Paranormal Fantasies: A Promotional Collection of 14 Erotic Supernatural Stories (30 page)

I knew then that I was in over my head. What if he was some
kind of serial killer who kept his victims in his basement and
slaughtered them during the full moon? What would I do then? And
yet I couldn't stop myself from
sliding the
bar
out of place and opening the
door.
Nothing could have stopped me from
wanting to know
.

A wide unfinished basement, largely empty, lay behind the
door, dimly lit by what little
moon
light filtered in through
the
small
basement
window
s
. I
fumbled for a light switch, but
failed
to
find one. Instead, I spotted a bare bulb
in the center of the room with a chain hanging down. I stepped
toward it.

A growl echoed through the tiny room. It came from behind me,
and I whipped around to catch a glimpse of the source, but saw
nothing. The sound of shuffling paws circled me, and this time when
I spun around I
managed to lock eyes
with
him
.

There in front of me stood the biggest and most gorgeous wolf
I'd ever seen. It had thick gray fur
, lean
muscles,
and
soulful
green eyes.
Looking into those eyes
, I
understood everything.

How stupid I had been. My poor, dear Monty was still the
perfect man. It's just that he was also a werewolf.

A werewolf that was, at that moment, snarling at me. I didn't
know how much of him was the man
who'd
always been so kind to
me, but
the dominant portion of him appeared to be
pure canine. In a way, I took comfort in that
fact. If there were any two things that I could handle, it was my
boyfriend and a dog.

I offered my hand. He was so big, I didn't even need to
crouch. He padded forward warily and gave it a sniff, then looked
up at me.

"Come on," I said, "You know this smell."

The wolf seemed to consider
this
, and then pushed his
muzzle
into my
crotch.

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Yeah… you know that smell
too."
I reached into my pocket and pulled
out a small
plastic bag
of treats,
enjoying the attentive perk
of his ears at the sight of them.
He
followed
it
with
his eyes, nose in the air.
I'd never
let
Monty make fun of me for carrying dog
biscuits in my pocket
ever
again
, that
was
for sure
!

"Sit!" I said, loudly and firmly, but not angrily. I
didn't want to punish or threaten him, but simply
to
let him to know that I was in charge. I
never broke eye contact, and I didn't let his little growls
threaten me.

He didn't move at first, and I tried not
to worry about what I would do if he didn't read any
English.

"Sit," I repeated in my most commanding tone.

Finally, he sat.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Somewhere in there, he still understood me. I gave him his treat,
waiting until he'd finished crunching it before very,
very
carefully reaching
out to pet his head.

"Good boy," I said. "Good Monty." He was. He was the best boy.
But that having been said, I didn't harbor any illusions about the
safety of spending the night in there with him
in that state
, even if he was acting
tame. I stood up tall and produced another biscuit.
"Stay."

I took a step backwards, and he started to stand
up.

"No. Sit."

He growled.

"I don't want to hear it, mister. I told you to
sit
."

He sat.

"Now stay.
Stay
." I shuffled backwards until I could feel the door, and then
I tossed him the biscuit and made my escape, latching the door
behind me. This move clearly didn't please him, because the next
thing I heard was the
thump
of his considerable body mass up against the door,
followed by
a flurry of scratching
an angry howl.

"Sorry, Monty. I'll make this up to you in the
morning."

Not wanting to leave him, I wadded up my jacket to use as a
pillow and tried to get some sleep. After awhile, he quieted down
and we lay there, on opposite sides of that door, neither of us
sleeping.
I finally nodded off just before
dawn, and it seemed like I had barely closed my eyes when
someone
was shaking
me awake.

"Mark! Mark, oh god, are you okay? I didn't
hurt
you, did
I?"

I blinked hazily up at the handsome
naked
man who stood over me.
I hadn't remembered being hurt, but I seemed to
have woken up in heaven.
"Huh?"

"What the hell are you— do you have any idea what you just— I
could've—!"
Monty was
hyperventilating.

"It's fine," I replied sleepily. "You were a good
boy."

"Mark!" he protested.

"How
do you open and close the
latch, anyway?"

"I use a credit card—damnit, Mark, this isn't funny! I
could've killed you!"

It seemed like he had no intention of letting me go back to
sleep, so I regarded him seriously. "Why didn't you tell
me?"

He groaned. I had the feeling he'd been asked this question
before. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hi, my name is Montgomery and
I enjoy cooking, long walks on the beach, and running around naked
in the woods dismembering elk'? You'd think I was
crazy."

"
Good point
,"
I said.

He buried his face in his hands. "I'm dangerous. I'm a wild
animal. I had a
system
, a way to keep everyone safe, and all you had to do was stay
away for a few lousy days. And now…"

"It's fine."

"I understand if you want to leave me, but you can't tell
anyone. I promise not to hurt anybody, that I haven't hurt anybody,
so please…"

"I'm telling you, it's fine." I couldn't stand seeing him like
that. I wanted to pet him and soothe him and make him feel better.
So I reached up and pulled one of the hands away from that gorgeous
face of his, kissing the palm.

"Mark," he practically sighed, never once looking up at me.
"
I still have another day of the wolf in
me. I won't transform until the sun goes down, but I'm going to be
crazy all day…"

I sat up and kissed his jaw, letting his rough stubble scratch
up against my face. He
snarled
in response. Still, I didn't stop. He needed to
know that I could handle him, and I was happy to show
him.

"Good boy," I whispered, and kissed him on the
lips.

I had no idea how much he'd been holding back until he
returned that kiss with
savage
enthusiasm, tongue prowling its way into my mouth.
His arms encircled my shoulders and he crushed me to his
chest.

He'd never been like this before. He'd always been strong, and
he could be goaded into taking me roughly if I insisted, but I'd
never felt this level of raw urgency from him. Before I could so
much as squeak in protest at my sudden inability to breathe, he'd
shoved me down to the floor. He hovered over me, his breath heavy
and his arousal digging into my thigh.

"Off," I said.

His hands tore at my shirt, ripping through buttons. His mouth
moved down, nuzzling my neck right at the pulse.

"Off," I said.

He moved downward, hands unbuckling my jeans and lips finding
my clavicle to nibble on. Suffice it to say, I liked this side of
him, but I couldn't let myself be carried away with his wildness.
Even if my body cried out to be rutted like his bitch, he needed to
know that I wouldn't be overtaken by him. On the floor, my fingers
brushed up against a stack of old newspapers, and I knew what I
must do.

I took one in hand and smacked him on the nose.
"
Off!
" I cried. He
retreated, looking ashamed, and I got up. "There's no such thing as
a bad dog," I said, smacking my newspaper into my palm. "Just a bad
owner. It's about time I stopped letting you run wild and gave you
some training."

"Train me," he agreed. "I'll be a good boy."

"I thought so. Sit!"

He sat back, looking up at me for confirmation. I ran my
fingers through his hair. "Good boy. Now stay."

I circled him, taking in the smooth, perfect muscles of this
man who wanted nothing more than to love and to please me. He
resisted the urge to watch me and I smiled, thinking that maybe he
had a little discipline in him after all. I'd have to reward him
for that.

"Stroke," I said.

He took himself in hand, one big beast holding another, and
stroked himself slowly, lingering at the dripping tip. His eyes
fluttered and finally shut, thick lashes resting on his chiseled
cheeks. Tiny grunts escaped his throat as his hand pumped up and
down on his fat cock. My own pants started to constrict at that
lovely sight.

"Stop," I told him.

He whined in protest, hand stopping but not pulling away from
his sex.

"Off!" I ordered, brandishing my newspaper.

With a small grumble, Monty let his hand drop to the side and
turned to me for further instruction.

"Good. Let's try something a little harder." I stopped in
front of him, my already-unbuckled fly in his face. "Fetch me a
bone."

Without hesitation, he took my zipper in his teeth and pulled
it down. His muscular arms curled around me, giving my firm ass a
firmer squeeze before yanking down my jeans. My hard on had formed
a tent in my boxers, but that didn't last long, as he pulled those
down in the next motion.

Next time, I thought, I'd make him work a little harder for
his treat. I'd take my time and really relish the animalistic
hunger that emanated from every inch of him. But right then, I
needed it just as badly as he did, so I let him slurp me
up.

Monty was a master of the deepthroat, and he had all of me
between his greedy lips before I could so much as exhale. His
tongue lapped me greedily, clearly pleased by the taste. I hadn't
been prepared for the intensity of it all, and I needed to steady
myself against the mass of his shoulders in order to keep from
being bowled over. The heat spreading from his mouth and my
throbbing member rapidly overtook my body. I exploded into him,
spurting right into that needy tongue, and he took it all in with
gusto, sucking until he'd milked me dry.

"G-good boy," I panted. Rather than giving in to the pleas of
my limp body and collapsing, I dropped down to my knees and kissed
him, savoring in my own salty taste on his lips.

Sleepy and sated, I could have done that forever, but he
whined into my lips, reminding me of his own need. I realized that
he'd been trembling from holding himself back, and I thought that
he'd had enough. He'd more than earned another treat.

"Lay down," I said, and he did, but that huge cock of his
stood up tall. Maybe it was just my lust-fueled imagination, but it
seemed even bigger than usual, and had something of a red tinge to
it. I ran my fingers across the shaft, driving my wild man wilder,
and then took it into my mouth. I didn't suck for long, though. I'd
grown high on the power of bossing around such a powerful man, and
I didn't want to let him come just yet. I decided to get my clicker
and pick on him just a bit more.

"Stay." Without getting up, I turned around and leaned over to
dig through my jacket pockets. For just a second, and without any
real awareness of my actions, I'd gotten down onto all
fours.

Two phrases come to mind as I tell this part of the story.
One: Hubris is the folly of man, and two: Don't turn your back on a
horny werewolf.

Monty might have seemed docile mere moments ago, but with the
way I gave him an eyeful of my wiggling bottom… well, I might as
well have dangled a steak in front of him. He was on me in a flash,
a tongue (which, just like his cock, I could have sworn hadn't
been
that
long
before) burying itself into my ass. I gasped, shuddering with an
unexpected wave of yearning. Monty had always been talented with
his tongue, but this was on a whole new level. I debated stopping
him, trying to take control of the situation, but who was I to come
between a werewolf and the full moon?

And just as I really started to get into the waxing and waning
of his skilled tongue, he withdrew. I whimpered in protest. At that
moment, I'd forgotten about training him. I wanted to be his bitch,
mounted and fucked until I yowled in pleasure. So I said nothing,
simply vocalized my need in cries and whimpers.