A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

So Much For The After Glow

October 16, 2014
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I look at the apartment keys in my hand and wonder if I should use them. Then I chide myself internally for being a chicken-shit. I was issued with an ultimatum of sorts, not that my pack mate said that to me, but I can read between the lines. I pause to realise how out of hand this has gotten.

Welcome to my crazy life.

Just when you think things are going well and quiet, shit stirs up again and it’s always more than it seems.

A wet dream equals ultimatums of fidelity and revelations of dark deeds done by lovers past and present. Not that I wasn’t faithful beforehand. Just his ego going bug-nuts over me coming in my sleep because it wasn’t him making me come. Alpha male, why am I surprised?

Try to do the right thing, figure it out, confront your past to move forward with your future and what do you end up with?

What I have now. I put the key in the door and turn it. Push open the front door and look inside the apartment. It’s silent in it’s own darkness, and that makes it seem sinister in it’s own way. When it should just be home to me.

I sigh and lean back against the door closing it, and locking it with one hand, without bothering to look at the task at hand.

“Yeah, lock yourself into the situation you have to front up to.” I mutter not liking what is ahead. “Chicken-shit.” I mutter to myself and push off the door and carry my overnight bag with me to the bedroom.

The door to the bedroom is open and I pause to lean against the door frame and look in on the room. Again, it’s in shades of black and night.

The shape of a male presence in the bed is unmistakable. Paris is lying down his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He notices me at last and looks at me. I can’t tell what his reaction is.

He is the king of masking his cool. I drop my bag beside me on the floor and start stripping out of my clothing. There isn’t much. A jacket, a top, bra, skirt, and socks. He watches me strip at the doorway. Doesn’t stop me.

“Paris, I’m going to tell you everything you want to hear. All you have to do, is ask me.” He stares at me hard and I know I’m pushing him to open up those emotions of his. A proud werewolf male who has no problem fighting, negotiating business and controlling an entire pack, but speaking about his feelings, well, that’s just a fail.

I watch the rise and fall of his chest but he remains silent. “Silence doesn’t work for you. It creates a lot of negative, misleading energy in your head and in my world.” I pick up all my clothing and grab the bag off the floor and carry it all over to the bed and drop all my clothing that I wore away and back onto the bed beside him.

“I haven’t showered, all weekend. Just deodorant.” I say tossing the bag away again and crawling into the bed. “So if you don’t believe me when I say I didn’t fuck him, go ahead and see what you get on my clothing. But it won’t be much more interesting than my scent.”

All he has to do, is scent me, if he dares.

Paris’s arms drop from behind his head and he moves towards me quickly. Reaching for me. “I love that scent.” He mutters heatedly.”I was so angry and stupid.” He pauses but then continues to grab me and pull me down onto him. I get out before as his face looms before mine.

Our lips meeting and we become engulfed in one another again. Paris’s kiss is deeply desperate for my mouth. Like he wants to cover every last inch of my mouth with is tongue. Like it’s a competition to kiss away the blues.

It’s wonderful now I’m in his embrace and we’re together. I forget that There is a world outside of this, as he cups my face and I creep my body further up his. We’ve missed days of this intensity, as we become all hands and mouth on one another.

“I’m yours.” I gasp between breaths as he leaves me breathless, working his mouth down my throat towards my breasts. I can’t believe I had to go three days without this.

“No more secrets.” I state softly as his tongue flicks out at my nipple. “That includes yours.” I say as his lips suck in my nipple and we push the covers back so I can straddle his lap. Paris stops and looks up at me.

“Yeah, you.” I repeat. “You’re concience, surfaced in Brooklyn this weekend, in the form of a certain Lycan, we both know. ”

Paris is in thought as he hears my words. “So much for the after glow.” He mutters.

“We’re not back there, not anymore.” I say cupping my breasts for him. His teeth graze at my nipples and he lifts my hips up, so I can feel him press against me. Paris slides into me slowly.

It’s like we control time when we make love. The focus on one another’s reactions is what we look for, what we want. Paris opens his mouth as he moans and I can see his teeth are sharpening.

“That’s the trick to this thing, remembering who we are, with one another.”

A Werewolf’s Xmas sale

December 12, 2012

All Breukelen Girl novels are the same price from 12/12/12 – 21/12/12!  on Smashwords.

Wild LifeLunar Night StandLunar Night StandOf Wolf and MaleReasons

     The Pack RevengePerception growing up werewolf Lycan La Vida Loca

She didn’t, He did.

November 30, 2012
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“She didn’t, he did.” Addison stated glancing away from the couple across the room quickly.

The main room of the mansion was packed with bustling bodies, music that was too loud and drinks that were being served continuously. A wild party; full of wild things, in other words it was a fairly regular Saturday night out.

“She looked like she did. Are you sure?” Jules asked Addison handing over five dollars as they looked at the couple they’d both been watching through the moving wall of bodies in front of them. “How can you tell?”

They both looked back at the clearly passionate couple. The woman stood in front of her male partner her arms touching the top of the sofa in front of her. Her hips and below hidden from their sight. The male, stood up against the back of her. His hands barely visible at the top of her hips. He was kissing the dark haired woman’s neck. They weren’t the only couple in the room to be having sex. But they had been more subtle about it than some others.

He watched the male, run his nose along the woman’s skin. His hands, looked like they were adjusting himself, back into his jeans. Behind her backside as her hands smoothed her red tartan mini skirt down again at the sides.

Addison downed a mouthful of beer looking around the room before turning to staring at his friend, Jules. “Are you kidding me?”

Jules frowned and shrugged his shoulders loosely. “No?”

“It’s basic werewolf one-o-one stuff. Listen for the pick-up in her heartbeat. There’s a pick up at the start then it kind of hits a pace and then when they’re about to..…finish, there’s an escalation point. Distinctly different in rhythm of the heartbeat. If you can’t hear that then wait till she holds her breath for a second before she breathes again. Dead give-away.” Addison stated polishing off his beer and placing it on a nearby over crowded table.

Jules looked from his friend and then back at the couple they’d been watching, as their pack leader Paris and his pack mate, walked through the mass of bodies in the room slowly.

Between them and the two males there was all manner of things that made noise. A massive stereo; the noisy chatter of people, the sounds of movement were constant. “You can hear that, from here? Over all this noise?” Jules asked pointing around them at the crowded room.

“What? Can’t you?” Addison stated looking around the room bored. Of course he could hear it if he was trying to, if he focussed. Which was how he won the bet with Jules.

He was beginning to think he’d done this scene one to many times. The party was packed, wall to wall. But he felt like he either knew most of the party goers there, or that there wasn’t enough difference at this party from the last party for him to appreciate the good times that appeared to be having had by all, including his best friend, Paris.

“Uh, no hotshot, I can’t.” Jules stated looking back at Addison dumbfounded. Not all werewolves, it appeared were created equal, even when born an alpha as both Jules and Addison were.

Both males had the alpha werewolf gene from birth, but as with anything, skills and abilities, varied from werewolf to werewolf. Addison had always made a habit, of honing whatever his skills were, so he was the best at everything.

They were both tall and of medium builds, both Jules and Addison were strong and fast. But that was about where the similarities ended. Being of the same pack, did not mean they were of the same skill levels. Addison forgot that sometimes. That he did have a far more superior skill range to most of the werewolves in his pack. It was why he and Paris had originally been singled out for the pack leadership role.

Addison glanced back towards his best friend and pack leader, Paris, who tilted his head his head towards the stairway nearby.

“Come on.” Addison muttered at Jules brushing past him quickly, towards Paris and taking the lead heading up the stairway before the alpha leader of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack.

To read more go to Wild Life

Lunar Night Stand

September 20, 2012
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So who’s been a bad boy then? Or should that be girl? Ahem!

How much do you love to hate your enemy?


July 14, 2011
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I smelt the blood before I even saw it on Paris‘s face. My head shot up and I looked over at my boyfriend as he walked into the room I was in. He dropped the sports bag heavily to the ground and my eyes zeroed in on the blood under his nose and around his mouth. Blood sports and werewolves, what a freak’n turn on.

He walked around to me, pulling his sweat stained t-shirt up over his head and off. Discarding it without care. I stayed still, where I was, at the end of the table, watching in anticipation as he walked around to me. Watching the way his body moved with the way he held himself, inhaling the sweat and blood he’d worked up and gotten from his boxing session. Yeah, he doesn’t box with gloves and protective gear. Alpha male, pack leader, likes to keep his skills sharp.

My eyes keep zeroing in on the mess around his otherwise pretty mouth. My nose keeps flaring as I enjoy the smell of his blood on his sweat covered, skin. He hones in on me and lifts me like I weigh nothing, up onto the table. Pushing apart my legs so he can stand between them. His hard groin meeting my moist heat at the edge.

I can hear his breathing is controlled and stilled like him. But that’s just a ruse. The heart beat racing under neath all that toned skin, is a give away to what he wants. There is a heat flaring up inside at me at the look of the predator before me. I can’t help it, it’s always like this with him.

One look up at those dark blue eyes and that’s all he get’s before I lunge at the swollen and bloodied mouth. He doesn’t wince at the action of my mouth devouring his brings. Paris merely responds, his arms pulling me in closer to him. His mouth matching mine, allowing my tongue to go where it will, over the blood trail over him.

Hands push my skirt up my legs and I feel his fingers, pull aside my underwear and feel the press of his hardened cock before he pushes into me tightly. I can’t moan because my mouth is too busy obsessing over the swollen bloody mess of his mouth and licking at it eagerly. He lifts my legs to wrap them around his hips, dragging me across the table towards him, so we can start this unleashing.

Blood sports and werewolves, what a turn on. I think Paris fights deliberately without protective gear so he can get bloodied and come home and do this with me. Fighting makes him hungry and not necessarily for food.

Our rhythm is fast and bumpy and all I can do is hold onto Paris as we let the sensation of blood, sweat and sex coat us and fill our senses with each other.


October 3, 2010

A night after a shape shift and it’s like waking up in a whole new universe. Everything feels good. Aligned in my body, in my vision, in my world. Quite often I end up at Paris’s house.

His place is like a sanctuary of sorts. He might be a mighty Alpha werewolf and the pack leader of the Manhattan Maen. But even he needs a break from werewolf world sometimes. An escape. A place to breathe, think.

When you’re the leader of a pack, it’s like non-stop werewolf play and politics. There’s always something going on. Going down, needing to be ruled over, corrected or sorted out. It’s pretty much a full time job that you never get to leave to go home to.

Except, Paris has made an effort to do just that. He’s always on call, that’s a constant. But He has a hierarchy of werewolves to do his bidding and will on various issues and commands. It’s how packs work. You filter the power down to control the over all pack structure. Keep the Alpha appraised, but elusive is the way most packs do it.

Paris is more hands on than leaders of the past, it’s been commented. But his pack respond well to that. He has no problem being seen out amongst his pack at social events, and activities. It reinforces his leadership as a result. Which is fine, when we’re out in the streets, at a nightclub or even in Brooklyn with my pack.

But back at his house, it’s his universe. His world. His time out. He’ll limit the amount of calls and contact he has with pack, when he’s physically at his house. It’s a way of putting a divide in, of keeping his head on straight. Of not getting stressed out.

When I’m there with him, It becomes our universe. And he really hates, for it to be disturbed. During lunar weeks, after our nights out or shape shifting, I often find myself, welcome in his embrace.

I awake, curled up, with Paris behind me, his arms around me, a leg thrown over me. We wake early in the light of a new day.

Cotton sheets, feel like a cool breeze, gently sitting across my body like a whispered thought. I feel the heat radiate from the male behind me, as his hand skims over my side. Over my rump, tracing my leg, parting my legs for him.

I stir awake again and he kisses the back of my neck, running his nose softly behind my ear as if to trace the scent of me behind it, like inhaling perfume. His tongue darts out and and traces the angle of my neck. His breath rushes across my skin as fingers part the hair from the back of my neck.

His teeth sink into the back of my neck as his hands warmly cup my breasts and he pushes up into me. The slightest moan escaping his lips as he briefly stills at the sensation of us together.

Into the otherwise quiet of our surrounds, we are in our own world, away from all the drama and dealings. Expectations and challenges that come with being a werewolf. We are strong here. Stronger.

He is focussed solely on me and at that point in time, as the morning breaks and he wakes me. His body moving with mine, allowing me to slowly stretch, my muscles warming with their new movement, back once again in my human skin.

Feeling renewed and at peace, lost in love and one with my werewolf.

Crest the night

September 25, 2010

There’s a Santana song playing somewhere near us, throughout the night, I recognize it, even as I’m distracted by Paris who’s just as eager as I am, that there’s no softness. No slow teasing and delaying now. Not tonight.

“I really thought you wanted Aaron’s blood.”

We’re under a moonlight night sky, the only place I feel I belong in this world without question, under a moonlight night and in Paris’s embrace.

“I did.” My hands slide up his chest. Committing the touch of him to memory.
“But I was practicing that thing, what’s the word for it…” I pretend to think about this as my lips race over his neck. “Control.”

Paris laughs lightly and my hands keep skimming over his chest. “When you asked me what I wanted to do to him, what I told you, was exactly what I wanted to do to him.” Paris flicks my hair out of the way and kisses me hard and breaks apart, panting heavily.

“I was letting you, you know.”

I know he was. I know that, but my wolf doesn’t. She wants out of me, has made me restless, angsty and frustrated since being denied the opportunity to let loose on Aaron. As much as my wolf side wanted the blood. I’d have hated myself afterwards. That guy was rude. It’d be like having a regretful one night stand I’d be unable to wash out of my mind. That was why I didn’t take the pass Paris was giving me.

Paris pulls me to him.

His mouth on mine and we’re shutting out the rest of the world. Whatever there is of it outside under the night sky. We belong here, together, with each other, for each other. We’re good together, real good. His arms lift me so he can guide me onto him.

That craving for blood and flesh is still there, I still flash back and recall the scent of it. With delightful ease. It’s like having a craving. Wanting candy and not acting on it, but wanting it all the same. I’ve been running an obsessive replay of it like play of the day in my head, over and over again. Lunar week and when a thought as erotic as allowing my true werewolf self to be out and about, doing primal stuff like licking up human blood is in there, it’s hard to think about much else. Kind of fuels my stupid restlessness.

Paris is helping me build a rhythm between us and all I want is harder, deeper and faster. As I try to eradicate that sensory overload of blood fuelling my brain’s memory. My wolf’s need. There’s a Feeling like I’m being turned inside out with sanity. Want to ride this night out, till I’m completely weak and sated of every bit of energy I’ve got coursing under my skin. To my mind grey’s out.

Paris’s hands move from my hips, to my ass and he groans deep in the back of his throat. We move with desperation, urgency. Driving need to touch, be touched, to enjoy and reach heights of passion that are there to be indulged in and not drawn out. Now is not the time for control. Time to let it go, give it up and forget about it, to really find the release this werewolf is craving as the moon heightens every fibrous being inside and out of me. Survival by any means necessary when the sensors are overloading me and my passion is swamping me.

Heat. Lust. Love. Blood. Sex. Moonlight. Rush, rush rush. Crest the night, hold tight.

I throw back my head, my hair flying out behind me and slapping down my back as I howl myself into the night air along with Paris’s underneath me. And the echo of our howling, lingers on the air before we relax, into each other.

Heated panting, heart beats drumming, as the temperature around us simmers from our body heat and I close my eyes, my mind preparing to shape shift so the werewolf in me, can come out and play.

Wicked wolf

August 22, 2010

Werewolves are not known to be prudes when it comes to nudity, or when having sex around other werewolves. But Alpha Werewolves, do tend to get mighty possessive at times, like say when they’re about to be interrupted in the throws of sex with their packmate.

Enter Addison.

“Fuck, make some noise or something next time, would you?”

And yes, it never occurred to him, to knock first.

Addison literally walked into the room we were in, when both Paris and I looked up at him, neither of us stopping the movement of our bodies.  But Paris’s hands slipped around my breasts, gripping them, covering them.  It’s not like Addison hasn’t seen them before, he’s seen them at least two times before that I can think of.  But that’s not really the point.

Paris kept thrusting and started growling at Addison. He doesn’t get annoyed all that often that I’ve seen. I think I just looked a little surprised by the intrusion.

“People were asking.” Addison said shaking his head as Paris’s growl grew louder.  His actions even harder. Faster.

I bit my lip.

Addison turned around and walked back out again.

It’s lunar week and we’re normally busily doing each other every night, but this week is different, it’s my birthday week and Paris and I have been all over each other, day and night.

“Now would be the time to remind you what happens if you make noise.” Paris’s throaty voice sounded slightly strained. He’d been hammering me for awhile.  Hence why Addison had come looking for us.  “If you cry out or groan or even ever so lightly sigh, I’ll be forced to keep this up, even longer.  Keep you exactly where I want you, make those knees get friction burns on them while I ride this out.”

Paris was having a hard day of wanting, he’d told me earlier on.  It’s what happens during lunar week.  The sexual energy around us, in us, it just about explodes.  Drives you wild.

We’d had plans, things to do, but he said every time he looked at me, he found himself wanting me. We’d come close to finding a lane way in the city and fucking behind a dumpster, he wanted me so badly.  Instead, we managed to scramble to the party we were invitead to and nearby too, and get into it. Snuck off, found a room and he’d actually torn my clothing off me, because, he claims, I wasn’t moving fast enough for him.

Impatient Alpha.

What the hell was I supposed to wear out of there?

Things to figure out later, I guess, I could get through the now. My lip started to hurt from my teeth cutting into it. Even that act, made my lip start to sting, as the skin started to become cut.  Blood would swell up from it soon.  The thought of which would, only fuel our current round of dealing with our sexual needs, to make the party we were at, more than likely send out a search party for us. Blood, sex and werewolves are a wicked combination.  Seriously wicked enjoyment.

As a beta wolf, I’m even more affected by lunar week’s sensations than Paris is and I knew, I couldn’t hold out.  Part of me, didn’t want to.

I groaned, deep in my throat. Paris chuckled.

“Poor little wolf.”

I kept groaning. It felt just as good to be able to make noise as it was to be loved by my pack mate. The door to the room opened again and Gabby stumbled in, and stood watching us for a moment.  My eyes went to hers and I held contact with them, Paris as before, didn’t stop.

“This wolf, and room is taken.” He panted at her.

Again, I ask myself, what is with the lack of knocking from these werewolves? Alpha’s, I guess they’re not used to being told to wait or what have you.

Gabby blinked slowly.  Recognition or something, dawning across her face.  She turned around and walked back out, without comment, bumping into another body we could half see through the slightly ajar door.  Something was mumbled and the door was closed.

“Oh you wicked, wolf.” I grunted quickly.  It was all I could get out, for I was too busy focusing on the sensation of Paris within me to care about anything else.


August 21, 2010
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Paris and I are out, standing out back of his place, in the sunlight.

“I have a confession to make.”  Paris says to me, as his fingers dance across my warmed skin, and he slips the spaghetti strap of my dress off, down my shoulder.  My eyes flick over to it and back to him, as his gaze travels across me, to my other shoulder and the strap there.

“What’s your confession?”

He flicks the other strap off the top of my shoulder too.  So both straps are hanging down my arms.  His blue eyes trail up my chest, to my face.

“I’ve never really done it in the sunlight on a lunar week.”

Now his fingers, are caressing their way across the top of my clothing as he tugs it down lightly.

“Done it?”

His lips quirk, into a quick sideways smile. “Never made love.” He corrects himself for me.

“You could’ve said, had sex.” I reply cheekily back at him.

“It’s not just sex with you.”

This statement causes us both to fall silent and stare at each other intently.  It’s coming up to my birthday, and it’ll be the first time we’ve ever been together on my birthday.  My birthday on a lunar week.   What crazy ass divinity decided to do that, to this werewolf?

Paris has been treating this coming event, like it’s a very big deal. I mean, we don’t spend a lot of time apart as it is normally, pack werewolves don’t do al that well alone for long periods of time. We crave other werewolf company.  It’s in our genetics.

“Never?” I break the silence with.

I’m fairly certain he means the act of loving another wolf outdoors in daylight hours, not just outdoor sex, since, we’ve done that a few times already.

He shrugs his shoulders loosely, his mind is elsewhere as he starts kissing me, pressing into me. His warm hands flat on my back.  He finds the zip in the back of my dress and pulls it down.

“Not out in the open, under the sun. No.  I tend to wait for night and the moon.” He tells me when we part and my dress loosens around me, held only against me, by the press of his body to mind. He kisses me along my jaw. He feels warm against me and my skin starts to sweat between us, making the dress cling, like a second skin to my front.

“I feel more at home at night time.  I like the dark. I feel in control there.” His voice is soft as his lips trail along my already sun kissed skin as he works his way around to my ear lobe. “Day time is like, someone else’s time zone that I’m thrown in.” His teeth graze my ear lobe. He nibbles lightly before shape shifting them to werewolf fangs. The sensation of the shift on the sensitive skin of my lobe, makes me gasp out loud. On hand slides down my side, and lifts up the flimsy material of my sundress. His fingers slip under my underwear and he pushes two of them into me.

I groan loudly.

“But you, standing here, in the sunlight,” He runs his nose along my neck line, inhaling my scent. “The touch of the light on your skin, it’s like this flavor of…” He tries to think of the word. “Honey. Makes me want to.”

Those fingers are moving steadily in me and I find myself suddenly gripping his forearms, as if to steady myself. It’s lunar week and we’re both being bitch slapped by our hormones being amped up to maximum capacity.  It really doesn’t take much to set us off onto one another.

Being around another werewolf on lunar week, is like temptation, expectation and candy treats all in one being handed to you to figure out what to do with. I groan again.  He’s not the only one who’s loving the sunlight and being out in it.  Werewolves, love nature, the elements of our human world excite them.  And on a lunar week, they kind of drive us mad, to distraction or insane.  It’s like the time in our lives when we are so saturated in heightened sensation, that I suspect this is what it must feel our past lineages of werewolves, felt like, all the time, especially when not in human form.  Lunar week tests us all, to our limits, and I’m no exception, especially when Paris is making me want to shape shift against him to see what will happen to him. How much that sensation will affect him.

My dress flutters against the wind and falls down my front as he moves with me and my breasts are warmed by the sunlight on them, as the push at the bounds of the bra their in.  Paris’s mouth descends on one of them. The same time I am letting go of him, my fingers having already left nail marks in his forearms, as I push the rest of the dress down and off me. With one free hand, Paris is undressing himself too, ready to meet me in the light of day, together in our own little world, where we can take all the time we want to be together.  I work around him, uncatching my bra and sliding my briefs down my legs. He’s working the jeans over his hips, one side at a time, not wanting to loose his connection to me, not wanting his mouth to leave me. He falters, when he sees the last of my clothing fall away. Straightening up, stunned by my brazen move to get naked, out the back of his place.  It’s not like we can’t be seen by other people.

He groans deep in his throat, at the sight of me. His fingers still, paused inside of me.

“Make you want to do what?” I ask completely naked before him, seriously aching for him to loose the jeans all together.   My hand drifts over his hardness lightly and he stills gritting his teeth. “Make you want to do what?”

His eyes narrow on me and he lets out a low growl. No more teasing this wolf, he has control of himself, but he wants to loose that control in me.

The Flesh & Blood show

July 25, 2010
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Walking through the club back to Paris was rather surreal. Everyone was watching and it felt like they were holding their breath. But of course, they weren’t.

Addison and I walked side by side, silently and I walked up to Paris, as he continued to sit at his table, with his warriors, standing, either side of the booth he was in.

He looked incredibly calm and non-plussed, and somewhat happy to see me walking towards him.

There had been a fight, in his presence, and now nobody would get near the Alpha, without going through his personal body guards. Of course, that was my doing, having an all out bitch fight with Gabby. But still, there had to be a standard show of power and hierarchy, really. To remind werewolves, to behave.

To remind the werewolves there, who really called the shots in there and what could happen, if their leading Alpha wanted it too. He was sipping a beer, his eyes watching me over the top of the pint glass as I got closer to him.

He put the glass down and smirked at me. The guards, near his area of the club parted to let me and Addison through, before closing the gap between them again.

Show time.

I’m a good werewolf. For the most part, I know my place.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder again and crawled, very deliberately into the soft red leather booth, around to where Paris sat.

His eyes dropped from my face, to my gapping, half torn top and the vicious claw marks across my skin, to my breasts, hanging heavily in my bra as I crawled towards him on my hands and knees.

His eyes darkened, they were almost black, and glistened with flecks of amber. The man and the werewolf, were turned on. I was turning him on.

He pulled me across himself, so I sat, straddled across his lap.

Just us, in the booth.

“And I thought, you two would play nice together.” He muttered, his arms held me tight, close to him.

“Well, that was nice, wasn’t it?” I asked, angling my head to the side as he ran his nose up the side of my neck, that probably had blood splatter on it.

“Very.” He murmured, as his tongue started languid strokes of my skin, cleaning me of the dried liquid that was across my neck, shoulder and upper chest. I sighed contently.

Post fight recovery, was a very good idea indeed.

He kissed his way down to the start of the claw marks above my breast. His tongue running over the gauged marks in them, making them sting, ever so slightly, as he cleaned the wounds on me. I felt Paris harden beneath me. His werewolf wanted to mate with me, because it was being unbelievably turned on by the flesh and blood show I’d given him.

See for humans, the sex is about the flesh. Visual display of flesh and all it’s pretty glory, gets you the reaction you desire.

For werewolves, it’s the flesh with the blood. Well, it it’s about that when we’re still in human form.

So whilst, I was actually hurt from my girl fight with Gabby, I really was forgetting about how my wounds were being tended too, because like Paris, I was getting turned on by our very public display of erotica in the club.

The music was still going and I assumed behind me, and around us, all had returned to normal again. I don’t really know, because I honestly wasn’t paying attention.

I was kind of liking what was happening to me in Paris’s arms.
With his mouth.

He mouth sucked and moved material out of the way and kissed my skin, his tongue stroked and teased and I began to rock, unconsciously in his lap, against him, sighing with pleasure.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else.” I murmured at him.

“Maybe I should just take what I want, right now.” He husked back at me. He started to undo the fly on his jeans. I couldn’t say I didn’t want the same thing. Our needs and body tempreture were rising.

His hands on my hips, raised me up and our eyes locked on one another. Nothing else mattered. I’d forgotten where we were, or why I was there, or that I’d been in any kind of altercation. Because in our little private bubble of heat, blood, lust and flesh, there was only us.

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    August 2020
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