by Radclyffe
Taking a deep breath, Cara finally worked up the courage to look at the woman speaking to her.
And time, like her heart, stopped.
It’s her.
Short wavy dark hair fell across her forehead, almost hiding her eyes. Full lips smirked as if with a private joke. And her eyes…
“Professora? Are you all right?”
“Have we met? I mean, at the university? Or somewhere else?” Cara blanched slightly at the abruptness of her question, because although the woman in flesh in front of her had haunted her bed for months, she was certain they had never met.
“No, Professor Grace, I do not believe so. But I’ve followed your work, as mythology is something close to my heart, as you can see. I am Nereza Fiametta. But friends call me Nera.”
A female faculty member glided to Nera’s side, and Cara noted the way the woman pressed her breasts against Nera’s arm. Nera threw her an apologetic glance and Cara simply nodded as the woman led Nera away, a proprietary hand on her arm.
Cara looked back at the painting. Medusa seemed to be laughing at her.
*
Cara thrashed in bed, the sheets tangled around her thighs, tight against her wet center, rubbing against her clit. Her breasts were swollen, heavy with desire, her nipples rock hard beneath the fingertips of her imaginary lover. She screamed through a final orgasm, staring into eyes that seemed to change color like the ocean depths. Full lips crushed her own, bruising in their passion, and a tiny feeling of panic blossomed in her soul. The kiss deepened, harder, longer, the woman’s tongue plunging into her mouth as her fingers plunged inside her.
And she felt it. Her soul slipping away, drifting like a sexual river into the woman’s mouth. She yanked her mouth away and ripped herself out of the fantasy.
Her pussy ached, the sheets were drenched, and the scent of sex rode the air. Trembling, she touched her lips and gasped when she found them swollen, a tiny bite stinging under her fingertip. That same heavy bluish fog misted through the cabin.
She leapt from bed and threw on the light in the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she saw the reflection of a woman who had been thoroughly fucked, flushed from orgasm with a sexual afterglow. The faint outline of a bite mark showed on her left breast.
What the fuck? Since when does my fantasy woman leave marks?
Shivering, Cara threw on sweats, made coffee, and took it to the deck, where she sat and watched the boats getting under way for the day’s ventures. She replayed the night before over and over again. Did the Italian professor really look so much like her fantasy lover? Or was her desire so strong she was convincing herself her fantasy was there in the flesh?
Watching the gondolas drift past in the early morning light, she closed her eyes and thought about the party. No matter who she had asked, no one else had seemed to know much about their hostess. Most weren’t even sure what department she worked in. Every time she thought she caught a glimpse of Nera through the crowd, she lost her again. By the end of the night she was frustrated and convinced she had imagined the whole thing. In all likelihood, she had probably seen Nera around campus and subconsciously used her as a fantasy figure. Of course. Sure. And the bite mark was from her own nails, not someone’s mouth.
Ignoring her overstimulated body, she went back inside to get ready for work. She stopped to pick up a slip of paper by the door.
Dear Professora,
It was lovely to meet you last night. I’m sorry we did not get more time together. Would you meet me for dinner tonight? I would very much like to get to know you better.
Sincerely,
Nera
*
Still bothered that she didn’t know when the letter had come through her letterbox, Cara smoothed her black silk skirt down for the umpteenth time. Before she could knock, the butler opened the door and ushered her inside. His silence unnerved her, as did the emptiness of the enormous house.
She followed him into a room she hadn’t seen the night before. It was far cozier, smaller and more inviting than the reception area had been. A fire illuminated the room, and half-full wineglasses sat in front of two enormous chairs.
The butler left the room and she filled the time perusing the paintings gracing the walls. The depth and array of mythological scenes was stunning. All of them included various women in states of undress, all sensual, all beautiful, all figures of myth. And they all had the same sultry stare that had unnerved her the night before.
“I’m glad you like my paintings. You remind me of these women.”
Cara nearly spilled her wine all over the place when she felt Nera’s breath against the back of her neck.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Cara turned. There was no question about it. Nera was the woman from her dreams.
“No, not at all. I was just fascinated by your paintings. They’re so lifelike,” Cara said, nervous beyond words. She had been coming under this woman for months, and now that she was with her in the flesh, she had no idea what to say that didn’t include,“take your clothes off, right now.”
“Please, sit. Is wine okay? It’s from my own cellar.”
“Thank you, yes. What department are you in? I’m sure we must have met before.”
Nera waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, here and there, you know. Let’s not talk about work. I wish to know more of you.”
Cara’s thighs tightened. She wanted Nera to know a hell of a lot more of her, but she continued with the small talk, aware she was doing most of the talking. Nera redirected any questions she asked back to her.
The butler announced dinner, and when they walked to the dining room, Nera placed a warm hand on Cara’s back, sending chills down her spine and making her nipples harden instantly. Cara liked her sex on the dark side, and Nera’s touch ran through her, promising exactly what she desired.
“You are very beautiful, Cara. I’m so glad you came to dinner,” Nera whispered, her breath warm against Cara’s neck.
Suddenly all Cara wanted to do was sink into Nera, rip their clothes off, and have a long night of rough and rampant sex. Hearing Nera’s low chuckle, she snapped out of it and moved to her seat. What the hell was going on? Why couldn’t she get her mind from between her legs?
“I’m really glad you invited me. I kept looking for you last night, but I guess I kept missing you.”
Nera smiled, her gaze distant. “Yes, the faculty member who wanted my attention for the evening kept me busy. I didn’t wish to be rude, but I would much rather have been with you. She was quite…unsatisfying.”
The food arrived—a feast for the eyes and palate, although Cara was finding it harder and harder to concentrate the more turned on she became. Nera radiated sex, and Cara’s panties were so wet she was worried her skirt would have a damp patch.
“I don’t mean to be overly forward, Cara, but am I correct in assuming you like women?” Nera stroked each of Cara’s fingers in a slow caress.
“Yes. Clearly. I mean, you do too, obviously?” Cara stared at Nera’s fingers sliding slowly along each of her own, and the fog that filtered through her boat every morning suddenly clouded her mind. Oh God, she needed Nera inside her.
Nera continued eating, continuing to escalate Cara’s desperation with subtle strokes, sexy smiles, and definite suggestions of sensual delights. Every bite she took made Cara wish it was her Nera was devouring, sucking on, kissing, and fucking.
After dinner, Nera led them, wineglasses in hand, through the living room onto a small balcony overlooking the river. Cara’s knees were so weak she could barely stand. She trembled as Nera stood behind her and lightly nuzzled her ear.
“You’re so very beautiful.” Nera’s lips grazed Cara’s neck and if she hadn’t been pressed against Cara’s back, she would have sunk to her knees.
“I don’t know why, but I think I know you,” Cara whispered, about to dissolve into a puddle of need. Nera alternately bit and kissed the back of her neck, her hand buried in Cara’s hair, pushing h
er head forward so she could get to more of her neck.
“Perhaps it is just that your soul recognizes something it wants, caramia.” Nera pulled Cara against her body and kissed the side of her neck, making her way over her shoulder, moving the thin strap of her tank top away with her lips.
“Please.” Cara’s control shattered and her mind clouded. She couldn’t think, all she could do was feel. Every brush of Nera’s lips, the weight of Nera’s hand in her hair, the small circles Nera traced on her hip, made her lose a bit more of herself. Everything came down to one thing—she needed Nera to make her come, just like she had for months in her dreams.
Nera gently moved away from her and Cara keened, desperate at the loss of contact, but the ache was quickly replaced by a sudden bit of clarity. The sexual fog enveloping her lifted enough for her to get her balance back. She steadied herself before turning to face Nera.
And the fog slammed back into her, making her panties drench and her nipples tent the fabric of her tank top. She grasped the railing behind her to keep from falling to her knees and begging Nera to take her.
“Cara, let me walk you home. It’s a beautiful night, and I’d like to spend more time with you. Will you allow me?”
Cara nodded, confused. Why didn’t Nera just take her to bed and fuck her senseless? Surely she felt whatever it was Cara felt?
“Yes, of course.” Cara gathered her things in a daze and accepted Nera’s hand as they strolled from the house out to the canal. The streets were empty, the night dark. It was the off-season, and the waterways and walkways were devoid of all but their own footsteps. They cut through a particularly tiny walkway to reach the canal where Cara kept her houseboat. Stopping abruptly, Nera pressed her against a wall, her hands sliding up Cara’s skirt, over her thighs, pulling her hips tightly against her own. Her lips crushed Cara’s, her tongue hot and insistent.
Cara groaned into Nera’s mouth, pressed her hips hard against Nera’s, desperate to feel Nera inside her. Nera stopped, placed her hands on top of Cara’s skirt and rested her forehead against Cara’s.
“I want you, Cara. I want to make love to you.”
Cara’s response, the only one she was capable of, was to kiss Nera as deeply as Nera had kissed her.
“Now. Hurry.” Nera yanked away and roughly led her through the alley, and the next, until they got to Cara’s boat. Cara quickly unlocked the door and glanced back to make sure Nera was actually there, that she wasn’t having some kind of psychotic breakdown.
But she was there, her nipples straining against the black silk shirt, her hands clenched in fists. The blue fog Cara woke to all the time surrounded Nera, and suddenly Cara wasn’t just inordinately aroused, she was also a bit nervous.
Nera stifled those nerves when she moved forward with almost supernatural speed and picked Cara up, pulled Cara’s legs around her waist, and carried her through the cabin to the bed. Nera let her down and yanked Cara’s skirt and top off. She stopped for only a moment, her gaze burning Cara’s skin as she looked her over.
Meeting her gaze, Cara gasped. The colors of her eyes really were changing. The blues were melting into one another, shifting like water, just like…
Nera fell on her like a woman starving, sucking her nipples, twisting them between her fingers, biting her skin, her hands everywhere, and just as in her dreams, everywhere she touched, Cara burned.
“Say my name, Cara. Tell me you want me.”
“Oh God, Nera. Please. Please fuck me. I need you.”
“Again. Tell me what you want me to do.” Nera sucked hard on a nipple.
Cara cried out, so close to orgasm. “I want you inside me, Nera. Please, take me. Take me like you do in my dreams. Please…”
Nera growled and roughly shoved Cara’s legs apart. She pushed two fingers in, then a third, and pushed hard and deep, pumping into her, her eyes penetrating as she watched Cara’s face.
“Come. Now, Cara. Scream for me, baby.”
Nera twisted her fingers slightly and Cara came, screaming as her orgasm ripped through her. Better than her dreams, better than anything, ever.
She opened her eyes. Nera watched her. She looked…hungry. Like someone who had been starved for far too long. She cried out when Nera expertly flipped her onto her side without coming out of her and added a fourth finger inside her.
“You’ve been dreaming about me, haven’t you, bella? You’ve been begging me for this every night, riding me, giving yourself to me. Give yourself to me now, Cara. Give everything to me.”
Cara whimpered when Nera’s thumb pushed into her ass and her hand thrust deep, hard, filling her completely. The pressure, the pleasure, was overwhelming, too much to take, but if Nera stopped she knew for certain she’d die. Nera’s other hand slid beneath her head and cupped her cheek. She slid two fingers inside Cara’s mouth.
“Suck, baby.”
Cara did as she was told, sucking Nera’s fingers in time to Nera’s fingers thrusting so deep, so hard, inside her. She moaned around Nera’s fingers when she added a third. Everything was full, every part of her belonged to her fantasy woman. She careened toward another orgasm, felt it building and building.
“Look at me, Cara. Look at me when you come, and say my name, one more time, baby. Scream for me,” Nera whispered in Cara’s ear, thrusting harder inside her as she took her fingers from Cara’s mouth.
Cara managed to look at Nera as she had been asked. She screamed and her orgasm exploded. “My name! Say it, Cara. Now!”
She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to say Nera’s name ever again. But it was too late.
“Nera! Oh my God. Oh my God, no.”
Succubus.
Her gaze locked on Nera’s and terror warred with orgasm. Nera’s pupils had turned to flames, literal flames, washing out the blue till it became white. She opened her mouth and held it just over Cara’s and Cara cried out as she watched the blue light of her soul leaving her mouth to dance on Nera’s tongue before disappearing. Nera’s eyes closed and she moaned as she drank Cara’s soul, her hips thrusting hard against Cara’s thigh.
Throwing her head back, Nera howled. As Nera climaxed, Cara watched her swallow the blue threads of her soul. She closed her eyes and moaned when Nera’s hand thrust into her, again and again, harder and harder, until she came a final time, her back arching as she filled Nera’s hand.
Unconsciousness closed in on her, but before the darkness claimed her, Nera whispered against her ear, “You’re mine now, caramia. For all eternity.”
Solstice
Karis Walsh
Ty stood at attention in the general’s command tent, fighting to hold still and not fidget. She wished she had taken a few minutes to compose herself after she and her cadre arrived at the temporary HQ for the Lycan Resistance, but as usual she had rushed headlong into human form and human contact. Now she had to stand in front of the only person she would acknowledge as her alpha with twigs in her disheveled ponytail and her wolf barely under control. Her cadre had made the long trek from their home on the tundra to the command center in the dense forest near Varesska in wolf form and she was exhausted. Certain of her cadre’s discipline and aware that survival depended on their wolves’ heightened senses and faster speeds, Ty had allowed only minimal shifts back to human form. They had made it safely to HQ, but even she felt the edges of her humanity blur and fade. She needed all her strength to simply remain upright and keep her mouth closed when all she wanted to do was flop on the floor and pant until she recovered.
“You’re the youngest alpha in the Resistance, yet your cadre is reputed to be one of the toughest fighting forces we have,” the general said conversationally, standing close to Ty. He must be able to smell how close to the surface her wolf was and seemed to be gauging her self-control. He intruded on her personal space, his direct eye contact making her every exhale threaten to morph into a growl. She alternately fought and pleaded with her wolf, just managing to keep her eyes averted and her breathing quiet. She wa
s relieved the general was a male. If she added any sexual attraction to her already shaky control she wouldn’t be able to keep her wolf from breaking free.
“Although,” he continued, “some say your pack is too hot-headed and dangerous.” The general paused as if giving her a chance to defend herself and the Lycans under her command. Ty remained silent. If she spoke without being asked a direct question the general would take her down. Her strength might be a match for his wolf, but he had her beat in both experience and shifting agility. Even so, her wolf demanded a chance to fight, to challenge his dominance. Ty’s struggle was only betrayed by a slight curl of her lip, the merest hint of a snarl.
The general smiled and pushed another inch into Ty’s space before stepping away and sitting behind his desk. “Have a seat.” He waved toward a chair. His aggressive tone and challenging stance disappeared, but Ty remained vigilant even as she sat and crossed her legs casually.
“The people of Varesska will be celebrating the Winter Solstice soon,” the general said, shuffling through some papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is. The queen’s advisor, Leo, is calling it a Celebration of Progress in honor of the advances they’ve made in coal mining and processing. Whatever the name, it is our Winter Solstice. Have you ever gone to the festival?”
Ty was startled by the question and by the unexpected wave of sadness she felt as the memory resurfaced. “Only once. I was very young.”
The general nodded with a compassionate look and for a moment he wasn’t her leader but simply a member of her pack. No Lycan was untouched by pain or loss, and strong emotions always accompanied any reminder of the time before their Resistance had been necessary. “I need you to go back again. You will have three days before the solstice and then you will be able to avenge those you lost. It is a dangerous mission, but the fate of the Resistance—of the Lycans—depends on its success. If you accept?”