This is a short serial installment.
All werewolf packs need a sexual outlet. For south Florida’s Red Wolf pack, the sexy, liberated and infertile werewolf Lorena is it.
Not your average Were, Lorena satisfies the males like no other wolf can. But as much as she enjoys her role as pack mistress, she longs for something she’s never had. A mate she can call her own…
To buy all eight installments in one collection for just $5.49, go here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AUYGVB8. This is a 30-page installment of a serial novel. It contains adult language and situations that could make some uncomfortable.
I’d felt his hot, moist breath on my ear before he uttered a word. But the fact that he could get that close to me without my hearing him approach was disconcerting. I turned, just about losing my balance when I realized how close he was, and tried to move back some—but not enough to press my body against his painting. Facing the person behind the voice, I saw a tall man, deeply tanned, with light brown hair and eyes as brown as a deer’s hide. He wore a black T-shirt and stylishly distressed jeans with combat boots. He was thin and muscular with a thick, corded neck that I briefly had an urge to gnaw on.
“You called me wolf?” I asked.
He closed his eyes and leaned toward me, then drew in a long breath through his nose. My nipples hardened at his closeness.
“I called you wolf. I should have called you mistress.” He whispered it, like a lover whispers praise right before orgasm, and I shuddered involuntarily.
By this time, I knew he was a wolf. No one else would be able to smell it on me, much less known what the hell it was they smelled. I could have sniffed him to identify him as such, but frankly, I was worried about the reaction my traitorous body would have if I did. As the mistress for my pack I was automatically ready to please all its male members, but I was not biologically predisposed to be attracted to members of other packs. This was some sort of evolutionary safety valve to protect against diluting the bloodlines of a pack, but it was epically failing me.
Somehow I found my voice. “I have to go.” But I made no movement to actually do so.
He came closer, forcing me to press against the painting behind me. “Where are you going to go, little wolf? Your scent is all over Sally’s desk. You’re the new assistant, aren’t you? How in the world did you get your alpha to go for that? Oh, wait, I think I know.” His hand snaked out from his side and rested on my hip. After a moment there it slithered up my body, following every curve. I started shaking and trembling and wishing he would just keep touching.
“Poor little wolf. She wants things. Can’t help but wonder why she wants things she can’t have.” He moved his hand from where it rested beside my breast and my body involuntarily jerked from the shock of losing the contact. It was like my core temperature plummeted eighty degrees and I lost the support of one of my legs. All I kept thinking was, More. I want more touching.
About Evelyn Lafont
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Published December 28, 2013
by Helios Media, Inc..
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.