Page 19 of A Wulver for the Week

“Craig?” I cry, and that’s the last thing I say because the wolf—with hands like a man’s but a wolf’s head—pries apart my thighs and rips my skimpy swimsuit bottom to shreds with sharp teeth. I shudder, but not in fear, legs wrapping around his shoulders. I feel him devouring me. Eating me with long licks that make my whole body clench and my legs tingle like electric shocks are running through me, lighting me up from the inside.

And then I wake up, drowsy and caught in a shaft of golden light, sprawled in a bikini against Craig’s pale, perfect chest, my hand stirring sleepy circles in the dark crest of hair at the center.

What happened?

Moonlight. Massage.

His voice.

Sleeping. Dreaming.

Daylight.

“I never gave you that massage,” I murmur.

“‘S all right.”

“I want to.” Yep. Fuzzy morning brain tells me two things—I should go pee, and I want to keep touching this man. For the moment, my bladder loses.

Mm, go on, sweetheart,” Craig rolls to his side, burrowing my head into his chest.

God, I never thought a man could smell so good first thing in the morning, but he does. Our almost naked bodies press together, seeking warmth and sleepy comfort.

But I want the wolf from my dream, too. I want sweet, considerate Craigandthe ravenous wolfman who pinned me to the sand. I shudder as I dig my hands into Craig’s back, starting a lazy rub down that makes him groan.

Growl.

I’m suddenly transported back into my dream, feeling the wolfman’s tongue pressing so deep inside of me that I feel my insides tighten and squeeze, trapping him against the hidden sweet spot no man ever seems to find.

My bikini bottom must be saturated with arousal by now, but some sex-starved part of me doesn’t care, raising my leg to drape over Craig’s hip as I continue to massage him while I nestle in his arms.

“Smell divine. Sweet gardenia.” Craig grinds drowsily against me, and my mouth dries out.

Craig. Is. Big. Biiiig. Not necessarily “you’ll never walk right again” big, but at least “usually only found in silicone” big.

With a grunt, he rolls completely on top of me, kissing me hard, hands tangling in my hair. His erection rubs against my crotch, stimulating my needy clit and making me consider very bad things.

Like slipping my suit to the side and his boxers down, then seeing if he’ll slip inside and make my eyes roll back.

“Want to eat you all up, my pretty flower.”

Eat me up? Wait. Am I still dreaming?

I MUST BE DREAMING. I have my sweet, tasty morsel between my teeth. Her scent surrounds me. Her lips on mine, ourtongues sparring as my cock probes about, looking for the wet, tight entrance where I belong.

Except... That seems off. Somehow. Shouldn’t we have talked about this?

We would have. It’s a dream.

Damn it.

I blink myself awake and almost bite down on the skillful roving tongue jousting with mine.

Not a dream! Holy shit, not a dream! But maybe it would be better if it was?

I roll away and huddle up, hoping my cock isn’t on display, peeping out of my baggy boxers. Best pretend it was a dream. I was asleep, wasn’t I? She was, too, I’m sure.

God, I knew we shouldn’t have shared a bed...

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