Paranormal Fantasies: A Promotional Collection of 14 Erotic Supernatural Stories (31 page)

Wasting no time, he crawled up on me, his thick red rod
finding its way straight to my horny hole. Nor did he take his time
entering me, slamming into my hips in one rough thrust. The saliva
did its job well enough, but Monty had never taken me with so
little lube or so much force before, and I cried out in
surprise.

Isn't that funny? He's the werewolf, but without a doubt, I
was the one howling.

He grunted in time with each pounding he gave my rear, and
eventually I realized he was saying something, practically chanting
under his breath.

"Bitch, bitch, you're my bitch."

I couldn't exactly argue with that in my position, but hearing
it vocalized really snapped me out of my lusty haze. I couldn't let
him think he had me totally dominated, or I would never tame my
wolf. "Harder!" I demanded.

Okay, maybe that's not the best thing to demand when you're
trying
not
to be
someone's bitch. But I'm giving myself points for effort
here.

Whether following my orders or his instincts, he obliged my
request, monster member filling me all the way up as his hands
clawed at my hips. I took it all in and wanted more.

"S-stroke!"

He curled over me and dropped one hand down to my lonely cock,
giving it a little squeeze before jerking it roughly. Between that
and the abuse I'd been taking from behind, the building pleasure
became more than I could even dream of resisting.

"Bitch…"

"Yeah – fine, I'm your bitch," I panted, loving every second
of it. "I'm your—"

I couldn't even finish. I came right then and there, spraying
his floor and hand with my hot jizz in high-pressure spurts. From
that point on I just rode the wave, letting my lean lycanthrope
have his way with me until he, too, came, drenching my insides with
his canine seed and bruising my thighs with his digging
hands.

Afterward we collapsed into a heap on the floor, him still
inside of me. He wrapped his arms around me and nestled his face in
my hair. The beast was at rest, at least for now, and after a long
night, so was I. We fell asleep just like that, totally
spent.

* * *

We woke up around noon, partook of Monty's world-famous
pancakes (at least, they
ought
to be world-famous), and talked quietly about
nothing, neither of us mentioning last night. Finally, he sat down
across the table, looked at me so intensely I felt a little
self-conscious about how much bacon I'd stuffed into my mouth, and
spoke.

"Every month, for a few days on either side of the full moon,
I completely lose it. I can't keep my head on straight during the
day, and I turn into a monster at night. That's the long and short
of it. A lot of weres have gone urban these days, so I don't have
much of a pack to run with right now, and I was worried that I'd
do… I don't know, something. Hunt you down, hurt somebody. That was
why I had to isolate myself. I'm sorry I lied. I'll still totally
understand if you want to—"

"I want to train you," I interrupted just as soon as I'd
swallowed my mouthful of hot pork. "You're afraid of hurting
people, but you didn't hurt me."

"That's different," he protested. "You're my…" He stopped
himself, blushing.

"Your mate?"

He nodded. Nobody in the world could ever look as cute as my
Monty did at that moment.

"I love you too," I said. "And I'm going to tame
you."

Defiance flashed in those deep green eyes, and Monty abandoned
his seat, circling around to my side of the table to breathe in my
ear. "You didn't tame me this morning."

"It takes more than one session," I replied,
unmoved.

He began to nibble.

"Sit," I said.

He sat.

I grinned. We had a long day ahead of us before the sun went
down, and this time, I intended to give him the training of his
life.

END :)

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* * * * *

Cry of the Wolf

By

Vivian
London

Copyright © 2012 by Vivian London

* * * *
*

The creak of the inn door startled Alois, who certainly hadn't
been expecting any travelers. Especially not this late.

Especially not so
handsome
. This newcomer he didn't
recognize certainly set his heart beating a little faster, and not
only from the obvious enchanted sword hanging at his
hip.

"Evenin'," he said cheerily. He put the cloth he'd been using
to wipe off the table-top back in its place tucked into his belt,
and made his way back toward his counter. "Haven't seen you in here
before. What can I get you?" It was a simple enough spiel, he
figured, for this new man did look like he'd come a long way. Alois
could scent it on him.

Adlar gave Alois a nod, looking him over as he dropped his
bag. "Mead for now. I'll need a room, for the rest of the week at
least, possibly longer." He was reluctant to tell the nature of his
visit, but he assumed that the townsfolk would eventually figure it
out. The fewer questions, the better, so he intended to keep it to
himself as long as he could. "Where's the owner?"

Alois was unable to resist a proud smile. For all the
inconveniences the inn caused him regarding his transformations, it
was still his pride and joy. "Standing rate is ten gold a night.
And I'm the owner." His chest puffed out a little bit. "Bought this
place around three years ago."

Having said that, he leaned under the bar to get a clean
tankard and a bottle of the local mead. Brewed right there in the
cellar. He set the full tankard down on the counter and then leaned
on it himself. "Name's Alois. I take it you knew the previous
people who owned this place, yeah?"

"Thought it looked nicer." Adlar mumbled, reaching into his
travel bag and pulling out a satchel. "Here, a week's rent, paid in
advance." He then took a long drink of mead, giving a small hum of
appreciation. "Its been a while since I've been able to enjoy a
fine cold brew," he mused, glancing up at the other man. "Alois,
eh? I'm Adlar. You're not from Mystfell , are ye?"

"Thanks." Alois stashed the coin purse under the bar until he
could bring it into his room later. "And thanks again. Make the
stuff myself, as well as a few special drinks for the adventurous.
Everyone enjoys mead though."

His mouth turned up in a wide smile, watching Adlar enjoy
himself. "No. Originally from Brackenridge, all that way up north.
Are you from down here? You swaggered in like you knew the place
pretty well, I thought." He laughed, only meaning it as a gentle
tease. It had taken the people here in Mystfell a long time to get
suited to an innkeeper with a sense of humor.

"I lived here for a while, yeah." Adlar said before draining
his mug. "Pretty much grew up here, though I left when I was still
young and went--" He paused, looking over Alois again, "Up north."
He pushed the mug forward, a quiet ask for another, but with a
small smile. "Brackenridge. Your family from Cadlen
then?"

Without even having to ask, Alois refilled Adlar's tankard. He
also returned the small smile with a bigger one. "They were. Lived
out in Brackenridge, commuted to the city, really. It was pretty
idyllic, but I grew up learning how
not
to run an inn, if you know what I
mean." He laughed. "The place up there is a rathole. Luckily, they
had a boy my age who was handsome."

Adlar quirked an eyebrow, not saying anything as he drained
half the mug. "So, why Mystfell ?" He asked after a moment. It was
nice to talk to someone new, someone who was more pleasant than the
miners that populated the inn in Averglow .

"I like the quiet." Alois pulled a stool up behind the bar so
he could sit, also enjoying the pleasant conversation. Nights in
the inn were typically pretty morose. "I also like the
wilderness--plus I'd never been here before. I couldn't settle down
somewhere I knew, I figured."

He shrugged, pulling up a bottle of mead for himself. "I did
some adventuring, and suppose I still have the wanderlust for
it."

"A bit hard to adventure when you have an inn to run, isn't
it?"

"Unfortunately." Alois drank some mead and pulled a face. "Not
so bad, though. Innkeeping--well--I feel like it was something I'm
supposed to do. Always had a knack for mixing drinks, at
least."

"It shows." Adlar's voice held a measure of admiration. "So,
has Mystfell been as quiet as ever lately?"

"Mostly. Except for that whole Sigurd situation. Heard about
that?" Alois looked sourly down the neck of his mead bottle.
"Ripped a woman to shreds recently." The words to tell Adlar that
Sigurd was a werewolf were on the tip of his tongue but prudence
and fear of discovery held him back.

Adlar fought back the urge to grin--the rumours were true!
"Oh? Are they blaming the old Mystfell Fever with it?"

"I have other suspicions." Damn his wagging mouth. Alois
settled back on his stool with a rueful smile playing about his
lips. He reached up to smooth down one of his scruffy sideburns as
he told Adlar, "I think he's a werewolf."

"Good." Adlar said, draining his mug. "That's why I'm
here."

"Eh?" With that one comment, Alois' pulse began racing again.
"You a werewolf hunter or something?"
Please don't be.

Adlar smirked. "Something like that. More of a bounty hunter,
really."

"Ohh." Alois finished the rest of his own mead, more than a
little relieved. He'd hate to have been found out and murdered. "I
see. So you want to take care of this Sigurd problem, so to speak,
and then reap the Baron's gratitude? Just a friendly word of
warning--he might give you some coins, but don't expect any kind
words from Bryngrim." Alois rolled his eyes. "Thinks we common folk
are nothing but maggots."

"The Baron? You think I'm doing this for the Baron?" Adlar
chuckled, the sound low and dark in his throat. "My aspirations are
much
higher
than
that. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, now
that's
what I'm after. The gold is
secondary."

"The hunt," Alois repeated. He drummed his fingers on the
wooden bar, feeing the blood in his veins practically
thrill
. He hunted several
nights a week, which was difficult enough to manage already, but
sometimes just hearing it like that made him crave the earth under
his claws, soft prey-flesh in his teeth…