by DD Prince
I kiss her little nose and pull blankets on top of her. The sheet that covers the bed should’ve been changed but I didn’t have the self-control to make the bed before taking her. It’ll have to do for tonight. I wipe between her legs with a towel and do my best to fix the askew sheet under her so she’s not on bare mattress. This bed is old. It’s not good enough for her. I’ll buy a new one.
I lift her clothing from the floor and drape it over the armchair near the fire, so it’ll dry. I feel my mouth tug into a smile at the vision of her sleeping form. She’s beautiful. And she’s mine. I bask in the way that feels for a long moment before I decide to fetch more wood from the garage to stock both fireplaces for the morning as well as more fuel for the generator. I secure things in the main room and survey the inside of the cabinets in the kitchen. There are some tins of fruit, and only a few pantry staples. I smile as I slip two tins of fruit into the refrigerator. It’s noisily working to get cold.
The purpose I feel right now at having someone to care for is a sensation better than any, other than fucking her.
I fetch a quilt from the back of the armoire and pull it over her, noting that more fogginess from going so long without shifting is lifting. I’m still somewhat unaccustomed to my form, still searching my mind for memories of certain things that feel fuzzy, but things are trickling back. Mating my woman helped; I believe that. I’m thinking more like a man now, about the things I need to do to make the house nice for her, the things I’ll want to provide for her. Thinking about fucking her again.
She’s still asleep and with a peaceful smile on her face as she curls into me to borrow some of my warmth. I’ll happily share it with her, all of it, everything I have and all that I am, until my dying day.
This feels different. Something comes over me. Something odd. As I close my eyes it occurs to me that there’s a feeling in my chest, a rightness that’s deep in the center of it that I’ve never felt before.
11
Ivy
My eyes open and I’m immediately reaching below my waist for the quilt I spot. I’m naked. I’m naked and I’ve been screwed. I’m in the werewolf’s cabin. In his bed.
Screwed.
Screwed like I’ve never been screwed…
My eyes dart around the space I’m in as I clasp the beautiful nature-inspired patchwork quilt to my chest. The room is warm. Overly warm, actually. The fire isn’t crackling like it was when I went to sleep, but there’s still all sorts of heat emanating from the glowing embers. This room is dusty, so dusty I could write my name into the dust on the nightstand with my finger.
The sun streams in from a window that’s only half covered with a red, green, and white tartan curtain. I’m in a double bed that’s against the wall, lying on a rumpled flat sheet that’s only over one corner of the bed. My clothes from last night are over an Archie Bunker style upholstered chair beside the fireplace and my boots are on the floor. I see my bag on the floor too, so I shakily reach for it and haul out a pair of black yoga pants, a black jersey hoodie, a purple tank top, a white and black zebra print bra, and black undies. There are pink thong flipflops there too, which is good. I’d brought them thinking they’d work by the pool and hot tub. I glance over at my new purple Uggs; they should be muddier. They look okay, astonishingly. My eyes take in the rest of the room. A tall weathered-looking armoire that takes up a whole wall. The walls are wood paneling, but they’ve been painted white. The floor is varnished, knotted plank wood. The small corner fireplace has a dusty dome-covered clock and oil lamp on the mantle. A painting hangs over it of a willow tree with a tree swing, seven puppies playing under the tree with seven little boys. Not puppies, wolves. The painting looks amateur, but also kind of good, in an A. A. Milne-like abstract way.
My eyebrows shoot up. Is all this real? The ache between my legs tells me it is. I bite my lip and block the memories from washing through my brain because I don’t want those memories right now. That sex was… supernatural. Yeah. Like this entire situation.
I dress quickly before peeking out the door. All is quiet, so I move out of the room into the short hallway where I see two other doors. One is closed. The other is a bathroom. Good, because I need it. My legs and thighs hurt like heck from last night’s … ordeal. Activities. I need to use the bathroom and then I need to make like a tree --- and leave.
It’s a dusty, sparse bathroom with a big old white clawfoot tub and pedestal sink as well as toilet and small towel cabinet. The light works. The mirror is a bit fogged up and the air is humid. He’s taken a shower recently. This place does have electricity.
I use the facilities, noting basic toiletries on the shelf over the bathtub, which has dust and droplets of water from the recent shower. A green bar of soap. Green shampoo bottle. I catch my reflection in the mirror and my eyes look strange. More purple than blue. I do a double-take, figuring maybe my skin is just pale from my ordeal and that it’s the lighting in here, but then I spot the mark on my neck and my eyes are forgotten as my hand flies to the place where it meets my shoulder. I see the mark he made. Teeth imprints. It’s pinkish, almost like a branding mark, but it doesn’t hurt. He broke the skin last night but there’s no scab. When I touch it, I get a very odd sensation. I frown at my reflection as I rub it and goosebumps rise on my body. My mouth drops open. Oh my good gravy… that feels like… I rub it a little more and then I shudder. My nipples are now erect.
Oh my… why does this mark feel like an erogenous zone? It should hurt, not feel like this. It’s not quite as tingly as between my legs, but I’d call it more tingly than my nipples. I give my head a shake. I have no time to ponder things; I need to get out of here. Maybe he’s turned back into a wolf and has gone somewhere to sleep for the day. I have no idea, can barely wrap my mind around this news that something from the movies, from story books, as well as from my crazy Aunt Nelle is actually real and has happened to me.
To say my mind is blown is an understatement. Aunt Nelle might not have been an absolute cuckoo bird after all.
I hear noise. Uh oh.
I carefully step out of the bathroom and get a few paces to where the hall opens up into the main room where I see him standing there at the counter in a pair of faded jeans, tan work boots, and a white with blue striped flannel shirt with only the bottom three buttons done up and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of his chest, his corded forearms, and the perfect way those jeans fit? It makes me feel woozy. I get a belly dip and I grasp the doorframe for support. He’s holding a bowl with a spoon in it.
“Back to bed,” he orders. “I’ll feed you breakfast.” He advances and I immediately retreat backwards into the bedroom I’d just come out of, feeling my way there with my hands as if I’m reading braille.
His eyes on me look… hungry.
I trip and he moves impossibly fast, catching me by hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me against his body.
Oh wow. He’s so warm.
He leans forward and kisses my lips and then my throat at that mark and I shiver.
“Into bed, my Ivy,” he says, and his eyes are sparkling with amusement or something.
I blink stupidly at him and sit on the end of the bed. He sits beside me.
Where have all my braincells gone?
I feel stupid. Stupid and blushing and not only hot in the face, but also hot between my legs.
He lifts the spoon and I see canned peaches in the bowl. He brings the spoon to my mouth with a small chunk of peach on it.
“Open,” he orders.
I obey.
He slips the spoon into my mouth and I eat a cold piece of canned peach.
“Fruit is my favorite man-food,” he says. “Do you like fruit?”
I blink and then I belatedly nod. Man-food?
“I eat these when I’m a man. I put them in the fridge last night when I turned the power on. I worried they’d spoiled but they’re fine, aren’t they? They’ve been here a while.”
I nod again as I chew and swall
ow.
He feeds me another bite. “Eat all of them. You need your strength, Ivy Savage. I showered and as soon as you’re fed, I want inside you again, want your scent back on my body.”
I choke.
He rubs my back and his handsome face is etched with concern.
“Careful,” he warns.
I recover, and whisper, “Savage? Why are you calling me Ivy Savage?”
“I’m Tyson Savage,” he says as if he doesn’t understand my confusion.
Does he think we’re married? How delusional is he?
He lifts my hand and kisses the top of it and then strokes that mark on my neck, making me shiver. “I’ll purchase a wedding ring for you today when we go for supplies if you like. I won’t wear one because I’d lose it during shifting.”
My mouth drops open.
He lets out a playful-sounding growl against my temple and his lips touch.
“Just one more bite and then I’m having you. I can’t wait. You can finish them after.”
He saws through a halved peach with the spoon and scoops it up into my mouth. The piece is big, but I chew it and as I’m swallowing, as I’m trying to figure out where to start with all the thoughts rolling around in my brain, he sets the dish on the table beside the bed that holds an oil lamp and a stack of dusty books before he flops onto his back and pulls me on top of him. The piece was so big and with the surprise of being lifted, some peach syrup has trickled out of the corner of my mouth. He sees it and catches it with his tongue.
He groans sexily as he licks his lips.
And now my crotch feels like it’s gone to hot mush.
My hands land on his chest as I gasp. God, his body is warm, and this chest is defined. His shoulders are absolutely huge.
I swallow the rest of what’s in my mouth, but not without difficulty.
His fingertips whisper across the mark on my neck and his eyes glow just briefly as he kisses me and then smiles. “How do you feel today, Ivy?”
“Uh… can you let me go so we can talk for a minute?”
“No,” he denies with a shake of his head. “I need inside you. We’ll talk after that.” He flips me over and gets to his knees so he can peel my yoga pants and underwear down all at once.
I do nothing to stop him. I just watch.
He gets to his feet, undoes his shirt, shrugs it off and drops it before he goes for his fly and I watch as he drops those jeans.
Commando.
Boing! His cock springs up and it’s got a clear droplet on the tip. My eyes move up to meet his and our eyes stay locked as he licks his lips until I can’t see him because he’s hauling my hoodie and tank top up over my head.
“Remove this garment,” he commands and immediately my hands find the front clasp and with a snap of my fingers it flings undone. His eyes fall on my breasts and his nostrils flare.
He grabs my thighs and gives a little yank, making me drop to my back. Instantly, he’s lining up and spearing me with that giant beast of a cock without warning. I gasp as my legs wind around his lower back and cross at the ankles. I put my hands to his massive shoulders and a whimper escapes my lips as his fingers slip between us and play between my legs.
“I’m glad you were ready for me. I like that.” He puts his mouth to the mark on my neck and sucks on it. I cry out and in just seconds, I am plummeting, nerves sparking, feeling sensations in new cells that I swear couldn’t have been there before, and then I’m there. I am there.
His cock moves in and out and his fingers play with my clit.
“Holy fuck, Ty-Ty-uh, shit…Ah!” I cry out loudly as I climax. While I cry out, he pistons his hips over and over, staring into my eyes with an expression of absolute dominance.
God, I’ve lost my mind. I really have. And it’s like I think entirely in expletives with the word fuck coming out of my mouth and invading my brain on a constant basis. Somebody save me from my insanity here because not only did I not even try to stop him, not only did I bare my breasts on command, but I’m also lying here thinking I could spend my whole life doing nothing but getting dicked by Tyson the man slash werewolf and being completely blissed out.
He flips me to my belly and hauls me up to my knees by my hips and goes harder and faster, grunting.
“This ass. God, this ass, Ivy Savage.” He slaps it and I squeal.
He lets out a deep chuckle and then kisses the back of my neck. I feel the heat of his torso against my back. Whoa.
He lifts me upright by the throat in a gentle hold and I brace my hands on the wall in front of me. He’s on his knees, driving up into me over and over and lifting my knees off the mattress with each thrust. He lets out that rolling thunder sound that sounds a whole lot like a growly purr as he does it and my head rolls back and my eyes drift shut as a warm feeling seeps straight through my body, through my bones from my ears down to my toes.
His left hand goes to my clit again as his mouth goes to that spot on the left side of my neck and I cry out as he’s tonguing my neck, rubbing my clit hard, and ramming into me. My body clamps hard around him, making him growl a satisfied sound. It feels as if he expands in size inside me, by a lot, and then there’s pulsing against my g-spot and my legs are shaking hard, going weak. I’m stretched to the limit, to where I know I’ll feel raw after, and hot liquid fills me. There’s so much of it, it trails down my inner thighs, feeling like warm oil. His fingers continue to assault my clit, mixing with the hot liquid that’s coming out of me and I come on top of coming, my entire body rattling with the force of it.
I melt back against him and he puts me on my belly and covers my back with sweet kisses. I blow out a long breath. Whoa.
He cuddles in, throwing a leg over me and playing with my hair. I feel his hot breath and his mouth against that bite mark. I hear myself let out a happy-sounding sigh. He chuckles and kisses me again. God, him laughing against my skin brings a feeling of bliss I can’t describe.
“Rest for a few minutes and then eat the rest of your fruit so we can go out and get some supplies.”
I blink, staring at the fireplace, feeling warm and toasty. It feels like I’m glowing.
Shit. What am I doing right now? I can’t seem to make myself do anything. I just soak in the warm and strangely amazing feeling of being cuddled by him.
His finger dances down my spine, between my butt cheeks, and then inside me again. He growls once more, and then draws that finger back out, bringing wetness with it, that he trails across my back door and up my crack. I shiver and my nipples tingle.
My inner thighs are wet. And this bed still isn’t made properly. The sheet has come completely off its remaining corner. The pillow has an old and dusty, faintly musty odor to it.
I wiggle my nose in distaste.
“What is it?” his deep voice rumbles. “What’s wrong?” he prompts, nudging me with his nose at my cheek when I don’t immediately answer.
“The pillow smells funny.”
Of all the things I can tell him about what’s wrong, I say that? Not that he essentially kidnapped me after breaking my car and then dicked me into a coma before feeding me peaches, dicking me again, and not to mention the fact I’m lying here in a puddle of hot sex juice that he’s essentially playing in, like a little kid in a bathtub filled with plastic toys.
“The house has been closed up for a long time. Think of whatever you feel we need, and we’ll get it today.” He squeezes me.
Get it today. We’ll get it today? Oh. I’ll have an opportunity to get away from him.
“Then we’ll come back here and maybe you can work with me to get the den, ah… house to smell nice. I’ll get rid of all the dust.”
My brain really does feel foggy. He repositions me, getting more comfortable. He stares into my eyes and the expression is kind of puppyish. I get lost in bright green pools. His mouth descends and lips touch mine softly. My hand finds his jaw and I get lost in a kiss. My body breaks out in goosebumps. God, he’s gorgeous. I don’t even know him. He tastes
so good. And the way he smells? Not to mention the way he’s looking at me? He’s…
His head jerks back and he looks at the window. His nostrils flare and his lip curls in an angry way that has chills trilling up my spine. His body is completely rigid.
A noise outside makes his body lock tighter and he goes even more alert, pulling away from me, standing up and getting his jeans on.
“Stay here,” he orders and slips out shirtless and shoeless.
I sit up, pulling the quilt up to cover my nakedness.
At the motion, I feel all sorts of his halfway-to-boiling hot cum leaking out of me, feeling like massage oil.
Shit. I do up my bra and reach for yesterday’s ripped panties and use them to wipe between my legs before I slip on my black panties. I get up and look out the window, peering from behind the mostly closed curtains. I see him standing there, chest out, talking to another man (another attractive man, in fact) who looks like he’s around the same build and the same age – late twenties, early thirties, maybe. Short dark hair, but there’s a resemblance between their profiles. A strong one. Brothers?
Suddenly, a black wolf bursts from Tyson’s body, quite literally, he’s just gone from man to animal in less than a snap and I see the jeans dropping to pool at his legs. I grip the curtains tight.
As he steps out of them, kicking them back behind him, the other man has a brown wolf burst from his body and the same thing happens to his jeans and boots, fabric of the guy’s shirt splitting and falling to the ground.
What a crazy sight. Not as if there’s skin being shed, just that the wolf bursts out. The Tyson wolf is showing his teeth. The brown wolf isn’t. I throw Tyson’s shirt on over my head and get it mostly buttoned before I find myself running outside onto the porch, a poker from beside the living room’s fireplace in my hand.
There’s a loud, deep bark. Tyson, in wolf form has barked at me and I freeze. That bark’s depth felt like it came from the earth beneath me. Iciness sweeps straight through me.