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Janine
I’m staring out the window in tears when there’s a knock on the door.
“Lord Piovra asking permission to enter,” a man with a thick voice announces. I wipe the tears from my face, and gather the silk robe tighter around me. I’ll be damned if I let him see the slightest sign of weakness.
“Let him in.”
Lorenzo enters the room, his hands clasped together hidden inside the loose black sleeves of his robe, looking like a young priest with a pretty face and the deranged eyes of a serial killer. I lift my chin to show that I’m not scared of him, but I wonder why Conan doesn’t make his appearance. He promised he wouldn’t ever leave me alone with Lorenzo Piovra.
“I wanted to apologize, Janine,” he says. “It was tactless of me, going about things the way I did. I thought maybe you’d like something warm to drink, help you relax and maybe forgive and forget.” He makes room for a man to enter carrying in a tray with a vintage tea kettle and two cups on saucers.
“I’ll have some tea with you, if you don’t mind my company.” He smiles, trying to look friendly. “That way you’ll be sure I haven’t put anything in your drink. Conan surely taught you not to accept anything from me, at least not when he’s not there.”
I glance to the inside door separating my room from Conan’s.
“Wondering why he’s not here, I presume,” Lorenzo says as he heads to the balcony, where the man sets his tray on the small round table with the wrought iron chairs. “He managed to sneak out of the palazzo, surely to defy me. I reminded him that you were both my guests when he left the dining salon, so I guess he’s making a point.” He stands by the balcony table fixing me with a Machiavellian grin. “I guess he didn’t foresee that I’d use the chance to speak to you alone, without him intruding all the time. Besides, there are things I think you should know about him. Please, take a seat.” He holds a chair for me, everything in his attitude showing I don’t have a choice.
With one glance behind me at his men that have flooded my chamber, I take the seat.
“These pretty little Venetian balconies make me think of Romeo and Juliet,” Lorenzo says as he pours tea in my cup before he pouring his. Even his voice has become a shade more cutting, hinting at an unstable personality. Makes me think this is a man given to bouts of rage that he glosses over like a psycho. “Have you ever been in love, Janine? Really now, between you and me. Was there ever someone you particularly liked?”
“Years ago, in college. But then...”
“Yes?”
I might as well tell him. “Then I grew up, Lorenzo. I realized that falling in love went hand in hand with low self-esteem. If I fall in love with someone it means that person has traits that I admire, and I feel that I can make those traits mine if I merge with the person. An illusion, a mirage that disappears once you understand it.”
I sip. Lorenzo sits frozen with his own cup in his hand, lips slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed as if he’s pondering on what I just said.
“Huh,” he eventually says. “So you don’t believe in love.”
“I believe in love in its pure, godly form, if you will. In the love you can feel for any creature, the kind of love that doesn’t have to do with sex. To make it clearer, if the feeling is dependent on sexual closeness, then it’s one’s own complexes and bad self-image working. And hormones.”
“Aha. So then you’re not in love with Conan Wolf either?”
I burst into laughter, but only because he put his finger right on the wound. “Now why would you think that?”
He shrugs, sipping his tea, looking out at the canal as a gondola passes under the lovers’ bridge nearby. I would probably be completely taken with the atmosphere if I weren’t so tense about this discussion with this deranged-looking guy, feeling the glares of all his men.
“He’s a werewolf, our Conan,” he says. “A particularly sexy one, I must admit. Huge, dangerous, the bad-boy every woman would want to tame.”
“Women would want to tame him just to prove their own worth. Which is my point exactly.”
“So that’s why you’re so resilient to werewolf charm. Because you know the inner psychological workings of falling in love, and won’t fall prey to them?”
“I like to think so, yes.”
“That’s why I wasn’t successful in charming you, either—because, admittedly, I’ve tried.”
“I can’t say I haven’t noticed.”
Lorenzo laughs out loud, the people strolling on the bridge stopping short to place the sound.
“You’re a piece of work, Janine. I’ve never met a woman like you before.”
“You have centuries of life experience, and that is the best line you can come up with?”
He snaps at me over the table, making me flinch. Fuck, look at those eyes, his nose furrowing like that of an attacking dog. “You decided you were going to hate me since before you met me, didn’t you? And not because of the few books of psycho shit you read, but because Conan created a certain image of me.”
“I don’t hate you.” I clasp my hands on my lap under the table, my shoulders tense. “But I don’t trust you either. Please don’t take it personally. It’s not like I like or trust Conan, either. His brothers Nero and Drago, maybe, but not him.”
Lorenzo frowns, interested. I got him. “Why not Conan?”
“Nero and Drago are more, I don’t know, humane. Conan is a brute. His feelings are reduced to instinct. His sense of duty towards his family and his people is noble, and I can appreciate that about him, but that’s also instinctual.”
“So you think that, unlike his brothers, he’s more beast than man?”
“I don’t know if that’s the right way to put it. But he’s harder, much more difficult to move.”
“That’s because Conan has spent over half of his existence in wars, Janine. He’s a soldier, a killer. Drago was a gigolo and a cage fighter, Nero a strategist and a businessman, but Conan did the real dirty work. All his life he fought and killed, it’s all he’s ever known.”
“Wow. And I thought you hated his guts. If only he could hear you now, taking his side.”
“I hold no love for the man, I’ll tell you that, but I do respect him. Still, I think it’s a good idea for you to keep emotionally clear of him. It’s actually what I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry I exposed you like that in front of Conan, regarding the men in your life.”
I look down at my hands. I feel guilty for what happened to those men.
“Is there any way I can help them?”
“If there is, that isn’t the reason I invited you here.”
I snort. “Finally, you’re painfully honest.”
“And I’m only just starting.” He reaches over the small round table and grabs my arm. I glance from his grip to his face with an outraged look on mine, but it doesn’t impress him.
“Janine, Fated Females are special in themselves, but I believe you’re even more special than most because you have a superpower—You. Can. Make. Werewolves. I don’t know if you realize how huge that is.”
For a few moments I just stare at him, wrapping my mind around his point.
“If I had that effect on those men it was because I slept with them, Lorenzo. What are you saying, that you want me to sleep with more, make more of them?”
“I want you to sleep with more, and I want you to do it often, because apparently once isn’t enough to finalize the process.”
I jump up from the chair, grabbing its wrought iron back, ready to throw it at this monster. “You son of a bitch. You want to make a whore out of me?”
“Calm down, please, I haven’t told you everything yet.”
“What could you possibly still have to say?”
“Before we even think about making werewolves, I want to imprint on you, Janine.”
“What the fuck!” Blood burns my cheeks. “Really, how far can you go?”
“If I imprint on you,” he continues, “then all the werewolves that you make will be members of my pack, they would listen to my orders.”
“Because, as your mate, I would be under your command, right?”
“I suppose you can say that.”
“And you think you could share me like that? If what the Wolf brothers told me is true, imprinting on a woman means you fall madly in love with her. You can’t even think about another man merely looking at her naked, let alone touch her.”
“Yes, but this is the greater good that’s at stake. Taking down The Reaper, creating an army so great and so powerful that he won’t stand a chance against it.”
“Jesus, then how many men do you want me to sleep with?”
“As many as necessary.” The coldness in his eyes and in his voice is alarming, the man is deranged. Standing here on this little Venetian balcony, feeling those cold, madman’s eyes on me, my skin crawls. I realize the kind of danger I’m in, and how this man could destroy my body and my soul.
“Go to hell,” I throw in his face, and turn to the room, pushing his men aside. Surprisingly, they let me pass and stomp to my luggage that’s lying open by the wardrobe.
“What are you doing, Janine?” Lorenzo asks half amused as he steps inside after me, moving slowly as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. I fear he may have ways in place to keep me here against my will. Actually, what did I expect? Conan warned me, didn’t he?
“I’m getting Conan. We’re getting out of here.”
“I told you, Conan isn’t at the palazzo. He’s gone out.”
“He’ll find me, no matter where I am in Venice. He’ll catch my scent.”
“If you do that, you’d be placing yourself in the hands of a bigger monster than me.”
“Maybe. But he would never ask me to become his whore to pass around.”
“No, he would probably rip those men’s flesh off of their bones and eat it. And it wouldn’t even be the first time he’d be doing it.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“You really don’t know much about him, do you? He hasn’t told you much about himself.”
“Just get to the point already.” I stand to face him, exasperated. The amusement in his face drives fear into my bones. This man can hurt me with information alone, he doesn’t even need to get physical. He’s diabolical.
“It’s true, what you sensed. Conan is more animalistic than his brothers, more beastly. And that’s because of all his war experience. He’s a werewolf, strong and resilient, but even werewolves can get PTSD, especially after witnessing so much pain and misery, after losing comrades in battle, seeing them split open right before their eyes and not being able to do anything about it. Centuries ago, Conan was part of a particularly vicious war that led to famine. Stuck in the ruins of a prison town in the cold plains of Russia, Conan and a few others had to survive without food for weeks. In the end, they had no choice but to eat the dead bodies of their comrades, wolves and men. Can you imagine that, Janine? Can you imagine your protector, Conan Wolf, tearing the flesh of his comrades off of their bones with his fangs, a huge brown monster crouched over massacred bodies.”
“Stop.” I whip around, hiding my face, but Lorenzo continues to advance until I can feel his breath on the side of my face as he brushes my hair behind my ear.
“Do you think a man like that can still have feelings, Janine? To be honest, I don’t think there’s a human bone left inside him—well, metaphorically speaking.”
I remember the intimacy Conan and I shared a few nights ago.
“There was warmth in him,” I whisper. “It was there, radiating from his heart to mine, I felt it, even if only for a moment.”
“Ah, there it is,” Lorenzo whispers satisfied in my ear. “That thing you claimed didn’t exist, at least not for you—infatuation.”
“I’m not infatuated with him.”
“Then why do you insist on seeing the good in him? Why plead for the warmth in his heart?” He pauses, and I realize he must be putting two and two together. “I see. You desire him, and you like to believe he desires you back. Well, I’m sorry I have to disappoint you in this respect as well, Janine.”
His arms circle me from behind, bringing the tablet from before between us. My skin crawls at his touch, as I feel his body pressed against my back, but then something worse happens. He shows me a picture that wrenches my heart.
It’s Conan, I recognize him by his big muscular back, even though he’s wearing a hoodie. He has on the same dark jeans from earlier this evening, tight on his muscular thighs, and the same boots. He’s talking to a masked prostitute who’s exposing her tits to him under a red light. The next few pictures show frames of the same scene.
“This was taken less than an hour ago.”
“Your men followed him?”
“No, but my men are everywhere in Venice. And all of them recognize Conan Wolf when they see him, the carrier of The Reaper’s weapon.”
“The Reaper’s weapon.” I lick my parched lips, trying hard to pull myself together. “What is this weapon?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
“You’ve already shared so many secrets with me. Why not this one?”
“Because it’s a terrible one.”
“As terrible as his cannibalizing people?”
“Yes.”
He takes distance from me, my back now cold in the breeze of the Venice night.
“Think about my proposition, Janine,” Lorenzo says from the door. “Oh, and it might help to know that Conan Wolf has been removed from your service—I instructed my guards not to let him back into the palazzo no matter what.”
“What?” I turn around. “Don’t you dare, Lorenzo Piovra.”
“You have until tomorrow morning to make your decision, Janine—let me imprint on you and help me build an army that will free Darkwood Falls and the entire world from the serpents forever.”
“I don’t need until tomorrow—it’s a freaking no!”
“Don’t rush. Take into consideration that, in case you refuse, I will have no more use for you than I do for Conan Wolf.” He pauses enough for me to understand the death threat. “By the way, if he does make it back to you past the barriers I set up for him, it would be advisable to turn him away. It is very possible that he’ll try to imprint on you and therefore render you useless to me. Know that, if this happens, I will kill you on sight. Besides, don’t forget he’d be doing it for his own selfish purposes.” He waves the tablet at me. “Mask and tits under a red light. What was that you said about the warmth you felt from him?”
With that he exits my room, his men trailing after him. The door falls shut and I stare at it for moments. When I finally grasp what just happened, everything playing like a rapid movie before my eyes, I collapse on the floor, crying hard. Many people have tried to break me in my life, but I’m afraid Lorenzo Piovra might just succeed.
***
Janine
MY EYES HURT AS I STARE out into the dawn. I haven’t looked into the mirror, because what’s the point, but I know I must look like shit. I’m wearing the same night robe as yesterday, and I don’t plan on changing. I can already hear the echo of Lorenzo’s men up the stairs, and I know he’s coming for my decision.
I’ve spent the night imagining all the ways his proposition would destroy me. I’ve met forced prostitutes in my life, and many came to feel so worthless they became suicidal. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any different for me.
Lorenzo appears in the doorway. I can only see his shape from the corner of my eye, my mouth distorting as I swallow my disgust. He waits there for a few moments, expecting my decision. I finally turn, glaring at him with all the hatred I’m capable of, but I don’t say anything.
“So it’s a no after all,” he says, feigning disappointment. He steps inside the room, hands behind his back like a pondering wise man. “You know what’s funny, Janine, that you actually thought you had a choice.”
“Don’t I?” I cried so much my voice sounds like a crow’s. Lorenzo faces me with those pale blue eyes, a slight smile on his face that doesn’t do anything to hide his readiness to hurt me if he has to.
“I need you Janine,” he says. “I won’t be able to do this without you, so I can’t really afford to offer you a choice.”
“I’d rather die than sleep with a whole army of men.”
“Come on, would it really be so different from what you were doing in secret on your nights outside of Darkwood Falls?”
I fill my stare with all the contempt I feel for him. “I slept with a few guys over the course of ten years, and you think that means I could sleep with just anybody?”
“Come on, Janine, you make it sound a lot worse than it is. First of all, after the imprinting ceremony you’ll be loved beyond your wildest dreams. I will give you my heart, I’ll love you completely and madly. Building the army is going to be as devastating to me as it will be to you.”
“You don’t have a heart to give, you son of a bitch.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, please, my mother doesn’t have anything to do with this.” He approaches me, lifting my chin up so that we look into each other’s eyes. “This means more to me than you know, and I’ll prove it. I’ll make our first experience together special.”
I spit in his face, right here in front of his men. “If this is gonna cost me my soul,” I say under my breath, “then I’ll make sure it costs you your image, you narcissistic bastard.”
Lorenzo’s pretty boy features harden, showing his anger, and I half expect him to slap me. But he just turns his back to me, commanding his people something in Italian.
A couple of women enter the room, both from the fashion industry from the look of them. I struggle, determined to resist and not let them make me look appealing to that monster Lorenzo, but one of his men slings me over his shoulder, carrying me to the bathroom and dropping me into the bathtub. My screams and struggles are met with blank faces and a hard grip on my jaw and hands. By the time I exit the room in a long white silk dress, and smelling like a rose as if it were my wedding day, I have bruises around my wrists and on my neck. I guess it’s not gonna bother Lorenzo, though.
He’s crazy if he thinks I’ll give in without a fight. As they escort me down to the canal underneath the palazzo and to the gondola I make plans in my head, picturing all the ways I can make Lorenzo’s life a living hell after he imprints on me. It’s only a little while after my gondola has taken a turn and drifted onto a dark canal that I realize that something’s wrong.
I turn around, looking up at the gondolier, a female with olive complexion. Italian, I would say. She’s young, not wearing any make-up, but a hood over her head, her dark eyes fixed on a point in front of her.
A chill enwraps me as I look around at the decaying palazzos. We must be in a less frequented part of Venice. The waters seem colder, and the walls retain more chill, because they’re unrenovated, and in ruin. I recognize the corner with the red light, but when I turn to ask the woman for an explanation it’s no longer her that I see. It’s Conan. The gondola has reached a set of stone stairs, and he’s reaching out to help me.
“Come on,” he whispers, and I take his hand, forgetting all my grievances with him and happy beyond belief that he saved me from Lorenzo.
The first thing he does when I’m up on the dock is touch a finger to my lips, hushing me before I can open my mouth to speak, placing the other hand on the small of my back. I let him guide me inside what seems to be a bustling renaissance pub, or more like a brothel. Half-naked men and women with masks on their faces and drinks in their hands mingle with each other, their laughter mixing with the music.
Conan guides me to a small room at the very back of the establishment, a room that hookers must use with their clients, judging by the bed with silks and velvets, cushions, and side table with oils and perfumes. He closes the door and turns around, pushing the hood off his head.
Relief drains the blood from my head and I collapse to the floor, covering my face with my palms and sobbing hard. The floorboards shake under Conan’s steps as he walks to me, clasping my shoulders and pulling me up into his arms.
“What the hell, Conan.” I beat his chest. “Why the fuck did you leave me alone at Lorenzo’s palazzo, why did you leave me behind in that monster’s claws?”
“I can explain.” His deep voice vibrates against my hands as I unclasp my fists and splay my fingers over his boulder-hard pectorals, greedy for the reassurance that he is really here.
“You.” I sniffle. “You left me in order to go and fuck a hooker. But Lorenzo took the chance and came to my room, said things, did things.”
He clasps my arms, bringing me up on my toes, forcing me to look into his reddish eyes. The scar running down his face makes him look like a killer who’s just spotted his target. “Did things? What did he do to you?”
Crying like crazy I tell him all about last night with Lorenzo, the things he said and what he planned to do with me. When I’m finished I’m sitting on the bed, wretched and sniffling, Conan standing in front of me, looking like he could tear Lorenzo’s head off his shoulders.
“And you couldn’t protect me,” I cry out. “You weren’t there. You were here, with a hooker, and his men saw you and took pictures.”
He roars and punches the wall, making me flinch and lift my knees up to protect myself. My mouth pops open as I look at the hole he just left in the wall. Jesus Christ, his fist actually broke through the bricks into the next room.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
Conan kneels in front of me, grabbing my waist and pulling me close. God, his fist is bloody.
“Lorenzo just tried to come between us. It was not what it looked like with that woman. But that bastard will stop at nothing to imprint on you, Janine. He’ll hunt you down your entire life if he has to, you won’t be safe from him till the day you die.”
“And what do you suggest that I do? Because, I’d rather die than ever be with that bastard.”
He presses his eyes shut as if the idea hurts him. “Don’t say that, please. For as long as he stalks you I will be shadowing you, shielding you from him. But that will have to come at a price.”
I give him a bitter smile. “Of course. Letting you imprint on me, isn’t it, that’s the price? He said you might try something like this.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think I do. Now that you know what I’m worth, you’re reconsidering your decision of never imprinting. All for your own selfish reasons, just as Lorenzo predicted.”
“Janine, I don’t have to imprint on you. But I will have to protect you from him at all times, meaning that this time you’ll have absolutely no privacy left. I’ll never let what happened yesterday happen again.”
“It wouldn’t have happened yesterday either if you’d been there,” I snap at him, ready to cry and put more blame on him, but he cups my face with his big rough palm, looking deeply into my eyes as if he can feel my pain.
“I had to leave, and I had to do what I’ve done. It was part of the plan.”
“Argh,” I cry out in frustration, trying to slap his hand from my face but it doesn’t move him at all. “Part of the plan, seeing a hooker under a red light? You can’t fool me, Conan, because I saw the pictures. I saw you standing close to her, your chest touching her naked tits.” I bring my face to his, the heat of rage radiating off my skin. “You say you’ll be my bodyguard forever? I’m afraid I have to disappoint you on that one, because I made a different decision. As soon as I meet another werewolf, one who isn’t Lorenzo Piovra, one of his men, or one of your brothers, I’m gonna let him imprint on me. I’ll give myself to someone else, Conan, so neither you nor Piovra will win this war.”
Conan’s hand hardens, his rough palm scraping my cheek as it slides to the back of my head, sinking into my hair and grabbing a fistful.
“And how long do you think your new werewolf lover would survive after he’s tasted you?”
“If you killed him, I’d die too, wouldn’t I? Imprinting makes the female love so binding that she’d die for her mate, Arianna and Princess told me that.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t let you die, you see. I’d tie you up in a cottage deep in the woods where no one would find us. Where no one could ever take you away from me.”
He tugs my hair just a little, but I can feel all the strength that he’s holding back. The hole in the wall stands witness to just how much damage the hand fisted in my hair can do. But then Conan takes over my mouth, and I stop thinking.
He lays me back on the bed, his hand cupping my head as he pushes his tongue into my mouth, forcing my lips apart. Oh, God, is he trying to imprint on me against my will?
I struggle under him and he lifts his body off me, looking me in the eyes. He’s between my legs, his rock hard manhood pushing against my folds through his jeans and the flowing fabric of my almost-wedding-dress.
“Conan, look at me. If you make me yours, it will be against my will.”
He pushes his cock harder against me, my legs parting more, my knees emerging from under the folds of my gown.
“I wouldn’t dream of taking you against your will,” he breathes. “I will make you beg for it.”
He claims my mouth in a deep kiss, his fingers splaying in my hair.
“Your hair is so silky,” he says gruffly.
“Conan, stop.” I try not to pant, but as he goes down, kissing my neck, then trailing down my chest, my judgement clouds. He parts the sides of my dress with his fingers, then cups my breasts with those big rough palms that could crush rocks.
“Ah,” he breathes, his eyes closed as he takes in the sensation of my flesh filling the palms of his hands.
“Don’t you touch me like that after you had your hands on that hooker,” I protest, pushing him away and starting to kick my legs. He grabs my wrists, doing nothing but accept my rage, but his now blood-red irises betray the dangerous thoughts in his head.
“If you think that I betrayed you,” he says, “punish me.” He pulls my wrists to the side, my naked chest bumping into his abs, rock-hard under the black hoodie.
“Use me,” he says in a gruff voice that works like a drug in my head. He goes down, still keeping his grip on my wrists, and buries his head between my legs.
All I can see is the dark hood over his head as his muscular shoulders slip under my thighs and his hard mouth touches me between my legs. The sensation courses through me and I moan, trying to pull away, but he pushes his face harder into my pussy.
There’s nowhere I can go, now at the mercy of his lips and his tongue as his hands keep me pinned down to the bed. He slides his tongue between my folds, right over my clit. My thighs clench, which tells him he’s just hit the sweet spot. I groan, expecting him to go down on me viciously, forcing the pleasure on me, but then surprise.
He goes slowly, teasing, making me push myself to his mouth and plead for more with my whole body.
“Do you want me to stop now?” he says against my creamed folds.
“You know I don’t.”
He kisses my pussy passionately, as if fueled by my words, and I arch from my waist, giving myself to him. “Ah, please let me cum, and get it over with.”
“Janine.” He moves up my body until his face is right above mine. God, he drives me crazy with his looks, a mercenary with a scarred face and blood-red eyes. Determined to make me his. He pins my wrists beside my head as his need-filled gaze pierces me. “Back in Nice you promised me something. You offered to do whatever I asked of you when we came here, to Venice, remember that?”
“What are you getting at?”
“The time has come for you to deliver on that bargain. And this is what I’ll have of you—use me for your pleasure. Take from me what you want, make me your slave. But make me your slave forever.”
“What the hell are you saying?” I breathe, searching his eyes, the eyes of a madman.
“I won’t be your bonded mate, if you don’t want that. But through our union, I’ll become your bonded servant. In all ways. Think about it. I’ll do your every bidding, I’ll even kill for you.”
“I would never command you to kill anyone—”
“No? Not even Lorenzo, for what he did to you?”
I can’t deny I’d love to see Conan’s huge fist shattering Lorenzo’s psycho face.
“That would still mean that you imprint on me.”
His knuckles go white as his grip tightens on my wrists. “You don’t understand, Janine. You will never be with another man anyway. You either accept me, or you’ll remain single forever, because I’ll kill any man who ever gets close to you.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t, not when he’s got this look on his face. He will follow through with his promise, I can see it.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Janine,” he whispers. He bends down to my cheek and kisses me right under my ear, the soft touch sending delicious prickles all over my skin. “I didn’t imprint on you in France, and yet my feelings are spinning out of control.” He keeps kissing my jaw and neck gently as he talks, but I can feel that he’s holding back ardent desire to do more. “I could stare at you for hours, days, weeks, a lifetime without getting tired of it.”
“You don’t mean that. Nobody ever means that.” I whisper.
“My brothers feel that way about your friends. They are the living proof, wouldn’t you say?” He face hovers over mine. God, how can I resist him when he looks at me like that?
“I will take you, Janine.” His breath touches my face as he begins grinding his big hard cock against my folds. He brings my wrists together above my head, pinning them in one hand, while the other lifts my gown, searching for my nakedness.
“Ah, you’re so smooth.” His fingers stroke over my naked creamed flesh, his moves harder, more urgent. “And all mine.”
I pant as he pumps me without entering me, my most private parts exposed to him while his jeans are still on. It makes me feel so vulnerable, at the whims of a beast.
“I’ll have you deliver on our bargain from Nice now, Janine. You’ll let me enter you, and use me for your pleasure.”
I don’t find it in myself to protest when he frees his erection. I look down at the engorged purple head of his manhood before he pushes it inside of me, causing me to arch my back and my mouth to open.
Ache and pleasure mix, butterflies exploding in my stomach. Conan Wolf’s big hard cock slides between my slick walls, filling me. Someone pinch me, because I can’t believe this is actually happening, at least not until the door flies open and a giggling couple stumbles in.
My head snaps to the side towards them, but I still can’t emerge from the euphoric state I’m in. Conan pumps me harder and harder as if nothing happened, as if he doesn’t even perceive them. The woman’s tits hang out of her cleavage like the woman’s I saw in the picture with Conan, and the man is wearing a mask that covers only his eyes, so the expression of their faces is fully exposed to me.
Those pictures Lorenzo showed me of Conan and the hooker return in flashes, ravaging my heart. I struggle under Conan, but his clasp on my wrists only becomes firmer as he fucks me harder. He doesn’t mind the intruders who can’t seem to take their eyes off of us.
I stop struggling under him, taking in the ache and pleasure of his huge cock inside of me, staring fascinated at his transformation. It doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s shifting into a werewolf as he fucks me, and my want for him picks up like whirlwind. His muscles burst out through his hoodie, shattering the fabric as dark brown fur sprouts out all over him, his face morphing into that of a devil from renaissance paintings, not really like an animal, and yet so much like a beast.
I’m being taken like a princess bride by a huge, muscular beast that’s driving his cock deep inside me, which feels so dirty and yet heavenly. I can’t fight the build-up of pleasure inside of my body, I rejoice in feeling his claws on my wrists, his bright eyes on me, his beastly lips curling over metallic fangs as he spills his seed inside of me. His huge cock pulses against my slick walls as he cums, groaning through his dangerous fangs.
I twist my hands to grab his claws, not caring that I cut myself on them, and cum hard around him, giving him my essence, surrendering myself to him like an offering on an altar. And he enjoys it, he takes it in with greedy eyes as he gives me pleasure that shakes my entire body.
By the time he falls exhausted on the bed to my side, morphing back into a human, a naked one with glistening muscles from the exertion and the pleasure, I’ve forgotten about the intruders. Until the man whispers, “What the fuck.”
I sit up, startled, just in time to see the woman turn to the man, take his masked head between her hands and say, “Sight be blind, never cast behind, this moment fades into the twilight veils.”
The man’s limbs turn mellow and he falls to the ground. The woman’s eyes meet mine. My mind is ravished after the wild love-making with a werewolf, but still clear enough to understand she’s a witch. One who knows about werewolves, and who’s just hexed her client into forgetting all about it.