Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures (17 page)

and if you wouldn’t mind, please smear frosting on my vagina and then lick it off.

Sincerely, Sara

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Would he mind? Was she kidding? Ruff smothered a rueful chuckle behind his raised

fist and a pretend cough. After he finished fulfilling her wish list, he had one of his own to see about. Cinnamon rolls weren’t all he’d soon be eating. His fluffy little Sara was about to get a whole lot more than frosting licked from her juicy little pussy.

“Well, how about this, hon…what say we just get comfortable and eat these cinnamon

rolls before they get cold. That okay with you?”

She nodded and he sidled further into the suite, checking out the plush interior

decorating of the hedonistic fantasy rooms. He set the box down on a table by the bedside and plopped down on the mattress, finished casing the area. He hadn’t been in one of the pleasure units before, but his quick perusal revealed they were much nicer than the ones in the punishment suite.

Sara took a seat over by the window, sitting with her knees pressed primly together

and her feet precisely aligned. The perfect picture of an old-fashioned lady. Ruff noted her unspoken statement, not worried a bit over her shy reluctance. He’d soon get those knees opened.

Conscious of the clock ticking their hour away, Ruff started unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s a tad warm in here. You don’t mind if I take off this shirt, do you, Sara?”

“Uh…uh…uh…” Her doe eyes stared across the room at him, pupils almost swallowed

by the white surrounds. Yep, she minded…to hell with this!

Ruff stood up, stripped off his shirt, and with economical movements, toed off his

shoes. When he glanced over, he found Sara had both hands in front of her eyes, quaking in her chair. Pretty much what he’d expected. Not wanting to frighten her more than he

already had, he stalked over to her, bent down, put his hands under her armpits and brought her to her feet.

She started to stammer something, but he hushed her, placing a finger against her lips.

He lifted her chin and smiled into her worried face. “The way I see it, Sara, you chose me because you have a hankering for me. Well, I’ve got a hankering for you, too, but you’ve only earned an hour, and we don’t have time to court each other. My cinnamon rolls are getting cold and there’s nothing worse than cold icing on your nipples, trust me.”

She gasped and he pressed the finger harder against her lips. A wide smile parted his lips when he felt a hint of teeth and then a quick, furtive swipe of her tongue. Sara was coming around. “Sweet girl!”

“You have a fantasy and I have less than an hour to give it to you. So we do this your way or the Ruff way, but once you choose, you can’t back out.”

In a quiet little voice Sara asked, “What’s the rough way?”

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“Sweet cakes, Ruff ain’t my birth name, it’s the way I like my sex.” He flicked an

eyebrow in a flirty wink and licked up the side of her cheek in a slow, sexy curl of tongue that had his own cock bucking. She tasted luscious, a mix of fear and lust.

“Please, Ruff…”

Her voice hitched and Ruff laughed as he swept her off her feet, depositing her on the bed. Kneeling over her, he ripped her blouse open, ignoring the buttons and then started in on her skirt. Once he had her naked, Ruff nodded in satisfaction.

Not taking his eyes off Sara, he reached toward the box on the table, transferred it to the bed. Instead of opening it and pulling out a roll, he sank back on his haunches to take inventory.

Two eyes, indifferent blue…where had he read that? No matter. Actually, her eyes

were closer to gray and if she wore dentures, they were good ones. Her breasts were still full, though they sagged a bit with the natural progression of age. Fair skin, again age speckled but still smooth, covered her plump body.

“You’re a lovely woman, Sara, a vintage beauty worth savoring. I am so going to love

sharing a cinnamon roll with you, but first…”

He leaned down and grasped both her nipples between a hard finger and thumb.

Watching her face, he squeezed the tender tips, continuing to apply pressure until a fleeting grimace twisted her girl-next-door features. He let up immediately, employing a gentle tug and pull movement that soon had her mewling under him.

Only then did Ruff lower his head, drawing a stiff nub into his mouth. He continued

tweaking the other nipple as his tongue busily lapped all over the soft skin of her left mound.

“I believe you requested our treat be served on your breasts. I’m a firm believer in being neat, so I’m afraid we can’t eat until the table’s been thoroughly cleaned.” He switched to the other breast, curling his tongue about the bit of hard, upstanding flesh. Her back bowed. Sharp and savory, her pussy juices spilled out of her, flooding the air, and Ruff drank it in, more anxious by the moment to begin the true feasting.

“Oh, my god!”

“Naw, just your boyfriend, but I’ll have you screaming other titles before I’m through.”

Ruff wasn’t bragging, just making a promise. He intended for Sara to have a good time.

First, she’d earned it. Taking off extra pounds at her age had to be hard. Second, he knew, having talked to Leon, Sara’s trainer, that she struggled with poor body image. When she left him, the one thing she’d never worry about again was looking good.

“Well, look here…is that a perky little nipple standing up for some attention?”

Sara laughed. “Young man, there hasn’t been a perky thing on my body since before

my Albert died.”

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She had a cute, infectious giggle and Ruff released the nipple he’d been tending to

smile down at her. He thumbed her tight nub. “If there’s one thing I know, its nipples…and this one is definitely perked up.”

She squirmed uncomfortably, her scent changing to the slightly sour mix of verbena

and dill -- embarrassment. She turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze. “You

know…you don’t have to say those things to me. I came here with Lucinda just for the thrill, but I didn’t really think handsome young bucks like you would really want to spend fantasy time with wrinkled up old biddies like me.”

Unnerved, Ruff lay half on top of Sara, his big body covering most of her slighter one.

His smile faded, chased by the sobering realization that this one hour could make or break this gentle, shy woman.

In a flash, he saw what Pavel was trying to accomplish, understood finally why the

director was always going on and on about making the clients feel special. He couldn’t go ahead with his plans and disregard Sara’s feelings. After all, this hour was for Sara, not him.

Cursing himself for his newfound ethics, Ruff rolled away and sat up, head cradled in his hands. He huffed a few times, working up the resolve to offer her a choice, a choice that would kill his chance for some pussy. He felt like crying, thinking about having to pass up the sweet, fragrant female sex smelling up the room. Mature women were like virgins --

tight and narrow -- but unlike a virgin, the older gals knew how use what they had. Hell, passing up older pussy should make him eligible for sainthood.

Ruff rubbed his head, already frustrated, but he knew what he had to do. If he didn’t do the right thing with Sara, he’d never again respect himself.

He twisted to look down at the quiet woman. “Uh…Sara…?”

Her face tightened and he could tell she thought he was about to blow her off. She sat up against the pillows, pulling the edge of the sheet up over her breasts. “Yes?”

He turned around and sat next to her at the top of the bed. “Can I be honest with you?”

“I-I…” Her voice stalled and she nodded instead of trying to get anything else out.

“Sara, I know you wrote about me eating those cinnamon rolls off your breasts, but I

don’t think you really want me to do that.”

“Oh, but I --”

“Sara! We’re being honest, here.” He reached out and took one of her hands. It was

trembling. “So here’s the truth…” Placing a finger under her chin he raised her face to his. “I don’t want to eat cinnamon rolls, I want to eat you. And icing is nice, but I’m sure if I stir the mix right, I can whip up some cream that tastes a lot better to me than that sugary stuff.”

“You mean you…”

“I mean I want very badly to fuck you, but if all you want is for me to get a belly full of rolls and go away with an aching cock, we'll do that, ’cause this is your hour.”

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“But do you really want me?” Her voice shook, sounding very close to tears. He took

the hand he was holding and molded it over his distended cock.

“You feel that?”

“Oh, my god!”

“Sara, if this monster didn’t like you nothing I did would get it up. I want you, Sara, and you want me, too. Stop!” he ordered, holding a finger against her lips when she tried to protest. “We’re being honest, remember? Sara, I read your fantasy, now let me tell you mine…

“I want to finish sucking and licking your tits, make those pink nipples real hard. By the way, your breasts are nice and plump. No, they don’t stand up like a twenty-year-old’s, but you know what? They’re not supposed to. Yours are wonderful, ripe, and mature. The only way they’d look better is in nipple clamps. Next time you earn a pleasure room, I’m going to bring a few and adorn you with them. You’ll soon realize they’re not just for punishment.

“Anyway, after I’ve gotten your breasts all wet and primed, I’m going to make you play with them while I go down on you. It’ll take some time to get you good and wet, creamy enough to handle what you’re holding so sweetly. I’m big and I don’t want to hurt you, so I’ll lick and suck on your clit ’til you come at least two times. Then I’ll prop your hips up with one of those pillows -- it’s been a while for you, so this first time, I won’t take you on your knees. I’ll ease inside, slow and gentle until I’ve got all nine inches sheathed in your hot pussy.” His voice roughened. “Then I’ll fuck you ’til you scream and I swear to your god, Sara, if there’s even one minute left to our hour when we finish, I’ll fuck you again.”

Her hand was a vise around his aching cock, and Ruff had to pry it loose. “There you

have it: my fantasy. Now, I know you older, more genteel ladies find it hard to talk nasty, so I’ll make it easy for you. If you want me to fulfill your fantasy, just say, ‘Get the rolls.’ If you want to star in my fantasy, just say, ‘Get busy.’”

“Ruff?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She reached and squeezed his cock hard enough to make his eyes water. “Get busy!”

He was moving down her body before she finished speaking, cock so eager his pre-

come wet the front of his jeans. “Oh, baby, thank you! Thank you! You won’t regret this, sweetness.” His hands tugged on the sheet, steadily revealing her flushed body to his avid gaze. With a hungry groan, he noted the coarse curls between her thighs were already

glistening with her juices before he buried his head in her sweltering heat.

Goddess, she tasted good, her juices light and thin, but savory. Her clit was bigger than he’d expected, thick and fat and swollen. He slid two fingers into her tight folds as he sucked at it, desperate to know how much tenderizing he had to do before he could sink his stiff Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

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cock into her. Thank the Moon she was dripping, her tissue elastic enough to take every hard inch of his steel erection.

“Please, Ruff, get busy! Fuck me now!”

Dragging his mouth away from her enticing cunt, he reared up on his haunches,

undoing his jeans, and pushing them down. Goddess, he wished he had a camera. Sara looked gorgeous -- flushed and pink from his mouth, vibrant and aroused. All her shyness had disappeared as she gazed up at him, an unabashed woman, demanding fulfillment. He

couldn’t help teasing her. “Sara, I found those four lost pounds of yours.”

“Huh?”

He slid into her welcoming heat. “They’re right here!”

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Strawberry Tart

Kaila decided it was the fault of the dessert cart…and the strawberry tarts. The icing-dribbled pastry simply looked and smelled too good to be sitting there in the open, an invitation to break the rules.

She licked her lips. She could almost taste the hot, sugary-tart sweet, feel the crusty phyllo dough melting in her mouth…damn, her finicky appetite sat up and took notice at the divine smell. Unfortunately, they weren’t on her list of allowable foodstuffs this week so she’d be doing without.

She heard a moan and glanced over at the woman seated across the room from her. She

wasn’t the only one salivating over the taboo dessert. Poor Rosemary hadn’t taken her eyes off that cart since the kitchen staff rolled it in and returned to the kitchen, leaving it unguarded.

Personally, Kaila thought it mean of the trainers to have sweet contraband lying

around in plain view, tempting the clients with the sights and smells of forbidden treats.

Worse, the calorie-laden desserts weren’t forbidden to everyone, so an assorted few had to go through the agony of watching others enjoy what they craved.

She couldn’t say Rickard hadn’t warned her. Sated Pleasures was not solely about

weight loss. Some of the clients here were concerned about other things, like drug abuse or alcoholism, though for most, their weight also tended to be an issue, at least in their own heads. Those folk weren’t always on a restricted diet and could enjoy the world-class chef’s decadent delights.

Kaila thanked God her depressive urge to binge hadn’t manifested here. When

depressed and bingeing, she could strip that cart of all contents in under sixty seconds, flat.

Come to think of it -- and she had -- why hadn’t it hit?

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She bit her lip, glancing under her lashes at the man seated beside her, casually

perusing the business section of yesterday’s morning edition of the Wall Street Journal.