Up here, on Widow’s Hill, the air feels thinner. Wrong. I have my thick coat to protect me, but I still feel the chill. The old trees rustle and whisper secrets I’m not privy to. Their spider-thin branches look like emancipated limbs, stretching out to the bloated and seemingly sinister moon above their heads.
I’m beginning to regret my decision.
I’m a werewolf, so nothing should scare me much, but even shifters get the occasional shudder during a full moon. Rumors say it’s the night even the big-ass nasties and players of the supernatural come out—ghosts, demons, old gods, take your pick. I keep to the shadows, hoping to remain invisible. Hide, steal, and then disappear. That’s my goal.
The little yellow cottage on top of the hill slants a little to the side. It’s the perfect prop to any scary play, except it’s the real deal. So is the owner.
Most wolves in the Hardwood pack need to heed one warning. Every inch of land in our charming little town is ours, except this tiny bit. Widow’s Hill doesn’t belong to your average piss-in-your-pants kind of nightmare. It belongs to the Beast.
Long ago, the Beast had a name. Farmer Dall, the reclusive werebear who hid his face from the world after his supposedly hideous accident. Others say Dall made a bargain with a demon and can now speak to the dead. Some say he’s cursed and can’t stand sunlight. Either way, all the tales amount to the same thing. Stay out, or never see the light of day again.
So why am I trespassing on supposedly hunted property in wolf form you might ask?
I’m here for a pumpkin.
No, you heard right. I’m hunkering for a big, fat, juicy (I’m not quite sure if pumpkins are juicy, because I’ve never handled one) pumpkin. Perfect color, size, and taste—and Dall supposedly grows the best Cinderella pumpkin. Mr. Mysterious never shows his face in public, but he supplies his limited stock to the local farmer’s market.
Don’t ask me why the Beast likes growing pumpkins. I don’t know what his deal is. All I’m interested in are his goodies. He isn’t winning any brownie points for hoarding his treasures.
Why go through all that trouble you might ask?
It’s not like I’m a pie or baking enthusiast. Heck, I’m not even a passable cook, but I figure if I have the best ingredients, the rest would be easy as cake.
Every year, Hardwood hosts a Thanksgiving pie baking contest, and one of the judges used to be my former lover, werecougar David Meers. David broke my heart a month ago, sure. My friends tell me to move on. Find someone else, but I’m not the kind of guy that takes things lying down.
My in-built mate radar tells me David’s the one. For those who don’t know, we shifters come with metaphysical bells that ring the moment we find our mate. I like to think of them as wedding bells.
Dum dum da dum... Dum dum da dum...
God, David and I would look killer in identical pristine white tuxedoes, but let’s not get out of hand.
Some wolves say I’m kind of daft, the kind of guy that can’t take a hint. A little clueless, but screw that. I’m a doer, not a whiner, and I came here for one reason, even at the cost of my life.
I come prepared. Dall’s sure not to notice me, because I’m wearing an orange vest made for large dogs. That way, I can blend in with the environment, except, I’m sort of neon orange and brighter than the crop of the entire patch.
It’s too hard to shrug the vest off though. I approach a healthy and large looking pumpkin and sniff at it. I’m pretty much going at this blind. I mean, of course I’ve read a ‘how to’ guide, but reality is a different matter all together. Each of these damn things looks the same to me. Should I go for bigger and brighter?
My tongue rolls out and I lick at the skin of the nearest one. I growl under my breath. Nasty. I’m more of a meat kind of guy, but David’s a vegetarian. Damn it. I freeze when I hear the front door shoved open. No footsteps though.
What the fuck? Did I imagine that?
I raise my head, squint into the dark and cock my ears. The only light comes from the moon and the lighted yellow cottage. The wind howls. Those damn creepy trees make that rustling noise again. My hackles rise with trepidation. I sniff, but smell nothing but pumpkins and earth.
Should I just chuck a pumpkin into the net bag I sewed into my vest and scram?
My gaze locks down on the Cinderella pumpkin to my left. The rare pumpkin’s called that I hear, because they resemble the pumpkin Cindy’s godmother turned into a carriage. It’s sized perfectly. The color—pitch perfect. Heart thrumming with excitement, I lock my jaws delicately around the perfect little darling.
Then I hear it. A gun cocking, followed by a hair-raising growl. Even the atmosphere feels changed with the arrival of the Beast. It feels hotter, and the silence feels more damning, until the Beast speaks.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He practically spits out the words, the sound more animal than human. “Get off my property.”
I wheel around, about to bare my canines and snarl at the old mean recluse to fuck off, but I stop myself. Come to think of it, it’s a terrible idea. I’m not an incredibly powerful shifter, only a little better than mediocre. Picking fights I can’t win wouldn’t get me anywhere either. I freeze. Behold the Beast for the first time—and let me tell you this. Dall isn’t what I expected.
Towering at six-foot plus, Dall’s hard, pissed, and handsome as sin. He’s made entirely of muscle, toned, and golden. Intense blue eyes smolder with rage, but I see it. It’s only for a couple of seconds, but I saw the flicker of emotions pass through his face.
“Are you deaf, pup?” Dall growls.
I shake my head. Abandon my prize and begin sniffing at him. His scent teases my nostrils. The smell of pine, earth, soap and bear. I see his beast now, hiding underneath his human skin, looking less aggressive and more curious. Dall shoves the barrel between my eyes. A warning, but I’m not fooled.
I growl impatiently.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Dall demanded. Then he grows quiet. I wag my tail, wait for him patiently to connect the dots. The bear sure is slow. I’m beginning to forget why I came here in the first place. Hell. I can barely remember David’s face. Who needs a frisky cat, when bears are more cuddly, warm and cute?
“I smell your arousal, pup. Can it,” Dall hisses.
The need to form words and sass back makes me change to human. It occurs to me later on how non-threatening and ridiculous I look, wearing my orange vest and net. Dall raises an eyebrow, but I can tell he’s eyeing me up and down.
“Like what you see, handsome?” I wink.
Dall doesn’t look impressed. He snorts, and I can hear the disgust in his voice. “You would stoop so low as to pretend to seduce me, just to get one of my prized pumpkins?”
I sniff. “Excuse me? Maybe you’re the one lacking in the imagination department. Fine. I began as a pumpkin thief, but after meeting you, pumpkin’s the last thing on my mind.”
Dall grunts. “This isn’t worth my time. Get your pumpkin and don’t come back.”
“What are you, made of rock? Christ, dude. I’m flirting with you.” I point to my thickening erection. Crass move, I know, but Dall seems like the kind of guy who doesn’t get subtle. “Does this answer your question?”
Dall considers me for a moment. Then, he asks in a quiet voice, “son, be truthful with me. Are you a sex addict? Do you need me to call your pack, or some kind of sponsor?”
“What the fuck?” I can’t help myself. I completely lose it. Stalking up to Dall, I realize I have no clue what I’m doing. I press a finger into Dall’s chest. “Let’s get some things straight, buddy. First, don’t call me ‘son’. Second, I’m not a sex addict.”
Bolder now that Dall hasn’t reacted or said anything, I trail my hand lower. I trace the curve of his pectorals and his six-pack abs over the fabric of his flannel shirt. Before I can reach the visible bulge in his jeans, Dall grabs my hand, eyes narrowed. I don’t need to ask. I know Dall plays for the all-male team.
“Can’t you feel this? The heat between us?” I demand. I see his bear now and I’m sure Dall sees my wolf, sniffing and scenting a potential mate.
“You’re out of your mind. I must be hallucinating,” Dall mutters.
“Fine. I know one way to settle this. A kiss.”
“First you want my pumpkins, now you want a kiss? You’re a fucking demanding pup.”
“Why? Scared something might come out of this, or you simply don’t want to move on from the past?”
Dall’s face twists. “You know nothing about me, pup. You have no right making presumptions.”
I take a deep breath. “You’re right, of course.”
He’s still holding my hand, so I use the other and trace spherical circles on his hand, over the ink peering from his sleeves.
“Haven’t you ever thought about doing something reckless, something that makes no sense?”
After a moment, he says, “fine.”
I let out a surprised gasp as he bands an arm around my waist and pulls me close. My bare skin touches fabric and for some reason, I find that extremely erotic. Sexy even.
“Make sure you won’t regret this,” Dall warns.
“I won’t.” It’s all happening so fast.
My head’s spinning a little, but I don’t care. Dall presses a hand on the back of my neck, initiating intimacy. An eager moan slips from my lips. I like that. That bit tells me Dall likes being in control, and I like yielding to a man capable of bringing me to my knees. The same knowledge flashes through Dall’s eyes. Those amazing, unreal pupils turn a shade darker. Become more intense.
The game started out light-hearted, but I’m learning a second too late that Dall’s right. Once we start, I can’t stop. It’s free falling from here onwards. Before Dall even kisses me, I know I’m his. Not cocky arrogance, but certainty. We shifters come in-built with radars letting us know our mate is near. Mine’s ringing damnably loud right about now.
Dall mashes his lips against mine. He doesn’t do gentle or sweet. Dall’s all bite and teeth. God, do I like that. A lot. He runs his tongue over my bottom lip. Our tongues clash and tangle. Hands slide down to my waist, the curve of my ass and he presses me close. His jeans dig into my front, and I wonder if he can feel my hard-on pressing up against his belly.
My aching need and his out in the open—the truth he initially refused to acknowledge.
He prods his tongue between my lips and I open up so he can deepen his kiss. When we part, we’re both panting and out of breath.
“You’re going to be the death of me, pup,” Dall whispers.
“Clement. My friends call me Clem,” I say.
He hesitates. “Dall.”
“I know who you are.” I grin. Gesture to the full moon above me and I know Dall gets the gist.
The full moon isn’t just the lunar phase where all shifters feel the need to shed human skin and let their beast out. It’s also mating season, the time where werewolves can be wild, rowdy, and crazy and no one would blame them for it.
“I don’t know what you’re offering,” Dall says harshly. He’s about to pull away, but I grab his arm. I can tell it’s been long for him. Too long.
“I know. I’m an adult, Dall. I know what I want, and I want you.”
“Clearly, you don’t.”
I flinch, but don’t let that barb hurt me.
“Don’t.” I take a deep breath and let him hear the anger in my voice. “Don’t tease me like that and leave me hanging. Do you get off on that kind of thing?”
Dall snarls. “No. You know jack shit about me.”
“I know enough, like the fact I know you’re a decent enough guy to finish what you’ve started.”
Dall takes deep breaths and considers me seriously, like he’s looking at me for the first time. “Fuck, but you’re right.”
“Look, I’m not blackmailing you,” I begin.
“Aren’t you?”
I sniff, but continue, “If things don’t turn out well, we’ll part ways and never see each other again. Deal?”
Dall’s nostrils flare. I take that as agreement. This time when I make my approach, Dall doesn’t take a step back. He’s beginning to regard me like a predator eying its potential mate. That searing look sends a shiver down my spine. I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he tenses.
“Let me,” I say.
He lets me unbutton his shirt. I unveil firm planes and hard muscles from tough work. I take in his defined pectorals, the slight dusting of dark hair curling down his abs, and down to the V of his jeans. My mouth waters and I slide down to my knees. Place a kiss on the brickwork of his six-pack abs and a teasing one over the bulge in his jeans. Denim still obstructs his member, but I’ll free it from his prison soon.
He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine.
“Can’t remember the last time anyone looked at me like that.”
I smile. Dall threads his fingers though my hair and tugs. A moan spills out from my throat at the slight pain.
“Don’t forget, pup. I’m the one in control here.”
“Just the way I like it,” I whisper. My cheeks burn slightly at the admission, but Dall only smirks.
“Get on with it,” Dall commands.
I unbutton his jeans, unzip his fly, and yank his jeans down. Once they’re out of the way, his cock stares back at me–beautiful, long, and thick. Larger than anything I’ve taken.
“Regretting your decision?” Dall asks. He doesn’t sound disappointed. Only amused, as if he knows what I’m going to say next.
“No way in hell.” To make my point, I flick my tongue over the pre-cum gathered at his tip.
He grunts, nudges his member between my lips and I take him in. I gag at first, unused to the size of him, but he waits and I’m in motion again. I bob my head up and down, sucking him and savoring the musky taste of him. Once he hits the back of my throat, I pull back, take in air, and then go back in.
It doesn’t take long for him to growl, to tug hard at my hair. I understand what he wants. Heart thrumming with excitement, I keep my mouth open. Let Dall take control. He fucks my mouth with relish. Unapologetic. My own prick thickens. My balls draw in tight against my body at the sound of his shudder. Dall lets out a growl that echoes through the space. He begins to pull out of me, but I stubbornly close my mouth over his shaft.
Dall unloads his cum down my throat. I don’t spill a single drop, but I lick my lips after, giving him a suggestive look.
“Good little cocksucker.”
I blush, but don’t deny the compliment.
“Don’t think we’re done yet,” Dall says.
“We aren’t. You haven’t ridden me.
Dall scowls. “You have a dirty mouth on you, Clem.”
It’s the first time he says my name. A shiver creeps down my spine. Excitement makes me aware of every detail—the electricity between us, and Dall’s powerful form looking down at mine, expecting me to take whatever he decided to give. God, was I willing.
“Well?” I demand. I begin drawing circles on his left calf, and trace my way up his knee to his thigh. I blow at his member, delighted when it starts to harden.
“Where do you want me to take you?” Dall asks.
“I can pick?” I ask, surprised.
“Be reasonable,” Dall reminds me.
“What?” I ask, affronted. “What kind of pervert do you take me for?”
“The worse kind.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” I say, beaming. I don’t need to think long, because I have an answer ready. “Let’s do it.”
“Excuse me?” Dall looks startled.
“Fuck. Make love. Only appropriate, don’t you think? Besides, we shifters like fucking out in the open. Feel the dirt underneath us. Be all primitive.”
I don’t know what to expect. Dall to tell me I’m crazy or fucked-up, but instead his smile widens.
“You’ve got your wish, pup.”
The night air caresses my skin, raising my goosebumps. Up here on Widow’s Hill, we’re alone. Only the pumpkins and the stars watch us. It’s an erotic and sexy feeling. Behind me Dall follows and I grin, seeing the lube in his hand.
“Ever ready, are we?”
“On fours, pup.” The firm command in his voice makes me take position. I wiggle my ass him suggestively. He makes that laugh again. God. Dall should laugh more often, because it’s a damn nice sound.
Dall positions himself behind me. I spread my legs wide, angle my buttocks at Dall so he can see the goods. He delivers a playful smack, making me squirm. Then Dall reaches for my cock. I groan when he glides his fist up and down. I nearly come then, but he pulls away.
I ground my teeth in frustration.
“Behave,” Dall says.
Getting the gist, I wait patiently. Dall teases my puckered hole, before plunging one lubed finger in. I groan at the sensation. He slides in another, curls, and scissors me for his access.
“Please, Dall,” I shamelessly beg.
“Soon,” he promises. For a dominant shifter, Dall’s surprisingly a careful lover. Certain I’m ready, Dall grips my hips and nudges his cockhead in. I groan as he slides in with careful precision right past the thick ring of muscles, before sinking in hilt deep. Good Lord. That feels good. I will my ass muscles to clench tight around him.
“Fuck, pup. You’re so tight.”
“For you,” I manage to utter.
He lets out a satisfied rumble, and then begins to ride me. Dall’s thrusts begin slow, but he builds up speed. The pressure inside me continues to mount. Heat rams into my chest and thickening member. Dall shifts his hips and when he hammers into me, I let out a breathy gasp.
“Dall. Fuck,” are the only two words I manage, because Dall hits my sweet spot again and again until all I’m aware of is the dirt biting into my knees, the cool air against my skin and Dall pounding into me. Dall reaches for my shaft again, and begins pumping me in tune to his thrusts.
I explode into his fingers and scream. I see stars and dancing pumpkins. It doesn’t take long before Dall arrives and empties his load inside me. I’m not worried. We shifters can’t catch anything. I nearly fall off-balance, spent, but Dall easily catches me.
His strong arms are warm. Dall feels like a blanket as he brings me inside. I feel warm sheets moments later.
“I’m getting dirt on your bed,” I say.
“I’ll change the sheets tomorrow,” Dall says. I feel him moving around, and then feel him coming back with a washcloth. He cleans us both up, the gesture intimately tender. After, he joins me in bed, pulls me close against his chest, and I fall asleep at the sound of his even breathing.
We both fall into a dreamless sleep and wake up late afternoon the next day. Dall and I hunt a turkey to bake later. I skip the Thanksgiving pumpkin pie-baking contest completely. He teaches me to make one instead, using the Cinderella pumpkin I tried stealing from him the night before.
The End
––––––––
ABOUT JANE PERKY:
During the day, Jane is a teacher, wife, and mother. At night, Jane’s a scribbler of erotic gay romance. She can’t enough of demanding alphas, werewolves, and happily-ever-afters.
––––––––
If you enjoyed BAG THE BEAST, you might also enjoy:
––––––––
HIS ERRANT RUNT (HARDWOOD PACK 1)
Brian
There’s one runt in every litter, and unfortunately that’s me. I’m the blind and submissive Omega no one wants. All my life I’ve been told the same thing—that I’m not mate-worthy material. Ten years ago, I left home, not expecting to come back. Scarred and heartbroken, I went back to Hardwood, not expecting to see my crush Tyler. Tyler’s no longer the childhood friend I remembered. Domineering and possessive, Tyler is now the Alpha of the Hardwood Pack.
Tyler
I’ve waited ten long years for Brian and I’m done waiting. Now that the runt’s home, I intend to claim him, make him mine and never let him go.
Coming Soon!
To stay up to date on Jane’s releases, join her mailing list at:
https://tinyletter.com/authorjaneperky