by Zena Wynn
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Fantasy Island:
Mya’s Werewolf
By
Zena Wynn
2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
Mya’s Werewolf by Zena Wynn
Red Rose™ Publishing
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Red Rose™ Publishing
Copyright© 2010 Zena Wynn
ISBN: 978-1-60435-703-5
Cover Artist: Shirley Burnett
Editor: Bernadette Smith
Line Editor: Pam
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respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
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comes with a touch of Class!
3
Mya’s Werewolf
By
Zena Wynn
4
Fantasy Island Vacation Getaways
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5
Chapter One
Mya Anderson pushed through the foliage, following the barely discernable
trail that if her calculations were correct, would put her on the beach. Normally
she wouldn‘t think of walking in this thick copse of trees at night, while wearing a
red bikini the size of a postage stamp that barely covered her somewhat ample
curves, but this was her fantasy and she only had forty-eight hours to live it.
Actually, forty-seven point five hours remaining—time was passing much too
quickly. This was a once in a lifetime chance and she planned to live it to the
fullest extent.
A harvest moon rode high in the sky, but under this canopy of tropical trees,
shadows ruled. Mya suddenly halted mid-step, some primitive instinct warning
her she was being watched.
―Hello?‖ she called out.
There was no answer. Stepping a bit closer to the trunk of the tree nearest
her, she glanced cautiously around. ―I‘m safe,‖ she murmured. ―This is Fantasy
Island, not some inner city back alley.‖
Her head wasn‘t buying it. Something was out there, something dangerous.
It didn‘t matter that she couldn‘t see or hear it. Her psyche knew and it was
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screaming at her to get the heck out of there.
―Maybe it‘s the dark playing with my imagination,‖ she reasoned as she
cautiously crept forward, keeping close to the tree line. ―Once I hit the open space
of the beach and stand in the bright glow of the moonlight, I‘ll realize it was just
my mind playing tricks on me.‖
Still, she moved a bit faster, this time as quietly as she could.
There was a rustle in the bushes to her left. Mya froze, scared to call out
again. If it were her hero, surely he would have answered earlier. Something was
tracking her. Uneasily, she realized she‘d forgotten to ask if there were any wild
animals on the island. She assumed it would be safe. Too late she remembered
what they say about assumptions.
The rustling came again, closer this time. Glancing automatically in that
direction, Mya saw a pair of glowing eyes. They were accompanied by a long, low,
and vicious-sounding growl.
Mya‘s flight-or-fight response kicked in and she took off running. All she
wanted was a simple fantasy fulfilled, to be the heroine of one of the many
werewolf romance novels she veraciously devoured. A nice, safe, erotic romance
novel, darn it. She did not sign up to be the dumb blonde in a horror flick.
She heard a thud behind her. ―Don‘t look back, don‘t look back, don‘t look
back,‖ she chanted under her breath. The stupid characters—the ones who looked
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back—always ended up dead in the movies.
As she cleared the tree line and hit the soft, white sand of the beach, she
heard a roar coupled with the crashing sounds of foliage being trampled.
Instinctively, she glanced over her shoulder.
What she saw sent terror streaking through her. Fear lent wings to her feet
and she literally flew over the sand until she hit the more firmly packed beach.
Breath bellowing, she ran even as her thighs burned and a sharp pain struck her on
her right side. She pressed her hand against it and kept running. Can’t stop. Got to
keep moving. If I survive this, I promise I’ll never skip the gym again.
Her legs churned so hard, the little white cover-up she wore across her hips
loosened and drifted to the ground. Mya‘s heavy thighs were rubbing together so
fast, it‘s a wonder they didn‘t spark and catch fire. She didn‘t know how much
longer she could keep up this pace.
Helplessly, she glanced back again. It was still there and gaining fast. Mya
cried out as just like in the movies, she tripped over something, hit the ground
hard and went rolling. Before she could scramble to her feet, it was on her.
A large, hairy arm flipped her over onto her stomach, hooked her by the
waist and jerked her hips up off of the ground. ― Mine. Mate. Caught. Claim.”
―No, no, no,‖ she whimpered. ―I changed my mind.‖ Was it too late to get a
refund? This whole thing sounded so cool when she read it in the books, being
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claimed by a wolf-man. The reality left something to be desired.
This thing was huge. It had to be at least seven feet tall. At five-ten, onehundred and ninety pounds, Mya could in no way be considered petite. This thing
towered over her, overwhelming her with its massive fur covered chest and long,
huge arms.
Something rounded and hard with a hint of moisture poked her in the back
of her thigh. Braced on her elbows, she twisted around anxiously to see what it
was as the werewolf ripped her bikini bottoms right off of her body. It sounded so
sexy when she read it
in a book, but it stung like the dickens in real life.
Dear God, the wolf-man was aroused and his penis was huge. It was easily
the length of her forearm and as thick as her wrist. There was no way that was
fitting inside of her. Despite being exhausted and in pain, she began to kick and
struggle, determined to get free.
A wave of lust washed over her so strong, it completely neutralized the
panic growing inside. She ceased moving, confused. The werewolf crooned,
stroking her tenderly from breast to thigh. More emotions swamped her—
loneliness, hope, and a growing excitement.
What was happening to her? Where were these emotions coming from?
Suddenly she knew. On the questionnaire she‘d completed, Mya had been
asked to list titles of some of her favorite books to give the Fantasy Island staff a
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better understanding of what she wanted. In several of the books she‘d listed, the
heroine was psychic. One in particular jumped to mind. The woman, an empath
with telepathic abilities, was highly sought after by the werewolves, or wolfen.
Something about psychic women being particularly irresistible to their species.
She groaned as another wave of desire washed over her, triggering her own.
No matter how scary this creature looked, he wanted her desperately. He was
lonely, tired of being alone, and excited that he‘d finally found a mate. Though
there was an underlying fear of rejection, the longer she lay complacently, hope
grew that she would accept him. Maybe even welcome him.
Mya reminded herself that this was her fantasy. While not exactly as she‘d
envisioned, it was what she‘d asked for. Was she really going to let a little fear get
in the way of her living her dream?
No, she wasn‘t.
She shivered as the werewolf trailed its nose down her spine until it reached
her sex. He pushed in closer with his snout, and she heard him inhale deeply. She
jumped when his tongue snaked out and licked her from clit to anus. The slightly
damp, faintly rough membrane left a line of heat in its path. Mya squirmed and
moaned as he lapped at her.
Her head dropped to the ground on top of her forearms on which she
balanced. She widened her legs to give him better access and let the pleasure take
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her. This was the ecstasy she‘d imagined all those heroines feeling as they yielded
to their werewolf lover‘s passion. This is what she‘d damn near beggared herself
for, scraping up the thousands of dollars necessary to live out her greatest dream,
her fiercest desire.
He curled his tongue, parted the lips of her sex, and thrust inside her. Mya‘s
eyes rolled into the back of her head. She pushed back with her ass, silently
demanding that he give her more. Go deeper. The werewolf twirled his tongue
around, brushing sensitive nerves and Mya went off like a rocket.
Cum gushed from her body and he lapped it up, grunting and demanding
more. He ate at her, insatiable, quickly driving her to another orgasm. With each
peak she reached his arousal spiked higher, ramping up her own until she didn‘t
believe anything would ever be able to douse the flames.
The gentle breeze blowing on her sex felt cold when he pulled away, but he
wasn‘t gone for long. The bulbous head of his cock pressed against her slit,
demanding entrance. He pressed steadily forward. As aroused and lax as her
muscles were from the multiple orgasms, there was still a bite of pain as he
stretched her sex wider than anyone ever had before.
There was a tremendous pressure. Mya didn‘t know whether to try to pull
away, or to push into him, rushing him to go deeper. She hung on the ragged edge
of a pleasure/pain so intense, sweat poured down her face and her fingers clawed
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mindlessly at the moist sand. He paused, then began to slowly withdraw.
Mya arched her back, lifted her hips higher. ―Please,‖ she begged.
He reversed direction and pushed inward. His claw tipped hands gripped
her by the hips, holding her steady and preventing any movement on her part as he
picked up the pace, his thrusts coming fasting and going deeper.
With each impalement, Mya grunted; gasping for air with each withdrawal.
It became a rhythm. ―Umph-uh, umph-uh, umph-uh,‖ interspersed with the slap,
slap, slap of flesh smacking against flesh, drowned out the faint sound of the gentle
ocean waves at low tide. The heavy musk of sex overpowered the salty air.
One of his arms reached underneath and hooked her by the waist, lifting her
upper torso. His left hand landed in the sand beside her face as he used it to brace
himself above her. He maneuvered her until she was on all fours, with his body
covering hers even as he pounded steadily inside her sex.
Freeing his hand, he used her hair as a handle to raise her head and turn it to
the side, exposing her neck. Overwhelmed by sensation, Mya was taken off-guard
when a mere second after she felt the heat of his breath, his fangs pierced the
tendon between her neck and shoulder. She screamed as pain shot through her
body, then found herself gasping for air as an orgasm ripped her apart.
As her sheath squeezed him tight, milking him, he howled loudly. There
were three sharp jabs of the hips before he thrust so deep and so hard her knees
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lifted off of the ground. Then he was spurting and coming, his massive body
shuddering over her.
Then something happened that blew her away. His cock swelled even larger
inside—as if that was even possible—and she felt a knot notch into the wall of her
vagina, locking him into place. She screamed again as another orgasm slammed
into her, this one stronger than all the ones before.
It was too much. Black spots swam before her eyes. As consciousness faded,
her last thought was, Damn me for listing Lora Leigh’s Breed series as one of my favorites.
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Chapter Two
Mya woke riding an intense wave of satisfaction, contentment and growing
desire. She had a mate, someone to call her own. No longer would she be lonely.
Lonely? Mya didn‘t remember being lonely. Alone, sure, but she had more
than enough family and friends to keep her busy and her life fulfilled. She wasn‘t in
a romantic relationship currently but that was by choice. She was attractive and
friendly enough that guys liked being around her, and she always got invited out
on dates.
So why would she be feeling lonely? Abruptly she remembered where she
was and what happened. She was on Fantasy Island, the real deal and not the TV
show, the heroine in a romantic novel created exclusively for her. Her werewolf
hero had literally screwed her senseless.
Mya felt a goofy grin cross her face.
She was also an empath, she remembered, able to feel his emotions. Her
smile lost a little of its glow. That part was going to take a bit getting used to.
Empathy made for great reading in a novel but the reality sucked. Mya had enough
difficulty dealing with her own emotions without being bombarded with someone
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else‘s.
Gingerly stretching to ease muscles that were slowly stiffening, Mya
realized she was being stroked, no,
petted. The werewolf—she really needed a
name to call him—was petting her mound, riffling through her pubic hair and
teasing the lips of her sex. There were waves of possession emanating from him.
She didn‘t have to be psychic to know he was thinking, ‗ This is mine.‘
Not that she was complaining. What he was doing felt good and any man,
wolf, or werewolf that had the ability to lay it down like he did was more than
welcome to claim ownership of her pussy. Hell, for that kind of pleasure she‘d give
it to him, no questions asked or conditions required.
He lazily licked a nipple. That‘s when Mya realized her top was gone. A
slow heat was building in her body. Her arousal or his? It didn‘t matter. She was
wasting precious time sitting here in contemplation instead of taking action. She
could analyze the situation once she returned home.
Carpe Diem or Seize the Moment became her motto.
She reached out and grabbed the part of his anatomy that fascinated her the
most. A rumble started in his chest and grew in intensity as she stroked him from
base to tip. He shifted closer, allowing her better access as he scraped what felt
like a claw across her clit.
Mya felt her sex liquefy as she considered what it would be like to mount
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the thick piece of meat in her hand and ride it. Well, she thought, why not? This
was her fantasy. She could be as bold as she wished. Do whatever she liked.
She rose to a seated position and pushed him onto his back. He grumbled as
his hand was dislodged, but she felt his curiosity as he allowed himself to be
maneuvered to her liking. When she straddled his stomach, a burst of anticipation
hit her.
Oh yeah, he liked where this was heading.
Mya rose, positioned his leaking penis at her entrance, and slowly impaled
herself. The fit was still tight, but as proven earlier, she was more than able to
accommodate him. She dug her fingers into the fur on his chest and held on as
gravity forced him deeper and deeper. After this weekend, a normal human would