Wild Wishes:
A Happy Effin Valentine
Stephanie Burke
Praise for the writing of Stephanie Burke
Tigon
This book is the ultimate in cat-scratch-fever… If you are a fan of Ms. Burke, then this will be a must read for you!
-- Janalee Ruschhaupt, The Road to Romance
This fast-paced book made for a very interesting and arousing read… Readers will definitely be fanning their flaming faces throughout this novel. Enjoy!
-- Contessa, Fallen Angel Reviews
Liger
Liger was an excellent read, and I truly enjoyed it from start to finish. Author Stephanie Burke does a fantastic job of creating new worlds and bringing the creatures of her imagination to life.
-- Dawn McKiness, Coffee Time Romance
This book was fantastic. I was thoroughly enthralled with the tale… Ms. Burke is a talented writer and her talent really shows in this Futuristic story.
-- Joyfully Reviewed
There are no flat nor slow moments, and the story is so engrossing that this reader lost track of time! … I recommend this book highly both to science fiction fans and romance readers.
-- Jean, Fallen Angel Reviews
Liger and Tigon are now available from Loose Id.
www.loose-id.com
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
This book is rated:
For explicit sexual content and graphic language.
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © February 2006 by Stephanie Burke
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-232-5
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Karen W. Williams and Irene Williams
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Chapter One
Effin was not having a good day.
In fact, not since Vesuvius had erupted and tons of hot volcanic ash had descended upon the denizens of Pompeii had anyone had a bad day like this.
Come to think of it, bad was too minor a word. Her day had been vile, loathsome, horrid, terrifying, disgusting, and monstrously illogical.
And it all started on February thirteenth -- Friday, February thirteenth, when Effin Damnwell Hurtzs opened her mouth.
Her mother had always warned her to think before she spoke, a trait that she lacked and a tendency she shared with her mother. “That little pink thing in your mouth is going to get you into a world of trouble, Effin.” Her mother sighed, shaking her head as if she knew that trouble for her eldest daughter was inevitable.
Hell, she was born during a leap year! Double hell; if Effin’d had any luck at all, Trouble would have been her middle name.
She came upon her unusual moniker by accident. When her mother, doped up with painkillers and sedatives, was asked two different questions at the same time after a forty-three hour labor, this was the result:
Her father: “How does it feel?”
The medical receptionist: “What shall we name this beauty?”
Her mother’s response: “It effin damn-well hurts, you bastard!”
Her father had finally learned to keep the pink thing in his mouth still, especially after his loving wife ripped out a handful of chest hair.
The medical receptionist sniffed: “You don’t have to be so mean about it! I heard you just fine!”
Her mother: “What?”
The result: A tiny, beautiful little chocolate baby girl stuck with a name that would ensure future school fights and taunting for a lifetime.
And now, how Effin wished she had taken her mother’s advice to heart, especially after she recalled how she got her name. But no! Effin Damnwell Hurtzs had to challenge fate and miscellaneous creatures by loudly declaring, “There are no such things as gremlins!” when her best friend confided that she was being plagued by a goodly tribe of them.
And what’s even worse, she made her declaration on Friday, February thirteenth, black Friday, the unluckiest day of the year.
After ignoring her best friend Christa’s horrified stare, she went home, had a nice mug of cocoa laced with a liberal shot of Cask & Cream Caramel Temptation, indulged in a nice hot bath, and retired to her boudoir to dream wonderful dreams of the blind date Christa had set her up with.
According to Christa, her date, Buster, was a CPA with an MBA and drove a BMW. The brother was supposed to be fine as hell, independent, didn’t live with his mother, had a lucrative job that ensured he wouldn’t be hitting her up for loans, and had impeccable social skills. That meant he had proper pronunciation and would say shrimp instead of scrimps, would chew with his mouth closed, would not brag about himself, and she would not suddenly determine that his ethnicity was actually Russian or Roman from the speed and accuracy of octopus hands.
Yes, Effin went to sleep with a smile on her face, her tummy warm and full, feeling sated and altogether pleased with herself.
Life was good, and tomorrow, Valentine’s Day, it would only get better.
Chapter Two
“Good morning, starshine,” Effin sang as she waltzed her way to her cozy, pale yellow kitchen. “The Earth says hello! You tinkle above us, we duck below!”
Then snickering at her adolescent behavior, she made her way to the coffeepot where her expensive cappuccino maker percolated happily. It had been a gift from her jealous tramp of a younger sister, Monika.
“Ah, Monika,” she spoke softly to herself, used to the sound of her own voice in the mornings. After all, she was a bachelorette and lived in a huge house all alone. “Looks like you are over that childhood stuff and took classes in gift giving.”
For as long as she could remember, her younger sister had been a tad bit jealous of her. Lord knew why.
Effin remembered when she was about three years old she’d peered into the cradle that had been handed down from generations of Hurtzses, amazed at the tiny being lying naked there, as her mother prepared to lift the baby into her first bath at home. Effin’s huge brown eyes stared in awe at the perfect doll that her mommy said was her new sister.
She was filled with delight and joy at the prospect of nurturing this little creature, of protecting her and teaching her to play dollies, and to hug her whenever she was hurt or scared. Effin vowed to care for her precious baby sister -- right up until the first stinging spray of urine struck her right in her shining, emotion-filled eyeballs. She swore that her sibling snorted at her, gave her a warning glare, then turned her nose away as if to dismiss her.
And it had gotten worse from there. When they were older, Monika claimed that her parents loved Effin more
, even with the dorky name, and sought to make her life a continuous hell by putting gum in her hair, mud in her bed, and bleach on her favorite dresses. Her dolls would disappear and mysteriously reappear headless and legless.
And it didn’t stop there. When they were teenagers, Monika tried to steal her dates by dressing in very tight, low-cut, V-neck T-shirts whenever a boy came to take Effin out. She would spy, hide messages, eavesdrop on phone calls, and follow her on dates.
And finally as young ladies on the cusp of womanhood, Monika had the audacity to replace Effin’s birth control pills with baby aspirin!
Good thing Effin didn’t have a steady then, or she would have come down with a serious case of the nine-month stomach mumps. But she survived, went off to college, and matured enough to know to stay the hell away from that spawn Mother had whelped.
Monika seemed to mellow as well, trying to start a comfortable relationship with her older sister she had terrorized so, and slowly they were making it work.
But this fancy coffeemaker was the best gift her sister had given her in years.
And that meant Effin had survived years of purple and orange-striped fuzzy scarves, rap classics, CDs set to opera and zydeco, a fifteen-inch vibrator that looked more like a jackhammer than a sex toy, and a dozen pet mice in a broken cage because Monika thought Effin was lonely in her big house.
The glue traps were still in place to catch the last squeaker before it decided to become fruitful, multiply, fill her house, and reduce the dry goods in her pantry.
“Yes.” Effin inhaled the rich aroma of her freshly ground imported coffee before taking her first sip of java heaven. “Things are moving along swimmingly.”
Then the ceiling fell in.
Chapter Three
Masataka was not having a very good century.
He mewed, lifting one leg and eyeing his scrotum carefully. Nope, didn’t need a tongue bath yet, he decided, lowering the leg, nose still twitching at the unfairness of his life. The only good thing about being stuck in this form was easy access to his balls. If he were in human form, he would never be able to twist his spine to essentially blow himself.
Of course, if he were in human form, he could find someone to do it for him.
But he was not in human form and it was all because of that bitch -- and he meant that literally -- who had ridden his cock like getting him off would save her life.
How was he to know that that luscious kitsune was already mated? She was the one to openly flirt with him.
How was he to know that it was her wedding day? Or that her chosen mate was a nine-tailed kitsune of great distinction?
The female fox-shifter had just smiled at him, licking her chops as her mate busted into the room, his bi -- his glowing foxfire power -- leading him directly to his mate and pulling her off him on the down stroke.
“One final bit of mischief,” she explained to her irate mate, “before I settle down.”
That was all well and good for her, Masataka had groused as she walked out of the room, but that left him with old Nine-tails to deal with.
“Look,” Masataka tried to explain as he pulled the rumpled den sheets over his naked lap. His prick still stood erect and shiny, a testament to how well the female kitsune was getting off on her little ride. “I didn’t know she was taken.”
Twitching his nose, his eyes glowing in extreme anger, the thousand-year-old shifter pointed to the window behind Masataka’s bed.
“Oh,” Masa managed, blinking dumbly at what he saw. Despite the gently falling rain, the sun was shining brightly, the ancient sign that a female kitsune was getting ready for her wedding march. “I guess I never noticed,” he muttered absently. “I mean, she followed me back here last night and we’ve been going at it since yesterday.”
Masa smiled as he thought of the pale red head of the female kitsune, bobbing up and down in his lap as he held onto the bed sheets and prayed that his head wouldn’t explode.
A stupid grin spread across his face as he wiggled his ass in remembrance.
“I mean,” he continued, “have you ever seen such a fine ass on a female? Full and round, and high and tight -- an unusual thing in Asian women. Though I guess that she’s not really Asian,” Masa reasoned out loud. “I guess this means that she can take on any shape she wants ...” His word trailed off as he took in the seriously pissed off look on the ancient kitsune’s face. “Oh, dear.” He slumped in his bed. “I should have guessed she was a kitsune when she swallowed my dick, fingered my balls, vibrated her neck muscles, and threw up that ball of light so I could see her work, huh?” Somehow this didn’t make the nine-tailed fox-shifter smile. “This is going to cost me, isn’t it?” The still silent fox-shifter nodded. “This is going to hurt me more than it could ever hurt you?” Again the fox-shifter nodded. “And I’m seriously not going to like it, am I?”
“It’s not all your fault.” The deep, rumbling voice of the elder fox-shifter radiated power. “Though if you paid a bit more attention to your surroundings, neko, this would have never happened.”
“I am seriously regretting letting myself get picked up at that tavern,” Masataka added, hoping that his ignorance would grant him a small reprieve.
No such luck, he realized as the fox glared at him.
“As a cat-shifter, you should be more observant. That is the one great trick of the neko that is unsurpassed by any other shifter. But I am thinking that maybe you are spending too much time in human form. It’s dulling your catlike abilities. So, in order to help you, I am going to ensure that you get lots of time to work on your shortcomings.”
As he spoke, a definite powerful glow began to surround him.
“You need to spend some time getting to know yourself better. And to do that, you really need to be in your cat form.”
He waved his hand and a huge ball of brilliant white light formed before the ancient kitsune.
Masataka opened his mouth to speak, but the ball slammed into his chest, spreading fire throughout his system, forcing his body to transform. In the blink of an eye, Masataka’s whole perception shrank and suddenly the world became a much larger place.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only a pitiful mew emerged.
“You are ... cute like this.” The kitsune chuckled as he stared at the small black cat who stared up at him with owlish amber eyes. “And to make sure you get lots of practice at being observant, I’m sending you to a place where no one will recognize you for what you are and try to take you in. Cat form you are, and in cat form you shall remain until you learn to be more observant and you use that to make someone wish for you to stay.”
Masa screeched his disapproval and the kitsune laughed further. “You, my hapless friend, are going to America.”
With his screech of denial still ringing in his ears, Masataka found himself flying through time and space to end up ... in the lower section of Baltimore, Maryland. And for roughly a hundred years, here he remained, watching and observing the humans who were so different from the humans that populated his native Japan.
For the first few years, he hung around, picking up the language and learning culture. The next years were spent fighting off normal cats and animals, creating and marking his territory, and ensuring his safety.
After that, he spent his time observing these people and their strange ways.
And he discovered something about himself, too.
He was an ass man.
Kami, he loved a phat ass on a woman. Not a flabby or an out-of-shape one, but an ass that was round and high and tight, and partially the reason he was in this predicament in the first place.
Oh, he still hoped that fucking bitch of a kitsune gave her mate rabies or some other form of social disease. But after the amount of time he had spent in the US, his anger had faded dramatically.
Besides, here in this wonderfully liberated place, he got to experience a whole new class of ass.
There were the wide-hipped and curved at the bottom ass of most whi
te women. In a way, it was similar to the Asian women he was used to. Then, there were women from India who had wide asses that were slightly rounded, but were hidden beneath the layers of clothing they wore. Native American women were few and far between here, but the few he managed to scope out had fine asses, both wide and full, but not that high. Latino women ... Kami, he loved them because their asses were wide, full, and high. And the way they danced, hips winding, asses jiggling ... Latino women knew how to work their hips. But that brought him to his most favored of asses, the black woman’s ass.
They were round, high, tight, and full. They came in several shades and textures, and most came with the ability to do the most wonderful ass-jiggling dance moves he had ever seen.
They got low with it!
They shook it like salt and pepper shakers!
They worked that back, made that ass jiggle, ground it down and bumped that ass all around.
The sight of a well turned ass doing the butt jiggling dance of the hour made him retreat to the safety of his territory and lick like his dick was going out of style.
He loved asses of every ethnic group, savored the sight of each one, and relished each for their individual attributes and characteristics and style, but the asses of the black women were top among his favorites.
He studied women, observed their mannerisms, learned what turned them on and what turned them off. He was confident that he observed them so much, he could happily choose his mate from the selection this city offered alone.
Now, if only he could get out of this cursed cat form!
He had been licking himself for a hundred years and never really got any relief. He imagined when he turned human again he would have one grandiose case of blue balls.
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