Love and Whiskers

by Olivia Myers

  Bridget thought it sounded like a nice life. She thought fleetingly of her own village; she had only left it twice in her life, for festivals with some of the neighboring villages. The men of her clan travelled a lot, trading livestock with neighbors and going on long hunting trips, but the women tended to stay home, sewing and cooking, and tending crops. It wasn’t a life that Bridget wanted.

  As the day wore on, Will and his brothers began playing a game with stones, and Bridget joined in, laughing with them when Aiden won, taking all of their stones and adding them to his growing pile. Bridget realized that she was having a great time. Will’s brothers didn’t seem to mind her presence; they just took her in stride, much as they seemed to take everything else. Aiden seemed to keep his distance, but Bridget soon realized that that was just out of respect for Will. The other two, Connell and Eric, were polite and friendly, but never touched her or act in a manner that even her father could claim was inappropriate.

  Will was the only one that touched her, and Bridget welcomed his touches—the small brush of his fingers on her arm when he was getting her attention, the warm, strong grasp of his hand when he was helping her up. Wherever he touched her, her skin tingled, as if his fingers were electrified. When their gazes met, their eyes seemed to catch each other and linger.

  Will escorted her to the clear, cold pond again so that she could bathe. This time, she found that she was half hoping that Will would turn around, but he remained a perfect gentleman.

  Once she was clean and had put her clothes back on, she walked up behind Will and placed her fingers gently on the skin just above his elbow. He turned around slowly and then just gazed at her.

  Bridget didn’t take her eyes from his. She stepped forward, one step closer, and Will’s hand came up and rested against her lower back. He lowered his head slightly, a question in his eyes, and Bridget answered that question by standing up on her tiptoes and pressing her mouth against his.

  His lips were warm and soft, gentle at first, and then more insistent as he pulled her against him. His facial hair was rough against Bridget’s face, a feeling that she knew she would never forget. She had never kissed a man before, and it was an experience that was far more amazing than she would have expected.

  Will pulled back, breathing hard. They gazed at each other wordlessly for a moment before Will said, in a rough voice, “We should get back to camp.”

  Bridget bit her lip and nodded. Her body was begging her to let him take her right here, on the hard ground beside the pond, but she knew that she needed to cool off and think about this. Running away and pretending to lose her innocence was one thing, but actually doing it was another.

  By the time they got back to camp, Bridget’s face had cooled off and she knew that she wasn’t blushing anymore. Her thoughts were clearer too, and every time she looked at Will, she knew that the decision that she had made on the walk back was the right one. She had already taken the course of her life into her own hands, and this was her decision to make. She knew that Will and his brothers were different, somehow, and she knew that no matter what happened, she would never forget them. The way she felt about Will, she had never felt about another man. She wanted him to be the first man that she gave herself to.

  Evening came upon them, and it was dark by the time they ate. It had been sunny earlier in the day, but the incessant clouds had returned. Only Connell was in camp, and Will told her that the other two were patrolling. Bridget ate the food that Connell gave her—quail eggs, wild onion, and the last of the venison—but she could only see Will, and he seemed to feel the same because he hardly ate anything.

  Connell must have sensed that Bridget and Will wanted to be alone together, because after finishing his food, he retired to his tent, giving them some privacy.

  Will and Bridget sat next to each other on the log by the fire, their thighs brushing.

  “You should go to bed soon,” he said after a moment.

  Bridget nodded. Will stood up, offering her his hand, which she took. They gazed at each other, and Bridget felt her cheeks heat again.

  “Come,” Will said, and led her towards the tent. He paused at the entrance, and Bridget tightened her grip on his hand.

  “Come in,” she said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. He hesitated, his eyes searching her own, then he nodded. She closed the tent flap behind them, then turned to Will.

  Bridget's head swam with excitement and panic as he pulled her close and embraced her. She felt his warm strong arms encircle her. He kissed her, and one of his big hands slid down her back to stroke her rear. Will gave one of her buttocks a gentle squeeze and she almost cried out in surprise, whimpering into his mouth.

  “Are you sure?” he asked her, and she nodded, feeling the desire flood through her. They kissed some more, and as Bridget began to relax, she felt his hands pulling at her tunic. She reached up and quickly untied it and let it drop, so that she was standing before him in only her skirts.

  Will stared at her in the firelight, which glowed through the tent wall and made the shadows on Will’s face flicker. Will removed his shirt, and she could see the outline of his naked torso, the smooth contours of his well-muscled arms, the muscles of his stomach that tapered into his pants.

  He stepped towards her and kissed her throat and then her shoulders. His lips wandered down her neck and brushed the upper part of her breasts. Bridget felt herself go rigid, and she gasped. The feeling was incredible. Then his lips fastened on one of her nipples, and his hands came up and each one clasped one of her full breasts. He licked her nipple and she felt it tingling as it stiffened. His fingers squeezed her breasts.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.

  She thrilled in his praise of her body. He licked and nipped and sucked on her breasts and she felt them grow warm, swollen and taut, tingling with excitement. "Oh!" she murmured in surprise as he flicked a hard nipple and she felt an electric thrill course through her breast.

  He flicked her taut nipples again, over and over, and she luxuriated in the strange and wonderful new sensation. Her nipples were so hard and sensitive. Her breasts grew warmer as he fondled them. She could feel little beads of perspiration forming in the cleavage between them. She stroked his strong back with her hands, feeling his muscles, and wondered if she should do more. How could she give him the same pleasure that he was giving her?

  One of Will's hands stroked her belly and slid down to undo her skirt. She let him slide it over her buttocks, and then stepped out of the pool of fabric. She untied the leather strap of his pants and he pulled them off. They were both naked now, and Bridget could see that his manhood was hard and eager. She wrapped her hand around it and felt it jump in her fist.

  “Bridget,” he murmured.

  He lowered her down onto the bed of pelts, continuing to kiss her breasts, and then her belly. His hand slid between her thighs, and she parted her legs some more, urging him on. One finger stroked gently up and down the rim of her outer lips. She felt an intense excitement, a need that she had never felt before. She moaned and rocked her hips forward, wanting more. His finger slipped inside of her, gently moving in and out, deeper each time. Bridget moaned again, biting her lip and trying to keep from being too loud. “I need you,” she whispered.

  Will withdrew his finger and gently spread her thighs so that her legs were wide. He looked down at her, his gaze burning with desire. He glanced up at her, meeting her eyes one last time in a silent question.

  She nodded. She wanted him. She needed him. She had never been surer of anything in her life.

  Will leaned his weight forward slowly, settling his manhood against her wet center. She gasped as the head of it slipped inside her, stretching her and filling her in a way that was both painful and amazingly pleasurable. He pushed more of himself in, and Bridget groaned, thrusting her hips forward to meet him as he filled her completely. He paused for a moment, to give her time to get used to the hard member that was inside of her, and t
hen pulled back, only to thrust forward again.

  Each time Will thrust into her, pleasure increased between Bridget’s legs. It was building steadily, until all Bridget could think of was Will. She wrapped her legs around him and his thrusts became erratic and powerful, losing rhythm as his instincts took over.

  Bridget bit back a scream as her first orgasm hit her. Her nails dug into Will’s back, and she felt his manhood pulsing inside of her. After a moment, he collapsed on top of her. He kissed her gently on her forehead, and then rolled to lie next to her.

  Bridget settled her head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her protectively. She whispered to him, “That was amazing.”

  Will chuckled, and kissed her again. “You’re amazing,” he whispered back.

  Bridget felt herself smile in the darkness.

  ***

  The next morning, Bridget and Will woke up early again, before the others. They sat by the campfire, snacking on leftover food from the night before. Bridget leaned against Will, and he kept his arm around her, as if he couldn’t bear to break contact with her.

  Eric was the first one of his brothers to get up, and he just gave them an amused, knowing look before grabbing some food for himself. They sat in a companionable silence.

  Connell came out of the tent a few minutes later and opened his mouth to say something to Will, but he froze. His head turned towards the woods, and he cocked it, doglike, as he gazed into the trees. “What’s that?”

  Suddenly an arrow flew out of the darkness between the trees and buried itself in the dirt in front of his feet. Will jumped up, pulling Bridget with him. She heard shouting in the trees now, and the pounding of feet. Will grabbed Bridget’s shoulders and turned her towards him.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I want you to run. Go climb a tree, and wait for me.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head.

  “I need you safe, Bridget.” He kissed her roughly on the mouth before releasing her. “Run.”

  Bridget gave him one last, desperate look, and then did as he’d told her, the ground cold and hard beneath her bare feet.

  She paused when she got into the woods. She hid behind a tree, breathing hard, and then turned to peer around it, back into the clearing. What was going on? Who was attacking Will and his brothers? She saw men rush into the clearing and realized with horror that she knew them. They were men from her clan!

  With a sinking feeling, she remembered that she had been supposed to return home yesterday. When she didn’t show up, her sister must have told the men everything. They had tracked her here, and probably had seen her with Will. They would think that he and his brothers had captured her and ravished her. She had to tell them the truth. Maybe she could calm them down and get them to leave without hurting Will or his brothers.

  She was just stepping out from around the tree when she saw something that froze her in her steps. Will and his brothers had stripped off their shirts, and they began to change. Gray fur washed over their bodies, and their faces elongated into muzzles. She saw the flash of long, sharp teeth in the mouth of the wolf that used to be Will. As she watched, he leapt at one of the men from her clan and sank those teeth into his arm, sending a spray of blood spattering across the ground. She gasped and stumbled back. Turning, she ran deeper into the woods until she found a tall, strong tree. She climbed up into it, frantically pulling herself through the branches, not even noticing the scratches she was getting on her face and arms.

  Safely up in the tree, Bridget hugged the trunk, gasping. She couldn’t believe that she had seen Will turn into a wolf. He was a monster, a nightmare from the stories that the elders of her clan told. But… on some level, hadn’t she already known it? She remembered the gray-eyed wolf that she had seen on her first day out here, and remembered the odd familiarity she had felt when she saw Will in the morning.

  Then she thought of Will fighting her clansmen as a wolf, his flesh soft and vulnerable to their arrows and guns, and she felt sick. She hated the thought of him getting hurt; she didn’t know if she would survive it if he died. She remembered Will’s gentleness as they made love the night before, and she knew that he wasn’t a monster. Everything he had done, he had done to protect her.

  ***

  It seemed like she waited forever. Every time she heard a gun go off, she jumped. She was only thankful that the firearms took so long to load, and not many of the men had one. They were expensive, and hard to maintain. The men couldn’t make them on their own, like they made their bows.

  She didn’t know what she would do if Will never came for her. What if her clansmen won? When she heard the branch snap below her, her heart started pounding. She looked down, into the trees, and didn’t see anything at first. Then a form materialized out of the forest. It was a man, bloody and shirtless, with gray eyes and dark hair. Will.

  Bridget gasped, feeling the numb fear recede from her fingertips. He was alive. She scrambled down the tree. She almost fell twice, but caught herself at the last moment. Her hands were bloodied with scratches, but she didn’t care. The moment that her feet hit the ground, she ran towards Will and threw herself into his arms.

  He wrapped her in an embrace, burying his face in her hair.

  “You’re okay,” she gasped.

  He nodded. “We’re all right, all of us. And we managed not to kill any of your clansmen, we just drove them away. But we can’t stay here, Bridget. We have to move on.”

  She pulled back and looked at him, her heart sinking.

  He spoke hesitantly. “Do you… do you want to come with us?” His eyes were hopeful.

  “Yes,” Bridget said immediately. “Oh, yes.”

  She hugged him again. It didn’t matter if he was a wolf. He would never hurt her, and she knew that there would never be another man that she loved as much as she loved him. Will tilted her head back and kissed her gently, pressing her body to his, and Bridget knew that he felt the same way.

  THE END

  Trouble

  Duke knew the girl was trouble the second she walked through the door. Not that Shotguns Bar was any stranger to trouble. Most of the men that came in to belly-up to the scarred walnut bar or play a borderline unfriendly game of pool were rough and tumble types, bikers and bad-asses, and Duke had to put his military training to use busting heads and rousting surly drunks pretty often.

  But she was a whole different kind of trouble.

  The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the dusty windows gleamed off her long, wavy blonde hair as she tossed it over her shoulder. She scanned the bar, slender, long-fingered hands propped on her hips, and her haughty little snub nose in the air.

  She’d made an attempt to dress down, but if her faded denim mini-skirt with its frayed hem wasn’t ‘designer distressed’ or whatever they called that shit, Duke would eat his own jeans — which were ragged and worn nearly white in places because he’d had them for over a decade, not because some he’d bought them that way.

  He didn’t smile as he took in the pink, glittery words on her tight black t-shirt — YOU SAY ‘BITCH’ LIKE IT’S A BAD THING — but his lips did twitch. He continued slicing limes, but kept half an eye on the new arrival as she sized up the few patrons scattered at the mismatched tables.

  Once she’d taken the lay of the land, her gaze zeroed in on him. Her eyes narrowed a little and her pointed chin went up another notch. Duke dumped the limes into a plastic bucket and stuck it in the chiller, wiped his hands, and tossed the bar rag over his shoulder. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to come to him.

  Not many women came into Shotguns, and the ones who did were nothing like her. They were either as rough and hard as the men they were drinking with, or the kind of easy girls that hadn’t been pretty enough in high school and were used to getting attention on their back or their knees.

  Blondie looked like she’d probably been head cheerleader and Homecoming Queen. Duke doubted she’d ever spent a minut
e on her knees in her whole life. Which was a shame, because the thought of her looking up at him with those pouty pink lips made Duke’s blood hot. Hot enough that he had to reach down and make a bit of an adjustment as she sashayed across the bare wooden floor, the heels of her cowboy boots (Jesus, they were pink) clocking loudly over the faint strains of Waylon Jennings drifting from the ancient jukebox in the corner.

  When she reached the bar, she placed her hands on the edge and leaned in, one corner of her mouth curled up in a little smirk. The move drew his eyes immediately to the ample cleavage visible above the scooped neckline of her little black tee, which was no doubt exactly the response she was looking for. His suspicion was confirmed when he glanced back up and saw the triumphant glint in her blue eyes.

  She knew the effect she had on men and she enjoyed toying with them. Duke put on his best ‘Don’t fuck with me’ look, furrowing his heavy brows, mouth in a straight line, hard eyes and flexing biceps. It was an expression he’d seen on more than one CO’s face, and even used a time or two himself on some grunt fresh off the plane.

  Unlike them, Blondie didn’t even flinch. She cocked her head a little, sending all that blonde hair sliding down her arm, and her gaze crawled all over him. Sizing him up. When she got back to his face her little smile grew wider. Duke felt the skin on his forehead tighten as his scowl deepened.

  Christ, trouble was right! They hadn’t even spoken a word to each other and yet he could feel the heat crackle between them. The warm, leather- and alcohol-scented air of the bar seemed heavy and oppressive, like the atmosphere just before a hell of a storm.

  When his fierce expression didn’t relax, she rocked back on her heels, her smile fading a little. The challenge in her eyes didn’t, though.