Page 53 of The Dire Reaction

My gnarled nose buries into her soft curls, and I taste her for the first time.

A small surprised cry escapes from her lips when my tongue flicks to dampen her slit. I cannot hold back the groan of pleasure that rumbles from my throat at the sound she gifts me with.

Delving deeper within her folds, I discover the small node of her clit. I’ve not been one to pay them much attention in the past, gaining my satisfaction by other means. But, now, under the quick movements of my tongue, it grows and firms at my strokes.

“Why?” she whines. The tremulous sound tickles down my spine, rushing the blood into my cock for it to fully free itself.

She tries to pull her legs away, but I hold her firm. Twisting her hips only rubs her center against me. Now thankful for my longer tongue, I embark into the unknown, wishing to savor regions I’ve never experienced.

Why do I long for her so? I should just find a new prize, one who will scream me to ejaculation. Instead, my cock begs to be seated within her.

I haven’t indulged in that since my wedding night, the need to copulate to reproduce the only driving force. Having to reach fulfillment without making her bleed was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The public eye had requested a child, a proof of my “normalcy” that was critical for my role as judge.

One child was enough.

But, now, I’m buried in the sweet ambrosia of her, her juices coating my face as she writhes and mewls below me. The sounds that spill from her lips, the panting that she fights, it stirs a need within me I’ve never felt. I want to flood her with my seed, to create the perfect collage of our bodies.

My lengthened tongue pushes into her. Another cry she bestows upon my ears. A sweet symphony vibrates from her delicate throat. I can see the battle she wages, the flush in her cheeks, the fear in her eyes. Her heart is hammering louder and faster within her delicious ribs.

In and out I push myself to taste her, deeper until I hit a wall. A membrane.

A virgin.

Determined to not cause her pain this time, I satisfy myself with quick shallow strokes, interspersed with flicks on her engorged clit.

Her breathing becomes sporadic, her hips grinding against my muzzle. Soft moans escape her as her thighs quiver beneath my stumped palms.

My own hips buck against the bench, pinning my cock beneath my body. I can feel the drops of precum lubricating me with each twitch. Her musical sounds are thrumming against my loins.

Faster my tongue works upon her, within her, lavishing her inside and out until her hips rise to meet me, her back surging from the surface of the bench, her hands twisting in their bonds. A cry blends into a scream as her body arches and tightens around me. Her walls squeeze upon my tongue as if she wants to tear it from my mouth. A rush of her sweet essence floods over my canines and I erupt. My hips convulse, pumping my hot seed against my belly. The tight pressure in my loins spills to the ground beneath me.

I never knew it could be this way.

The soft moans of earlier turn into quiet sobs, a sound I am much more familiar with.

Extracting myself from the bench, I loosen her bonds and release her. The shirt hangs open around her shoulders, the pants in tatters on the floor. Walking slowly back to her room, her hands are completely covering her face as she continues to cry.

My dogs back away, their wariness of me apparent. Feeling benevolent, I motion them to one of the injured humans tied to the far wall. As a pack, they descend. The wails of pain echoing through the room do not stir me as they once did. My cock shrivels into its sheath. I don’t get the rise of pleasure shivering up my spine at the dying sounds.

All I can think of is her scream and her taste flooding my mouth.

Chapter twenty-seven

DANI

Doingareversenumbersearch, I manage to learn that the owner of the phone is named Kelly Shaffer. There are about two hundred Shaffers in the Boise area. I think I’m somewhere around number forty or fifty when I hear a thump loud enough to raise me from my chair.

The scream that follows has me flinging open the door to see my worst nightmare.

Sam is pinned to the ground. One of those giant wolfish dogs is standing on his back, tearing into him. And I’m standing here in bare feet, with nothing but a phone in my hand.

I have a nearly overwhelming urge to dash out into the snow to try and tackle that giant beast down. My foot even lands on the front step, the cold shocking a glimmer of common sense through me.

The gun. I need a gun.

Running down the hall into the bedroom, I hear a gunshot and a scream. My stomach rolls and twists. My breath stops in my throat.

It sounded human. Was it Sam?

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