by Molly Prince
I stepped into him, crushing my breasts against the warm, broad expanse of his back, his ass against my soft tummy. The water ran off him and over my face and hair, but I ignored it, tilting my head and resting it against his back. I wrapped my arms around him, my hands finding the thick wiry hair that covered his chest.
My body responded to his proximity. My stubby nipples crinkling and hardening as they pressed against him as my pulse began to race. But I kept my needs in check. I wanted this to be about him. I wanted to let him know he had something to live for, something to come back to. His breathing was slow and deep, my hands shifting on his chest each time his lungs filled with air. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t object to my presence either.
I took a deep breath, my lips tight to keep the water out, and slowly brought my hands down his body. His broad, hairy chest giving way to the compact muscles of a toned abdomen, before coming to rest against the top of his thighs. I could feel ridges there, where his obliques met his thighs.
I couldn’t resist a sigh. I have a thing about obliques. I mean beggars can’t be choosers and all that. Mitch was kind of in shape, but not defined like this and I wasn’t really in a position to complain about that. But James had the sort of body I had always fantasized about. It was something I had thought would remain that way, a fantasy. That men who were in this kind of shape preferred woman with a similar physique, that like attracted like.
I’d always found something sensual and seductive in the idea of a strong male body, powerful and hard, against soft womanly curves. It just… made sense to me. However, over time, I’d come to suspect this was just wishful thinking on my part and that I was the only one who felt this way.
I nestled further into his shoulders and inched my hands slowly inwards, brushing an unruly mass of coarse pubic hair as I found his crotch. I grinned against him. I would have been surprised to find anything else. One of my fingers just barely touched his member. It felt… heavy. It felt heavy and solid and real. I parted my lips to allow a slight purr of desire to escape.
I held my hands there for a moment, entangled in that thick hair, before I curled the fingers on one hand and wrapped it around his shaft.
He twitched in my grip. Not fully erect, but heavy with blood. I could feel it pulse beneath my fingers as I held him tight. I ached for him. This mysterious stranger who might be something more than a man. I wanted him as much as I wanted him to want me.
His body responded to my touch. A subtle roll of the hips that I felt all the way along his back, accompanied by a growl from the back of the throat. Deep and low I could feel the vibration against my whole body.
And then another roll of the hips as he tried to urge me into movement. But I kept my hand still. The fat girl that feared rejection screamed at me. Telling me that whatever he wanted I should give to him. But I denied her as I denied him. I didn’t want to tease him, but I needed to make him want. I needed to make him aware of my presence and want more.
He growled again as he turned to face me. My hand fell away from his shaft as he loomed over me, a wildness in his eyes that I had caught a glimpse of earlier. He pushed forwards, his hands on my flared hips as he leaned into me. I gasped as my back hit the cold tiles and then again as he lowered his head, his mouth finding mine.
Then I was silent. Breathless, as his mouth took mine. He kissed me with a ferocity that eclipsed my tentative explorations of his body. This wasn’t a man who feared rejection. This wasn’t a man who feared anything. This was… this was a man who wanted me.
For what seemed like the hundredth time today I felt myself welling up, but I ignored the tears as they were washed away by the hot spray of the shower. I refused to give in to my fears of rejection and instead returned his kiss. I could not match his ferocity, but I could match his hunger.
Our tongues dance and fought with each other as I became lost in him. His hands moved, exploring me as we explored each other’s mouths. One slid round to my ass, fingers splayed to cup a cheek and pull me closer. The other worked its way up from my hips, along the curve of my stomach. There was no hesitation, no sense of disgust or revulsion at the ample flesh he found there. If anything, the more he explored my ample body, the hungrier he and more desperate his kiss became.
He broke the kiss and we both gasped for air as the water streamed down our faces. There was nothing playful about his grin, somewhere between a snarl and a smirk as he edged me towards the shower door with an unsubtle implication of lets-move-this-to-the-bedroom. But I resisted and instead placed a hand on his chest, and pushed him back against the tiles.
“No.”
I wanted him. I wanted him on the bed. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to take me with all the ferocity and desire that I could see in his eyes. But not yet. As hard as it was to deny myself, I didn’t want to be his last meal.
I wasn’t even sure if it made sense. I wanted to be the promise of a banquet when he returned triumphant from whatever private battle it was that he had to face. I wanted him to know that I’d be waiting for him. Hungry and unfulfilled. That I needed him to return. I was probably crazy. We’d known each other for a matter of hours and for all I knew he just wanted to have his way with me, get on with it and never see me again. But this felt right and I hoped he understood that.
I didn’t want to be his last meal… but that didn’t mean he had to go hungry.
I grinned back at him, my palm still pushing against his broad chest. He could swat me aside like a bug if he wanted, but instead he played along. Allowing me to hold him there as I turned the tables.
I stepped closer and pushed myself up on my tiptoes, forcing my breasts against his chest, the hair scratchy against my nipples. Again I reached down to find his shaft. He was hard now, impressively so. The warm, firm, flesh of his member jutting uncomfortably against my stomach.
“Well aren’t you just the big, bad…”
“Don’t,” he was grinning though, teasing me, “don’t say it. You’ll regret it if you do.”
I looked up at him and pouted, “Oh you’re no fun. Don’t you want me to...”
I released his shaft and cupped my pale, soft breasts in my hands, lifting them as if to offer them to him, “huff…” Then I lowered myself, sliding my chest along his, and down his torso, my soft skin against his hard muscles, “and puff…” Until I was on my knees, my breasts against his hardness. I wrapped them around his impressive member, cocooning him in the ample soft flesh of my bust. I looked up at him a sly smile as the tip of his member peaked through my cleavage, “and blow.”
He groaned, a deep vibration in the back of his throat, as I pushed my breasts together to create a warm, snug and deliciously soft home for his manhood.
I could smell the heat. A deep, natural, masculine scent that could not be masked by a hot shower. He was real. I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. Not just the fact that I was kneeling in front of a man like this. But the fact that I had been the one to initiate it. That I had come on to him and he hadn’t resisted. I was, for now, the one in control.
There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes. I could feel it in his breath. He wanted me. He actually wanted me! And I planned to make sure he remembered exactly why he wanted me.
I had to grin to myself as I began. This was one treat that required some real womanly curves. I rocked back and forth, enveloping him with my breasts with every stroke. The water on our skin helped me slide smoothly and allowed for a slow steady rhythm.
He was hot. I mean literally hot. Far hotter than normal. I parted my lips for a groan that he echoed as I contemplated just what he would feel like inside me. That big cock warming me from the inside out. I squeezed my legs together tight to try and eke out a little sensation as I resisted the urge to abandon the whole “last meal” idea.
On the next downstroke, when his head poked out. I bent my neck to give his tip a single lick and was met by a grunt and a thrust of the hips that almost knocked me onto
my back. I let the single drop of delicious salty liquid I found there slide down my throat and that acted as my cue to stop teasing and give this beast of a man what he needed.
That one taste was enough for me to know I wanted more. I released my breasts and wrapped my arms around him to grip that amazing ass. It felt as good as it looked, firm tight flesh with just a hint of give.
His member bobbed around in front of my face, defenseless and desperate. I don’t know how universal it is, but I’d always gotten a special thrill from giving a lover what they wanted and asking for nothing in return. Even though I was on my knees before him it wasn’t a submissive act. When I took him in my mouth, I was the one taking control.
What I may lack in skill and experience, I made up for in enthusiasm as I pleasured him with lips, mouth, tongue and teeth. As I grew accustomed to his size I squeezed his ass tight and pulled him deeper.
He demonstrated his appreciation with a series of growls, grunts and groans before I felt his entire body tense. I pulled away and eased off, trying to tease him a little and make it last a little longer, but I was too late. He tensed again and then came. His body twitching and convulsing as he howled with pleasure.
By the time he was done I was dripping. My face, my hair, my breasts, blasted with his seed. It was not something I had experienced before and I felt like I was in a cheap porn film or something. I wondered if this was an aspect of his physiology, like the accelerated healing or, and this seemed more likely, it had just been a while. Either way, I was glad we were already in the shower.
Afterwards we dried but didn’t bother dressing as we made our way to the bed. He, as I expected, made a half-hearted attempt to indicate that he was willing to return the favor, but I made it clear that it was neither required nor expected.
I had thought it would take a lot of willpower to resist, but was surprised to find it did not. I wanted him. I ached for him. I was so turned on it felt like my whole body was singing. But I needed to wait. I needed him to come back for me when he had taken care of whatever it was he needed to do.
- X -
Chapter 7: James
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the human woman, Carrie, made cute little snoring sounds beside me.
For the first time in as long as I could remember I felt some approximation of peace. Who was she? And why did we seem to drive each other crazy with desire? No one had ever made me feel like that before. Not even Charlotte. This was how I imagined finding your true mate must feel, but that couldn’t be it. She wasn’t a shifter. She was something else entirely.
Not that I was complaining. She was… incredible. Her body was… incredible. Some wolves prefer a lean, athletic mate, a partner to hunt with. Not me. Call me old fashioned, but I liked my bitches with enough meat on their bones to survive the winter. Wait. I made a mental note never to use the “b” word in front of her. She wasn’t a wolf and as I’d discovered the hard way regular women weren’t too fond of it.
But yeah, I guess I was an old fashioned kind of guy, most alphas are. I was made to hunt, to provide for my mate, my pups, my pack. It was what I was born to do and I had no interest in a hunting partner. When I returned, I wanted to return to something a little more luxurious and womanly.
Since the fire I’d kind of shut down that side of my brain. I needed release now and then and I’d never had any trouble picking up willing partners for some mutually beneficial relief. But it was never like this. In the shower with her… and my… that had been something new.
“Jimmy?”
Joseph? I must have fallen asleep. I could hear the old packmaster’s voice in my head as clear as he was standing right next to me.
“Jimmy you don’t have much time. I had to do it this way. Do you understand?”
I understood. Joseph couldn’t let me kill Travis while he led the pack. It would shame him to let a traitor like me do his dirty work for him. He had to make an example of me, which is why I didn’t fight back. Travis on the other hand…
“He’ll kill you Joseph. He’ll kill you and then they’ll kill him and your pack.”
The old wolf nodded. He looked tired. As if all the hate had drained him, “I know Jimmy, but it’s my time. I’m ready to die. I’ll try and buy you some time, but you need to hurry.”
“I’m sorry Joseph. I’m sorry about Charlotte. If I could have…”
“I know Jimmy. I know you two weren’t fated, but you still loved her. It was just easier for me to blame you, to hate you.”
“I’ll find the people who did it. I’ll make them pay.”
“You know who did it Jimmy.”
The Daughters of Diana. A myth. Shifter folklore. A story that Joseph used to tell me and the other pups around the campfire.
“But why? And why now?”
“Your new bitch is the key.”
I bared my teeth. Even if I were packless traitor, I was still an alpha and I wasn’t about to let anyone call her that again. Ever. Even in a dream. I had a hundred questions for Joseph, but it was too late. He was gone. And I knew he was right. I didn’t have much time.
- X -
I hadn’t bothered dressing. I stood in the moonlight in full view of the cabin. I think part of me wanted her to see me. To see the side of me I usually kept hidden from human eyes. I willed her to be awake and watching out the window. It was my alpha’s pride again. I wanted her to see the man become a beast. Basically I wanted to show off. But there was no time for theatrics.
I ran.
I was on all fours within half a dozen strides. Nothing more than a momentary discomfort as I let the beast out and hit the tree line at speed.
The woman’s scent lingered. I couldn’t get it out of my head. There was a texture to it, something different, something I had never felt before. I’d gotten used to feeling incomplete. I ran without a pack. I’d never had a true mate.
Even Charlotte, who I had loved in my own way, as she loved me in hers, had been a political arrangement. Her death had been devastating. Her death had been the first shot in a war. Her death had been the beginning of the end. And yet even while I mourned her, I knew she had not been the one.
I was used to being alone. I liked being alone. And now all of a sudden that had gone out the window. I was incomplete. I felt it in a way I had never felt it before.
There was something about her, something about this woman and that lingering scent.
Cute too. Well padded, sure, I had no problem with that, but those curves. She was like something out of an old movie. A damsel in distress. I guess she had baggage and those curves seemed to be part of it. Maybe I could change that. Maybe I could…
Woah! My padded feet slipped on a patch of gravel and I almost flew headlong into a tree. I needed to get her out of my head. I needed to concentrate, to get the job done or we were both dead.
I put my head down and I ran. The trees became a blur as I focused on the forest floor in front of me. I suppressed the man and let the wolf take over.
The world around me became a kaleidoscope of colors, scents and sounds. Every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass, every stone… I was part of it. I didn’t need to think. I let instinct guide me as I increased my pace and felt the burn in my flanks.
Even when I heard the howls I didn’t slow down. I was too late. I knew I would be. My sensitive ears were assaulted by the gut-wrenching outrage and despair of a pack mourning the death of their leader. It was not the first time I had heard it.
Joseph. I’m sorry Joseph. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time. Tears stung my eyes as I altered my course and headed towards the mournful howls. He was too proud. They all were. They clung to the old ways. They wore tradition like a shield, even as their world came tumbling down.
Now it was up to me. Travis was a murderer and a rapist, a child-killer, he wasn’t fit to live, let alone lead a pack. They wouldn’t let him. They’d send the helicopters. They’d rain down fire on the entire pack and everyone would die. Everyone from the olde
st bitch to the youngest pup would die screaming and there was nothing I’d be able to do to stop it happening if I didn’t bring them Travis’ hide.
I ran. I put my head down and became a streak of gray fur sliding between trees like a ghost.
I was banking everything on the element of surprise. It was why I hadn’t fought back at the bridge. I let them take me down. I let them kick my ass as I cowed and cringed like a pup. Travis would send the pack, his pack now, to track me down. He’d have to kill me and the woman. He couldn’t risk either of us getting out. I wasn’t planning on giving him the chance.
I smelled the camp before I saw it. It reeked of squalor and fresh blood.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of shame when I finally came upon it. Half a dozen trailers mounted on blocks. Peeling paint, rusting metal, piles of rotting garbage. This is what they had been reduced to. This is what they called home. They did this to us. They forced us into hiding. They caged us knowing that we were beasts. And when we acted like beasts, they used it as an excuse to burn it all down. I didn’t know exactly who they were. But I had their scent now. I was getting close. And once I’d dealt with Travis I was planning on getting right back on their trail.
He stood upright and naked in front of a roaring fire, fresh blood on his chin and chest, Joseph’s corpse at his feet. The rest of the pack weren’t happy, but by the only laws they knew, he was their leader now and they would be loyal to him…. while he lived.
When he saw me he stood back with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He was waiting for me to shift back. He was waiting for me call him out. He’d spit in my face and call me a traitor and order the pack to take me down. Most of them were sorry excuses for wolves, but with numbers on their side and Travis waiting in the wings to deal the killing blow I wouldn’t stand a chance… so I didn’t give him one.
Fuck the old laws.
I hit the campsite at full speed and headed straight for Travis. The pack barely had time to register my presence, but Travis saw me coming. He saw me coming but didn’t have time to react. I like to think he knew he’d fucked up. He’d expected me to play by the rules. I like to think that he knew he’d underestimated me. I like to think that in that split second between when I jumped and when my teeth ripped his throat out he felt a fraction of the fear that sixteen year old Dorothy Ludd had felt when she had met her untimely end at the hands of the big, bad wolf.