Reluctant Mates - 21 Paranormal Romance Stories (Werewolf, Vampire, Minotaur and Monster collection) (45 page)

For several seconds – I have no idea how long, really – silence continues, and the weight of the monster on my back seems to lighten. The fire coming from my mind envelopes my entire being in a kind of shell that feels warm in places, cool in others, and between my legs, burns with a fire that seems like the deepest desire I’ve ever known waiting to be released.

“What are you waiting for?” Milton’s terrible baritone lashes out. “Do as I said, tie her up, now!”

“But, uh, Pa, are you not seein’ this?” Whip says.

I feel that there’s air between my stomach and the ground, but until he speaks I don’t actually think much of it. As soon as he does though, I open my eyes and notice that I’m at least a foot above the soil.

Floating.

I am levitating on a cloud of crackling, green energy that warms my belly and my thighs. For a moment, I think that maybe the forest itself is coming to life around me, answering my call.

“I don’t care if she turns into a dragon and flies off, we have orders from Desmelyna and you’ll follow them. Tie her up. Now.”

At the very instant I begin to wonder how two large cats are going to do much tying, both of the men stoop and cry out as their paws turn to hands, their backs arch and crook, and the fur along them sinks back into their flesh. They seem to be in absolute agony for a few short seconds, and then one of them – Whiskey – shakes his head back and forth, hair cascading around him in a huge black mass resembling a mane.

“Pa,” he says, “I don’t...she’s floating! What am I s’posed to do?”

“Figure it out. I have things to do. Don’t fail me. Not in this.”

Looking around, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. The two half-men are stuck right between man and panther. They have cat-like eyes, are lithe and slender, much more than any normal men, and well-muscled but not bulky like the wolves. Whiskey and Whip seem at home in these forms, and move with an ease that’s almost haunting to watch.

Distracted by the motion, my concentration fails and so does my floating act. I crash to the ground and knock the wind out of myself as a rock or a log or something meets my stomach.

“Oh. Huh. Well that makes it easier,” Whip says as he crunches a mat of leaves immediately beside my head.

I close my eyes, afraid of what I’ll see if I open them, and then one of the two roughly grabs a wrist and pulls something that feels like a vine around it, pulling so tight that I whimper. Another slightly thicker one slides around my other wrist and jerks a pained gasp from my lips as it cinches down, pinching hard.

“Please!” I squeal. “Please! It hurts!”

“You hear that, Whiskey? She says it hurts.” Whip chuckles, his long, half-human fingernails scratching my forearm.

I can hardly restrain myself from turning my head and looking, but something keeps me from doing so – a fear that’s hard to explain. It’s almost like if I see them, I’ll know they’re real, but as long as I don’t, there’s a chance they’ll just vanish. It makes no sense, but there’s not much that does, I know, as I feel Whip’s nails drag along my naked back and around my sides.

“Get her feet, Whip. Quick.”

Fingers curl around my ankle and hoist me off the forest floor which pushes my face back down into the dirt. It’s almost a relief to have my head nestled in the leaves and the humus, but then another cord or a vine or whatever it is that Whip’s tying me with binds my ankle and bites deep into the skin at the bottom of my shin.

The bond on my right wrist pulls tight I flop over, hard, onto my back. The barest, vaguest moonlight leaking through the canopy above the clearing paints Whiskey’s shockingly beautiful form with a haunting, pale glow. The light bouncing off his grey skin makes me realize that his fur didn’t vanish. It only pulled down, all over his body, making a sort of slick coat.

He tugs again on my wrist and I watch with horror as he loops the vine around a wooden stake, puts his heel to it and drives it hard into the forest floor, stretching my arm at the most painful, awkward angle that shoots agony all the way down my arm. Slowly, coldly, and silently, he creeps to the other side, drags his lip across his pearly, jagged teeth, and stomps in another stake that yanks me in the other direction. Bound so tightly, I don’t move, not at all, my joints just strain, burning with a fire that is indescribably painful and undeniably exciting.

Just like with the wolves, that first time one of them tossed me to the floor and fucked my throat, I shock myself with my own thoughts. Between my legs, wet heat boils up, threatening to overwhelm my senses and drive me absolutely insane. I open my hands, stretch my fingers and then clamp them shut, hoping that something is there for me to grab, but I feel only my palms.

“Come...come here,” I whisper to whoever is listening. “Please come.”

Whiskey snorts and leaves crunch by my head. I grip and release my hands again, twist my head and arch my back to try and see. With my effort all tied up in reaching him and satisfying the incredible urge I have to touch him – or either of them – to feel him in my hand, I’m oblivious to Whip’s snickering.

“I think she likes this, Whiskey,” he says, pulling the vine around my left ankle so tight that it tugs my skin painfully. “Look at her face, she’s turnin’ all red.”

Lifting my head, I see with a slight surprise that he’s right. My whole chest flushes with that prickling, expectant sweetness that I first felt with the wolves. I want them to touch me – I need it – outside of all reason. My desire flares so brightly when I close my eyelids for a second that the forest seems to be all lit up and visible, even with my eyes clamped shut. I pull a deep breath through my nose and smell that curious scent, the mixture of musk, masculinity and my own sex, the man-beasts carry.

The hotness, the burning between my legs meets up with the red-hot flesh between my tits and I can barely keep myself from wrenching and twisting around to get at Whiskey or Whip.
Jasmine, what the hell is going on with you? One minute you’re planning a dramatic escape, the next you’re wishing they’d tie you tighter?

My thoughts can’t fight my heart. That’s how I’ve always been, but it’s even more obvious now. There’s no reason in the world for me to want this – with the wolves I’m safe and I know it. They protect me, or at least claim to, but these half-human monsters seem to have no regard for keeping me in one piece. Somehow, I think, that makes the whole thing even more exciting.

“Yeah, look here. Look at ‘er face. She looks like she wants somethin’.”

Opening my eyes and looking between the two of them, I notice a couple of small differences – Whiskey has a slightly tan color to his skin, to his fur, and body is slightly thicker, more muscled and his face more lined. Whip is covered in a dusting of gray-black fur, and, just like his name, I muse and giggle inwardly, he’s very thin, though still corded with muscle. As I watch, not knowing at all what to expect, another yank on my right ankle secures me to the ground and assures that I am absolutely, in no way, going to get up until I’m allowed.

“Come here,” I say again, more urgently this time.

I take a deep breath and gulp when Whiskey moves just a little closer and I can stretch my fingers far enough to feel the smooth, hard muscles at the top of his ankle underneath his slick, wiry fur.

I have to admit to myself that I like what’s happening even as the skin on my wrists and ankles twists and my joints ache with a furious, deeply pleasurable pain.

Two or three days ago, it’s hard to remember, I was as innocent as a blushing bride, and yet here I am, strapped to the ground, tied down by two cat monsters. Another wrenching pleasure shoots up my arm and I feel a claw on my palm. I wonder if it’s going to be followed with a scratch and hope that if it is, the scratch will go all the way down my body and maybe scrape the sides of my tits.

I arch my back as my imagination fills me with crackling, unbelievable anticipation, and I notice, when I let my eyes fall halfway open for a moment, that both creatures are just staring at me, watching, with their mouths agape, as I writhe around on the ground, my breath growing harder and hotter with every passing moment.

“Please, please come here,” I whisper. “Just feeling your leg isn’t enough. You know what I want. I think you want exactly the same thing, whatever it is you’re
supposed
to be doing with me.” I have no idea if what I’m saying makes any sense, or if I’m right or wrong, but I do know that unless I get my lips around something as soon as possible, all this heat and prickling and excitement is going to make me explode.

I open my eyes and crane my neck. As Whiskey nears, I see, for the first time, his massive, fur-covered cock arching up between his legs. He crouches above my hand and lets his balls rest gently on my palm. Closing my fingers, I feel his size, his warmth, and the slick hair lining his body.

Giving him a squeeze makes him moan just a little bit, and I try again but he moves backward slightly so that his shaft falls across my fingers. I’m able to move my hand
just enough
to wrap most of the way around his thickness. So long and so big around, looking at him and imagining that thing sliding inside me, stretching my cunt, I can barely contain myself.

“Oh – oh my God, it’s...”

I’m so breathlessly wet, so wonderfully hot, and so excited that I don’t notice the other beast squatting over me until I feel the smooth underside of his cock sliding from my knee almost all the way to my sweetly aching pussy. Whip is longer than his brother, and feels so good rubbing against me that goose bumps wash around the back of my knee and even prickle the skin on my lips just a little as juice wells up and begins to slick my unwilling, but very excited, sex.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I moan. “Can...can I taste?”

Whiskey rubs his peculiar cock against my cheek. He purrs a soft, expectant sound, and runs his hand down my chest, cupping it tight underneath my sensitive breast and rasps his fur-covered thumb pad first around and then over the tip. Something about his shape makes me imagine how it will feel sliding inside me, the exaggerated thickness of his head dragging up and down my pussy, and before I know it, I’m arching my back and twisting my hands and ankles against the restraints. Each time one of them bites my flesh, I let out a whimper, and a moan.

Judging from the panther-man’s reaction, he seems to like what I’m doing.

“My brother’s got the right of it,” he says. “You want this more than anyone I’ve ever seen. Probably has something to do with your faerie blood. Y’all s’posed to be naturally disposed to this sort of thing, but I never seen one of you before.”

Whip brushes a finger between my thighs, and around the shape of my lips, then down my slit. Gently, he dips them inside just far enough to test my entrance, and then pulls them out and tastes.

“Oh my God,” he groans, “Whiskey, I can’t...”

I turn my eyes to Whip’s elegant, silvery form and see him shaking. His whole body, trembling at the tiny sample of my juice he took. A trickle runs down his chin and I see his tongue lash out and slurp it up.

“Keep y’self under control. You know what Pa said about what the Fae can do. Queen did it to him. She’ll do it to us. Don’t be an idiot.” Whiskey says, with a grimace on his face that’s apparent in his voice.

The things he says don’t make any sense to me – Fae? My faerie blood? He must be at least half-crazy, so I just discount what he says, but then again there are those weird times when I can see roly-polies fall off a rock at a hundred feet...

“Mmm... she feels so good, I can’t believe this,” Whiskey says as he squeezes my tit harder and pushes his big, thick dickhead around my lips in a circle. I stick out my tongue, flick it across his tip and slide it as far down the underside as I can.

Something about the slicked-down hair lining his prick is absolutely thrilling to me. His earthen, leathery taste, the smell of his heat, it all comes together and builds inside me until I can hardly take it anymore. Again I twist my hands, not trying to free them, but to burn my skin, let the vines bite hard and send tendrils of pained pleasure all the way up my arms. Just like I expect, it works wonderfully. When the forbidden excitement hits my chest, my nipples stiffen and pebble. That, along with the tan-colored beast’s increasingly urgent gripping and tugging send me cascading down a waterfall that brings every inch of my body to life as the spray covers my skin.

For a very, very brief second, my thoughts turn back to the wolves and why they haven’t appeared to save me, but then just as I realize I’m thinking about them, they fade from my mind the same way it happened moments before when Milton was caressing me with his liquid metal voice. I can hardly believe what I’m doing, but I push my hips off the soft, spongy ground, angling them upwards, trying to coax Whip to stick those sweet fingers back in my hole.

When next I look at him, he’s got an expression on his face that’s almost completely vacant, as though he has no consciousness behind those yellow, crescent-moon eyes. Still though, he does just what I want, pushing his fingers back inside me little by little.

He starts with two of them, his flattened, half-cat claws scratch tantalizingly on the tiny hairs above my pussy as he works his thick, gray fingers into my sex, grinding in small circles against my hot slickness, and then he spreads them in opposite directions. The stretch sends a chill up my spine all the way to the back of my head and makes me gasp.

My lips fall open and I moan my pleasure as the two fingers drag their way up my front wall and linger on my special little spot when I take another breath and hold it in.

“I’ll be damned if this in’t the prettiest face I’ve ever seen,” Whiskey says. His voice is curiously reverent, as though my face were a painting in a museum. He lets a breath out in a hushed whisper, and runs the back of a finger down my chin, then curls his fingers around my neck, along the underside of my jaw.

“Open them lips,” he slides his thumb up to my lips and pulls them further apart.

Even before he pushes his cock inside my mouth I feel my excitement begin to churn deep in my chest. These creatures are just so bizarre and different from anything heard of before. Werewolves, yeah, everyone’s heard about them, I think in the back of my mind, but these panther creatures, what
are
they? Their bodies so exotic and unfamiliar, I can’t take my eyes off his long, thick prick with the exaggerated bell-shaped head until he drags it down my forehead and my eyes cross.