Isabel and the Wolf: (Part 2)

by Ariana Hawkes

  A moment later, she felt his hardness between her thighs, the tip probing at her entrance. She sighed at the contact, then held her breath, preparing herself for him. He didn’t penetrate her immediately, but teased her instead, rubbing himself along her cleft, chafing at her clit, then pressing against her entrance, and pulling away again. He was driving her crazy with an expert touch. Her body was twitching all over and all she could think about was how much she wanted him.

  “Please,” she whispered at last, before she’d realised what she was saying. Peter made a small, appreciative sound and began to slide his cock inside her, bit by bit. Isabel groaned. It felt even better in this position. Her body was more relaxed, and she more easily surrendered herself to the incredible sensations radiating all over her body. He began to thrust gently before he was all the way in, being careful with her, allowing her to get used to him. The flutters he was creating inside her grew in intensity and Isabel bucked her hips unconsciously, needing him to be all the way inside her. Finally he obliged, his pelvis coming down against hers. She gasped. For a second it was too much, but then she could take all of him. She wrapped her legs around his hips and held him close. He began to thrust harder, his body close to hers, and his hand keeping a firm grasp on her wrists. His breathing came hard, in low, carnal sounds. Isabel had such a sense of power around her, as if she was trapped in a cage of strength. He began to move in and out of her more quickly, until his rhythm hit her magic sweet spot, where it exactly matched her own. A shuddering began deep inside her, quickly erupting into a wild orgasm that flashed rainbow colors beneath her blindfold. Her eyes teared up and she shouted out as she came, an unconstrained animal sound that she barely identified as coming from her.

  As Isabel’s orgasm subsided, a wave of emotion washed over her, and she pulled at her pinned arms, wanting to wrap them around The Wolf’s body.

  “Not yet, Bella,” he said. She registered that he’d stopped moving when she came, giving her time to experience her climax fully. Now he began to thrust again. His movements were different from before, rougher and less measured. His pelvis butted against her sensitized clit, making her feel like she was going to orgasm all over again. His chest brushed against her breasts and his breath was ragged, close her ear. He clamped his hand over her blindfold and, at last, he came with a wild snarl. He collapsed on top of her, his body damp with perspiration. They lay quiet for a while.

  “My hands,” Isabel whispered at last.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, and released them. They were tingling, and she flexed her wrists, bringing the blood supply back into them. She wrapped her arms around him, as she’d been longing to and sighed with contentment. She was no longer in a hurry to take the blindfold off; she was blissed out, totally satisfied with the physical sensations she was experiencing.

  “That was very nice, Bella,” he said. “I like feeling out of control with you.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. He brought one hand up to her head and entwined his fingers in her hair. The last thing she could remember was wondering whether Peter’s slowing breathing meant he was falling asleep.

  Chapter Six

  Peter was shaking her shoulder. The crazy, trippy dream she’d been having was extinguished. She sat up groggily, her mind still full of silver dogs, or foxes, or even wolves, tumbling around together in a blissful ménage.

  “Isabel, we have to go,” Peter hissed in her ear.

  “What?” She rubbed her eyes. It was daylight, and the blindfold had disappeared.

  “Come on!” Peter was lifting her up, over his shoulder. Then he was standing up, and her head was upside down and her ass was in the air. He was walking quickly, practically running through the woods.

  “What’s going on?” she wailed.

  “Sorry, Bella. It’s just very important that we leave now.”

  “But why?”

  “I can’t explain. It just wasn’t safe,” he said.

  Sooner than she would’ve expected they were back at his car. Peter’s body glistened with perspiration, but his breathing was even, as if he’d been lounging at the campsite instead of running through the woods with a girl over his shoulder. He put her inside the car, jumped in and they drove away. A thousand questions hung in the air. Isabel glanced at him. He wasn’t going to get away with that explanation. If he thought he was going to fall into a silence and expect her to be satisfied, he’d seriously underestimated her.

  “So, you’re saying we were in imminent danger out there?” she asked at last, failing to keep a snarky tone out of her voice. He shot her a glance, and she was startled to see insecurity in his eyes.

  “I was. You weren’t,” he said, after a pause. He was driving not especially fast along the track that led out of the forest. Isabel pulled her dress over her head, and wriggled into it. She rubbed at her face, and ran her hands through her hair, picking out the tangles. She wasn’t properly awake yet and nothing made any sense.

  “So, you were in danger of being shot by a crazy man of the woods or something, but I would’ve been just fine?”

  “No, nothing so dramatic, Bella.”

  “So what do you mean?” Before her first coffee of the day, Isabel’s patience was limited, and she didn’t see any reason to hold back now. “You’ve just woken me up really abruptly, carried me along in the most undignified position ever, which has given me a headache in fact, from my head bumping along upside down, and thrown me in the car, and you’re saying it’s nothing dramatic?” to her annoyance, The Wolf threw his head back and laughed loudly.

  “When you describe it like that, I suppose I can see your point. It does sound a little comical as well.”

  “Forgive me for not finding anything too funny before I’ve had some caffeine,” she snapped.

  “Oh, Isabel, you’re such an American girl,” he said. “There are more important things out there than where your next latte is coming from.”

  “Don’t patronize me!” she said, glaring at him. “I don’t see you trying to solve world hunger either. I just want to know why you’ve been acting so weird, that’s all!” Peter was silent while they left the forest track and turned back onto the road to Silver City.

  “There are lots of things in the world that you’re not aware of,” he said at last. “Things you would never dream of. We had to leave because I became aware that there was something nearby that was hostile to me. That’s the only way I can explain it to you.” He pulled over onto the side of the road, braking hard. He turned to her, his amber eyes glowing in the bright sunlight, and touched her jaw. His face came close to hers and he kissed her hard. Despite her annoyance, Isabel’s body responded to him immediately, and the urge to have him on top of her rose up again. “I’m not like other men. That’s the truth of the matter. I hope you can understand that without needing to obsess over the details,” he said.

  “So,” Isabel faltered. “Is this, like, a game? Is it part of this dominant/submissive thing we’ve got going on?” The edges of Peter’s lips curled up in a half-smile.

  “That might be the best way to think about it,” he said. He squeezed her thigh, then leaned close and kissed her again.

  “I wish it was dark,” he said. “I would like to couple with you in the car just now.” Isabel noticed for the first time that he was still naked, and that his desire for her was evident. Against her better judgment, her own arousal bloomed deep in her belly, and she yearned for him to lift her onto his lap and take her deeply. Instead, he started struggling into his clothes, apparently becoming aware of his own nakedness too.

  “You’ll discover more in the future, Bella, I promise. But now the time isn’t right.”

  *

  When Peter left Isabel at her own car minutes later, she slipped in gratefully, eager to have time to herself. Meeting him always involved a combination of arousal and confusion that left her dizzy. And this had been the strangest situation yet. With a laugh, she recalled how pleased she’d been to find Peter on the dating site bec
ause he seemed so much more normal than anyone else on there. But now she seemed to be caught up in something far more serious than the dress-up games the people on the website played, and she couldn’t begin to understand what that might be. Her inexperience frustrated her. There were people who lived dominant/submissive lives 24-7. She knew this from the site. Is this what he’s doing? she wondered. Is he deliberately creating an atmosphere of danger? Or maybe he’s just crazy. No, her intuition told her firmly. Very unconventional, yes; but he always seems perfectly sane.

  *

  Isabel didn’t hear from Peter the next day, or the day after that. Although the memory of the sex they’d had remained strong in her mind, and her body demanded that she seek it out again, she was content to have some space to reflect, to come down from the intensity and have peace to get back to her work again. The block of wood in the vise in her studio was still unidentifiable as anything definite, but it was becoming an abstract carving with a strong presence. Blessed with the ability to assess her work objectively, Isabel could tell it had potential, and, despite the fact that a misjudged cut could ruin its integrity, her hand was sure and her carving confident.

  She was just finishing for the day when she heard a man’s voice calling her name from the side of her house. She put down her chisel and wiped her dusty hands on the front of her overalls.

  “I’m back here!” she called, recognizing the voice, but unable to place it. As a solid, square-bodied figure came around to the open doors of the studio, she saw that it was Bill, whose house she’d recently been at for dinner. He was wearing a shapeless orange shirt with tassels at the neck, made out of a crinkly material that she thought might be called cheesecloth.

  “Hey!” she said, pleased to see him, and he gave her a hug hard enough to crack her back.

  “Can you use a coffee?” He held out a cardboard carrier with two coffees jammed into it. “They’re both lattes.”

  “Always!” Isabel said with a grin, and took one of them from him. “But how did you know I’d be here?”

  “I’ll call it an educated guess,” he said. “So I took a gamble on the coffees.”

  “Well, it’s much appreciated,” Isabel said. “I get tired from working on things so intensely. Especially when, uh – ” She looked at her watch. “I forget to take a break for four hours!” Bill laughed.

  “I know what that’s like, believe me! Hey, that’s something different!” Bill had walked over to Isabel’s sculpture and was looking at it intently. “It’s got a real energy.” Isabel laughed.

  “You can tell from what I’ve done so far? It’s not even a quarter finished yet.”

  “Absolutely. There’s something really natural and alive about it. You’ve got something special there, girl.”

  “Well, thanks. I’ll ask you again for your opinion when it’s finished,” she replied, pinking in shy pleasure. “Shall we go and sit out the front?” She looked around for things to sit on. “I haven’t got around to buying any garden furniture yet though.” She found a large bucket in the studio that could be upturned.

  “This’ll work too,” Bill said, pulling a foot-long slice of a broad tree trunk out of a pile of chopped wood at the corner of the garden.

  “Would you believe I’d never even noticed that before?” Isabel said, and they both laughed.

  “The life of the artist – being highly observant about most things, but curiously oblivious to others,” Bill replied. They carried the bucket and tree trunk through to the front of the house and positioned them on the lawn. The grass was a little scrubby but the well-tended flowerbeds compensated for it, and overall it was a pretty space. The long spiky leaves of Blue Avena grass offset the red flowers with yellow rims that were dotted around. At 6pm the sun was still fierce, but the shadow of the house protected them from its glare. Isabel chose the bucket and sat down.

  “How’s Marianna?” she asked.

  “She’s good. In fact, I should confess that it was she who suggested I stop by today. I had to run some errands downtown, and she said why don’t you call in on Bella on the way back?” he explained with a hacking laugh. “We wanted to see how you were settling in.” Isabel smiled at him. She liked his easy way and his cracked cigarette voice, and the way that he ended every couple of sentences with a burst of laughter. He reminded her of a friendly uncle.

  “Well, everything’s going great,” Isabel said, spreading her arm in the general direction of her house. “I love my house, and my work’s going really well. I might have had a date or two as well.”

  “Ha, I thought so. Marianna’s keen to fix you up with a couple of guys, but as soon as I saw you, I thought, she’s got that twinkle in her eye that means she’s already taken.” He cackled. Isabel shrugged.

  “It’s early days, but things are going well between us,” she said, wondering at the same time whether she was allowed to date other men, or if her contract with Peter meant that she was his alone. Another thing they hadn’t discussed yet. Bill was staring at her.

  “Sorry?” she said, realizing she’d missed something.

  “Damn, you’ve got it bad, girl. I was just inviting you for dinner at our place again. I promise Marianna won’t be matchmaking – if you don’t want her to, of course?” he finished with a wink.

  “That would be great! Actually it’s my turn to entertain, but to be honest, my cooking isn’t the most reliable.”

  “Don’t worry, folks tend to gather at our place, it’s always been the way. We might do pot luck this time around though, so you’ll still get a chance to poison us!” Isabel laughed.

  “There are one or two dishes that I do really well, I’ll have you know. It’s just when I have to start synchronizing things that everything goes wrong.”

  “In that case, we’ll let you pick the theme. We usually choose a particular country or region’s cuisine. And everyone brings something from there.”

  “Ok, I think I can cope with that,” Isabel said grinning.

  “I saw Rob the other day. He told me he showed you the conservation center.”

  “Yes, I loved it. I can tell he’s really passionate about it.”

  “He is, and it’s so good to see that people still care about protecting the wilderness. It’s the oldest one in the world, you know? Well, the first one to be designated an official wilderness area.”

  “It’s a lovely place,” Isabel said. “Even being the city girl that I am, I can appreciate that.” Bill nodded, pulling on his short gray beard.

  “Folks come to Silver City because it’s this famous hippy town, but Gila is the true heart of the area. It’s a very spiritual place, and has been since way back, when the Native Americans lived there.”

  “Yes, Josie was saying something similar. Seems like she’s really into its history. She was also telling me about the Native Americans believing there are people who can turn themselves into animals.” Bill smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling.

  “She’s a real live wire, that one. I love her passion for things. She was probably talking about skinwalkers?”

  “Yes, that’s right! So, it’s an old myth, right? No-one believes in it today?”

  “No, not true. The culture is still very much alive on reservations. But most people refuse to talk about them in fear that they’ll hear and be stirred up to conduct evil magic.” Isabel stared at him, surprised by his conviction.

  “So you’re saying you believe in it too?”

  “Why not? Transformation, or shape-shifter myths are as old as humanity. Almost every culture in the world has one. What’s your religion?”

  “Lapsed Catholic,” she said with a laugh.

  “Well, there are Greek myths that were around at least a thousand years before the time of Christ, about humans turning into all kinds of animals – eagles, swans, bulls, snakes. One of the oldest books known to be written in the western world depicts some men being transformed into pigs. Different cultures have different kinds of stories. In some, the transformation is a puni
shment, in others, a privilege. A lot of the shape-shifters are dangerous to humans. And, taking all the different world myths together, people transforming into wolves is the most common, followed by dogs and cats.”

  “Wolves? Actually, Josie’s skinwalker reference was about an unusual wolf that Rob and his team caught in Gila the other day.”

  “Unusual how?”

  “Apparently it was really big, and not related to the local packs, and it had a strong resistance to the sedative shot they gave it.” Bill nodded calmly, but his eyes were bright with interest.

  “Then what happened?”

  “It got away, so they didn’t get to look at it too closely. You’ll have to ask Rob for more details.”

  Peter’s abrupt departure from the camp site and his sense of danger flitted through her mind. What if Peter saw the huge wolf, and that was why he had to run? But surely if that had been the case, he would have just told me, instead of acting all mysterious, and telling me there’s “lots of things I’m not aware of”.

  “Do you think it’s dangerous?” she asked.

  “I’d be very surprised,” Bill replied. “Wolves are generally shy around people. Still, if it’s an unusual species, it’s hard to say.” What if Peter believes in transformation stories? Could that explain why he was freaking out?

  “Do Romanians believe that people could turn into animals?”

  “Romanians?” Bill shook his head, as if reorganizing his thoughts. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about the country to be honest. They’ll have their vampire legends, of course, which inspired Dracula, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge. When I was travelling in Mexico though, out in the villages, people really believed in shape-shifters. They call people who are believed to turn into animals nagual. Supposedly they transform overnight, and they get the blame for stealing property and bringing disease.”

  “But this is superstition, right? You can’t tell me that you seriously believe in it?” Isabel could hear a note of incredulity in her voice, and she fought to suppress it. Bill adjusted his position on the tree trunk, crossing an ankle over his other knee.