Shifters Desire 1: Vampire Fangs & Venom

by Myra Nour

  Her head fell back onto the bed. She was quickly nearing the top of that coaster ride, her insides molten and her body trembling. She was truly being tongue-fucked. Raynor had increased the tempo of his movements. She reared up again, grabbed his head and dug her hands into his soft hair. Shoving her hips back and forth, she pressed his head more deeply into her soft tissues. “Oh, Raynor,” she screamed. The orgasm that gripped her was huge and explosive. She screamed, her toes clenched in a tight ball, and she rode the aftershocks of sensation, her hands clutching his hair.

  Exhaustion overcame her. Briana opened her eyes to a room empty of Raynor. She sighed. It had only been a daydream, albeit an awesome one. Her hands moved restlessly and she realized both had been pressed hard against her mons. Her clit throbbed unmercifully and she pushed down against it and rubbed several times. That was all it took for a real orgasm to grip her.

  Her clit pulsated, and her vagina spasmed, as if Raynor’s penis were really inside her. Briana rode the experience, letting it consume her and groaning slightly in response. She lay some minutes, composing herself, before jumping up.

  She was surprised when she discovered the wetness beneath her. Tearing a small piece of her chemise, she wetted it and wiped herself. Jeez what an experience! These dreams of hers were becoming hotter and hotter. Would the reality of her and Raynor’s lovemaking in human form match her dream sequence? She smiled to herself. Of course he couldn’t grow a tongue like the snakewoman, but if he had expertise in that area, he could be almost as effective as the dream Raynor without it.

  * * * * *

  When he came back hours later, she’d lost interest in a sexual liaison. Laundering outside in less than perfect circumstances had drained her energy, the orgasm had added to her tiredness, and her throat felt raw. Two large fish were tied to a piece of the fishing line, which he carried proudly. She’d already started the fire and Raynor placed the fish carefully over the coals.

  “You were gone a long time. Were the fish not biting?”

  “Yes.” He waved toward the brazier. “Caught four more. I gave Robert two.”

  Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she asked curiously, “What about the other two?”

  “I walked the boy home, and he told me about this friend of his who owns a flute. So, he took me to his cottage and we worked out a deal.”

  “Two fish for a flute? Is that a good deal?”

  Grinning, he pulled out the aforementioned instrument. “It’s hand-carved, kind of rough-looking, but it works.” He put the flute to his lips and played “ring around the rosies”. It was crude, but recognizable. At her look, he said, “Been a while, I played clarinet in high school.”

  “Oh.” She stared at the slowly cooking fish. “You know what you were saying about not changing history…I was wondering about you showing Robert how to fish with a pole. Wouldn’t you be changing history by introducing something these people don’t know about yet?”

  “Uh, well, it’s just a small thing.”

  His uncomfortable expression told her he wasn’t too sure about that statement. The next instant, he snapped his fingers. “Robert told me it is a known method, but no one in his village has ever tried it. They think pole-fishing is for people of leisure—meaning the rich.”

  “How did he intend to catch fish before he ran into us?”

  “His people string lines with several hooks on them, that way they can catch more than one fish at a time.”

  “Trotline fishing,” she said. At his quizzical look, she explained, “A traditional way of fishing for good ol’ boys in the South.”

  Staring into the red coals for a minute, he said, “You’re right though, I need to be careful.”

  She wondered if he felt guilty about what he’d done. It had ended up okay, but it could have been otherwise.

  He glanced up at her. “The quicker we bond, the sooner we can go home.”

  How long did he really think it would take? His brow wrinkled as he peered at her; he seemed to notice her drawn features.

  “Are you okay?” He was concerned; his tone of voice proved that.

  “Tired and my throat is raw.”

  “Probably the cold outside.”

  Nodding, she asked, “Do you think I’m catching a cold?”

  Chuckling, he said, “Have you ever had a cold in your life?”

  “No.” Then she remembered what he’d said about shifters not catching human diseases. “I’ve never had anything but cuts and bruises.”

  She became lost in her own thoughts while Raynor concentrated on the fish. She remembered the time she’d fallen off the roof when she was six. Of course she shouldn’t have crawled out the attic window onto the roof, but she’d only suffered a purple bruise on one shin. It had disappeared completely in two days. No one but her parents knew about her injury, and they ignored it after checking for broken bones.

  Other occasions came to mind, when she’d cut or bruised herself in play and quickly healed. She was surprised when Raynor called her over to eat.

  He had speared the fish with his knife and placed them into the pot. The smell was mouth-wateringly good and she could barely wait for it to cool before tearing into the succulent meat.

  “What kind of fish is this?” she asked between bites.

  “Perch.”

  “I thought perch were small?”

  “These are fairly big, as far as perch go, but not a rarity even in our time. Maybe a pollution-free environment helps the fish grow larger.”

  She’d scraped and chopped a handful of raw vegetables earlier, and they complimented the fish dinner well. Afterwards, they talked for a while before going to bed, although it was mostly Raynor sharing his fishing experience with Robert. Too tired to chat, she listened, only contributing one remark: “I hope I have a son like Robert one day.”

  “He is a sweet kid, isn’t he?” Raynor snuggled her beneath his chin and yawned. “Sounds like a pretty good wish to me.”

  * * * * *

  That night she slept solidly, waking the next morning feeling refreshed, and her throat was fine.

  Getting dressed and eating was a rushed affair as usual, with the chill air hurrying them on. “What’s on the agenda today?” she asked curiously. Raynor had that look, like he had a goal in mind.

  Picking up the flute, he waved it in the air. “Exterminating.”

  She groaned but followed him anyway. “Where are we going?”

  “Robert told me there’s a wealthy family who live about a mile past his village.” He stared down at her shoes. “I thought you could make it that far in those.”

  She did, but her feet were aching by the time they approached the large manor house. Wrapping the cloak around her form, she covered her wrinkled dress. It wouldn’t help their cause if the people thought they were vagrants. Briana waited outside while Raynor spoke with the owner. After a short while, a richly dressed couple exited, followed by several children and a multitude of servants. Raynor waved her to follow him inside.

  The couple stared at her curiously when she passed, but nodded politely. “What did you tell them?” she asked once the door was closed.

  “That I have the skill of the Pied Piper and that you assist me by holding the bag. I did have to jog their memory about the Piper, since it’s apparently not a widely known story yet.”

  “And they believed you?”

  “They believe in the Pied Piper.” He paused and grinned. “The man didn’t particularly care if he has rats running about, but the wife does. Plus, I added a little garnish.”

  “What?”

  “Told them my grandmother was a great healer and she always thought rats were the cause of the Plague. That got their attention.” Turning her about, he untied her dress, and then pointed to a majestic gothic chair in the great hall. “I’ll wait here until you’re finished.”

  She walked into the next room, not wanting to strip in front of him, and not crazy about shifting before his eyes either. Rustling, scurrying sou
nds were easy to detect. She’d have no problem shifting; the snakewoman reacted swiftly to her prey.

  * * * * *

  “Don’t forget to save me a few,” he called after she slithered pass him some time later. The sound of several different merry tunes filled the house while she worked.

  The snakewoman returned after some thirty minutes and plopped the squirming rat she clutched in her tongue, into the bag he held out. Moving swiftly into the next room, she made two return trips to dump rats into the bag. Disappearing into the room once again, she returned a few minutes later in human form, then turned her back and waited for him to lace her up.

  When they exited, the grouped people had curious looks on their faces, the man a suspicious one. Raynor held up the bag. He’d stuffed it earlier with leaves, so that the rats squealing and bumping against the sides appeared to be more rats than the actual number.

  “How many did you catch?” The man’s voice was still suspicious, but his expression less so.

  Raynor glanced to her. “A dozen,” she replied quickly.

  “That’s three pence a head, as agreed.”

  “Highway robbery! Besides, how do I know you caught a dozen?” The man’s eyes had a merchant’s gleam to them; she could imagine him doing accounting in his head.

  Shrugging, Raynor said, “I can dump them back inside, if you wish?”

  “No!” The wife screamed and stepped in front of her husband. Turning to him, she stated firmly, “Pay them.”

  Looking sheepish, the man dug into his money bag and handed them the correct coins.

  Briana felt very good when they walked away. Even her sore feet didn’t deter her elation when they reached the tower again.

  * * * * *

  She was in an even better mood when Raynor took off early the next morning for the town. The afternoon had arrived by the time he returned and she greeted him eagerly.

  He unwrapped the bundle and spread the goods out. Grabbing the dress on top, she spread it out for a better view. It was lovely, but immensely more practical than the silk dress she wore. The material was a very soft wool, the color a beautiful golden-brown. Such fine fabric wouldn’t be itchy like poor Raynor’s coarsely-made tunic. The shopkeeper had supplied a sleeveless chemise, which would keep the wool from lying directly against her skin. At least that gave her two chemises, so she could wash one while wearing the other.

  “I told the lady you were a few inches taller than you are.”

  “Huh?”

  “That way, the dress shouldn’t drag the ground. I noticed this is a problem for you.”

  “That was smart,” she remarked, thinking how kind it had been also. Turning her back to him, she waited for the unlacing. “I’ll be back,” she said over her shoulder when she headed for the curtains around the bed.

  “Don’t you want to see what else I brought?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “In a bit.” After getting dressed in the new gown, she was in a much better mood. The material hit her just above the ankles and made walking so much easier.

  When she came out from behind the bed drapes she’d pulled closed he held out a small pair of soft leather boots. Taking them gratefully, she slipped off the shoes with wooden soles. The boots fit very well—they hit her at ankle.

  He’d arranged the items on the table. Looking over the collection, Briana was pleased with the items he’d bought, which included two wooden plates, a knife for her, and a hairbrush. Two small pieces of cloth and a pile of green leaves intrigued her. “What are these?”

  He took the material from her. “I thought maybe I could wrap these around sturdy branches.” At her questioning look, he added, “Makeshift toothbrushes.”

  “Oh.” She stirred the leaves with a finger. “And these?”

  “They’re mint leaves. We could make mint tea. But I thought we could crush them and make our own toothpaste.”

  Leaning down, she took a deep breath of the fragrant leaves. “You’re a genius.”

  He blushed, a pleased expression lighting his handsome face. “I just remembered how much I like my mint toothpaste.”

  Grabbing his arm, she said, “I was so excited over the dress, I forgot about the underclothes.”

  “Underclothes?” He gave her a sidelong glance and then blushed. “The shopkeeper looked at me like I was crazy when I asked…well, first I had to explain what underwear was.” He chuckled. “They don’t wear underclothes in this century, but luckily the lady thought I was from France.”

  Folding her arms, she gave him an agitated look, but then relented; he’d done well with the dress and boots. “I’ll just have to make do.” His look was still slightly wary and she thought perhaps she’d been a bit ungracious. “Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. Well, she tried to, but he turned just when she reached his face and they ended up involved in a full frontal smack.

  Raynor’s lips pressed against hers when she tried to withdraw, and then unexpectedly, she didn’t want to. The kiss was electrifying; perhaps it was the spontaneity. Her nipples hardened when their mouths adjusted for fuller penetration and their tongues came into play. Both his hands were gripping her shoulders gently. She ran her hands over his and then moved them down to her excited breasts, arching backwards while he slowly kneaded them.

  The still unlaced dress slipped down her body, aided by her wiggling and his hands. The next instant she was shoving at his tunic and it was flung across the room after he tugged it off quickly. Their lips reattached, as if strong magnets were glued between them, pulling them forcefully together.

  His arms slid over her hips then gripped her upper thighs. Briana held her breath in anticipation when Raynor lifted her. She swiftly locked her legs around his waist. He eased her down gently. She slid with no problem onto his penis, her slick fluids making it a passage of little effort. She clutched his neck and stared into his brilliant amber eyes when he moved her butt up and down. Closing her eyes, she allowed the sensation of erotic awareness alone to invade her body. Her vagina was full, stretched to its limit, yet was a greedy bitch and demanded more.

  Wriggling around on him in this position was difficult, but still exciting. It took a strong man to make love in the standing position. That thought made her wet. Giving her a quick peck on the lips, Raynor took a firm hold on her and began walking toward the bed. Once there he lowered her carefully, then stretched out on top of her. Briana’s hands ran up and down his muscular biceps, wondering at the power in them. She loved the feel of his heavy weight on top of her while they moved together.

  He was simply watching her while slowly moving his penis in and out, as if he too were soaking up her response. Grabbing his head on either side, she brought his lips down to her with haste, eager to continue their oral assault. She groaned into his mouth, taken once again by his expertise and the unique fruity flavor that pervaded her senses.

  He was going to drive her up the wall with the slow sensual dance he performed. Withdrawing probably half-way, he pushed in slowly and then drew back just as agonizingly slowly, repeating it over and over while her vagina pulsated. Her body clenched and then went limp; her lower lips ached for him, invited him further inside with upward motions of her hips. She wanted all of him jammed inside her soft, liquid-filled walls, yet didn’t want his drive-me-crazy movements to stop either.

  “Oh, yes,” she moaned into his lips, rotating her hips wildly, bucking up to meet his thrusts.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her lips, causing a thrumming sensation in them.

  “I want you to make love to me,” she answered without hesitation, not wishing him to stop for even a minute.

  His movements became full strokes, his penis plunging into her with masculine force now. Sucking her lower lip into his mouth and doing maddening things to it with his teeth and lips. He let it drop and whispered while he posed just above her lip. “What else to you want?”

  She wasn’t sure exactly where he was going
with this seduction, but her tongue came out and licked his lower lip, trying desperately to encourage him to continue. He withdrew a space, his hot stare washing over her face and then attaching itself to her eyes. A fiery sexual need was reflected in those amber depths, but also something else—something born of the human need for affection. Briana didn’t know how she knew this, but she did.

  His strokes had slowed again, doing that agonizing penis dance that drove her nearly over the edge.

  Grasping his hair, she brought him to within kissing distance again, whispering her answer against his sexy lower lip, “I want you.”

  His lips descended on her with a conquering forcefulness and she opened her mouth wider. She loved washing her emotions in the sensation of someone else taking complete control of her body and thoughts, even if but for a short spell. They both groaned when he again took up the sensual dance.

  She paused in their kiss, her eyes widening in awakening knowledge when the spasms hit her mid torso. No moaned protests left her mouth; only her eyes spoke her disappointment when the snakewoman took over her body.

  Raynor had hoped he could bring his lovely Briana to orgasm before his sultry snake goddess made her appearance, but it wasn’t to be. When she started her wild movements upon his cock, he became distracted from any thoughts but her frenzied movements.

  He shifted in reaction to her primitive actions. The sudden urge to bite her soft flesh hit him and he peered into her hypnotic eyes, voicing his unspoken need. Snake goddess had an uncanny way of knowing his desires. But, this time he also saw a raw need reflected in her green-slitted orbs, only he wasn’t so good at guessing her wishes.

  “What is it you desire?” he asked, his voice low-toned and hoarse. It was hard to speak when she ravaged his cock.