He grasped her wrists and raised her arms over her head, pinning them against the musty mattress.
Sherrie gripped the edge of the futon, understanding he'd tied her down as effectively as if he'd used ropes.
She wasn't to let go.
Her upraised arms lifted her breasts higher. They pressed against his hard chest, and her skin slid against his with a taste like dark chocolate. She arched up, wanting more of his body to cover hers. She needed him between her legs where dampness pooled like dew. If he didn't fill her aching emptiness soon, she'd die.
"Fuck me," she begged silently.
"When it's time," he replied inside her mind. The communication without words was much easier, but also soul-baring. He could see all of her mind. There was no place to hide her ravenous desire, no way to keep any reserve.
But she could feel his need too, growing by the moment. His cock ached to fill her as much as she wanted it inside her. That knowledge gave her power. She rubbed against his rigid shaft, making him groan.
Grant kissed her mouth once more before moving to her exposed throat. He pressed little kisses down the column and swept his tongue across the hollow where her pulse beat. His lips skated along her collar bones. When he reached the mark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder where John had bitten her, he paused and smoothed his tongue over it.
Sherrie caught her breath. She knew what was coming, felt his intention the moment before he bit down. Pain blossomed through her as he covered the mark John had made with a bite of his own. She cried out and gripped the futon frame hard as her body bowed up from the mattress.
Releasing her from his teeth, Grant again licked the spot in a cat's caress then he abandoned her throat and moved farther down her body. Taking hold of her ankles, he spread her legs as wide as they could go on the narrow futon. Cool air brushed like feathers over her heated pussy, which grew even hotter under Grant's examination. His gaze was intense as he explored her body. His fingertip traced her vulva before dipping between the swollen folds to sample her wetness. He slipped one long finger inside, circling her opening then reaching deep to touch a spot that made her jerk. Another finger followed and a third-
moving in and out, stretching her, teasing her, making her want more than just his fingers inside her.
After several thrusts, he left her entrance clenching around emptiness. He moved his slick fingers to her clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure, the perfect tickling motion until Sherrie was ready to purr from the sweet caress. Then he abruptly pinched the sensitized bud. Hot cinnamon exploded through her veins and she jerked.
Grant punished her pussy with hard, playful slaps followed by soothing strokes. He leaned down and lapped with his velvet tongue and soon had her writhing, but once more he stopped before she could come.
Sherrie was desperate for release, clinging hard to the futon frame, her body vibrating.
Her lover rose and took hold of her hands, pulling her up from the bed. He drew her against his big, hard body and wrapped his warm arms around her. She nestled against him for a moment and listened to the rumble in his chest. Was it fur or flesh she was pressed against? In this dream-plane he seemed to be both animal and man at the same time.
After a brief cuddle, he took her by the shoulders and turned her around. His large palm covered the back of her neck, pushing her head down. Now you will submit to me. The message in her mind was delivered in a growl that made her body ache to do exactly what he ordered.
Hands to your ankles, he commanded. Sherrie obeyed. She stooped low and grasped her ankles. Her hair tumbled around her face, her breasts pressed against her thighs and her buttocks lifted into the air. The vulnerable position made her melt inside. She stared at his bare feet on the floor behind her and quivered in anticipation of his touch. Her pussy lips were swollen and wetness dripped down her inner thighs. Would he grab her hips and enter her with one thrust or would he toy with her some more until she begged for him to fuck her?
A soft caress on her ass answered the question. He massaged her lower back and cupped her buttocks, squeezing and kneading gently. Just as she relaxed into his touch, he slapped his palm across both cheeks.
The sharp blow made her gasp and twitch. The man was a master at alternating pleasure and pain.
He spanked her again-right cheek then left, light taps and hard smacks. He changed the length of time in between so she wouldn't know what to expect and sometimes he stopped to massage or kiss her tingling flesh. Raspberry blood coursed through her burnished ass and flooded her hanging head. Sherrie felt both figuratively and literally turned upside down.
Please, she sent her tormentor a silent plea. Please, do it now! I need. I want.
Hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh. Or were they claws? Was it a monster or a man who spread her cheeks apart and positioned his cock at her entrance? He speared her with one strong thrust, filling her with his thick shaft.
She whined at the pain and pleasure and braced her legs against the weight of his body pushing against hers. When he pulled out, she felt him receding like the surf rolling off a beach and leaving it barren. Then he was back, filling her deeply again. His groin slapped against her buttocks, and his hairy thighs brushed the backs of her legs.
His hands supported her, holding her upright, even as his body nearly rocked her off her feet with another thrust. And another.
Blood pounded in her ears, and her legs shook from the effort of holding steady. But the awkward, submissive posture with her ass in the air was extremely arousing, and Grant's powerful thrusts drove her closer to climax. When he snaked a hand around her hip and pressed a finger against her clit, the tiny touch put her over the edge. The building tension inside her exploded. She groaned and jerked against his hand while he filled her once more. Ecstasy flooded her, and she whirled away on a tide of pleasure.
Grant grunted as he thrust into her several more times then he came with a warm gush that trickled from her pussy and down her inner thighs like molten gold. This encounter might be in a dream world, but the details were as vivid as any in waking life. Her body sweated. His come was sticky. Her breathing was ragged, and blood pounded through her veins. He groaned, and his cock pulsed in the clench of her inner muscles.
When he was finished, Grant slid his arm around her waist and pulled her upright against his heaving chest. He nuzzled the side of her head and kissed her neck where he'd bitten her.
Sherrie felt something had shifted inside her, like a window opening. She couldn't pinpoint what was different, but she felt energized, even more vibrant than she had after her encounter with John. She turned to face Grant, braced her hands against his chest and looked up into his eyes. Is this really happening?
What do you think?
His body felt solid against her, his breath warm on her face, and his come trickled from her pussy. It couldn't get much more real than that. But just as she was about to nod in agreement, Grant disappeared.
Sherrie jerked awake, tangled in the sleeping bag on the futon mattress. She sat up, blinking. The room was empty and the door was bolted with Grant Perron on the other side. She was alone.
She heaved a sigh and pushed her sweaty hair back from her face. She'd never had such a vivid erotic dream in her life or one that had left her body so limp and worn. Her calf muscles were trembling as though she'd really been standing and her ass was tender from the spanking. Her pussy felt like it had been pummeled by a big, hard cock. Just the thought of the encounter made her sex clench and come trickled from inside her.
John Walker, she thought, but her heart and her body knew better. She touched the sore spot on her neck where she'd been marked by both a wolf and a panther.
Chapter Five
Grant woke with a start at the sound of an approaching car engine and pushed up off the ground where he'd been lying in front of the cabin. Walker was back, putting an end to his erotic interlude with Sherrie.
The sex had been great, as satisfying as a physical union . The woman's mind was open and adventurous and had wrapped around his with an amazing strength.
Then he thought of Marina, and his post-sex rapture evaporated. He wondered if his sometime-lover was still lingering in a coma or if her shallow breathing had finally stopped.
White light washed over him as the Blazer pulled up before the cabin. Walker jumped out, grabbed a couple of bags from the passenger's side and strode toward him. Grant sensed the aggression tightly leashed in the other shifter, and it made the hair on his neck rise. He longed to slip into his natural form and rumble with this guy.
"How is she?"
"Sleeping, I suppose. I wouldn't know. I never set foot inside the cabin." Grant smiled as he told the truth.