Her Viking Wolves(48)

And the heat. The smell is everywhere, filling up my nose, drenching my thighs with its slick liquid.

I can barely breathe, much less say what I should be saying: No. You’re wolf-bound and I’m a conscionable person. We can’t do this!

And then the moment is over.

How fast does he move? So fast it feels like getting hit by a heavy blur of body parts. Large hands easily flip me onto my stomach. Fumbling with my cotton panties, before deciding to rip them apart. Fingers wraps around my hips and jerk my ass upwards. A heavy chest blankets my back and, oh God…a strong pair of teeth bites down on my shoulder. And then comes the final body part, his cock at my entrance as he mounts me in the way of the wolf.

I finally find my voice. But instead of saying, “Olafr, we can’t. It’s not right!” I cry out like a female crazed, “Yes, please! Oh God, yes! Put it in me.”

Both my thoughts and voice cut off with a loud scream when he plunges into me from behind. Pain. So much pain. And nothing but pain. My mind nearly blanks out with it, and I struggle, trying to get away.

But that only seems to make the beast on top of me grow wilder. He holds me still with his large body and teeth, growling into the back of my neck as he plunges into me again.

Soon, I feel more slick liquid. Not my heat. But him releasing inside me as an almost unbearable pressure starts at the place where our bodies meet. I can feel him swelling inside. In a way that would almost feel good if not for the residual pain of my human body’s destroyed hymen.

No, he’s not swelling, I soon realize. But knotting. He’s knotting inside me, the base of his dick expanding so he can lock himself inside my pussy, ensuring I receive as much of his seed as possible.

Now I really struggle, with more strength than I knew I had.

He’s wolf-bound. We can’t do this!

But he’s stronger than me. So much stronger. He holds me there. Teeth in my shoulder, large cock embedded in my small space, huge body pinning me down until I finally give up, sobbing with shame into the pillow beneath my cheek, even as I can feel myself clenching around his large cock. Milking his dick and dragging more of his seed inside me. The she-wolf’s automatic response to being mated.#p#分页标题#e#

That’s it. It’s over. No fight left to be had. He’s all the way knotted in me now, and thanks to a comprehensive wolf Sex Ed class in middle school, I know it will take anywhere from twenty to ninety minutes before we’re able to physically separate.

We lie there, curled up together. Both breathing hard, the pain slowly starting to subside. But then to my surprise, I feel him start to deflate. And then his hands are on me again. This time in my hair. Petting me clumsily.

“Varra,” I hear him say, slow and thick, like he’s coming out of some kind of trance.

But I’m not able to wonder at this for too long. Because almost as soon as he comes out, something unthinkable begins to happen.

My heat scent releases again, the roar of it like the arrival of my dad’s Dark Wolf motorcycle gang at our house before a wedding.

“Varra,” Olafr croaks again, reaching for me.

I knock his hands away and scramble out of the bed.

“Varra!” I hear him call after me again.

But I don’t stop. I run into the closet and slam the door behind me, breaking down in ugly sobs as I let the darkness take over.





23





FJ actually feels a little bad about letting their mate sleep so long. Not because he thinks it wrong, but because a different worry starts to creep in when he goes upstairs to take a midday meal of cold chicken to his brother only to find her still asleep.

Yes, she will be well rested, but her stomach will be empty when she finally wakes. FJ decides to do what he said he would the day before: he walks into town with Aunt Alisha’s paper money.

But once he arrives at the shop, he does not buy the Mountain Dew. He strongly suspects from his very limited reading skills and from what the spotty-faced shopkeeper tells him, that the drink is not actually dew from the mountains, but some kind of elixir that makes it possible for their she-wolf to stay up far into the night.

He does not even bother to look for the red male cow.

He thinks of the tales his mother did tell of her time and asks the shopkeeper, “Do you have any food that is already cooked so there is no need to heat it?”

The idea of already cooked food waiting to be procured sounds like pure fantasy to FJ who spent many a long, boring day watching his mother prepare meals. His mother, of course, was in a special position. Most mother wolves in the village did not have the time or resources to make a new meal every day and were forced to feed their families pickled and salted items from the previous season, and never-ending stews from their giant iron hearth kettles. Especially during winter. But his father did indulge his mother’s passions, bringing her all manner of spices from his travels and commanding extra hunts, so she might have fresh meat more often than not.