Sporting Wood

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “All right?” He let go of her hand to steady her with a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

  “Yes.” Though now it was even more difficult for her to catch her breath. Her whole body was quivering with anticipation as she led him into the ritual glade.

  ———

  If the grove where Coop had met Kyla felt like hallowed ground, this place was positively divine. The natural bowl-shaped depression in the ground was lush and green, carpeted with thick moss. A crystal pool of water filled the center, and the whole area was screened by a curtain of mistletoe, ivy and other epiphytes. The sun had set completely, but the three-quarter moon shone brightly enough into the glade that he could see almost as if it were daylight.

  “This is where we hold our rituals,” Kyla said, leading him down into the center of the bowl. “Nothing will bother us here—the magic of the gods keeps most of the animals at bay, or at least renders them harmless as they pass through.”

  In one graceful move, she sank to her knees and patted the moss beside her. “Join me.”

  A volcano could have erupted beneath his feet and Coop wouldn’t have been able to do anything but sit down by her side. “You said you wanted to talk.” He reached out and coiled a strand of silky auburn hair around his fingers. “Is that all you had in mind?” He sure hoped it wasn’t. His cock was as hard as—well—as a tree trunk.

  “No. It has been many years—many decades since I have been with a male. I would lie with you, if you’ll have me.” She looked down at her lap and even in the moonlight he could see the hint of a blush tint her ivory cheek.

  “I would be honored,” he said, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear and tipping her head up to his. “But I don’t have any protection with me, and I have no idea if our species can—cross-pollinate.”

  She laughed at that, as he’d hoped she would, the teasing breaking the awkwardness between them. “Dryads are only fertile in the spring, at the same time as our trees. You need have no worries about such a thing. Although—if I were looking for a father for a child—I would have no reservations choosing you.”

  “Thank you, I think.” He didn’t even want to contemplate the gestation and birthing process for a tree nymph. Imagining trying to take a half-wolf, half-tree kid to a baseball game gave him the willies. As long as there was no worry about conception though, he was fine with the idea of making love to her. In fact, his body was doing a happy dance, his cock bobbing in his lap in anticipation.

  “Do you have a mate, Cooper Marceski? Cubs, perhaps? I would not…poach from another female. That’s the correct word, is it not? Sometimes I mistake human expressions.”

  “Poach is perfectly correct, but no, there’s no one,” he assured her. “My work takes up most of my time. I haven’t even had a girlfriend since I moved to Washington.”

  “Good.”

  At that, he decided they’d talked enough. He leaned down and pressed his lips over hers.

  Holy crap! It was the only thought his brain could manage once he’d tasted her. Leaves and moss and moonlight and magic and pure, raw sex all combined in her scent and her taste. Her soft-as-silk hands came up around his neck and her lips opened, inviting him inside.

  His tongue drove deep, tasting her, seeking out every crevice and hollow, even as his hands closed around her back, smoothing along the soft skin of her spine, then around lush hips and up to cup the sides of her full, heavy breasts. Her arboreal roots aside, Kyra’s figure wasn’t the stick-thin type that was presently in fashion—she was built along the lines of a goddess, with plush, feminine curves to cushion a man during sex. There was nothing at all wooden about the soft, ripe mounds of her breasts that overflowed his hands or the sweet, generous globes of her ass. Her body was designed for pleasure, not speed, and Coop intended to take his time with it.

  Meanwhile, Kyra’s fingers had clamped down on his shoulders, her surprisingly strong hands holding him close. Her tongue skated along his then briefly took control, diving inside his mouth to taste and explore.

  The spongy moss beneath them cushioned them perfectly as he pulled her with him to lie on their sides, their lips still fused. Coop inhaled through his nose, drinking in her scent even as he drank the taste of her from his mouth. An abstract part of his brain wondered if she even needed oxygen, or if she breathed carbon dioxide—or at all. When she slid her hand between their bodies to circle his cock, even that part of his brain stopped functioning. There was simply no blood left his skull at all. It had all fled south to create the biggest hard-on he’d had in his life.

  Dragging his mouth away from hers, Coop kissed his way over to the shell of her ear, gratified when she let out a breathy moan. He played with her ear for a bit then continued his foray down to the column of her throat. This time she moaned his name, which he took as permission to keep going. He traced her collarbone, the upper curve of her breast, then licked his way down between them. Rolling slightly so Kyla was on her back and he was propped on one elbow above her, he gazed in awe at the feast before him for just a second before he circled one rosy nipple with his tongue.

  “You’re beautiful, Kyla. But I suppose, being a nymph, you know that.”

  Her smile was blinding. “I am glad you find me so,” she said. “Beauty is a matter of taste, is it not? I have heard that American men prefer blondes.”

  “Not this one,” he replied, giving her perky nipple a quick kiss. “I’ve always had a thing for redheads.” Then he sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth so there was no further talking.

  Kyla arched. The moss beneath her back conforming to her position for perfect support. That was the nice part about the sacred glade—the gods to whom it was dedicated considered sex a form of worship, and were perfectly content for it to be used as a trysting spot. So much so that the very ground reshaped itself to accommodate them. The softness of the ground beneath her was a sensuous contrast to the hardness of Cooper’s body pressed so closely to her side.

  As Cooper sucked on her nipple, she laced her fingers through his thick, dark hair. Her head fell back, but she couldn’t even see the stars shining above them. For some reason her eyes refused to focus. She’d only done this a couple of times, usually during rituals, but it had certainly never felt like this before.

  Cooper’s broad, strong hand smoothed down the slight roundness of her belly to the juncture of her thighs. She opened her legs, eagerly anticipating his touch, and he didn’t disappoint. His fingers cupped her mound while his mouth continued to lave and suck her nipple into a rigid peak.

  “You are so hot, so wet.” He breathed the words in husky approval as he leaned farther over her to switch his attentions to the other breast. His fingers combed through the curls that covered her sex then slipped between her lips, sliding along her cleft. He caught the nub of her clit between two fingers and squeezed with exquisite gentleness, setting off a ripple of contractions in Kyla’s womb. She cried out at the beauty of the sensation—not quite orgasm, but a moment of perfect tenderness. He hummed his approval and switched his mouth back to her other breast while his hand shifted slightly too. Now his thumb rubbed along her swollen clit while two thick fingers began to press into her pussy.

  “Yes,” she cried as he plunged his fingers deep into her slick passage. His thumb flicked her nub in rhythmic pulses, matching the tempo of his mouth suckling her breast. Soon, his fingers picked up the pattern as well, shuttling in and out of her wetness, hard and fast.

  She clutched at his hair as her hips rose and sank to meet the pressure of his hand. The whimpers and moans she was making were new, something she’d never done before. Even though nymphs were supposed to be sexual creatures, living this deep in the forest, she hadn’t had a lot of opportunity for this kind of mind-blowing sex. During rituals, with satyrs, fauns, even the occasional demigod, it was usually just down and dirty, over and done with. This—this was pleasure drawn out to an art form.

  The pleasure that coiled in her womb wound tighter and tighter u
ntil she could no longer contain it. She screamed his name as the tension burst, sending a shower of sparks through her vision and shock waves coursing through her muscles and skin. Her physical body had never known anything like this, and all she could do was lie there, shuddering, while Cooper continued to minister to her, more slowly and gently, until her womb stopped convulsing. The he lifted his head from her breast and moved up to kiss her lips.

  “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He kissed her again as he rolled to lie between her splayed legs. “Now though, I need to be inside you.”

  “Please.” Her voice was shaky but determined. She wanted him to fuck her more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  “Open your eyes, Kyla. I want you to see who’s with you.”

  She did, peering up into his heavily lashed dark eyes. Holding himself up on his elbows, he kept his gaze locked on hers as he used his hand to position his cock at her entrance then pushed steadily into her sheath. He was thick, allowing her to feel his invasion with exquisite friction, his hard flesh rasping against her tender walls.

  ———

  Coop had never felt anything like the bliss of being clasped inside Kyla’s hot, wet pussy. Residual shudders from her orgasm rippled along his engorged cock, making him fear he wasn’t going to last. Determined to make sure she came again before he finished, he rolled them both until he was on his back with her above him. The slow, sultry smile she gave him made him swell even further as she began to rock back and forth. His hands moved, almost without his conscious control, up to cup her breasts. Her moan was a further aphrodisiac, and he drove up into her as if his life depended on it. She was leaning forward, rasping her clit against his pubic bone, and the taut tendons of her throat let him know she was close again. Her expression of rapture broke the last of his control. He powered up into her cunt with all the strength his supernatural body could muster. She was a nymph—an immortal. For the first time in decades, he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting the woman he was with.

  Three strokes later, she shattered around him, the tight muscles of her pussy gripping his cock like a fist and milking him. He felt himself swell even further, until he couldn’t pull out—the tip of his cock had become a massive knot of erogenous nerves. His balls were drawn up tighter than they’d ever been, and they clenched hard as he came.

  Hot fluid poured out of him, filling her channel, pumping her full as the knot of his penis held him tight against the mouth of her womb. He felt a moment of shock that this had happened at last, but he couldn’t pause to process the meaning. His entire being was focused on the orgasm that was still gripping him until he was woozy from lack of oxygen and fluid.

  Finally, long moments later, he slumped back onto the moss, just as Kyla collapsed limply across his chest. He stroked his hand through her hair, all the movement he could manage.

  “I should go,” she mused. “Daylight isn’t far away.”

  “It will be a few minutes.” He kissed her temple—the only part he could reach. “The mating knot takes awhile to go away—or so I’ve been told.”

  “Mating knot?” She dragged in a breath and turned her head. “Is that what happened?”

  “A werewolf trait, I’m afraid.” Now he could reach her cute, little turned-up nose, so he kissed it too. “Sometimes, when we find a female who our body thinks is compatible, we—swell up during orgasm.”

  “You find me compatible?” Her brilliant smile let him know she wasn’t upset. “Desirable for more than just a quick tumbling? Truly?”

  “Sweetheart, I find everything about you desirable, and I’d like nothing more than to take you home and make love to you for days on end. But I know your home is here, and you have to be back to your tree by daylight. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you.”

  “Will you come back to me another night?”

  “Of course.” He gathered up the energy to wrap his arms around her and roll them both to their sides. “I’ll come back every weekend if you want me to.”

  “I’d like that,” she told him. “I would like very much to see you again, Professor.”

  “Kyla.” He kissed her tenderly. The knot of his erection began to subside. With a sense of loss and regret, he slowly withdrew his cock. “Nothing could keep me away.”

  “We can bathe and drink from the sacred pool.” Lithe and graceful, she stood and took his hand. “Linger with me just one moment longer.”

  He nodded, and he followed her down to the spring where they both drank before they stepped inside and washed each other tenderly. It took all his willpower not to take her again, there in the water, but he didn’t know if they had time left. He’d cut off his arm before he did anything to hurt this magical woman by his side.

  Chapter Two

  A month later, Coop was feeling the strain of exhaustion. Every weekend, he spent in the grove, camping by day, far enough away from Kyla that no metal or plastic from his tent would contaminate the grove. As soon as the sun went down, he met up with Kyla, and they would go off to the sacred glade and make love. They’d done things he’d always dreamed of but never believed were possible—his little nymph was utterly uninhibited. Oral, anal, tied up with silken cords—there seemed to be nothing she didn’t enjoy. They also spent a surprising amount of time just talking. Coop told her everything about his life, and even though she’d never seen a city, never visited a university, she was bright enough to understand when he complained about campus politics, uninspired students or the silly antics of his cousins, nephews and nieces. She even introduced him to other dryads from the grove, and he spent time talking to them as well. He enjoyed every moment he spent with Kyla, but the schedule was starting to wear him down and his work was suffering. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep it up.

  One night, toward the end of November, he asked how dryads, originally from Greece, had ended up here on the Olympic Peninsula, in trees that were native to North America.

  “A group of immigrants brought the first of us in saplings,” Kyla explained. “When they consecrated the grove, they petitioned the gods to place our souls into native trees. They would then put the Greek saplings in their gardens but leave the native grove untouched. The gods agreed. My grandmother was one of the original nymphs. So was Xera. I was born here, as was my mother. Alders are not as long-lived as firs.”

  “But I thought nymphs were immortal,” he said. “Once your tree died, couldn’t you find another?” He didn’t even want to contemplate the idea of her dying. The thought burned a hole through his stomach—or maybe it was his heart. Had he fallen in love with Kyla?

  Of course he had. Now if that wasn’t just the stupidest damn thing ever. He wiggled his toes in the pool where they sat, having just bathed after making love.

  “My grandmother did so—she still lives. My mother was killed—her tree was felled by lightning and she died in the explosion. Like other immortals, nymphs can be killed.”

  “I’m sorry. What about your father?” She’d never explained that aspect of nymph biology—there weren’t any male nymphs that he’d ever heard of.

  “My father was a hiker—my mother seduced him one night. As long as we remain tied to a tree, all our children are daughters and also dryads. As soon as we are born, our mothers find us a sapling of our own.”

  “So, if we’re still together in springtime—our child would also be a dryad?”

  She nodded, giving him a shy smile. “I would like that,” she said softly. “But—I am not sure you would. You would want to be with your child, wouldn’t you? The way you talk of your family—that kind of connection is something we never have when we spend most of our lives buried in a tree.”

  Cooper squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “I—I’ve thought about having a family with you too, sweetheart. But not like that, no. I couldn’t have a daughter who I’d never get to hold, to raise. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “I understand. We have several moons bef
ore we must worry. I would still enjoy them with you, Cooper. I hope you feel the same.”

  He dragged her into his arms for a long, drugging kiss. Even though he’d just come inside her, his cock hardened again, as it always did when they touched.

  And a gunshot echoed through the glade, followed by a scream that ricocheted through his skull.

  “Xera!” Kyla pulled away from him and scrambled up the slope to the edge of the glade. “There is something wrong in the grove.”

  “Wait here!” Coop shifted into wolf form and shot past Kyla. Using telepathy, he reinforced the warning. She’d told him she could be killed, especially when she was in human form. Still, he wasn’t surprised to hear her running behind him as he dashed toward the grove.

  A dead buck lay in the center of the clearing, one hunter kneeling to field dress the deer while another stood nearby.

  “I think we should camp here, Harve,” one man said. “Cut some branches off that fir to build a shelter, will you? I’ll hang the buck on that alder to bleed out.”

  “What about bears?” his friend asked. “Won’t they be attracted to the meat?”

  The hunter shrugged. “We’ll take turns keeping watch. Won’t break my heart to bag a grizzly along with an eight-point.”

  “Sounds good to me.” The man called Harve pulled a knife and walked toward Xera.

  No! Xera’s panicked cry echoed in Cooper’s head. Metal would defile the tree—she’d have to move.

  Coop stepped out from under the tree, snarling at Harve.

  “Holy shit, Frank, it’s a wolf.”

  “So shoot it, you wimp.” The first hunter looked up.

  Now Coop knew they were poachers. It was illegal to hunt wolves in this state. When Harve pulled a pistol from his belt instead of backing off, Coop leapt, biting hard into Harve’s arm before the man could fire. Then Coop backed away quickly, noting that Frank had picked up an automatic rifle—also definitely illegal.