Page 33 of Howl for Me
I repeat, on fucking time. Hector may have a stroke. Cassidy’s off to the side, talking with someone from the lighting crew. Her clipboard's tucked under her arm, her hair pulled back, all business. All professional and unaffected. But I know she’s not. I see the way she glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking.
Frankie Love shows up ten minutes late, swanning onto the set like she’s the Virgin Mary of porn when everyone and their mama knows her specialty is her fire hydrant impression. The infamous Frankie fountain. I did not want to do this scene when I heard her name, and now that I’ve met her in person? I really don’t want to do this.
Not because she’s not an attractive woman. She’s got the body, the moves, all the theatrics. That whole breathy, helpless thingthat makes guys blow in sixty seconds. But me? All I can think about is Cassidy as usual. The way her voice dropped when she told me about her mom. The way she laughs when she’s trying not to. Her legs that I keep picturing in those tiny shorts. That damn smug little smirk when she caught me eating her burnt breakfast.
I can’t even get hard right now, not even close. Especially not with Frankie Love winking at me like she’s ready to suck the soul out of my body. It’s not her fault; she’s just doing her job. But none of it matters, because all I want is Cassidy.
I want her scent all over me, thick and warm and impossible to ignore. I want her moaning underneath me. Her face twisted in pleasure when I make her come around my cock. I want to feel her. I don’t want to have to fake it. I want my mate. It’s as simple as that. My mate, the thought has my cock stirring to life, thankfully.
I shift in my seat, adjusting myself as best I can while the makeup girl pats sweat off my forehead. Cassidy catches my eye across the set. She arches a brow like she knows something’s off; because it is. I look away before I do something stupid. Like, walk off this shoot or worse, walk straight over to her and say fuck this and everyone else, because the only woman I want to touch is her.
I can’t tell her, no matter how much I want to. Saying the words out loud would only ruin her, and I know it. The ache claws up my chest again, burning deep like it’s fused to the bone. The truth is, I don’t think it ever really left. It’s been there since the very beginning, since the moment she walked into my life with her suffocating scent and her sharp words.
She has to know how I feel about her. But I’m the worst kind of fuck-up, I give mixed signals like it’s a second job. Hot one minute, cold the next. And Cassidy? She’s all business. Just a few weeks ago, she was ready to run me over with my own damn car.And honestly, I would’ve let her. We’re friends now. That’s what it has to be. Even if it kills me.
I growl under my breath; the frustration tangled with something more primal, right as Frankie comes up behind me. Her perfume hits my nose before her voice does; sickly sweet, like overripe fruit in the sun. Her scent is by far the worst so far since my body decided turned against me. The only scent it allows is hers. The rest makes me rub my nose from the burning stench.
“Oh don’t growl, love,” she purrs, dragging a fingernail down my shoulder. “You’ll let that beast out soon enough.”
I nearly flinch. The way she smells, it’s all wrong. Cassidy’s scent is suffocatingly warm and sweet, Frankie’s is sharp and clawing. I fight the urge to walk right off-set, shift into my wolf form, and run until my lungs explode. Instead, I tense, forcing stillness into my body. Cassidy’s talking to someone near the monitors now, but the moment Frankie touches me, I feel her eyes. Her gaze flicks over us, assessing, distant, but not indifferent. She takes in Frankie’s hand on me, the way I’m holding myself, then turns away. Something in me howls.
I want her to know. I want her to fucking see it’s not Frankie I’ll be sinking into. It never has been and never will be. Because in my mind it’s her; it’s the only way to still do my job. My body fights against me, refusing to get fully hard. They call for the shoot to start. Cass usually stands off to the side, just out of frame, clipboard in hand, eyes locked on me, making sure I don’t combust or storm off set.
But I don’t see her, and I immediately hate that. I hate that my chest tightens like a panic attack without her standing in her usual spot. Fuck, I have it bad. Worse than bad. If she told me right now that she’d have me, if I marked her, claimed her as mine in the only way that mattered, would she accept it?
Would I even give her a choice? No. That’s the worst part. Because the beast in me doesn’t ask. It takes. But I’m not a fucking animal. I shake the thought loose and try to get my head in the game. The cameras roll. I glance offset again, desperate, almost angry now, and then I see her. She’s back, standing right where she always does, with a smug little smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s almost like she knows I can’t get through this without her there. I bite back a grin. My mind flashes with an image, her in the kitchen, her tiny shorts riding up as she reaches for the top shelf, her bare legs, her scent in the air, wild and sweet. I want to bury my face between her thighs and stay there until she’s shaking. I want to own every moan she makes.
Frankie moans loudly for the camera, dragging a finger down my abs. “Oh my, I don’t know if I can take all of that…”
My cock’s fully hard now, thanks to Cass.
Frankie smiles like it’s for her, doesn’t even know I’m picturing Cassidy bent over the counter, taking every inch of my cock like she was made for it.
God help me.
Frankie’s already moaning under me like she’s on stage at the Oscars, her legs spread wide, all fake ecstasy and glittery lip gloss. “Oh no, please,” she whimpers dramatically, dragging her nails over my biceps. “It’s too big. I can’t…”
The cameras shift angles. That’s my cue. I close my eyes.
Shift.
The transformation rips through me like a lightning strike. My bones crack and rearrange, my skin stretches and burns, and fur sprouts across my shoulders, chest, and arms. My claws dig into the mattress on either side of her as I brace myself. My jaw extends, fangs pushing past my lips. I feel every inch of it. I always do.
But today, it doesn’t bring power; it brings dread because this isn’t who I want. This isn’t who my soul longs for and I can’t do anything about it.
Frankie stares up at me with wide eyes, the performance faltering for just a second as she takes in the beast I’ve become. “God,” she breathes, almost to herself. “That’s so fucking hot.”
I want to vomit.
Her scent invades my nostrils and my cock wilts slightly. I line myself up anyway, pushing into her with slow, careful force. She gasps, one leg wrapping around my waist as she moans, “Oh my god..Johnny..yes…”
She rubs her clit with practiced desperation, squeezing her muscles tight to get herself there fast. We both know this scene is about the grand finale, not the journey.
My hips move on autopilot, but my mind isn’t here. It’s in my damn kitchen. Cassidy in those stupid little shorts. Hair up. Lips parted as she sips her coffee. Eyes half-lidded, half-daring me. My mate. Her scent. Her voice. The softness in her face that morning when she said, Yes, I do actually understand where you’re coming from.
Fuck, I want to know how she tastes. I want to know what her moans sound like. I want her clawing at me, not because the cameras are rolling but because she needs me inside her. I want to take my time, worship her, ruin her. I want her to feel how deep this goes.
“Johnny,” Frankie gasps. “I’m gonna—”
