A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Love is Noise | March 10, 2010

I held my own pretty nicely against The Manhattan Maen matriarch and head D’arenberg Alpha.

I wasn’t exactly, thrown to the wolves so to speak at dinner. She proved to be a hard-ass who was of course, rather protective of her son and his interests. Romantic and otherwise.

But Paris is a big boy and he runs his own life and he wasn’t afraid to pull her back when he thought she was overstepping her mark with me.

Between him playing referee and me not whimpering and backing down like an animal being preyed upon, we put on quite a show of defiance that entertained both his father and brother. Who politely chuckled their way through dinner behind raised hands and ducked heads.

Because of too much red wine, we ended up staying over. Has to be a good sign, that they drank the wine I bought. Right?

Paris got into a rather hushed and heated argument with his mother about our sleeping arrangements. She said I was going to sleep in the guest room, Paris said I was more than a guest and would sleep with him in his room. His mother then pulled out the old “this is my house” rule. Paris replied that if I slept in the guest room, he would sleep there with me. I was his packmate and his mother needed to respect that and that we are adults and will be sleeping together, in the same bed.

I could hear her say “Packmate? Don’t you think that’s a little strong a term to use, on her?”

“No, it’s not.” Paris fired back at her.

I of course, eavesdropped out of view, spying on the whole clashing of wolf egos.
Alpha’s are known to have a wicked temperament, and the more of them you put together in strained circumstance, the more explosive it can get.

We ended up staying in his old room. Together.
As I pulled off my top, and dropped it on the dresser drawer, Paris stilled, looking at me through dark and hungry eyes.

The way he stills is incredible. I mean, it’s like barely breathing. He goes into this ‘mode’ of stillness. It’s perfectly controlled and uniquely skilled. Not many could be so subtle and still project presence that consumes your conciousness.

I could never feel scared of that look, the one that says he’s turned predator and going hunting for me. It ignites a flame inside me. Makes my skin, heat up and my mouth goes dry in anticipation of what’s coming my way, because of him.

He was half undressed, his tie was off, his shirt untucked and undone, as he stood, breathing evenly, just watching me. His eyes tracked the movement of my hands as I slid down my skirt over my hips, stepping out of the material on the ground.

I was slow, and deliberate in my movement. As I stood on the opposite side of the bedroom, around the far side of the bed between us, in my boots and black see through underwear with purple ribbon edging.

“New?” He asked me softly, his eyes dropped lower and back up to my breasts again.
“I like.” He murmured as if distracted by the sight of lingerie wrapping my body was a tasty treat, he had yet to sample.

He crooked a finger at me, indicating I should go to him. I walked around the bed to him. He let out a soft rush of air, and sighed as he ran his nose up along the side of my neck, right under my hair line. My breasts pushed into his chest, slowly pushing against him as I tried to breathe calmly while my pulse raced.
His lips kissed my shoulder, his hands pulled at the bra straps, ever so delicately, like the material was a caress ghosting over my skin, alerting my skin to prickle it tightly, aware of what I was getting into with him.

His head dipped and his lips sucked my brazenly exposed skin and I gasped as his tongue played. Running his shape shifted fangs over me, ever-so-lightly. Werewolf fangs, can be even more sensitive to sensation, through sex, than human teeth. So it was a win, win for both of us, that he was using them on me.

He walked me backwards till my knees hit the edge of the bed and we fell down onto it. Paris moved over me, those hands unhooking the sides of my knickers and pulling them down my legs, over my boots, until the skimpy material was flung aside. Wouldn’t want it to get in the way. Fingers, slid along soft skin and causing me to moan lightly. Which caused him to lift his head and look into my eyes.

“We’re going to play a little game of who can be the loudest.” He trailed his tongue around my nipple.
I groaned out loud.

“I think you can be louder than that.”

“Oh really?” I asked a little breathlessly as he moved those fingers in heated skin and my body filled with a sudden need for more. My breath rushing out in a gasp at his touch.

“Yes, I want everyone in this house, to know exactly what we are doing in here. What I’m doing to you. Consider your goal achieved when Wiatt bangs on the wall next door to us and tells us to keep it down.”

I started to laugh but the sound fell off my lips as his mouth started tasting me. He raised my leg up high, running a hand over my boot and grabbing the high heel of it. Using it as a handle to direct my leg where he wanted it. Above his head, in the air seemed like a good place.

My head tilted back and my mouth opened to greet the rest of the night before us.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine


Leave a Comment »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

    Arrooo! Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 464 other followers

    Follow A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn on WordPress.com

    Search for posts

    Blog Stats

    • 49,468 hits