“Yes!” the woman shouted. “Yes, yes, again!”
He pounded in and out of her, the sounds of their slapping bodies echoing off the canyon and into the vast dark shadow that was Mexico. The woman gripped his arms and her head fell back, her eyes wide, and she was moaning and bucking into him and he pumped harder and harder, his thick walls filling her completely, she was so hot and so tight around him, the soft insides of her where he wanted to spend the rest of his life being buried inside… the woman shouted, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Matthew felt her muscles squeeze and contract around his aching cock, and he shouted with her as he felt himself finally spilling his seed, his body wracked with orgasmic bliss…
Matthew opened his eyes. He was lying naked in the meadow under a rising sun that was drenching the valley below him, turning the stones hot and pink. A herd of desert deer grazed nearby. The woman was nowhere to be found, and nothing – no indented grass, no footsteps in the earth, not even a few stray curls of her dark, fragrant hair – were anywhere on the cliff. Matthew let his head slam back down on the orange dirt. He gave a moan of frustration and flung an arm over his head as the grasses bent and swayed in the wind, casting shadows over his long, lean body. Flashes of her body, her laugh, the hoarse clip to her words that made it sound like she didn’t speak to other people… memories of the woman from his dreams coursed through his body. His cock, bare and pink in the morning sun, twitched with eager anticipation. Matthew sighed and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. He could feel himself longing for her to be there, with him. Not for sex, but to talk more with. To make her laugh again. To hear her chastise him and agree with him in the same sentence.
Please, he said silently to the valley below, in what felt like a prayer or an invocation. Please let her find me again.
Because it was the last day of the trip, Matthew decided to take the final day a little easy. His pack was lighter now, what with most of his water and food having been consumed, and the trail back down the Chisos Mountains into the basin once more was all easy, tilted switchbacks. He reached the desert floor once more at around two o’clock.
Down here, the trails turned into concrete paths where tourists could more easily wander the national park and visit stands that sold trinkets down by the startlingly blue Rio Grande. Matthew stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried not to feel weird about being around other people for the first time in 48 hours. Families and couples and visiting college students wandered the path with him, talking loudly about favorite movies and the heat. Keeping his head down, he let himself drag behind a larger group of people in front of him, stopping at a trinket stand to give him more distance between them. The man running the stand had dark, leathery skin and a wide, toothy smile. He opened his hands wide and indicated the items on the small folding table below him, trying to find things that kept Matthew’s attention. River grasses growing in the mud of the Rio Grande shivered in a breeze, and a flash of the woman’s golden eyes shuttering closed as she arched into his mouth between his legs had him shaking his head vehemently.
“Sorry,” he said to the man who owned the stand. “I’m not interested, but thank you for your time.”
The stall vendor looked at him shrewdly, scratching the side of his stubbly face. Then he reached down and pulled up a white pendant.
“¿Lo quieres la lobita?” he said, holding the pendant in the center of his palm.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying,” said Matthew, giving a hopeless shrug. “I don’t wear necklaces.”
The stall vendor waved his hand carelessly, and Matthew was reminded of the woman’s own sarcastic gestures. He smiled before he could help himself.
“La alma de lobita se guarda el poseedor,” he said, holding out the pendant insistently. “Mira, señor. Mira.”
“Okay, okay,” Matthew agreed. He took up the pendant. “I’ll think about…”
But as he took a closer look at the small white shape dangling from the piece of string, his words died in his mouth. Carved from a pale bone was the shape of a wolf, a crescent moon etched onto her belly and eyes painted gold on her face. Matthew looked up at the man, bewildered. He smiled in return.
“Es la luna,” he said, pointing at the etching of the moon. He pointed up at the sky. “La luna llena.” He made the image of a full circle with his hands. “Llena.”
The full moon. He was saying the moon would be full tonight. Matthew nodded. “That’s what she told me,” he said softly.
The stall vendor cocked his head. “¿La lobita? ¿La mujer quien cambia a la lobita?”
Matthew frowned. He knew the word mujer. It meant woman. Slowly, Matthew’s eyes widened. The stall vendor, watching him closely, pointed to a weathered piece of paper taped down to his folding table next to the other wolf pendants. The Wolf Spirit/La Alma De Lobita, said the paper in big bold letters. Then, below that: The wolf spirit is a Mexican folk legend that tells of a beautiful woman trapped in a wolf’s body for most of her days. Every full moon, however, she gets three nights to return to her human form. Legend has it that she prowls the Chisos Mountains, longing for a lover and a friend. Then, presumably, the paper restated the story in Spanish below.
His first thought was, So she wasn’t a dream, then. She was real. Matthew felt his throat tighten. He pulled his wallet from the bottom of his pack and removed a few single dollar bills. “I need that,” he said to the stall vendor. The man smiled sympathetically, nodded, and placed the pendant in his hand.
Matthew leaned back and closed his eyes, submerged to his neck in warm water bubbling from the ground. The hot springs were down in a canyon right next to the deep rushing waters of the Rio Grande. Ancient hieroglyphics covered the orange rock wall rising behind him. River reeds waved above his head in a gentle wind. The sun made one last brilliant spark in the sky, and then dove beneath the horizon. The wolf pendant, which he was wearing around his neck, bobbed on the surface of the water. Crickets chirped and the river flowed and the wind bended the necks of the reeds, as Matthew waited for the woman to find him. He realized with a slight shock that he hadn’t thought of Keller at all in the last 24 hours. Keller, who had dominated every single one of his waking thoughts in Dallas, who had been the meaning of his life… when he thought of her now, he pictured himself dropping a leaf in the river and letting it go downstream. He smiled. It felt good to find at least temporary peace. It felt good to be on the right path towards letting her go.
When Matthew opened his eyes, the moon, now full, hung low and round like ripe fruit in the deep blue sky. A few stars winkled, popping out of the darkness one by one. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. The wolf spirit was coming.
There she was. Across the river, emerging from the wall of reeds, was the woman, naked and her golden eyes fixed on Matthew. He watched breathlessly, his eyes wide, as she stepped down the wet sand and into the river, the water up to her breasts and her long, dark hair fanned out across the white, swirling eddies. It seemed to part for her, as if it knew her, as if the whole landscape knew her and responded to her touch. She padded up onto his side of the river and, lifting herself gracefully, lowered her body down onto the rock shelf in the warm water beside him. Her bare thigh brushed his. She tipped her head back and let her eyes close briefly, steam rising around her face.
“You came,” he said quietly.
The woman looked at him fondly. Her eyes found the pendant, and Matthew heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Just something to remember you by,” he said, trying to make light of it all, but sounding instead too soft and tender. The woman’s mouth quirked.
“Will I ever see you again?” she said in what was almost a whisper.
Matthew cupped her face with his warm, wet hand. He brought their foreheads together. They shared a breath.
“As often as I can,” he said, and he knew in his bones that he meant it.
The woman brought her hands to his chest, brushing his raised nipples and feeling his toned musculature. Matthew
brought his hands down to her neck and buried them in her rich, silky hair.
“This is my last night as a human,” she said mournfully.
“Then let’s make good use of it,” said Matthew, and brought their lips together in a kiss.
They had never kissed before, and they began lightly, barely touching. The kiss quickly deepened as their hands roamed up and down each other’s bodies below the water’s surface, cupping and squeezing and pressing as the woman sucked on Matthew’s tongue suggestively. He greedily held and massaged her breasts, relishing the hitch in her breath as he passed fingers over her hardening nipples. The woman let her hands trail down his abdomen and his pelvis to his groin. He immediately responded, half hard within seconds of her thumb brushing the slit on the head of his cock. Her fingers fondled his sac, pressing upwards and drifting lazily at intervals. Matthew groaned. In response, his hands slid between her legs, where the curls of her pubic hair softened in the water. He let his own fingers trail up and down the folds hidden there, grinning into her mouth as she bucked against him. He danced around her clit, sliding back the hood and letting his pinkie hover just above the swollen point until the woman involuntarily began pushing against him, her hands sliding slowly up and down his hard, pulsing shaft. Her face twisted with desire. Matthew bit her bottom lip and inserted a finger inside her opening, his pinkie beginning to press a rhythm into her clit. She gasped and lengthened her stroke on his thick erection. They panted into each other’s mouths, sliding slickly against one another in the water in imperfect synchronization, their bodies electric with need.
“Matthew,” the woman moaned.
“Tell me… what to call you,” Matthew gasped. He inserted a second finger, trailing them along the soft walls inside her.
“Loba,” she hissed. “Call me Loba. I want you inside of me. Now.”
Matthew crushed her mouth in a searing, desperate kiss. He needed no further encouragement. In a fluid motion, he lifted her by her haunches and shoved her back against the rocks. Holding his length, he slid easily into her hot, tight opening. Loba cried out, arching against the rocks and into him. He buried his face in her ample breasts, biting and licking as he pumped his cock in and out of her, her fingernails running up and down the skin on his back. She grabbed him by his hair and yanked back his head, pressing their mouths together in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, took one of his hands, and guided it to the seam of her ass. He understood immediately and let a finger dance around the entrance there.
“Matthew,” she pleaded, and bit the corner of his skin where his neck met his shoulders. Then her eyes went wide and glassy: he’d entered her ass with an index finger. He plugged her tight hole, wiggling against her anal walls, and increased the speed of his rocking hips until his cock matched his finger. Loba’s gold eyes rolled into the back of her head and she moaned loudly, “Yes, a qué sí, por favor mi amor… A yes, yes…”
Her breasts bobbing in the warm water, her hair wild and flowing like the river itself, her wet skin shining in the moonlight, the sheer exquisiteness of how he felt inside her, her fingernails scratching paths in the skin on his back, the loud sounds of pleasure they were both yelling into the wild dark night… it was too much, it was much too much, and when Loba screamed, “Yes! Yes! ¡Ay mi amor, yes!” and her walls contracted once, twice, three times around his shaft, her body shuddering and her thighs almost squeezing all the air from his body, Matthew felt himself succumb to wave upon wave of orgasm. He spilled himself inside of her, her breasts flush against his face and his hand buried deep inside her ass, shouting her name to the moon and the river and the whole desert. Stars appeared in his vision. Matthew let his head fall on her shoulder, where she lapped at his neck and his face and any skin she could reach, her hand lingering through his dark, wet hair.
“Loba,” he croaked. “Loba, I…”
“Shhhh, mi amor.” Matthew raised his head and looked into the smiling gold eyes, feeling the slickness of their skin together. He slid out from her, but he could already feel himself growing hard once more. Loba laughed and cupped his face. Then she leaned into his ear.
“We have until the sun comes up,” she whispered, her breath traveling down through his body to where the blood was pooling once more.
Matthew bucked up against her mound of pleasure, and she laughed breathlessly when he said, “Let’s get to it, then.”
As she kissed him, laughing into his mouth, Matthew knew that no matter what happened tomorrow, this night – these three nights – would change him forever.
The End
Passion Wolf
Chapter One
“Your problem is, you always go for bad boys.” Jenny licked the foam from her coffee stirrer. “You pick these glamorous, exciting men, and then get your heart broken when they cheat on you.”
Jenny was right, I reflected. My recent dating history had been a disaster.
“I just don’t fancy men if they’re too nice.” I tried to make it sound like a joke.
Jenny looked severe. “You’re not seventeen any more. You should think about finding someone nice to settle down with.”
“I’m twenty six. Isn’t it a bit soon to worry about settling down?”
“Well, just be careful. If you leave it too late, all the good ones will be gone.”
Like all my married friends, Jenny seemed determined to pair me off with someone. But I wanted just one more adventure. Was that too much to ask?
“What about that man at your office who asked you out? You said he was gorgeous.”
“Alex? I suppose so.” I sipped my coffee and tried to find a way to change the subject.
“You told me he was tall, blonde and handsome. What more do you want?”
I thought about Alex. Certainly he was good-looking —the classic square-jawed, green-eyed hero. But there was something too neat, or even fussy, about him. His immaculate suits, sober ties and combed hair were too smooth, too unrumpled.
“I think he’s just a bit — boring,” I said at last.
“You should give him a go. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“Fine,” I said, “Just to shut you up, I’ll take him up on his offer for drinks after work this Friday.”
Usually there would be no way I would meet a date straight from work. My office clothes were too dull for the sorts of late-night dives my previous boyfriend would have taken me too, and anyway, who went out at five-thirty in the evening? I would normally have gone home and spent the next few hours tousling my dark, shoulder-length hair into curls, squeezing on my jeans and then sipping a stiff drink to get me in the party mood while I waited for Richard to confirm the plans for the evening. And, as often as not, I thought bitterly, he would “forget” to call, or be completely off his face and I’d end up sitting with a load of his friends while they discussed their next internet startup idea. Then on to a sweaty, deafening club while my feet killed me in my stupid shoes, and finally a taxi to an afterparty. I had spent too many Sunday mornings stumbling home after a night on a stranger’s sofa in some distant area of London. Maybe Jenny was right. There might be something to be said for a quieter life.
For Alex, my Monday to Friday outfit of flat shoes, grey skirt suit and white blouse would be fine. I was sure that wherever he had in mind would be full of office drones anyway, and the two of us would blend right in. At four o’clock, my phone beeped.
Kay, I’m afraid my meeting has overrun. Would you be able to meet me at the restaurant at five thirty, rather than me escorting you from the office? My apologies — the address is La Loupe Jeunesse, Islington Road x
I almost laughed when I read it. “Escort you from the office”? Alex was turning out to be even more formal than I had feared. And a restaurant? I had agreed to an after work drink. Singular. Now he was expecting a meal, and it would be harder to slip away after an hour. I considered cancelling. After all, I was only doing this to prove a point to Jenny. But when I thought about
Alex, I realised that I was, even if only ever so slightly, excited about seeing him. The idea of just going home and having a night in front of the TV seemed somehow flat.
That’s fine. See you there.
I added a kiss, then deleted it. Jenny was right about one thing. I wasn’t seventeen.
* * *
The restaurant was just off the main street, with a flight of iron steps leading down to a small courtyard. Inside was dim and romantically lit by candles. My heart sank slightly at that, and sank even further when the waiter showed me to the table that Alex had booked. It was in a small half-moon booth, so intimate that we would be forced to sit at close quarters. I ordered a glass of white wine and sipped at it while I waited. Since it was still only five-thirty, the restaurant was empty.
Perhaps he takes all his dates here. Maybe he’ll arrange something cheesy, like a violinist. Although I was mocking Alex, I found myself experiencing a small flash of jealousy at the thought of other dates. He had only recently started at the company and I knew very little about him. He certainly hadn’t joined in either of the team nights out so far — in fact, I had only spoken to him once. He had come to deliver a piece of post that had accidentally ended up in his department. Usually the salespeople would have simply binned it, or at the most, left it on the counter in the kitchen for someone else to pick up, but Alex had approached our team.
“Excuse me, but who here is Ms K Pointer?”
His arrival had caused a flutter on the team; he was so tall and moved with a graceful confidence. My department was all-female, and there was even a schoolgirl giggle from one of the temps. He did not react to this at all and seemed perfectly relaxed under their scrutiny.
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