Page 55 of A Wolf in the Garden

My whole body is taut, on the brink of an orgasm. “I want you tofuck me,” I demand. He pistons in and out, his pace relentless, his knot partially entering me each time, an added stretch that makes me groan with each thrust.

“Iamfucking you,” he grunts, a wild look in his eyes. “Look how good you take my cock, howdeepI can fuck you. But that’s not what we’re talking about here. I need to hear it from your lips. What do you want?”

“I want your werewolf!” I cry, picturing the scene, his beast fucking me, and I crest the wave of my orgasm, back arching, my cunt pulsing around him. My mouth hangs open, though I make no sound as he fucks me through it, slowing his pace so I feel every drag of him inside me, his hands pressing my knees wide apart so he can watch my body taking all of him.

He pulls out abruptly, and I whimper at the loss of it. “You haven’t come yet.”

“Don’t worry baby, I will. Turn over, on your hands and knees for me.”

I do as he says, and his cock slides home once more, his body covering mine. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he growls in my ear, and there’s something deeper, darker, about his voice that makes me shiver with anticipation.

“Yes.”

His teeth latch onto my neck for a moment, the bite almost painful, though he never breaks the skin. I groan, clenching around his cock, and he chuckles deep in my ear. “Good girl.” Then his hips are snapping against mine, rougher than he’s ever fucked me before, his balls swinging against my clit with every jerk of his hips, his hand fisting in my hair, holding me in place.

Rutting.That’s the best word I can think of to describe his frenzied state, the way he dominates me, his grunts in my ear, his teeth on my neck. Absolutely filthy, carnal fucking.

I love it.

Maybe later I’ll sit back and try and analyse why I take such pleasure from him using my body this way, but for now all I can do is let go and enjoy the ride, his thick shaft driving into me atthatangle, the one that makes me see stars.

“Yes,” I whine, legs shaking, and he increases the pace even more, the sound of flesh slapping obscenely loud against the backdrop of softly-crashing waves and singing crickets. His hands are on my hips now, pulling me hard against him with every thrust, the sound of his grunts absolutely feral.

“Come on my cock,” Van orders, his voice deeper, growlier than usual, and my body obeys like a well-played instrument, clenching around him, my cries echoing in the cool air. He’s coming too, in a torrent of heat that fills me, continuing to thrust at an agonisingly pleasurable pace, not stopping despite the sag of my body and the slide of my knees against the mat. His cum oozes out of me with every thrust, running down my legs, dripping on the fabric beneath us. He doesn’t knot me this time, which I find odd, until his hands move from my waist to the mat on either side of me, and I see instantly why he’s not stopping.

He’s changing.

The hands on either side of my own are larger, tipped with black claws, and I watch in fascination as the skin of his hands change colour, starting from the tips of his fingers and creeping, up, up, up, until the arms that cage me are a deep charcoal grey. I’m well aware that he’s still buried deep within me, and I’m surprisingly not horrified by this, all those little fantasies I’ve had suddenly playing out in real life, even as a little voice in the back of my mind sayswhat is wrong with you?

His movements slow to a stop within me, a choked growl uttered from his lips, and his arms growing bigger, longer, thicker, hairier.Not hair, fur.Inside me, his still-hard cock thickens, stretching me in a way similar to his knot, except that it doesn’t stop. I groan, feeling the slight burn of it as I look up at the sky, now blazing fiery red on the horizon, the final edge of the sun dipping out of sight.

I’m on my hands and knees out in the open, and there’s a werewolf’s dick buried deep in my vagina.And I like it.

“Van?” I whisper, shivering at the ticklish feeling of his fur at my back. I haven’t turned to look up at him yet, the self-preservation part of my brain instinctually keeping my movements to a minimum. “Van, are you okay?”

There’s that choked sound again, and then a deep, deep rumble of laughter, the gravel in his voice making me melt. “You-you’re askingmeif I’m okay? When I just… lost all sense of myself andchangedwhile stillinside you? Are you insane?”

“Maybe,” I answer, a flood of desire coursing through me at the sound of his voice, because it’shim, my Evander, just bigger,scarier, and I don’t know what that says about me that I’m not at all bothered by this turn of events.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No. I like the stretch. It feels a lot like your knot. Just… go slow when you do start moving, so I can get used to you.”

I finally dare to look up at the huge body covering mine, and as I do, he moves, lifting his hands from the mat until he is on his knees, huge clawed hands on my waist, requiring me to twist my entire upper half to get a good look at him, buried deep inside me as he is. I wheeze as our movements pull at the connection between us —he’s so huge— my brain automatically applying that statement to both him and his dick.

He is magnificent. I have no frame of reference for his size, except that I know he’s bigger than an orc. Covered in a dense layer of short fur that grows thicker and longer around his neck, the outline of his muscular frame — the body of a man — is still obvious, and in the twilight I can clearly see his defined abs, his huge pecs, his strong arms.

And that wolf head.

He is…handsome, I decide. He doesn’t look at all like his shifter wolf, apart from the colouring, though there’s no patch of white on his black fur this time. His eyes are bigger in proportion to his face, wolfish muzzle just slightly shorter, and his mouth hangs open slightly, revealing those deadly sharp teeth. His wide-blown pupils glow yellow in the fading light from the sunset, though I know if I were to get a close look I’d see the same gold irises I am used to.

“Van,” I say again as one clawed hand caresses down my back, the touch so achingly familiar, despite the light scratch of his elongated nails, making me feel restless. Making me need more, despite already being well-fucked and pleasured. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to like this, but I do.”

He nods slowly. “That’s good, because I love this. You look so fucking perfect here on your hands and knees, taking my werewolf cock.” His hands caress my backside, the drag of his claws making my skin break out in goosebumps, and I moan, turning my head back to face the ocean. With a deep breath, I dare to push myself back ever so slightly, taking in more of his monstrous cock.

“Oh,” I hiss, a shiver running down my spine. “Ohfuuuck.” He remains still behind me as I rock forward experimentally, the drag of him against my inner walls making me cry out, and I don’t care if the whole world hears me. I rock back once more, a little more forceful this time, earning me a growly grunt from Van. I smell the salt of the ocean and the fresh cut grass, hear the rustle of leaves, and I’ve never felt so alive before as I arch my back and lift my face to the sky, to the first stars blinking into existence above. I am absolutely feral, impaling myself on his dick.

I am fucking my werewolf.

---