Page 23 of The Witch's Werewolf
It’s real. Magic is fucking real. Demons are real. Vampires are real. And now, apparently, werewolves are real. Monsters lurk in the dark. And sometimes during the day. Spells and rituals have consequences. One can make Instagram reels about one’s salt circles and hand-bound grimoires all day long, but most people have no clue what they are messing with.
Case in point: Me. I screw up all the time, which is why I’m in my current predicament.
In the shower, I try to put Timber out of my head.
But the more I try, the more he appears in my thoughts. The memory of our first kiss. The way he touched me. Nuzzled my breasts in a way that almost made me wonder if he was lookingto feed from me. Oh goddess, that’s a whole other kink I’m not ready for.
The more my head tries to point out the wrongness of all of it, the more I find myself lost in a fantasy.
I close my eyes as I rub my loofah over my skin, the thick layer of foam licking across my nipples, my belly, my thighs.
Pressing my head against the tile, I inhale the steamy air and let the loofah find its way between my thighs.
I spread wider, giving in to the erotic self-pleasure. Back and forth, again and again, remembering Timber’s tongue.
It’s not until I open my eyes that I realize I’m not even working the loofah with my hands. My one arm rests on the tile, with the other hand stroking a nipple.
I’m too turned on to be terrified of my own psychokinetic powers that made the loofah do that to me.
I’ll take it.
Wait…was that the door? I hold my breath, trying to stave off the orgasm for a minute longer, but it’s no use.
I come quickly, but it’s not satisfying.
“I told you to lock up.”
The savage, throaty rasp behind me can only mean one thing. I’m no longer alone in the shower.
Gathering my post-orgasm breath as I lean against the shower wall, I look back over my shoulder.
There he is.
Half wolf, half man. Fully naked and wielding the biggest unit I’ve ever seen.
My jaw drops, wanting to scream, but no sound comes out.
My knees buckle as I reach for the shower rod, but there’s no need. Timber has me, one furry arm hooked around my middle as I go face down in the tub.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t lock you out. I need you, Timber,” I whimper as he has his way with me.
Steam rolls around us as he nudges open my thighs. Excitement rushes through me, and I grab onto the sides of the ceramic tub. My hands get a workout as this creature licks over my wet skin, nipping me with his fangs. The slight pain gives way to pleasure quickly, and I open my thighs and push back.
“Fuck me, Timber. Do it. Please. I know you won’t hurt me.”
Though if he does hurt me, I won’t care. That’s my little secret.
Nothing could prepare me for the stretch.
That thick, long, ridged wolf man cock is almost too much.
If I were fully human, this would be impossible.
But we witches are built differently. Emotions, when controlled, can do many small, useful things. The minor amount of effort it takes to fit him in me is almost as gratifying as the fullness of that monster hog buried inside me.
The slight pain of the first time is nothing.
“I don’t know what you were so worried about, Wolfy,” I say, trembling, then gasping as he pulls out and drives back in.
