Page 10 of One Night with the Werewolf
Luckily, the beer in my system is dimming my senses, so I think I’m in the clear by the time we get off the highway and head into the neighborhood.
I live on the edge of the city along the railroad tracks, just before the suburbs take over. Here, the houses are old and many of them rundown, though I’ve tried to keep my own in good condition. It’s not where Jason grew up—Julie and I sold that house when we divorced—but it’s where he spent many of his middle and high school years while we shared custody. He still has a room there with all his old posters up on the wall, thoughhe hasn’t used it in eons. I really should just convert it to a guest room, or maybe an office space.
At last, the Uber arrives at my single-story house. It’s not much to look at it, with a plain grass yard that I keep watered, most of the weeds removed from between the gaps in the sidewalk. I get out first, offering Emelia my hand to help her out, too. The driver says nothing as he pulls away, and I’m sure he was wiser to our backseat shenanigans than he let on.
Emelia is still gripping my hand as we stand there on the front walk, the porch looming over us.
“Show me in?” she asks in a quiet voice, and I wonder if she’s regretting her decision to come here. Perhaps she’s just nervous.
I settle an arm around her waist and lead her to the steps. “Happily. Not much to look at, as you know.”
“It’s yours,” she says, voice slurring. My own is too, and I’m not walking completely straight. This could all be a very bad idea, a voice in the back of my mind suggests, but I’m far too horny for this woman now to stop the train from barreling forward.
Inside the front door, though, Emelia transforms. The second it clicks closed, she pushes me up against it, her hands finding their way under my jacket. She presses herself against me, tilting up her head so our faces are only a few inches apart.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Her hair is the most peculiar shade of brown with a smattering of red in it. She has a petite nose, full lips, and eyes as big as a doll’s, with long lashes to match. Her cheeks are perfectly freckled, as is the bridge of her nose, like someone painted them across her face.
And she clearly wants me to kiss her. What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t oblige? I know this can’t go any further than tonight, so I’ll make it the best night possible.
Emelia lets out a soft moan the moment my lips touch hers. It’s like we’re electrified, and this mere touch sends shockwavesinto both of us. Now it’s my turn to put the pressure on her, bending her back as my arms snake around her, holding her up as my soft kiss turns into a ravaging.
Her mouth is so pliant as I invade it, so yielding as I conquer it with my own lips that I can’t hold in my groan. I wonder if all of her tastes as good as her mouth does. I wonder if the rest of her gives the same way.
My hand curls under the back of her head as I dominate her, fucking her throat with my tongue, then nipping her lips before gently soothing them. I’ve been smelling Emelia all night, drinking in the floral scent of her shampoo and contrasting fruity scent of her deodorant, so I notice the moment that scent changes.
She’s aroused—very aroused, and it’s permeating the room. Even when I’m human, my senses retain some of my other form, and breathing in the smell of her weeping pussy is enough to turn on the animal inside me.
Without asking, I curl my hands under Emelia’s butt and lift her into the air, hiking her up so her thighs are slung over my hips. She doesn’t stop kissing me, even as she squeaks in surprise, so I think she’s happy going along for the ride.
I carry her easily through the living room and then down the hall to my bedroom. We startle my black cat, Salem, and he darts out from under the bed and into the hall as we enter.
“Bye, kitty,” mutters Emelia before she goes back to kissing me, her legs wrapping tight around my waist.
I don’t bother closing the door behind us. It’s not like anyone else lives here.
Keeping Emelia in my arms, I navigate to the bed and sit, which produces a situation where her ass is now resting on my lap, her legs spread around me. If there were no clothes between us, I could just lift my hips and?—
Calm down, Rutting Roscoe. I know the animal is horny, but the woman needs to be ready for me.
We continue making out like horny teenagers as my jacket slides off her shoulders onto the floor. My hands explore her on their own, tracing her sides, her hips, her ass. It’s still dark in the room, which is good, though there’s a faint hint of streetlamp coming in the window. Just the right amount of light so she won’t be able to get a good look at me when I take my pants off.
Emelia pulls back, and at first, I think I’ve done something wrong—but then she grabs the bottom of her shirt and peels it up over her head, tossing it away like it offended her. Now her tits are out, held up by a cute pink bra with white hearts on it, just a hint of her nipples showing over the top of the cups.
Damn. They are nice tits.
I don’t think twice before I reach around her and pluck open the clip on the back, causing the bra to slip down her arms. Emelia grins as she flings that away, too, not caring at all where it lands.
“Now you,” she says, lifting her hands to cup her breasts. She’s putting them on display for me, and her blush-colored nipples are peaked and tight.
While she’s occupied touching herself, I do as I’m told, yanking up my shirt and then dropping it to the floor. When I glance back at Emelia, she’s rubbing her fingers over her nipples, gazing at my chest with her mouth slightly open.
I try to stay fit, going on runs and getting to the gym as often as I can with my work schedule. It’s not like I have much else going in my life besides taking care of Salem and fixing cars. But by the look on Emelia’s face, you’d think she just saw God.
“Wow,” she finally says. “You’re fucking hot.”
I didn’t think I was the type of person to blush, but that’s definitely turning my neck and face warm. That’s certainly the first time anyone’s ever said that to me.
Her hands move from her own chest to mine, where she runs her hands down over my nipples to my abdomen. It clenches reflexively, and her eyes get even bigger. I think she likes what she sees. But I’m done waiting. The scent of her has become overwhelming, and soon, very soon, I need to taste her.
