feared he would choke her, but she believed that the man she allowed to dominate her was free to access all of her, in any way he chose. Otherwise, she had never truly submitted to him. And to Zack, she would always submit.
“If you continue,” he groaned, “I will not stop. You will belong to me. I will protect you to my dying breath.” He growled. “I will love you to my dying breath.”
In reply, she plunged her mouth all the way along his shaft until her nose pressed into the muscled flesh below his stomach. Holding herself there as long as she could, his cock filled her throat, her mind, her heart.
He grabbed her ponytails and leveraged them to pull her tighter against him. She moaned deep in her core, her cunt flooding with nectar at this display of his dominance. Of ownership. She hummed around his cock, her heart soaring into happiness.
He pulled her off him, and she gasped in precious oxygen. Then he plunged his cock into her mouth, her throat, once again. Using her ponytails as handles, he jerked her head back and forth, fucking her face like the beast he was. Her pussy was so wet and dripping as she worshipped his cock that she knew the soil beneath her was damp. Keeping her knees spread while he was face-fucking her like this made her feel wanton, and wanted.
He had chosen to reveal himself to her, but said he would leave to protect her. She would show him, over time, that she was safer with him. He was a man, so it might take him awhile to understand, but she would persist.
And in the meantime, there was this.
Her hands gripped his thighs, exulting in the sensation of his iron masculinity surrounded by her softness and compliance. And just as she was in dire need of air, he sensed it and pulled her free of him so she could breathe.
He lifted her up, enfolding her in his arms, looking into her eyes.
“Being with me will be dangerous,” he warned her.
“If you hadn’t been here tonight,” she said, “if I had gone to the party with another man—” He growled at the thought of her with another. “—then those wolves would have killed both of us.” Her eyes said, Can’t you see how logical this is?
He must have read her mind, because he chuckled. Holding her ass cheeks in his big hands, he raised her higher. “Wise little girl,” he rumbled, his face changing towards the wolf, just a little.
And as he plunged his cock into her waiting pussy, pumping her until he filled her with his seed, she screamed with joy, and had the first of many orgasms she would have with him that Halloween night.
About Corey Harper
I write erotic romance fiction, mostly paranormal, all with M/f D/s spice. (Spanking may be included.) And always with a HEA (Happily Ever After).
I write characters that lead with their hearts, think with their brains, and explore their passions with everything else.
And yes, I am a Dom.
To learn more about me, and why a man like me writes erotic romance stories, read my interview on my blog.
Also by Corey Harper
If you liked One Hell of a First Date, be sure to check out Desire and Blood: The Complete Baobhan Sith Trilogy Box Set.
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The Haunting of Hamstead Manor
by Thianna D.
The old wood creaked as Ryan pushed the warped door open. Grimacing at the shriek that came from the
unused hinges, he made a mental note to get some WD-40 out of his truck. As the door finally pushed in far enough to step inside, he took a cautious breath and bent over as his lungs rejected the reeking, foul air. Backing up, he turned around, half-coughing, half gulping fresh air. Was getting a free house worth this? Grasping for his inhaler, he shook it and shoved it between his lips, pushing it down and inhaling the precious medicine that would allow him to breathe.
For fifteen minutes, he coughed, hacked, and wheezed before he was able to stand on shaky limbs and turn back toward the door. Hamstead Manor, a stone cottage supposedly from the seventeenth century, had gone through owner after owner over the last two hundred years. Well, maybe owner was too broad a term. Giftee might be more like it. Or maybe just Unlucky Jackal.
Ryan had heard the stories. The haunting of Hamstead Manor had been told and retold through his youth. It was said an evil ghost lived here, the last human to actually inhabit the place in peace. Something had happened when he died and he’d been haunting each new owner ever since. The rules were clear. He had to spend two months under the roof to inherit the home free and clear. Anything less than that and it would be held for the next generation.
As he was out of a job and had been for seven months, a free home where the bills would be paid for the rest of his life sounded like the perfect spot. Nobody was going to kick him out of his new home. As he stepped up to the door again, he grimaced. Now, with the door open, he spotted cobwebs. He might not get kicked out, but the creatures now making the manor their home were about to be evicted.
Not unused to living in a place that needed a thorough cleaning, he had brought a vast amount of supplies with him. After all, the manor was over five hours from town. Heading there more than once a month seemed like a huge waste. Going through the supplies stacked in the bed of his truck, he pulled out brooms, mops, bleach, ammonia, and a package of pest traps. Good thing it was only noon. He needed to get the place clean enough to sleep in tonight as he really didn’t look forward to sleeping in the cab for the third month in a row. Besides, the stipulation in the inheritance was clear. Once he reached the manor, he had to spend each and every night there.
How they would know if he didn’t, Ryan had no idea, but he assumed there was some sort of tracking device there to see if a human was in residence.
The first thing he needed to do was get more light in there. There was no electricity set up in the house. To make such changes, a person had to live there for the specified two months and gain full ownership. As far as Ryan knew, that had only happened once and thankfully that person put in internal plumbing.
Just knowing one other person had succeeded was a boost to his morale. He wrapped his head in a towel to fight off the dust, put on a pair of goggles, pulled on some gloves, and got to work. To get more light in, he yanked down the old curtains, grimacing as spiders galore scattered across the floor in the dusty light shining from the dirt-encrusted windows. Thankfully the manor had only one story with a tiny attic space, as he couldn’t imagine having to do such a deep cleaning with more than one level. It was tough work.
Every curtain he dragged out the door and tossed into a field next to the house. The good thing was that some light did trickle in through the horribly dirty glass the curtains had once covered. The bad was that it allowed him to spot the spiders, rats, broken floorboards, and in one case, the emaciated carcass of an animal he couldn’t name. Once all the things he could remove were removed, he laid pest traps and for three hours heard constant snaps as they caught rodent after rodent.
While the traps caught the varmints, he took to the windows with industrial cleaner. Just doing the large bay window in the living room took three hours. Stepping back, he beamed at it. “Beautiful.” With all the dust and grime gone, it was obvious someone had gone to a lot of trouble with the architecture of the building. The glass, even though old, was in amazing shape, but it was the copper details that surrounded it that caught his eye.
Of course he had no time to waste. The sun was already going down. Thankfully he hadn’t heard a single snap from a pest trap in over an hour. He hoped that meant he had gotten most of them. Fifty-seven rats down. As he turned from the window to go get a couple things from his truck, a deep rumble filled the house. Standing still, he scanned the room quickly, taking in the sturdy construction of the place while wondering if there were earthquakes in this area of the country. But the rumble didn’t seem to be coming from the ground. It was coming from above. Confused, Ryan looked up. Of course, all he saw was ceiling, and in less than two minutes the rumbling ceased. Maybe there was some problem with the plumbing. He would need to clear out the pipes more than likely.
He dragged in a thin mattress and pillow, electing to stay in the living room for now as he hadn’t really had the chance to clean the rest of the house. From his truck, he also brought a bottle of drinkable water. Not wanting to attract pests, he chose to eat outside. After all, he’d just gotten rid of some. The last thing he wanted to do was attract more. Once the sun had fully gone down, Ryan closed the door to the house and trickled an array of herbs all the way around where his bed lay. About four inches from his mattress, the eclectic set of herbs would act as a deterrent to insects and animals.
Intent on getting up early, he lay down and closed his eyes. One day down.
A deep rumble once again filled the house and he groaned and then froze as the rumble took on the tone of an unkind laugh. Frozen on the mattress, his eyes sprang open and he looked around. The moon wasn’t up yet so no light at all came through the front window. But light was coming from somewhere. He was faced toward the window and the bright light shone enough that he could see the shadow of his prone form. “Who’s there?” he called out, aware that fear tinged his voice.
“Well, well,” a male said, the laughter gone. “Look what we have here. Another human set to take my house.” The voice was filled with malice and Ryan gulped. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. Ghosts did not exist. This could not be—
Something cold grabbed his arm and he yelped, scrambling to get up and away from whatever it was. But whatever was holding on to him had strength. Turning to look at his left arm, he saw nothing. But he felt it. Oh, how he felt it. “Who are you?” he called out.
The deep, cold laugh came back, cool air drifting over his shoulder and past his ear. “You know who I am. Kallisper Hamstead.”
“Liar,” Ryan said, even as he tried to fight off something he couldn’t see. His left arm felt like a cold hand was holding it, but he saw no hand. Cool breath tickled the hairs on his neck and ear, but he couldn’t see anyone. “Kallisper died centuries ago. He—” Ryan cried out as the hand grasping his arm tightened and another hand grasped the back of his neck.
“Yes,” the voice hissed. “I died. Here in this house, observing something that to my then young eyes was disgusting and debauched.” Kallisper’s voice deepened and took on a mocking edge. “What you must observe as well, tonight.”
His breaths coming hard and fast from his lips, Ryan tried to shake his head. This must be how the trust expelled possible owners form the home. But how did they do it? He couldn’t see anyone and yet something had him. Or was this just a dream? As the realization came to him that he was probably having a nightmare brought on by all of the stories he’d heard through his life, he let out a soft huff of a laugh and relaxed. “Right,” he said in amusement, no longer taking the spectre seriously. “So what was it you saw that killed you, Kallisper Hamstead?” Even if he had tried, Ryan didn’t think he could have kept the derision out of his voice.
A low growl came from the thing behind him. “You dare mock me?” he hissed. “You will watch. Now.”
The dark room changed. Instead of standing in the living room, Ryan stood in a large, square room he was unfamiliar with. The ceiling was angled and low, but that wasn’t what drew his eyes. Oh, no. His mouth dropped open and a gasp left his lips as he stared around him. Flickering candles sat all around the room, g
iving an eerie feeling to what was already happening. Three people, all men, stood in the room, their arms tied above them to chains that hung from above. Their legs were tied apart. Stretched out as they were between floor and ceiling, each one stood almost on tip-toe. As each of them was naked, Ryan was able to see criss-crossing marks across their chests or back as though they’d been whipped.
Another man walked around them, a hood over his head, a long leather whip in one hand and his other hand cupped.
“Please,” gasped one of the men and with a quick arm movement, the hooded man brought down his whip hard between the offending man’s legs. The man cried out but to Ryan’s shock, his cock grew and became hard.
“You like that don’t you?” hissed the hooded man. “You like being hit and humiliated.”
“Yes,” the man gasped, nodding. “More, please more.”
With another flick of his wrist, the hooded man’s whip fell on the man next to him and he screamed as the leather cut across his buttocks.
“Silence,” the hooded man snapped. “I choose when and where to mark you.”
“Yes, master,” the first man said with a gasp.
“Good boy.” The hooded man reached down with his cupped hand and grasped the man’s dick, giving it a few short, rough tugs. The man moaned, his body shuddering. Almost as quickly as the hooded man stroked him, he yanked his hand back and slammed his whip over the man’s shaft, sending the man into what was unmistakably an orgasm.
“Fuck,” Ryan gasped, surprised that he actually spoke. Not to mention the feeling of his cock hardening.
“This turns you on?” hissed the voice behind him. Kallisper cackled. “You’re as sick as they were. I knew something was going on in the attic of this house,” he said, his lips drifting over Ryan’s earlobe. “I hid up here in the evening waiting to see what it would be. My nineteen year old mind conjured up magic or other such evil. I had no idea it would be so much worse. The hooded man was the town magistrate. The man on the far right? The one he hasn’t touched yet? My uncle Calix.”
Grave Hauntings: Where Sexy and Sinful Meets Dark and Chilling Page 5
