Read Luna Junction 1 Feasts with Wolves (W) Online

Authors: Sage Domini

Tags: #werewolf, #older man, #college, #bbw, #alpha, #curvy, #new adult, #boyfriends father

Luna Junction 1 Feasts with Wolves (W)

BOOK: Luna Junction 1 Feasts with Wolves (W)
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FEASTS WITH
WOLVES

By Sage Domini

Copyright 2013

Smashwords
Edition

***

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any
similarities to persons living, dead or somewhere in between is
purely coincidental.

Warning:
Coarse language and lusty scenes abound in these pages! Adults
only please.

Chapter 1

I listened to the last stragglers
emptying out of the building to the music of rolling suitcases and
eager chatter. Pouting, I rolled over in the narrow bed and pulled
the purple down comforter over my head. It left me feeling
curiously entombed, but no longer subjected to the merry sounds of
departing holiday travelers. My roommate, Julia From New York, had
left a day earlier. One was always aware that Julia From New York
was indeed from New York because she told you. At least once an
hour.

“…’
cause where I’m from in
New York we do things blah blah blah…and in New York where I’m from
it would be blah blah blah…”

But really I didn’t hate
Julia. We got along all right when she wasn’t using my Irish Spring
soap and returning it enmeshed with a ribbon of her dark hair. I
was just feeling bitchy because, alas, two days before Christmas
there were no bells for me to jingle, no halls for me to deck. Of
course I could hang some mistletoe in the dorm lobby and french the
dirty walls but that would be even sadder than hiding under my
purple comforter in a fog of my own stale breath. Once I’d had that
holiday cheer, all the
ho ho ho
Santa shit and hanging stockings by the alabaster
marble mantle with care. But then my folks divorced and my mom
decided she wasn’t a caroling hot chocolate kind of gal. She was a
new boobs on a holiday cruise kind of gal. My dad was still back
home in San Jose but busily playing house with Becca Blowjob, as I
affectionately thought of the former homecoming queen whose
yearbook picture I had creatively enhanced recently with a handy
Bic pen.

All this middle aged personality
rebranding left me without a place to comfortably spend the holiday
break. Neither parent seemed especially concerned when I explained
how I would be spending this joyous season alone. Alone! With only
a couple of bewildered foreign students from unpronounceable
countries remaining on campus. I explained it might be dangerous; a
nubile young woman wandering a nearly deserted university. It was
the stuff of cheap horror movies where the bosomy chick ends up
dismembered. I asked what I ought to do if Ted Bundy began
shadowing me. My father told me not to worry because Ted Bundy had
been executed some years before. Then I realized the breathless
manner of his voice was creeping me out and that Becca Blowjob
hadn’t gotten her nickname for nothing so I threw the phone across
the room.

And suddenly the phone was ringing. I
unfurled my purple shroud and peered at the screen. Odd that
Matthew Landon was calling me. As far as I knew he was on his way
to that Currier and Ives rural home he’d described on our handful
of awkward dates. Matthew had stopped by the night before to give
me a box of See’s Candies which was sweet and all but when I had
deepened our kiss and pressed myself against his muscled chest he
pulled away, muttering something about getting on the road early
the next morning.

I had stood there for several minutes
with one nipple popping out of my bra, feeling inadequate. I looked
down at my body. It wasn’t model perfect but my skinny mother paid
a lot of money for breasts like these and what sort of twenty year
old guy walked away from sex on a platter? I thought Matthew was
actually a little quiet, boring even, but he was tall and broad and
hot so I would have been willing to overlook the imperfections in
exchange for some Christmas deflowering. Well…technically I had
lost my virginity a year and half earlier on Senior Ditch Day, if
you chose to count some painful backseat fingering followed by
three stiff thrusts. Frankly, I didn’t.


Tatum,” Matthew’s deep
voice lumbered when I picked up the phone.


Hey Matt. Did you butt
dial me or something?”

Matthew chuckled. “No. I’m downstairs.
Listen, I’ll be heading back down here the day after New Year’s
and, well, I was wondering if you would like to come home with me
for the holidays?”


You mean to your
house?”


That’s where home usually
is.”

I felt a trifle confused. I must have
misread Matthew’s red-faced retreat from my eager clutches. Or else
he felt guiltily sorry for me. Either way it didn’t matter. The
season suddenly seemed a lot brighter as at the very least I could
surely look forward to some surreptitious coupling in a barn. “Give
me ten minutes.”


Take your time. I’ll be
waiting.”

I tied my hair up hastily and pushed
my thighs into my tightest pair of jeans. The academic effluvia in
my backpack was dumped on the floor as I sorted rapidly through
clothing and packed the most flattering boob-busting articles I
could find along with the only real piece of sexy lingerie I owned;
a medieval-looking black corset thing. Julia From New York had
purchased it as a gag gift for my birthday in October. Or else she
was a lesbian and hoped I would be lounging around in our room
clothed as a dominatrix as I idly paged through Nietzche. I didn’t
think she was a lesbian.

Chapter 2

Matthew Landon was leaning casually
against the frame of his beat up pickup truck and frowning into his
phone. His hair was dark blonde and he had rather a wholesome air
about him which made it difficult to picture wrapping my legs
around his waist as he pounded my body against a wall or a mattress
or even the cold dirty ground (hell, I wasn’t picky). He smiled
politely when he saw me and held the door open so I could climb
inside.

Matthew’s truck smelled of
pine needles because he had one of those garish scent refreshers
hanging from the rearview mirror. “It smells like Christmas in
here,” I said brightly because I had promised myself that I would
play at Happy Tatum until I was deposited back here on January
2
nd
.
After all, whatever the reasons, the dude had been kind enough to
tow me along to meet his family. Oh, and I still sort of wanted to
have sex with him.

I tried to keep up a steady stream of
chatter as Matthew smiled vaguely and piloted the truck up the
I-17. I’d already understood he was a guy of few words and didn’t
mind single-handedly propping up the conversation. But when he
turned up the volume on Manheim Steamroller’s Greatest Hits, I took
a hint and stopped regaling him with Tales of Tatum.

I looked outside the window, noticing
the landscape change. The brown barrenness of the Sonoran desert
was giving way to greener scenery as we climbed into the northern
part of the state. “So,” I finally said. “What’s the name of your
hometown again?”

Matthew glanced at me as if he were
surprised to see me sitting there. “We don’t actually live in town,
but Luna Junction is the name of it. Dad owns the hundred acre wood
surrounding the house.”


Hundred Acre Wood!” I
exclaimed. “Got any honey?”

He blinked at me, puzzled.
“What?”


Winnie-the-Pooh.” Matthew
still looked a bit nonplussed. “He lived in the Hundred Acre Wood!”
I realized I was shouting and lowered my voice. “I loved that story
when I was a kid. But not as much as I loved fairy tales. I had
this huge gothic-looking Grimm’s Fairy Tales volume that I used to
drag under the covers and devour with a flashlight. Must have read
that thing a thousand times.”

Matthew was quiet for a moment. “You
realize fairy tales are made up garbage penned by superstitious
hacks, right?”

Seriously?
Did Little Red Riding Hood piss in this kid’s
cornflakes once upon a time? “Um, yeah. Right.” I returned to
gazing out the window but I was starting to have doubts about this
little trip. Matthew Landon may be fine to look at but he was also
at turns dense and humorless. We just weren’t clicking and if
nothing changed then it was going to be a long ten days in the
middle of Lunaville or wherever the hell we were going.

I heard him sigh and realized somehow
this was difficult for him too. I still wondered at his motivation
for inviting me along; at best our dates had been lackluster and if
he’d been after something more carnal he had yet to make a move.
But there we were and with the valley several hours behind us it
was too late to turn back. I cleared my throat and turned the
conversation in a new direction. For the rest of the drive we
chatted amiably about college football and pondered which dining
hall meal was truly the most wretched. (I said it was country-fried
steak and he argued for teriyaki meatloaf.)

By the time I saw the small roadside
sign for Luna Junction the vegetation had blossomed from stoic
saguaros to towering conifers. I knew we were somewhere up in the
Flagstaff-ish northern quadrant of the state but my geographical
senses were sketchy. I drew out my phone and Googled ‘Luna
Junction’ and found only a brief Wikipedia entry which listed it as
an unincorporated municipality with approximately 236 residents of
‘demographics unknown’.

Here and there I glimpsed picturesque
ranch houses set far back from the road. We had exited the highway
some distance ago and the two-lane road was bumpy and twisted.
Matthew paused the truck at a four way stop which I guessed to be
the cosmopolitan center of Luna Junction. No other vehicles were in
sight. An independent gas station stood on the corner and I was
startled to see a trio of absurdly gorgeous men staring at us. I
mean really, these dudes looked like Chippendale dancers pumped
with cowboy steroids. Matthew raised a hand in quiet greeting and
the largest of the hot dudes nodded.


Friends of yours?” I
muttered.

Matthew’s eyes returned to the road
and he pressed the gas pedal. “No,” he said.

I began to feel nervous although I
could not have said why. If Julia From New York were here she
should be frowning out the window and sniffing about how this place
was utterly unlike New York. Actually Luna Junction was unlike
anything I’d ever seen either. I’d never carefully considered what
populated all that space on a United States map. Now I pictured
eighty thousand Luna Junctions on those sizeable swaths; scattered
populations eking out some semblance of a community. Matthew had
always spoken of his hometown with affection and indeed a small
smile played on his lips as he steered down the lonely road. It was
certainly lovely, though very different from the dry desert. Snow
capped the ring of surrounding mountains and immense ponderosa
trees dominated the landscape.

I cracked the window a bit and
shivered at the chilly wind. Matthew’s fingers drummed on the
steering wheel. “That’s snow air.”


Snow?” Too bad weather
variables hadn’t occurred to me. My hack packing job had only been
concerned with the appearance of my breasts. I certainly had not
brought a warm coat.

Matthew spoke absently. “Yeah, we get
a white Christmas up here more often than not.”


That’s…awesome,” I said
because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Perhaps if I tied
the corset on underneath my clothes I could avoid
hypothermia.

Matthew sharply turned right and a
long unpaved road yawned before us. “You hungry?” he
asked.


I’m always hungry. I’m a
grazer. Sort of like a cow.”
Because cows
are totally sexy, am I right??

Matthew looked confused. “Well anyway,
I’m sure my dad will probably have some meat ready.”


Your dad’s the cook in the
family?” Matthew had only ever spoken of his father in brief,
halting tones. I got the impression they didn’t really get along.
“I know your mom died when you were little.”

BOOK: Luna Junction 1 Feasts with Wolves (W)
13.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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