Page 76 of Howl for Me
I grab her, pull her to me, and kiss her, hard, aggressive. Her hands fist in my shirt, lips parting but my eyes don’t stay on her. They drift just off camera.
Cassidy.
She’s staring with her mouth parted and her eyes wide. Innocent. The raw purity in her gaze has my cock twitching before I even think to control it.
Fuck.
The kiss deepens. Stacy arches beneath me, giving the camera everything. My hand moves up her thigh, pushing the gown aside. She moans for the audience. For the paycheck. For the monster.
My pulse kicks.Now.
The shift starts in my spine; always there first. A snap, like a bone breaking in slow motion, curling my shoulders forward until I can feel the weight of the wolf pressing from the inside out.
Claws tear through the skin of my hands with a wet pop. My teeth elongate. Hair pushes from every pore as my musclesstretch and bulge beneath the skin. My body expands, warping into something not quite man, not quite beast.
Stacy gasps, but she’s grinning through it. She loves this part. It’s why she keeps coming back and why she gets off on pretending to fear what’s crawling into bed with her. But it’s still not her I’m watching.
Cassidy is frozen, just off-set. One hand still clutching her clipboard, the other clenched into a fist like she’s not sure whether to throw it or use it to steady herself.
Good.Run.That’s what I want.
The bones in my face crack and realign. My snout elongates, nostrils flaring wide as my ears sharpen to points.
I expect the usual; a sharp breath, stumbling feet, maybe a choked scream before the door slams shut behind her.
But it doesn’t come. Instead, I’m hit full force with that scent.
Her scent, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. It’s not fear, to my utter shock, it’s fucking arousal.
Cassidy’s aroused.
My cock, already hard from the heat of the scene, twitches painfully. I growl, low and guttural, burying my snout in the crook of Stacy’s neck, but my mind isn’t on her at all. This is a fucking problem. Cassidy’s scent is everywhere now, wrapping around me like a collar I can’t break free of.
My hips move harder. Stacy moans beneath me, clawing at my back like she’s in the throes of something real. But I’m not there.
I’m somewhere else. My claws dragging down Cassidy’s thighs. My teeth grazing her throat. My cock buried in her heat. Not this over-rehearsed, camera-ready performance, but something raw and primal and fucking real. I blink, trying to shake it off, but I can’t. The way her eyes locked with mine the moment the change happened. The way her lips parted and not in fear, but in fascination. She should have run, but she stayed.
And now… Now, I don’t just want her gone because she’s in the way.
I want her gone because I want her too much. Because every second she stays, I lose more control. Because every time she looks at me with those wide, curious eyes, something deep and dark in me wants to claim her, not for a scene, not for the cameras…
For me.
And that’s a problem. A big, throbbing, scent-drunk, boundary-destroying fucking problem. Because monsters like me don’t get to want things like her.
But I want her anyway.
Chapter Eight
Cassidy
I should be running. Why am I not running? Every instinct, every rational thought, is screaming that this isn’t normal. That this isn’t okay, but my feet won’t move. I’m rooted in place just off-set, clipboard clutched like a shield that won’t save me from the beast currently fucking the woman in that bed like he’s trying to break her in half.
Johnny, no, not Johnny; the thing he became is snarling with every thrust. Stacy’s moaning like a woman possessed, her mouth open in an endless string of breathy whimpers. Her tits bounce violently, full and round and practically hypnotic, like they were made to be grabbed and filmed and used. Then there’s me just standing there staring and feeling things I shouldn’t.
I feel a deep, molten heat low in my stomach that only grows when the wolf's glowing eyes, Johnny’s eyes, lock with minefrom across the room. It’s like the entire world stills in that moment. Like he’s not just fucking someone else, but looking through her... straight at me. That’s when I realize.. I’m wet. I’m not just turned on, but I’m aching, soaked and stunned.
I’m watching a monster screw someone into the mattress and it’s got my thighs clenching and my lungs stuttering and my heart panicking. I’m afraid of him hurting her, no, Stacy looks like she’s halfway to heaven. I’m afraid because I want to know what it feels like. What it feels like to be split open, bent beneath that raw power, and wrecked by something inhuman. Not with tenderness, but with feral, possessive need.
