It was fur! Not a shadow at all, but a coating of fur that had sprouted all over his body. I saw now that his hands now ended in long claws. An overwhelming sense of terror filled me. Such terror that I didn’t know what to do. Run?
Up and up he went, until he reached the cluster of coconuts at the top. He brought one hand back and slashed at the green globes. A dozen woody canon balls plummeted to the earth. He came back down swiftly, the fur receding back into his body as he got closer to the ground. With a grunt, he let go of the tree and fell the last five feet.
“What devilishness is this?” I said, making the sign of the cross on myself. “I do no deals with demons, foul creature! I resent thee and cast ye to Hades!”
“These are ye better qualities, Abbey,” he said, bending over to collect the coconuts. “Ye would have more friends if you started with these instead of the Lady Brass stuff.” He ducked and a coconut hit the tree behind him.
“Do not mock me, creature of the night! My own eyes did see your true form,” I said, hefting another coconut.
“And now you take in this form,” he said, his hand gripping the meat between his legs. My eyes followed it as his hand stroked up and down. He let it go. “Is the butterfly evil because it was once a caterpillar?”
“What? No, but-“ I said.
“What dastardly plan do I plot, Abbey? I think ye can agree that if I meant ye harm, I had ample opportunity,” he said, picking up the coconut I’d thrown at the tree. He made a pile in the center of the grove. He found a large stone and brought it over. “I am different, aye, but only in some ways.”
I didn’t know what to say. “Stupid man! You could’ve died! I don’t care how much fur you can grow, it wouldn’t have saved you!” I said, throwing the coconut I held towards him.
It rolled over and bumped his ankle. He bent over to pick it up. “The key is to find a good stone,” he said, patting the large stone in front of him. “Should be broad, but have a point in the middle. A strong corner.”
He lifted the coconut in both hands and slammed it down. It cracked, spilling some coconut milk onto the sand. He held it over his mouth, letting it pour in. When it was empty, his two hands ripped it half. He held one half out to me.
My stomach grumbled. I took it, pouting more than a little bit. I didn’t like depending on anyone else, especially a soldier of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. And a monster to boot! I bit into the soft flesh of the coconut, chewing the sweet fatty tissue.
Fentin squatted there, watching me. I felt his eyes find my ears, my sloping shoulders. They took in my ample breasts, my belly and my strong ass. He chewed the coconut more slowly, the food only sating one kind of hunger. Every now and then his cock was twitch, betraying his other kind of hunger.
His desire to pounce onto me. The thought was mad. Pirates and sailors do not lay together. It was a violation of the pirate code, to fraternize with the enemy. Punishable by death should any other corsair or cutthroat find out.
His fate would not be much better if his superiors found out. To offer refuge or comfort to a pirate was to become one yourself. If his commander found out, he’d be tied to the mast and flogged bloody, and that was if the officer was feeling merciful.
Off to the west, the sun made it’s last hurrah as it began to sink into its own molten orange reflection. I collected a bundle of the palm fronds and made two beds. We couldn’t light a fire: that would draw too much attention.
“Do you have a plan, Fentin?” I said, watching him as he sat on the green palm leaves.
He lazily plucked at the long leaves, holding one in his fingers and looking at it. “Aye, I do,” he said. “My ship was on patrol, and was set to rendezvous with her sister ship in a few days. The fire aboard my ship would have been seen.”
My heart sank. Another Royal Navy ship appearing would not save me. But why would I expect it to. Being taken in chains back to London to hang was not the rescue I’d hoped for.
I laughed, startling Fentin. Why did I think I deserved rescue? Silly ideas for a silly girl. I had to start being realistic. I had to remember what I was. Who I was. I was The Lady Brass, wanted for High Crimes of the Sea in six nations.
“Ye need not look so bleak, lass. Should my ship come, I’d just tell them I was fortunate enough to find another survivor on the island. Ye will have to think on this,” he said, twirling the leaf around his fingers. “Would be me standing next to ye on the hangman’s scaffold if they discover our ruse.”
“What? Why? Why would you do that?” I said, befuddled. “Is this a trick?”
This time he laughed. “Nay, no trick. I never had the gift o’ glib. I’m just an honest man who’s done his fair share of bloody work. Sent men to their graves just like you. Maybe it’s time I do some kindness.”
“I refuse,” I said. “I don’t need your charity.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I forced them back with all my being.
“Aye, you do. Besides, charity is not something that can be refused,” he said, rising. He sauntered over to where I stood.
“But I’m not worthy,” I said, the tears falling. They fell down on my cheeks like cool September rain. No one had ever shown me a speck of kindness, and now an enemy was going to risk his own life for me. “Why me?”
His hand came up to brush my tears away. Strong hands, but soft too, like every tavern girl dreams about. “You’re like a flame. Mysterious, dangerous and beautiful.”
My hand grabbed his, holding it. “Stupid, stupid man.” I said. I wrapped my other arm around his neck and pulled him down to kiss me. Our lips crashed into each other, hot wildfire searing through my body. He stank of sweat and the sea, like every good man should.
His arms went around my waist, squeezing me tight against him. His cock stirred, pulsing to life. He gave a little growl as I bit his lower lip and held it between my teeth. When I relented, his tongue burst through my parted lips, sweeping across my tongue. I felt the heat of his breath pour out of his nose against my cheek.
I broke off our kiss. “This is a terrible idea.” I began unbuckling my leather coat. Brass scales ran down the length, like a dragon’s belly.
“Oh, is it?” he said, his hands unfastening my belt. “Should I not pull you down in the sand and ram you with my cock?” His prick stood at attention, ready and eager to find my cave.
“Shut up, stupid man,” I said, finally free of my leather coat. It fell to the ground noisily, but I didn’t care. I slapped his clumsy fingers away from my belt and undid it myself.
His hands went to my breasts, pawing them through the thin shirt. My nipples were already sore from being trapped in my coat. Each time he brushed against them they ached with need.
My pants came off, and we stood in front of each other like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. I let my eyes take in his whole body, greedily, without pretense. I would soon make this man mine, and I wanted to enjoy him with my eyes first.
I lay back on the palm fronds, my legs falling open, inviting him. The soft sand shifted under my bed, forming to my body. I watched him, backlit by the moon overhead. Blue light illuminated everything in the glade. The wind blew lightly, rustling the palm leaves high up in the trees.
Fentin looked down at me, his nostrils flaring. His hand went to his prick, stroking his long shaft. I could see a pearl of pre-cum glisten at the tip, his need to be inside me evident. With every beat of his heart, hit cock strained, like a wild dog on a leash. He, too, was relishing the moment, taking in the spectacle of a willing woman, lustful and wanton on her back.
Incredibly fast, he fell upon me. His mouth began biting my neck. These were not the soft cloying bites of a nervous lover. He wanted to feel my throat in his mouth. He wanted to dominate his submissive prey. His finger entered my sodden depths, finding my cave well greased.
I arched my back in pure delight. It was such a relief to let go, to release the fear and the responsibility. It’d been a long time since I’d taken a man to
my bed, but it’d been long years since I’d taken a lover. The way this man held me, controlled me, it was like he knew me!
“Don’t stop!” I said, panting as the tingles got greater.
He mumbled something against my neck, his cock straining against my hip. It wiped a smear of white seed against my skin. He dipped a second finger into me, his fingering as steady as a good rowing rhythm.
My pleasure blew over me in a warm wave. I came, bucking my hips against his hand like a bitch in heat. I lifted my ass off the bedding, needing more of him. Needing all of him. I would not be denied.
I grabbed his throbbing manhood, his lengthy butcher’s meat. This was a weapon of real power. The power to create. I pushed him and he fell down onto his back next to me. He made to get up, but I brought my mouth down on his cock. My lips strained to fit his girth, my tongue pressed flat.
His sweaty musk mixed with his salty seed, creating an intoxicating potion in my mouth. I didn’t know if this was some devil’s trickery, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want this night to end. My hand touched myself, increasing my pleasure as I bobbed my mouth on his rod.
He looked down at me, his mouth open, trying to take the pleasure in stride. Little grunts and moans escaped his lips when I forced his cock against the back of my throat. He threw his head back when I released his cock and began to lick his balls.
I took each big stone in my mouth, gently sucking on each through his hairy sack. Like eggs in a silken sock, I massaged them with my hand. Their weight and heft indicated that they were full of his seed. I looked up at him greedily.
His face contorted and he let out a moan.
But I wasn’t done with him yet. I pressed my fingers against the smooth skin below his balls. His cock throbbed in my mouth, but no seed came out. He looked down at me, a look of bewilderment.
“What did you do, woman?” he said, panting.
“I’m not done with you yet. That seed is destined for my womb, nowhere else,” I said. I continued to stroke his hard shaft. “Your tree still stands tall.”
“And ye will have the full length of it,” he said. “But first…” He kissed his way down my chest and stomach, his mouth reaching my mound.
I cried out in pleasure as his tongue lapped between the folds of my exposed sex. My own juices spilled from my slit and he eagerly licked them up. I grabbed the back of his head, hoping to steady myself through the riotous sea of delight.
His tongue reached out and flicked against my sore clitty. I tried to focus on my breathing, but I felt another wave approaching. It built and built with each faithful lick, each wet tasting of my essence. He pushed a finger inside me, fucking me with his thick finger while licking me.
My wave swarmed over me, covering me in a light warm glow. For an instant the whole sky lit up, like every star igniting at once. He paused, letting me writhe in pleasure as my orgasm subsided.
“And now, ye will be mine,” he said, his hands grabbing my hips. His strength was alarming as I found myself tossed up into the air and spun around. I landed on my hands and knees, prostrate before this alpha male.
His hands grabbed my hips, his massive prick finding my sopping wet slit. I gasped as I felt the pressure of him trying to enter me, like a python trying to slink through a keyhole. I grunted, focusing on my breath, trying to relax. It worked, and the bulbous crown of his staff slipped inside me.
“Oh!” I gasped.
He pushed into me steadily, sliding his whole length until the head of his cock bumped against the bottom of my womb. His breathing turned into growls, sweat from his body falling onto my back as he rammed home. His heavy balls swung forward, crashing against my clit.
I jerked forward each time he pounded into me. The wet sounds of our coupling seemed to fill the whole glade. Like two beasts, we mated under the moonlight with no care of Heaven above nor Hades below. He bent forward, his hand groping my breast roughly, squeezing my poor abused nipple.
Then I felt pressure at my asshole, and without warning he popped a slick finger into my aft. In and out, he filled my pussy and ass. I felt another wave coming, this one sure to swallow me body and soul. The feeling of him mounting me, filling me, was too much to handle.
My arms gave out and my face fell forward onto the leaves of my makeshift bed as I came. My legs shuddered, my pussy spasmed. The only noise I could make was a long squeal as the typhoon crashed home. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t smell. I could feel him inside me, coupled with me.
He thrust once more and howled, his cock exploding inside me. His pent up seed finally freed, it shot into me, gushing like a geyser. His balls tensed, pulling up against his body. My pussy overflowed with our cum, and I savored the feeling of his hot stickiness filling me up.
He collapsed off of me, panting and looking up at the sky. He looked at me as I crawled over and lay my head on his chest.
I played with his chest hair, twirling them around between my fingers. “You’re an animal,” I said, half purring. Soon my eyes became heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.
THE WITCH AND THE WEREWOLF TITLE
The Witch And The Werewolf
by
Becca Fanning
THE WITCH AND THE WEREWOLF
“Jessica, wake up you hooker!” Mia said from the hallway. Her incessant knocking didn’t stop.
“Leave me alone! I’m trying to die in here,” I moaned. I wanted to throw up. The whole room was still spinning somehow. I shut my eyes. I thought sleeping was supposed to help with hangovers. But I guess potions are a little bit different.
My coven leader’s words came thundering back to me: take this seriously or it can seriously take you. Witchcraft was nothing to be toyed with. The power stems from ancient bonds with the earth and the stars. Blah, blah, fucking blah.
Old people were always full of shit, especially old witches. Bitter because all the magic in the world can’t help with saggy tits. And they always had some sappy sad story about the love of their life they had to let go. Love potion in hand, they’d flake out at the last minute instead of taking what they wanted.
I laughed, immediately regretting it as thunder exploded in my skull. Ok, they weren’t always full of shit. Sometimes, sometimes they knew what they were talking about. I opened my eyes a crack, making sure the room had stopped spinning. Sure my nausea was under control, I opened my eyes a little bit more, letting more horrible light through my retina and into the wincing animal that was my brain.
“We better not be late because of you,” Mia said from the hallway before stomping off.
Late? Late for…
Shit.
The ski trip. Weeks earlier, drunk off my ass on tequila and frogsbreath, she kept yelling in my ear about skiing. She knew I hated hiking. She knew I hated swimming. She knew I hated skiing. But she had this amazing mundane power. Despite not having any occult inclination, she cold make anyone accede to her wishes through the sheer force of her whining.
I was drunk so I agreed to shut her up. Well, that’s part of it. I also wanted to fuck the cute guy who brought the acoustic guitar to the party. Don’t judge me.
So, technically I guess I agreed to go skiing. In my defense, she somehow hadn’t mentioned it again since that party. All this time, not a “Hey Jessica, what are you wearing?” or “Jess, won’t it be fun when we tear down the kiddie slope?”. Nothing.
I groaned and sat up, my arms going out to my sides on the bed. Propping myself up, I shook my head, trying to shake the fogginess away. I tried to think back to my books, and how to dispel the potion I’d drank last night.
What potion had it been? I reached down next to my bed and blindly groped until I found my purse. I brought it up to the bed and unzipped it. Though a mere nine inches across, I’d transformed this deluxe Italian designer handbag into a magical Bag of Holding. Inside, it was the size of a huge duffel bag. I pushed aside several stacks of clothes, emergency club replacements when guys got too rough.
Hook, Line And Sinker (BBW Shifter Romance) (FisherBears Book 1) Page 56