Showing posts with label blog hop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog hop. Show all posts

Sunday, October 26, 2014

ShapeShifter Seductions ~ Snarkology Halloween Blog Hop


Welcome to Howl-O-Ween in our shapeshifter town of Talbot's Peak, Montana. Here are some flash scenes depicting the costumed fun and frolic, and yes, they could be on the erotic side of romance. 

If you'd like a chance to win an ebook from our backlists, please leave a comment. 

And remember! to enter the Rafflecopter at the bottom of the post for a chance to win the hop-wide grand prize. 
~~~~~~


OLE!

Jamie adjusted his horns one last time before he clomped down the stairs. “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” Lamar announced, and swept out of the kitchen. “Oh. You mean for the parade.”

“Yeah. What did you think—oh my dog.” Jamie stopped dead. “You’re really wearing that.”

“And why not?” Lamar had dressed in a skin-tight, spangly gold-and-scarlet matador costume that would have caught a blind man’s eye at fifty feet, topped off with a blood red bullfighter’s cape. He twirled once, lashing the cape as he moved. It just barely missed a picture frame on an end table. He stopped and struck a pose. “Every year it’s showgirl this and nudie that. This year I want to honor my Spanish roots, and get in touch with my masculine side. However much of that exists, that is.” He flipped the cape again. A candy dish, thankfully empty, thumped onto the carpet. “You like?”

“I guess. I mean, I ain’t used to seeing you all covered up. Usually you’re, y’know … ”

“Naked?”

“Pretty much. Not that I mind.”

“I know you don’t mind,” Lamar said, with a passable growl that nevertheless ended on a hiss because he was a snake and he just couldn’t help it. “But we’re going to be outside, and Montana gets cold in October. Cold isn’t good for my skin.” He gestured with his chin at Jamie’s furry body suit. “That comes off too, right?”

“It will eventually, with the right persuasion.” Jamie did a slow turn to show off the rest of his bull costume: the horns, the mitten hooves, the calf-high boots, the tufted tail. He swayed his butt and got the tail going into a spin. Lamar watched, fascinated.

“Let the night pass swiftly,” he breathed in Spanish.

“The parade shouldn’t take more’n an hour,” Jamie said. “Then what? Over to the Pleasure Club?”

Lamar hissed again, a quick little burst that escaped him before he could stop it. Jamie knew that sound. He stilled his butt and his twirling bull tail. “Lamar. What’d you do?”

“I … may have committed us to be chaperones at the sleepover,” he said in a rush. “The one at the gym, for the ninos. I suppose I should have said something.”

“Would’a helped. When’d all this happen?”

Lamar swallowed. Because he was a snake, his whole body got involved. “About two days ago. There will be special-needs children at the sleepover. One group is hearing impaired. Usually Mary tends to them, but she’s got a date tonight. Bo asked if we’d fill in, being as how we’re both fluent in sign language. No one says no to Bo Ewing.”

“You do. And have.” Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you?”

Lamar was the picture of innocence. “Que?”

“This year’s whole Halloween deal. You wearing an outfit that covers you up. Not yelping when my outfit covers me up. No Pleasure Club. Doing nice things for other people. For kids. You don’t even like kids. What are you after?”

“Nothing, I swear.” He held up the cape before his body like a shield. “I just wanted to do something different this year. Every holiday becomes the same old same old. I get naked, you get twitchy—”

“I get embarrassed,” Jamie admitted. “I’m pretty used to you being an exhibitionist by now. Don’t mean I … ”

He trailed off. His eyes got wide. In two strides he crossed the room to Lamar and swept him up, cape and all.

“I get embarrassed,” Jamie repeated. “And I get uncomfortable in crowds, and I do like kids, and I hate showing off my body in public, and maybe my sex drive ain’t firing on as many cylinders as yours is, and … and you’re doing stuff that bores you silly but makes me feel more comfortable. You’re doing this for me.”

“I love you,” Lamar said. “Like that’s some big revelation.”

“Showin’ it this way is. It’s … ” Jamie quirked a grin. “It’s probably the scariest Halloween prank you ever pulled on anybody.”

“No prank, querido. Tonight we do things your dull, repressed, closeted way. We keep our clothes on in public and look after rugrats. But for Thanksgiving I’m going to strip you naked and tie you up and stuff you in ways the Pilgrims never dreamed of. You get no choice in the matter.”

“Deal. Y’know … ” Jamie’s grin widened as it warmed. “Them kids ain’t gonna be up all night. Bet there’s a storage room in the gym. With mats and stuff. If we can’t find a mat, well, we still got this.” He tugged his hairy top with a mittened hand. “If we can find a recording of Bolero … ”

Lamar waggled his eyebrows. “Already got one. They have players in the AV room.”

“So this ain’t all about you being considerate.”

“Snakes grow slowly. You can’t expect me to mature all at once.” He wrapped the cape around Jamie’s butt, just below the fake tail. “Eh, toro?”

Jamie nudged him with his Styrofoam horns. “Ole.

Posted by Pat C. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


GOOD LUCK AND TWO HUNKS


Sonya tugged at the hem of her skirt wishing she’d remembered how short the outfit was before putting it on.   Instead, she waited to the last minute to shop for her costume.  Outfits within her price range ran too small.  Those that fit cost more than she budgeted for.  Rummaging in her closet produced remnants of past Halloween costumes. A pair of knee high black leather boots, a witch’s pointy hat, a blood red cape, a cheerleader’s skirt, and a low cut black bra with sequins and a diaphanous matching pullover top.  Not her first choice given her heritage, witch genes aside.  Her magical abilities ranked next to nil.

A bit of makeup, her shoulder length copper hair tamed into a braid, and voila!    One enticing cutie for a night of. . .luck and passion.   Getting Diego’s attention and a sultry slow dance or two started her wish list.  Waking up in his arms and bed closed out the items to a fantasy filled night.  Not that she didn’t want more.  Diego’s charm and looks---the man was a hunk.  Six pack abs, muscles that reminded her of the lifeguards on the Baywatch reruns she viewed when insomnia took over, and a waist that begged for a pair of feminine legs wrapped around him as he plunged deep into her repeatedly.   Yes, at this rate her thong panties would need changing before she left for the party.  Her fantasies ran hotter than volcanic where Diego was concerned.

Tying her demi mask on, Sonya glanced in the mirror.  Maybe, just maybe, she could turn on her flirting skills and score tonight.  After all, she practiced.  Practicing in the mirror without feedback was better than not all, right?  Either way, she had to try.  Enticing a response mattered.  As she passed her kitchen table, she picked up her hat and leather pouch holding her car keys and wallet.  Part way out the door she paused looking at the old broom hanging the corner of her garage.  No, she wasn’t chancing things.  Last time she rode that cantankerous item, its quirky personality took over taking her for a ride that damn near landed her in the backseat of Diego’s convertible as he sped down the highway.  The blonde riding with him wouldn’t have welcomed the intrusion either. Some women didn’t like sharing.  Sonya didn’t mind.  Finding the right partners for a night of hot salacious sexiness sounded ultimately delicious.   Fanning herself, she bolted for her car knowing her courage needed room to increase and fly.  Ten minutes later, she hit the gas as she entered the highway with the car’s sunroof open.

Out on the highway closer to town, Diego shown the flashlight on the lug nut Kole clanked with a hammer.  “Dude, tell me again why you don’t have AAA?”  Diego winced at his voice tone. 

Kole looked up, shielding his eyes.  “Membership ran out before payday.  Takes time to renew.  Damn nuts are frozen.”
Diego bit his lip.  Mirth tickled his funny ironic sense of humor.  Laughter wanted out.  Clamored for freedom.  Kole’s Jeep offered more room for the two of them than his Mini Cooper did.  Having an all-wheel drive vehicle made sense given winters in Montana.  Gulping air, Diego willed his irony to relax.  He could have driven if his car wasn’t in the shop. 

Diego stepped back as Kole rose.  Their costumes differed in one item.  The blood red shirt he wore matched the lining of his cape.  Kole’s shirt matched his cape the black lining helped the midnight blue shirt he wore stand out as he moved.  Tonight their lust and need weighed heavy upon them.  The blood rare steaks and O-negative martinis sated the hunger rumbling through their bellies.  Passion boiled beneath the surface threatening to overtake both of them.  None of their clan vampiresses wanted them.  The unclaimed ones hunted for single mates instead of two.  Looking to others made sense.  Would one woman find them dually desirable?

Kole opened the passenger door, tossed the lug wrench inside.  Slamming the door shut, he grimaced.  His groin ached with carnal need rising as the moon reached its pinnacle.  Masturbating lead to more ache and lust. He’d found that out the hard way over the past three nights.  Diego admitted as much as they groused at each other as twilight fell rousing them both from their daylight sleep.  Their intended smelled near.  Each night over the last week, as they sat on the patio enjoying post dinner drinks and sweets, her scent teased them.  Tantalizing them to venture into the night to find and claim her.   Tonight she would elude them no more.  The hunt for her was on.  On until his Jeep declared no.  Kole turned, kicked at the tire, and swore as his boot connected with the Jeep’s frame.

“Frig it hurts,” he continued, leaning against the Jeep.  Diego’s snort didn’t help.  Blast his ironical humor.  Kole inhaled trying to keep his satirical wit in check.  Neither of them needed a fit of tongue and cheek puns mixed with innuendos happening.  Vampires didn’t hold their sides, howling like hyenas, and look at each other burst out in more laughter.  Another reason their clan considered them odd balls.
 
“I hear a car coming.  Wave the flashlight so we can get some help,” Kole said.

Diego made his way to the back of the Jeep well off the side of the road. He began arcing his arm back and forth hoping this person stopped and called AAA for them.  Two dead cell phones lay on the counsel between the front seats.  Practicality fled probably for the sake of its sanity as lust and craving united their intertwined demands.  If deities heard their whispered litanies, this person would stop.

Sonya slowed as first one flash then another caught her attention.  On the third flash, the vehicle and the two men standing near it came into view.  She gulped, gripping the steering wheel harder.  Squinting as another flash of light arced over them, she started braking.  Diego and his best friend Kole broke down, flagging her down.  Talk about good luck.  Easing on to the berm, she offered a quick prayer.  “Let tonight be the night.  Two is all right!”

Discussions ensued, calls made, and Diego sat next to her while Kole’s warmth and sensuous scent caressed one side of her nose.  Diego’s physical presence warmed her other side as lasciviously.  Wetness flowed drenching her panties even more as need worked its way upwards pooling in her belly until sparks flew higher.  Her nipples pushed against her bra cups begging for caresses.  Keeping her mind on driving became more difficult.  She jumped as Diego touched her.

“Sorry, Sonya.  I don’t know if you heard me,” he spoke.  His voice like silk slipping over her taut clit, teasing it, demanding she yield to him.
 
She couldn’t reach between her legs and adjust her panties.  Sighing, she replied.  “No I didn’t.  I’m sorry.”

Kole deep dark voice wrapped around her neck shoulders as he spoke.  “No worries.  Our place is near here.  Do you mind taking us home?”

Sonya caught her bottom lip between her teeth, hoping her hormones didn’t call out her answer.   One breath, then another did little to dampen the images flashing through her mind.  Not one, but two hunks claimed her.  More wetness dampened her panties.  As a beam from a street light illuminated, Diego, she caught him inhaling.  His gaze caught hers before she looked away.

Kole spoke again as if he read her and Diego’s silent communication.  “Yes, your lovely aroma attracts us.”

Moments passed seemingly eternity until Sonya knew her answer.  No more second quessing.  No flights of fantasy awaited her.  What she dreamt of, wanted, and maybe even needed awaited her.  Before dawn, two would claim her as theirs.  She knew this as sure as she exited the highway making the turns and stops needed to bring her to the address Diego gave her once she agreed to take them home.

Hours later, the sun shone through the partially covered windows. Trails of clothing littered the hallway leading to the back of the house.  The cries of passion and possession left no doubts as to who belonged to whom.  Bite marks adorned necks.  Sonya wore two set of fang marks on each side.  One at her neck the other on her inner thigh. Diego’s bruised neck and shoulder spoke of his possession.  Kole wore similar marks.  Three sated lovers slept entwined knowing their futures now combined.


Posted by Solara Gordon
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The UnMasked Beast Ball at the Pleasure Club 

"You take care of our beautiful mate, pardner. I'll go attend to the dining details." Zance affected a courtly bow, and Sherilyn giggled just a bit at the sight of her rough tough cowboy.

Zance bent at the waist as much as he could without dislodging the magnificent wolf headdress he wore, depicting his animal shifter side. Obviously, he'd been practicing, given the smooth motion of his bow. Sherilyn loved him all the more for it.

Unlike the costume ball in "The Three Musketeers", a 1973 movie, the life-size wolf head looked close to real. In honor of his wolf's coat colors, Zance's satin finery had been done in shades of gray, silvery white, and tan.

"As you say, pardner." Dontoya answered, playing his part. He took command of Sherilyn's elbow, his touch gentlemanly seductive in the extreme. "Our agreement, darlin'. Zance gets to dance with you first," he intimately whispered close to her ear.

"So, that was the outcome of your cat and dog fight last week. You two were covered in leaves...gave me an excuse to brush your coats. And pet you for as long as I wanted."

"Felt mighty good." Dontoya's smoky tone slid over her skin.

"Is that so? You didn't say that at the time." Forgetting her own lightweight feline headdress for an instant, Sherilyn danced a whirl so she faced Dontoya. Her fanciful satin gown –- a confection of several lavender shades and lace — deliciously brushed her legs as she teetered, off balance. "Oops."

Dontoya easily caught hold of her arm, steadying her. An amused smile played on his handsome face, and sheer love beamed from his dark eyes.

"No wonder men encouraged these fashions," Sherilyn teased. She leaned toward Dontoya intentionally displaying her mostly bared breasts. "It made women helpless without them."

Dontoya rumbled an un-gentleman-like growl, and Sherilyn almost believed the sound came from his black cougar headdress. Certainly, his inner beast growled with mating need. The ferocity coursed through her causing Sherilyn to tremble.

Their gazes locked, and she observed restraint shadow Dontoya's eyes. "Claws later," she sultrily baited the cat beast, even as her tightly bound nipples throbbed with pleasure.

Time fell away, and they entered their private world. Dontoya lightened his grip, then raised her hand to his lips. He kissing-nibbled her fingers, somehow avoiding the pretend cat claws on her fingerless, pale lavender gloves.

Sherilyn's breaths escaped rapidly, her bosom heaving. No wonder this bodice-constrictive fashion had become popular once upon a time. The sensations were erotic as hell and simultaneously she felt like an elegant princess.

"Elegant eroticism," she breathy-voiced.

"Yes," Dontoya lowered her hand, even as Sherilyn tingled with their mind connection.

She smiled flirtatiously, then stroked her fingertip down the midnight satin finery covering Dontoya's broad hunky chest. "My own black cougar man, I love how you look tonight. You are fantasy-irresistible. And I intend to enjoy uncovering you down to that beastly cock of yours. Minimally but temptingly covered, I hope."

"You can count on it. Me and Zance intend on struttin' our stuff in our 'barely there' costumes...Sheri Kat darlin'." Dontoya's virile drawl always curled Sherilyn's toes.

"Thank you for indulging me–"

"No, darlin'. Don't thank me. Seein' you dressed up and radiant... then, undressing you later, that's my reward." Dontoya eased her beside him. "I'm seein' a prime spot for viewin'."

As they moved across the pearlescent dance floor— illumined by candles in crystal chandeliers — the beautiful melodic sound of chamber music transformed the usual atmosphere of the grand supperclub. The delicate scents of rose, lavender, and jasmine perfumed the air further enhancing the extravagant ambience.

"I can't wait to see the animals the human non-shifters and the witches who aren't shifters have chosen for headdresses," Sherilyn enthused, even as she spied Serenity, one of the Pleasure Club's dance instructors. Entirely human, the petite slender woman with a wild mane of coppery hair, had chosen a cardinal, the female of the species, to wear as her headdress.

"I'm wondering if the club's renowned vampire escorts will be sporting vampire bats atop their heads,"  Dontoya offered, his tone drily amused.

"No vampire bats yet. No vampires either...by my supernatural senses."

"You've gotten downright good at spotting anyone on the supernatural side, darlin', no matter how human they look."

"Why thank you, kind cougar sir." Once Dontoya positioned them to watch the arriving guests, Sherilyn throatily purred, "Purrrrrfect."

They'd arrived early just for this enjoyment, and now Sherilyn quivered with utter delight as she observed the parade of women in their elaborate gowns, the men costumed in Louis XV finery –- and all of them wearing their fantastical beast headdresses. Albeit, the costumes were gorgeous fantasy versions of the historic French era's resplendent garments, rather than faithful reproductions.

"So far, the wolf shifters are winning," Sherilyn remarked, since the wolf headdresses outnumbered all the other 'unmasked beasts'.

"The big cats are more unique, more varied in appearance," Dontoya defended, his tone bantering.

"We feline types have to stick together." Sherilyn squeezed his hand, excitement owning her. "Tigers, jaguars, lions, leopards, and pumas. Bears too, grizzly, black, and here comes a polar bear, omy! Looks like the rabbit shifter crowd is here as well."

"Canines are king," Zance drawled, having obviously mind-tuned into what she and Dontoya had been saying. Behind Sherilyn, Zance circled her waist with his arms pulling her against his hard, cowboy-sexy frame. "Coyotes, jackals, foxes," he crooned to her ear, "and I seen several breeds of dog." 

"The herbies are showin' up now," Dontoya announced, as rams, sheep, bovines, a moose, an elk, an antelope, and a couple of buffalo entered the ballroom.

"Probably came as a group," Zance opined. "Instinct against us predators."

"I had no clue there were so many horse shapeshifters living in the Peak." Given her love of horses, Sherilyn eagerly watched for all those wearing equine headdresses. "Oh, and the birds are so exquisite. Look at that swan."

"The flamingos are more to my likin'," Dontoya rumbled, a grin in his voice.

"I'm partial to that hawk headdress. And the golden eagle is darn impressive." Zance nuzzled Sherilyn's neck, then touched his tongue tip to her skin, as if he kissed her as wolf.

Sherilyn melted against him. "I feel transported. I'm with the men I love and we're inside another beautiful, very luxurious realm."

"Me and Dontoya are always feelin' transported by you, sweet kitten." Zance hugged her waist. "Aren't we?"

"Transported to the heights of passion where the heart rules." Dontoya embraced her hand within his large one, squeezing. "Well, I'll be a son of a gun. I didn't know we had a skunk shapeshifter amongst us."

"Oooh, I see a chipmunk." Sherilyn stood on tiptoe to get a better view. At that moment Pasha and White Fang entered.

"Pasha must've seduced him to holy heck and back." Zance straightened abruptly. "To get White Fang in that sissy blue satin getup."

"Matches his eyes," Sherilyn defended, her gaze fastened on White Fang's majestic wolf headdress. The blue eyes were remarkably real looking.

"My bet is Pasha must be wearing the 'barely there' costume you described to us under that gold silk gown. What do you say, darlin'?" Dontoya cradled her hand between both of his, further igniting Sherilyn's desire for him.

"The fantasy lioness headdress is the same. So, I'd say you win that bet, my black cougar man," Sherilyn crooned seductively.

"Am I winning my bet?" Zance's raspy low voice sizzled her earlobe. For the briefest moment, his palms grazed like feathers over Sherilyn's nipples. The momentary friction caused her clit to jerk and pulse, the sensation splendidly carnal.

Earlier, as Sherilyn had dressed for the ball, Zance and Dontoya had brought her an erotic gift. The golden rings on her breasts only slightly pinched her aroused nipples. Yet the increased pleasure she felt, blissfully flamed through Sherilyn, and kept her on the edge of unbridled lust.

"You'd be winning that bet, cowboy," she huskily whispered. Languidly, she shimmied against Zance.

"My idea." Dontoya faced Sherilyn.

His hands spanned her waist, claiming her, and without effort Dontoya lifted her. Once Sherilyn's breasts pressed against his chest, he slowly allowed her to slide down his beefcake body. Sherilyn moaned at the exquisite and fiery pleasure.

"My very own unmasked beasts," she whispery sang, intoxicated by the very savagery of her passions. 

~~~~~~

This is the fourth flash scene in a series I wrote. If you'd like to read the previous flashes, here are the links.

First Flash Scene:
Time to unmask my inner cat...

Second Flash Scene:
Nothing scarier to a man...

Third Flash Scene:
"I'll be wantin' your claws later."

~~~~~~


HAPPY HOWL-O-WEEN!

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Guys! Do you have your costumes on?"

"Guys! Do you have your costumes on?" Marissa shouted. She wasn't naming names because it was entirely possible her mate was not ready yet either. Their twins would be, so long as nothing distracted them. Being 8-year-old wolf pups, they distracted easily, though.

"Yeah, Mom!" someone shouted back from the kitchen. "We're just waiting on y--" The bellow was cut off with an oof, probably due to an elbow to the ribs from his brother. That would be Loki, her dark haired mischief maker. Thor was happy, blonde, and pretty much clueless about things like tact, manners, and things not to be said to mothers.

"The boys are just putting the finishing touches on the ordurve tray for the kid's party," Mooney, her mate, said without yelling. Clever wolf, he clearly knew she was close enough to hear him. She could also hear the manic giggles of small boys up to no good.

The first thing she saw when she walked into the kitchen was Mooney, of course. Damn, he looked good in the 17th century ivory suit she'd ordered for him for tonight's masquerade ball. Six and a half feet of swarthy, well-muscled hunk all decked out in a replica costume from the 1970s version of "The Three Musketeers" was enough to make any mortal woman drool, and it took a lot of effort to wrench her greedy eyes away.

And there it was. The most awesome veggie tray ever created.

"I am so putting you two to work making center pieces the next time I get a catering job!"

~ Rebecca Gillan 

~~~~~~


 
What's With this Town?

“Man, Silas, this town blows!” Daniel said, picking through his haul of tricks more than treats.

“I know, geez, raw veggies and meatballs.  No one gave out candy like they were supposed to.
Bunch a freaks.” Silas whined, tossing his entire bag in the trash.  “You know what, I overheard one of the guests talking about this wicked cool website that has scary Halloween stuff on it.”

“Cool!  But, mom would never let us look at the site.”

“Mom’s working, doofus and not here.  She’ll never know we looked.”

“That’s right.  Bring it, bro!”

The boys scrambled to the computer and booted it up.  “Do you know the web address, Silas?”

“Yeah, just hang on a sec.”

Silas tapped in the address and waited, Daniel hanging over his shoulder.  The screen went black and the cursor blinked in the upper left corner.

“Did you break it, Silas?”

“No, shut up.”

A string of letters ran across the screen…

Asjasfjapjpasjajpfjawpifjapjfasdlawofjwpfjpfjpsdfsdfasjfpsajfpisjdfpasjdsdfjsjfasdfaj

“Man, you broke it!”  “I did not!”

The computer beeped, commanding the boy’s attentions and the typing started again…

I can see you.

“Omygod, Silas, shut it down…shut it down!”

“Don’t be dumb, Daniel, it’s just a website.  It can’t really see us.  I bet it says that to all the people who check it out.”

“Oh, okay…yeah, that makes sense.  It can’t see us.”

Are you sure about that?????

“Silasssss.”

“It says that to everyone dummy.”

I really don’t Daniel, I mostly wait for mean little boys who pick on their sister like you and your brother Silas.  Then I come to haunt you on Halloween night.

The room temperature dropped to meat locker level and the computer started flashing and making clicking noises.  Over and over the same words were typing themselves…

You are naughty boys, you are naughty boys, you are naughty boys……

“Aaaaaahhhhhh…” “Move, move, move” “I want mommy…” “Shut up, Daniel.”  The lights went out and sent the boys running to the door, screaming at each other the entire way.  The lock clicked loudly, sending them to the couch instead where they pulled their knees up and cried as the pearly white ghost slipped in through the window and flew around above them.  The giant, see through, Indian, stood in the corner with a full headdress of feathers and warned them to be nicer to their sister or they would be justly punished when he returned.

“I’m sorry,” I’m sorry,” they both cried, burying their heads and calling for their mom.

The lights went out and the room around them quieted moments before the door squeaked open.

“Silas, Daniel…What are you doing?  Why are you sitting in the dark?” Their mom asked as he turned on the lights.

The boys looked around the now quiet room and wondered if they’d imagined it all when their sister sat down between them and dumped out her bag, brimming with candy. “Johnny found all the good candy places.”  She said, smiling at them.  “What did you get?”

“SILAS! DANIEL!”  The boys pulled themselves away from the unbelievable amount of candy their sister had scored in this rotten town when their mom screeched at them from the other side of the table.  She held up the laptop and frowned at them like she did before she took away their electronic games.  “Care to explain?”

On the computer there was a picture of them and a list of the sites they’d secretly visited over the last few days.  All ones their mom had expressly forbidden them from accessing.

“You two are busted.  Go get the games and bring them to me.  I hope you had a Happy Halloween, because it’s the last one you’ll be celebrating for a very long time.

###

Alec sat back and listened to the boys being punished by their mom on top of being scared by his owl under the sheet and someone’s watching you from the computer routines.  They deserved it for treating their sister so badly, but he had one more for them.

As he logged into the Trojan he’d built and typed the words he wished he could see their faces as they read them…

I’ll be watching…

He’d have to live with their screams filling this floor of the hotel from several doors down.  Muahahahahah

~Serena Shay~ 


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Thursday, January 2, 2014

BLOG HOP ~ Baby, It's Cold Outside






Art for the Sake of Body HeatCassandra and the Sheriff

Cassandra looked out her window, shook her head, and dropped the curtain back in place.  The Frat boys from Granite Falls College had out done themselves this time. Three phallic columns, crafted out of the prior night's ten inch snow fall, stood out in stark relief thanks to the illumination provided by the lamp posts marking the property line between her yard and the college.  Twice her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Robinson, had called asking what Cassandra intended to do about the sexual works of art prominently taking up a large portion of her side yard which shared part of the public land area of the college’s campus.

Cassandra’s phone rang again.  Sighing, ready to tell Mrs. Robinson take matters into her own hands, Cassandra grabbed the handset.  “Now look Mrs. Robinson, it’s too cold out there to do anything about those damn pricks tonight?”

  



“Excuse me,” a deep distinctly southern male voice asked.  

Cassandra gripped the phone harder, hoping she could keep herself from blushing.  She swallowed hard, counted in every language she knew how to count to ten in, and responded.  “Sorry Sheriff Knox.  Thought it was my neighbor calling again about some kids playing in her yard.”

Marc Knox stood six-foot-five in his bare feet.  With his tight jeans, that hugged his ass like they were molded and cut exclusively for him and his Stetson pulled low on his head, the man turned many a head as he patrolled the streets of Granite Falls.  In his boots and uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up, hot didn’t begin to touch the look.  Scalding to volcanic boiling might describe the pressure cooker heat he generated every time he got near her.  God, she’d love to run her fingers through his long black hair.  His Native American features sent her steam meter up another notch closer to cataclysmic melt down.   And the man could dance.  Lord, watching his jean covered ass swing and sway as he two-stepped around the dance floor or boogied to an eighties disco song. . .Cassandra fanned herself while eyeing the clock.  Why was Marc calling at ten o’clock at night?

Marc laughed as he heard Cassandra stumble over his next question.  He covered the phone’s mouth piece so she couldn’t hear him.  Lord, the sweet images and erotic thoughts she brought to mind.  He was sure her curves would fit snuggled up against him in complimentary ways. He bet she didn’t even know he thought about her in that way.  “Ah, darlin’ what pricks are you talking about?”

Cassandra’s cough and stutter made him want to reach through the phone and hug her tight to him.  Her pale skin and copper curls set off steam he was sure would set off a smoke detector if he wasn’t careful.  Then again setting off fire alarms and sprinklers was worth the passion and release he’d give both of them if they just had the chance to---another cold burst of wind rattle his office windows and sent another whimper and groan through the ancient heat ducts of his two story office.  The jail was empty due to renovations.  His attached living quarters relied on the same boiler the jail and county courthouse used.

Marc sat up right in his chair.  Cassandra clearing her throat ripped him out of his nude fantasy of them showering together.  He smiled at her reply to his earlier question.    “The Sigma-Xi boys decided the land between their dorm and my place needed some decorating.  Uhmm. . .you know. . .”

Marc knew how mischievous the fraternity could be.   Rumors flew about town along with stories of the wild parties and streaking events from the past.  He’d already gotten numerous calls about the possible design and description of their snow sculpting event.  There wasn’t much he could do until he saw things first hand.  Still he couldn’t resist teasing Cassandra a bit more.  “No I don’t know honey.  Tell me about it.”



Cassandra held the phone out from her looking at the equipment as if it had come to life.  The man who she’d love to see naked with an erection meant for her just asked her to tell him about the three enormous cocks on display outside her bedroom window.   Talk about innuendo.  Fanning herself vigorously, she placed the phone back to her ear.  “I think it’s better if you come see this with your own eyes.”


Marc’s short chortle caused her to flush even more.  His response caught her off guard.  “I probably will.  See I need a place to stay tonight.  Got room for me there?”


Cassandra coughed taking a good hard look in the mirror.  Her hair stood up in places from her tossing and turning.  Her shorty night gown exposed one shoulder and part of her ample breasts.  Never mind she’d forgone panties thinking a night with her sexual toys might help her sleep.  That hadn’t happened thanks to the commotion the artists created and her nosey neighbor.


“G-g-got room for you?”  There she said it.  Asked the question bugging her from the moment he’d asked it.


“Yes, you know that extra room you rent out from time to time.  Damn boiler finally quit.  I need a place to stay until it’s fixed.  So you got room for me?”  Marc’s tone deepened as he spoke.  Cassandra gulped wondering how her prayers got priority on being answered and in the way she fantasized about more than she would ever verbally admit to.  


She gulped again, licked her lips and replied.  “You’re in luck.  The room is yours.”


Her psyche crowed and flashed several images before her.  Marc naked. . . laying in her bed. . . stroking his cock from the tip down to his balls and back.  His eyes upon her and an open condom packet lay next to him.   Her nipples grew taut as she let her mind run with the fantasy forming.  One of her hands reached lower toward the apex of her thighs.


Marc’s voice came through the phone low and clear.  “I’ll be there shortly sweetness.  Maybe we’ll check out those pricks together one at a time.”


Cassandra jumped as the dial tone hummed loudly in her ear.  Marc’s last statement had her fanning herself even more.  Something about sharing heat to keep warm and ward off the chill set her thermostat to boiling.

Posted by Solara Gordon 

~~~~~~



ICE CASTLES

Gypsy rolled out of her snug, warm bed, peered through the curtains to the world outside, and groaned aloud. The few flurries drifting through the air at dusk had called in all their friends and relatives. At least two more feet had fallen last night, to join the massive drifts that already coated the sidewalks, her yard, and all of Talbot’s Peak. The dragon’s roar in her dreams that had roused her from sleep to face this frigid world became the grunt and crunch of a snow plow digging out the town.

She let the curtain fall with a shake of her head. A child of the Deep South, she’d found Montana’s snows enchanting for the first week or so. Now they were simply a headache. Her red wolf hadn’t thick enough fur to keep all the chill out, and she hated when ice clumped between her toes. Yet she refused to leave. Her psychic powers told her she was needed here, in this town of shapeshifters in hiding. The positive effect she had on their lives had to be worth a little—or a lot of—cold.

She had turned from the window when an image her weary eye had passed over suddenly yipped for attention. Gypsy yanked the curtain back again. Yes. That drift beneath the fir was not a drift. As she watched it rose and shook itself, shedding cottony snow from onyx stripes, and gazed expectantly at her window.

Gypsy’s heart warmed. Sergei! Snow and sub-zero temperatures didn’t bother the enormous white tiger. He considered Montana tropical when compared to his native Siberia. He’d been trying to win her over to the idea of enjoying cold weather, so far with mixed results.

“You’ve got another plan for this morning, don’t you?” Gypsy murmured, when he neither shifted to his human form nor moved toward her kitchen door. He simply eyed the window, and her, silently entreating her to join him. She looked at the fresh snow and sighed. “Only you, my frozen love, could get me out in that.”

She slipped out of her heavy wool nightgown, shifted, and left her warm house for the chilly morning outside. The wind smacked her in the face and hooted at the insufficient protection her red wolf coat provided. Instantly Sergei bounded to her side and placed his body between her and the wind. He nuzzled her neck, and she nosed his chin in return. His whiskers tickled her muzzle. Whatever he had in mind, Gypsy knew it would be worth a little ice in her pads.

They had long ago passed the point where words were needed. He slipped into the woods and she followed. Gypsy’s house abutted thick forest, with several trails that led to little clearings where Gypsy performed her meditations in more accommodating weather. Sergei might have chosen one of these. She couldn’t tell for sure. Changed by the snowfall, the forest had her turned around. Sergei seemed to know where he was going, and she trusted him.

All at once the trees fell away, and yet another new sight greeted her. Gypsy stopped short. It had to be one of her clearings, but it had been transformed. A sparkling snow castle filled the little glade, at least seven feet tall, complete with ramparts, the suggestion of a drawbridge, and a single, slightly-lopsided Russian minaret. The hole at the drawbridge was just tall and wide enough to admit a slim red wolf and a massive tiger. Sergei stood beside the hole and motioned her inside.

Within she found more miracles. The interior had been dug out into a chamber almost tall enough for her human form to stand erect. Whoever had dug it out had cleared almost all the snow from the ground. A large box sat against one wall. With the wind cut off it was surprisingly cozy in here, warmer than she would have expected.

After granting her a few minutes to take it all in, Sergei entered, and shifted. The chamber suddenly got much smaller with his seven-foot human body in it. From the box he took a thick blanket, which he spread on the ground. A second blanket followed, along with a Thermos, two mugs, and a Tupperware container packed with snack-sized meat cubes. He sat and draped the blanket over his broad shoulders, and held a corner of it up in invitation.

Gypsy turned human and scuttled under the blanket. His bare skin warmed her like a banked fire. Touches in the right places would flare it up into a blaze, as Gypsy well knew.

Sergei poured hot tea from the Thermos into the mugs. He handed her one. “You like this?”

“I like this very much. Did you build it?”

He snorted. “I hire builders. Otter boys. All over town I see these lovely castles on lawns. I ask around. Who makes these? They send me to otters. I ask, can you make one giant size? Boy looks me in eye and names price. We reach agreement. Was worth it, da?”

“It’s lovely. And so snug. Why is that wall slanted?”

“Back of castle is slide.” He shrugged one shoulder. “They are otters.”

“We’ll have to try it out,” Gypsy said. “Later.” She set her mug aside and snuggled closer to her lover, naked and surrounded by ice but for now deliciously warm.

Posted by Pat C.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


Shaking It...

Dom watched Jada shake her lush ass and swing that long dark hair on the dance floor.  She moved between two of her friends from the ridiculously named doomed love club – grinding against one another, lower bodies twitching in time to the techno dance music filling the air.
 

He moved around the trio enjoying the way his beauty was starting to take pleasure for pleasures sake and to realize ones sexuality was naturally open and accepting.  Too many people feared what they considered outside the “norm.” 
Dom lived happily and enthusiastically outside that “norm.”
 

“Erol,” he addressed the blacksmith with the glowing orange nostrils.  “You really need to find a way to work out that frustration before you burn your nose off.”
 

“SHE needs to stop giving other males a…a…”
 

“A show?”  Dom laughed at the disgruntled dragon.  “Greely is a desirable woman, Erol, and correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it you she was wrapped around on New Year’s?”
 

“Irrelevant!”  The dragon roared, steam now floating around his head.  “I am the only one she should be gyrating for.”
 

“Ha!  A statement like that’s going to get you in trouble.”
 

“So says Karma, but I do not understand why?”
 

“In Karma’s absence I’ll give the explanation a go.”  Dom loosened his bowtie and sat on the other side of Erol, still facing the dance floor.  “Greely’s ‘dancing’, not gyrating, for herself - not the other men in the room.  Hell, she might even be ‘dancing’ for you, but acting like a caveman will shut down any further pleasure you could have tonight.”
 

Erol looked at him like he had rocks for brains and pebbles were falling from his ears.  The dragon was highly amusing.
 

“I thought you were a, what do they call them, superior?  Not a little girl.”
 

“They call them Dominants, Erol, and yes, I am…” The table flew forward away from the partially shifted dragon.  “…one.”
 

He looked back at the beautiful trio and smirked at their antics.  They’d turned up the heat on their little dance and were now engaging in some public groping and lip play meant to entice their respective males.  He was all for their continued PDA, but the half man, half dragon next to him struggled to keep it together.  It was time to halt this little tease.
 

“Hang in there, my man.”
 

Dom rose and made his way to Jada.  He wrapped himself around her from behind, ground himself against her ass. He slid a hand around her hip, up the front before resting his palm between her breasts.  “That was beautiful, ladies, but Dante’s about to come down hard on the half dragon in the corner.”
 

“Erol!” 
 

They watched as Greely ran across the floor to the object of her tease and tugged at his claws.
 

“Did we take it too far?”  Jada asked in a breathless whisper.
 

“For Erol, definitely.  For me, not so much, but I’ve decided we need to call Mistress P…soon.”
 

Jada’s sigh was music to his ears as he moved her back into the shadows intending on indulging her need for a public display, but one that wouldn’t get them kicked out by Dante.
 

“Erol, baby, come on…it’s cold outside.”
 

“She’s right,” he whispered into his lady’s ear.  “But you know what…”  His hand slid between her legs, cupping her just as she liked.  “It’s warm right here.”

Posted by Serena Shay 

~~~~~~~ 





The Snow Wolf Sculpture 

Cozily cocooned in her bed, Samara glanced out her nearest window. The late morning sun beautifully sparkled the thick blanket of snow covering her large front yard. "Baby, it's cold outside," she murmured, the lyric playing in her head.

"Brrrr..." Samara shivered involuntarily, imagining the icy temps on her short-furred hide. Earlier, once the sun shone brightly over the horizon, she'd shifted and gone for a run in the Peak's park, just to keep in good shape.

Samara smirked, remembering how she'd out-raced a couple of wolf pup shifters – Thor and Loki, as they were known in town. They'd been determined to catch her. At one point, she'd pretended to be treed, mentally laughing at their high-jumping antics.

Certainly, their chases during the bone-chilling weather made exercising more fiercely enjoyable for Samara – given she was an African Wildcat shapeshifter, and much preferred the heat.

Squinting, Samara focused on the life-like snow sculpture on the neighbor's lawn. She'd become intrigued by the magnificent, over-sized wolf. He... and the sculpture was a 'he' by the realistic equipment easily observed whenever she walked by... well, the snow wolf appeared to slightly change position.

Okay, maybe it was some kind of snow blindness. Who knew? But dammit, Samara swore his paws were not in the same stance whenever she walked to Java Joe's then returned.

If she let her imagination run wild, the great white wolf looked as though he'd journeyed from the Arctic. That he was really some ancient wizard-magician on a grand mission... and that this was his way of observing his foes in Talbot's Peak.

Samara smiled at her fantastical imaginings. She should write a book with that plotline. Maybe, it would even sell.

Shaking her head at her musings, Samara scooched deeper into her nest of pillows. She continued reading the erotic romance, her gaze gluing itself to the screen of her new e-tablet.

Dontoya not only took her with his big bold cock, but handled her with care, both emotionally and physically. Her heart swelled with gratitude, and Sherilyn hoped like hell he would continue caring for her this way.

Dontoya, she sang inside her mind. God help her, but the feel of his fine, fine ass was driving her insane with lust. She undulated, matching his slow primal strikes inside her.

"Easy, darlin'," he hoarsely whispered. "Let me do the work this time."

Surprised, Sherilyn slitted her eyes. His smoke-hot gaze met hers, then devoured her face as if he'd found some sort of long-sought heaven.

With a strong thrust of his cock, he pinned her to the bed. "Give me your wrists."

****

Zolaron sniffed in the essence of the little wildcat shifter who endangered his ability to maintain his frozen shape. Every time she passed by, he failed to deny himself that worldly pleasure.

More to importance, Zolaron relied on his wolf nose for tracking the inter-dimensional demon loosed on Talbot's Peak... loosed by the snake-eyed, black arts' magicians he'd battled for the last half century. The slippery creature's power to phase from material to incorporeal couldn't hide its unmistakable sulphurous stench – no matter how faint.

Hence, after meetings with the alpha wolf leader, Dante, and his allies, Zolaron  agreed to remain in the Montana town. He'd joined with the newly formed Circle of Witches who had arrived at Dante's underground compound due to the Summoning.

Together, they combatted the dark supernatural forces being released against the shapeshifter-paranormal community. Zolaron had swiftly realized, the attack came by command of those he called the Serpent Rulers – currently in league with the most sinister faction of the 'military industrial complex'. 

Howl-shout to the rising North wind, Zolaron quaked inside as he resisted the urge to move. Oh curses, indeed! he wanted to chase and rut with the lovely wildcat woman.

After three days of pretending to be a wolf carved out of snow, Zolaron was close as the Earth's breath to discovering the demon's escape portal. Thus, its imminent capture. And extermination. 

Even now, Zolaron's ability to keep his magick strong, to remain an unmoving statue, ebbed away dangerously. The woman's delicious sexual heat as she lay in bed reading one of her romance novels, could very well prove to be his great undoing.

He'd planted images about himself inside her mind with little effort, without consequence to his mission, then observed as her imagination beautifully took flight.

Tormented by the intensity of her sex scent, Zolaron mentally whined and licked his chops. Passionately convincing the little wildcat would be a savage pleasure. No cosmic-splendid doubt. 

Hearing the vibratory opening of the demon's portal, Zolaron switched his focus quicker than the next beat of his heart. Albeit, he'd significantly slowed the rate. 

Glimpsing the position with his spirit eyes, Zolaron abandoned his physical form.  Like a shooting star, he traveled through the ethers, determined to trap his prey.

****

"What the 'f'?" Samara stared at the snow wolf, her eyes wide and threatening to pop out. She couldn't have blinked in the following moments, no matter how hard she tried.

"Odd," Samara muttered for lack of anything else to say. Her jumbled thoughts tumbled over themselves as Samara attempted to make sense out of what she'd just witnessed.

For a split second she'd seen the snow wolf glow, entirely glow – as if he'd been lit internally by a white light. There'd been a following bright flash, then a glittery trail.

Now, nothing. Yet... something was definitely different. Lifeless, the magnificent sculpture looked cold as ice and lifeless.

Samara frowned, not liking the sensation that swept through her. She wanted her snow wolf alive, even if... well, even if he wasn't. Maybe, it was because she'd imagined him as real, as the heroic wizard-magician.

Scowling, in no mood to continue reading despite how much she'd been enjoying the book, Samara collapsed against her mound of pillows. She let her mind wander.

When a scene formed before her mind's eye, Samara didn't dismiss it. Instead she concentrated on the large black hole cut out of a starry night sky.

"Wow," burst from her in a whisper. A battle raged between a horned, devil like creature that looked as if it had been made out of mud, and a tall, white-light being.

Spinning plasma flame, Samara thought, as the foes engaged in some sort of tornadic combat she couldn't fathom. Transfixed, she willed the scene to continue. 
The mud-devil creature suddenly slumped forward, crisscrossed with strands of blue light.

"Imprisoned," she murmured.

Awed beyond belief, Samara straightened from the pillows as the scene faded,  vanishing completely.

'I'm alive,' she heard inside her mind. 'The wolf is alive.'

Stunned to say the least, Samara froze for several moments. Hell, she might as well have been an ice statue outside on the front lawn.

Slowly, so very slowly, she turned her gaze toward the window. Her stomach clutched becoming a hard knot. Her heart raced too fast.

The snow wolf now gazed back at her. Before his noble head had been in profile.

"Okay," Samara managed, despite her rapid shallow breaths, "I think I'm going to faint."

As the words left her lips, a state of calm descended over Samara. She picked up her e-tablet wondering at the sudden change. She felt normal yet not normal.

But whatever... she wasn't going to analyze anything now.

With a toss of her shoulder-length, tawny hair, Samara settled back against her pillow pile. Just like a magic spell, she thought. Certainly, a case of high strangeness, if nothing else. 

Compelled, Samara gazed at the tablet's screen. The romance story she'd been reading had been replaced by a free read she'd recently downloaded. "Quick-Fix Wedding," Samara whispered. 

****

'Quick-Fix Wedding,' Zolaron repeated to himself. He smiled, his snow wolf lips curling upward. After centuries of time, he'd finally found his mate.


~~~~~~

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Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


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Friday, July 19, 2013

ShapeShifter Seductions ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream-Man




'I will come to you in your dreams.'
By Savanna Kougar

Sivesi strolled onto the small lake dock, mesmerized by the sun as it began slipping behind the distant mountains. The sun's blasting radiance vanished the peaks, a sight she'd never seen until this year, even growing up as a wilderness girl.

She'd repaired the old battered dock shortly after arriving at the remote forest spot. Sivesi had wanted to spend the summer connecting with Mother Earth, walking peacefully among the wild animals, as her priestess ancestresses had practiced in the Celtic lands.

Yielding to the ancient, hidden Scottish clan she belonged to, Sivesi had promised to choose a man for husband at the Autumnal Equinox, and take her place as a healer practitioner.

Also, as of late, she'd become the clan's liaison to Dante, the powerful alpha werewolf, who kept the forests and lands around Talbot's Peak patrolled and protected with his impressive team of friends and family -- just as she and her clan watched over, protected the lands they'd settled since 1205 A.D.

She sighed, the sound whispering inside the late afternoon breezes.  Her heart turned heavy at the thought of choosing a man to wed. None pleased her.

All of them were good men, fearsome warriors of high intellect with poetic souls. Yet, an undefinable ache owned her heart. She wanted, needed something more.

Casting her glance downward at a disturbance in the lapping water, Sivesi stopped dead. Shock coiled like a cold snake in the pit of her stomach.

Could it be?

She blinked several times, hoping what she saw would disappear, or be explained in some mundane way -- even though Sivesi knew of their existence. After all, her ancestors had formed alliances with them during the Middle Ages.

But, no, her eyes didn't lie.  The youngish mermaid appeared to be trapped in a discarded fishing net from a bygone era. Sivesi stared as the mermaid with the face of an angel gazed back.

A desperate appeal for help shone in her huge, aquamarine eyes, the color not so different from Sivesi's. Entranced, her feet glued to the slightly swaying dock, Sivesi wondered what the hell to do. Exactly.

Still owning some presence of mind, Sivesi studied how the mermaid was entangled in the net. Her blonde tresses were a twisted mass. However, the frayed ropes were twined tight around one of side of her tail fin, and her delicate shoulders were crisscrossed.

Without thought now, Sivesi pivoted hurrying to where she could jump off the dock. Landing on the pebble-littered ground, she waded into the lake's crystalline waters.

As she tried to decide what ropes to tackle first, she whipped her knife from its leather sheath.  Since a wee one, her father had rightly trained her to carry one when in nature.

Fear contorted the mermaids face as Sivesi neared, and she tried to thrash free.

"No, no. It's to cut through the ropes. Not to harm you."

Who knew what the beautiful creature understood? There must have been some kind of understanding. She calmed immediately, her expression becoming serene, hopeful.

Careful to keep her footing, Sivesi eased toward the mermaid's silvery turquoise-colored tail. After a few moments of puzzling out the ropes, Sivesi cut through the one in the least dangerous position.

After that, she worked swiftly, well used to handling her knife. Once the mermaid wiggled her beautiful tail free, Sivesi waded close to her shoulders. Already, the little angel mermaid had partly maneuvered herself out of the crisscross of slimy ropes.

It was only a matter of a few quick cuts, and she undulated on her side, nearly free. Strands of her gorgeous thick hair had been enmeshed so deeply, Sivesi knew she would be dragging the net behind her.

"Wait! Let me..." Sivesi grabbed hold of her knotted tresses, and as the mermaid halted her movements, she sliced through the mat of rope and hair.

As fast as she could, Sivesi backed up to give her swimming room.  But what met her gaze as she glanced up again startled her.  No, stunned her to the core.

Sivesi stumbled almost falling on her butt. Her heart beat with a furious rhythm.

She stared at a merman. A beyond handsome man with blue-tinted, golden skin held the young mermaid in his embrace, against a chest so fine her hands ached to touch him.

"Uncle," the little mermaid cried out in an ancient language Sivesi knew.

Eyes the color of a stormy sea focused on her, and Sivesi sizzled as if an electrical current ran through her.  'What's your name?' formed on her lips, yet her tongue betrayed her.

'I will come to you in your dreams.' His voice filled her mind.

His presence, powerful as a god, breached her automatic mental defense. 'I will come. I promise, my red-haired warrioress.'

Sivesi felt her soul wrap around his words as he turned, and dived beneath the blue darkening water of early evening.


~~~~~~

My latest release is HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS. For the blurb and excerpts click on my page above.
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Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance



~~~~~~


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Frieda's Fancy

Frieda lowered her forehead to the intricately carved door and pulled in a shuddering breath.  She’d finally gotten up the nerve to talk to Dante about her secret desire to tie another with the soft Shibari ropes she’d been collecting for what seemed like forever. 

He’d taken her seriously, even offered a calming smile at her halting request to find another who enjoyed the art.  It was really too bad that he was off the market, as the naturally hewn strength of his body would make a beautiful canvas for her ropes. 

He’d pledged to find her another with which to play.  On the other side of this door was the fulfillment of that promise and she was terrified to step through.

“No, you have to do this.  You are this close to realizing a dream…no stopping now,” Frieda mumbled into the wood.  How many pep talks had she given herself—hundreds?  Of those, what was the total sum she’d failed to follow through on—about the same number.  She couldn’t fall short this time.

With that thought held firmly in her heart she eased to door open and stepped inside.

##

Upon first glance the place was dark, almost foreboding, until she spied the blue-haired god perched upon a chair in the middle of the room.  Light shone down on his perfectly formed and tanned body, free from all fabrics and even body hair.  Her ropes would lie perfectly against his skin.

Frieda moved closer, setting her bag on the floor next to his chair.  She reached out to touch the bulging muscle of his chest, but stopped, determined to do this the right way.

“H-hello,” she squeaked, before clearing the frog from her throat and starting again.  “Hello, my name is
Frieda and you are?”

“At your disposal…”

Dear heavens he was gorgeous… she thought as he brought his gaze level with hers.  Dante had indeed provided her with the perfect partner, but she had to do this right. 

“That’s wonderful, but shouldn’t I have your name and safe word before we play…I-I mean, your name and safe word.  Now!  Please…”

“Relax, lovely lady, you are going to do fine,” he whispered, easing her hand between his.  “You can call me Burgess and my safe word is Blue.”

“Okay, thank you.”  She blew out a nervous breath and started again. “Please sit back and we’ll begin.”

##

Frieda worked for nearly an hour winding the soft, thin ropes around every part of the body before her.  He was perfect.  His arms were bound behind him stretching his chest tight and showing the rest of the ropes she’d wound, down and around, the rest of his body.

He was a beautiful picture, live art constrained for her desire.  Proof of that arousal grew between her legs.  She longed for release, but could not look away from her creation.

Long, soft arms came around her shoulders while a lush feminine body melded its front to her back.  “My Penguino is a delicious sight, fair Frieda.  And as you can see by the joyous look upon his face, you have pleased him well.  Please, allow my mink, Daniel and I to show our appreciation of your art.”

The softest fur she’d ever felt wrapped around her ankle, while the elusive Mistress Penelope slid her hand lower.  She stroked over Frieda’s stomach and headed further south. 

“Yes…” Frieda whispered, finally giving herself over to the pleasure she’d been seeking for oh so long.

~~~
May all of your Valentine gifts be wrapped as tightly and deliciously as Frieda's!


Serena

Friday, October 19, 2012

ShapeShifter Seductions ~ The Bewitching Blog Hop

Halloween Wars

“Reinforced steel pipes, heavy duty rubber tubing, a gross of nuts, bolts, S-hooks and a short Red Riding Hood costume with crotchless panties.”  Glenn set down the scanner and looked up at an impatient Nick and his blushing brother Mooney.  “Ah Nick, does Ziva know about all of this stuff?”
 

“Oh Lupa no!  And she better not hear anything either…”  Nick raised an eyebrow his brother’s way before looking back at him and continuing.  “She’d never let this happen, Glenn, so better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”
 

“Nick, my man, do you remember the mantra we went over when you first started buying here…Safe, Sane and Consensual?  Hell, damn near anything is safe for shapeshifters and sane, well in this town who could really pinpoint sane vs. insane, but most importantly is the consensual.  Ziva has to be fully on board with, ah…”  Glenn looked again at the assortment of tools and could picture half a dozen uses.  None of which he figured Ziva would go for.  “…whatever you have planned.”
 

Glenn watched the light bulb go on as Nick surveyed the items he’d picked. 
 

“Ha, no…no, this isn’t for Z, well, the Shorty dress and crotchless panties are, but the rest is for something special.”
 

“Ooh, I’m telling Ziva…not special, you are so bust...Ow!”  Mooney rubbed the ear Nick cuffed and started to pout.
 

“I meant something non-sexually special.  Papa wolves don’t tattle, Moon, and they especially don’t pout.”  

Nick threw money on the counter to pay for his treasures and looked towards his brother.  “Now grab some stuff and let’s get it over to the grill.”
 

“How do we know they’ll even be there?”
 

“Moon, its Halloween and they just harvested all that unsatisfying and repulsive roughage.  They’ll be serving it to the Herbies…and so will we!”   
 

###
 

“It’s bad enough Mom felt she had to take off with that meat-eating lupine, but did she have to do it around the harvest?”
 

“Stop bitching, Bo and start making the pumpkin flapjacks.”Hannibal shoved him; hand over face, back into the kitchen.  “The crowds are getting restless.”
 

“Suck it, Peewee Hornman.”  Bo knew insulting his brother’s smaller horns was a bad idea, but he didn’t care.  This whole hitching and bolting action of his mother’s really put a crimp in their lives.  Now they were all doing double duty at their jobs and the restaurant.  He was cooking, which he hated.  Mary served, which really didn’t work well and Hannibal was the general ‘pain-in-the-ass’ manager.  Odds were damn good the Bighorn Diner would be run into the ground before she got back.
 

“Gah!”
 

Bo ran from the fuming Bighorn sheep now occupying his brother’s space next to the griddle.  Hannibal never could maintain his composure or shape when challenged.  Ten minutes later, the kitchen was wrecked, batter flung everywhere and Bo still couldn’t feel his hands or arms after using the cast iron frying pan on Hannibal’s head.
 

“Like I was trying to tell you, lug nut, we’re out of pumpkins.”
 

“Not possible, Bo,” Hannibal grumbled, holding his head with both hands. “We harvested over an acre of those damn things and they were pretty tightly packed.”
 

“Well they’ve sprouted legs and run away, because they are not here…”
 

THUNK, THUNK
 

General chaos erupted in the seating area out front.  Women screamed, children cried and the men swore. 
 

“Roasted buck nuts, what was that!”
 

Bo didn’t have time to answer his brother as he was already trying to decipher Mary’s frantic signing.  “Slow down, sis,” he both spoke and signed.  “Lick moon pump across…honestly, Mar, slow…”
 

“Fricken sex-fiend and his idiot monkey lovin’ brother are chuckin’ pumpkins at us from across the street!”  Hannibal bleated, his control appearing to be at an all time low.
 

“Ah, Nick and Mooney are tossing pump…wait, pumpkins?”  Bo ran to the window just in time to see another orange projectile hit the sidewalk in front of the flapjackery.  “Hell, those are our pumpkins!  How’d they get our stash?”
 

“Don’t know, don’t care.”  Hannibal blew through the dining room, tossing tables and chairs out of his way.  

“Get your ass over here and help us.”
 

Mary was on her knees pulling blood red hunks of flesh from the bottom of the cooler and putting them in a massive mixing bowl while Hannibal pulled funny looking weapons from the closet.  “Okay, now.  Yuk.”  He pointed at Mary’s heart attack in a bowl.  “And, what the blazes are you doing your ranger guns in the closet?  Those kill, man.”
 

“When’d you turn into such a little girl, Bo?”  Hannibal pushed past him and headed back to the window and door with Mary following close behind, dripping blood across the floor.  “This here is a bleacher reacher and the beaut currently being loaded by our tough as nails sister is the T-shirt Gatling gun.  These babies will beat that stupid looking slingshot the desk humper has.”
 

“Whoya…eat it, Herbies!”  Taunts and chuckles came at them from across the street as did more fruit.
 

“What the hell is wrong with those two?”  Not like he needed to ask.  After all, this was the McMahon brothers, a prankster pair at home with gross destruction of property.
 

Another pumpkin found its way to the sidewalk, splattering in front of the open door and flying in all directions.  Some landed on Bo’s shoes; a glop ended up in Mary’s hair and a large section veered off and flew through Java Joe’s plate glass next door.
 

“Damn it, Nick, not there.  Marissa’s gonna kill me or worse douse me with mange again…gah!”
 

“Man up, Moon.”
 

Bo swallowed back a yelp of hysterical laughter and put his hand out.  “Someone give me a gun.”
 

“’Bout time, brother.”  Hannibal jumped up and slapped him on the back.  “Here, you take the cannon while I get me a little Gat action.”
 

Gourds of all sizes pummeled their side of the street even as raw meat flew back.  The mess was atrocious, but the combatants were beyond caring.  There could be only one winner in this family war and Bo would be damned if it was those stinky wolves.
 

##
 

“Fire in the hole!”
 

“That’s it, Moonster, let it fly…wooo!”
 

Mooney had to admit, manning up or regressing down, sure felt good.  Marissa was going to have his balls for defacing Java Joe’s, but who knew, maybe he could sweet talk his way out of the mange.  Right now though he was going to enjoy chuckin’ pumpkins.
 

“Told ya you’d love this.”  Nick was grinning ear to ear, but why not.  This was burned into his alpha nature.  Besides, he had the money and pull to get him out of anything.
 

“Yep, you did.  Load me up.”
 

“What in the name of the great Lupa is going on here!”  “My restaurant!”
 

“Scat…oh scat,” Mooney whined, letting go of the rubber tubing.  He watched the last pumpkin hurl its way into the street only to explode all over his new stepmother.  “Pops is gonna rip our guts out with his teeth.”    
 

“Nope, only yours.”
 

Mooney heard the feminine scream, then panic set in as he watched his dad shift to wolf.  “Why only mine, wood whisperer?”
 

“’Cause I run faster!”
 

Nick changed and bolted before he even had a chance to think of becoming wolf.  The last thing he saw with his human eyes was a Bighorn sheep mama chasing three hard-headed kids into the destroyed eatery behind them and a pissed off dad snapping big assed teeth towards his tail.  Time to tuck and run.
 

“Eeeee…” 

Have a Pumpkin Chuckin' Happy Halloween!


Serena

  
~~~

YOU REALIZE THIS MEANS WAR

The battleground: the athletic field out behind Talbot’s Peak Senior High School. The combatants: the Lyon brothers, at war with the close-knit Tanton family. At stake: the attentions of the beauteous Amelia Swan, coveted by Dan Lyon and Steve Tanton alike. More important than that, however, are the bragging rights. This contest will determine once and for all just who’s king of the high school jungle.

The weapon of choice: pumpkins.

The warriors assemble on the field of battle: Dan and his three brothers, Larry, Doug and Norm. Norm’s the one in the glasses. He’s only a frosh, but he’s the brains of the group. Steve—“Tantor” to friends and foes alike—ambles up in his low-riders with his habitual sneer in place. The mob milling behind him consists of various cousins and whatnot. Dan has never bothered to learn their names. Tantor’s the head of the herd, the only one who matters here.

In the bleachers sits lovely Amelia, excitedly twisting her scarf.

Dan and Tantor face off, broad nose to long nose. “You know the rules?” Dan kicks off the challenge. “Are they acceptable?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tantor snorts, affecting boredom. “Farthest pitch wins. Let’s get on with it, kittycat.”

Dan bristles and growls. Tantor’s bigger and broader than he is, has been since their rivalry started in grade school, but he can’t let that throw him. Honor is at stake here, the pride of his family name. If there’s one thing the Lyons understand, it’s pride.

“Where’s your gear?” Norm asks.

Tantor smirks, as if at a private joke. “In the trunk.”

Dan’s glare doesn’t budge an inch. He tells his brothers, “Get the catapult.”

The Lyons race for Dad’s pickup. Tantor gestures, and his hangers-on run to fetch the pumpkins. The Lyons have brought their own pumpkins, of course, swiped from neighboring farms. Norm did the measuring and picked the ones most likely to fly well. Dan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tastes victory.

Amelia watches, prepared, perhaps even eager, to become the property of the victor.

Dan’s brothers bring out the catapult, and it is indeed a thing of beauty. Norm drew up the schematics after much research on the Internet. It’s only a scale model, barely six feet, but their practice chucks hurled pumpkins half the length of a football field. The neighbor's cat escaped a launching only because Norm is soft-hearted.

The Tantons return with their ammo. Dan wrinkles his nose. These pumpkins are big, but already going to rot. The side of some have caved in already. They’ll make a pretty splat when they hit, but will they even fly? And what are they going to fly on? Dan still doesn’t any Tanton machinery.

“You go first,” Tantor invites. “Then we’ll show you how it’s done.”

The Lyons assemble their launcher in record time. Dan himself loads the first pumpkin. Norm pokes around every inch of the catapult, making last minute adjustments. “Let ‘er rip!” Dan roars.

The pumpkin’s flight is sheer perfection. It soars nearly the entire length of the football field, almost through the goalposts, which was the Lyons’ target. It hits the ground and ruptures with a whump audible clear across the field. Pumpkin guts go flying. Amelia leans forward to observe the gourd’s demise, then flashes Dan a thumbs-up.

“Yes!” Dan cries with a fist-pump. “And that’s the way the big cats do it, you—”

A section of rotted, squishy pumpkin hits him square in the chest. Through squinted eyes wet with pumpkin juice he sees now the extent of Tantor’s treachery. They never meant to hold an honest contest. It was all a ruse. While the Lyons kept to the rules—human form only—the elephants have shifted.

Tantor and his clan hurl their putrid ammo at the unprepared lion-boys. They can’t throw a pumpkin as far as a catapult, but with their victims right in front of them that isn’t a problem. They’re a lot more mobile than a catapult too, and fling their gourds with the force of a cannon.

Like the man said, it’s in the trunk.

“It’s a trap!” Dan yells, even as Larry goes down with a face full of pumpkin guts. “Run!” He dashes after Norm, who’s already sprinting for the bleachers. The elephants won’t be able to follow them under the seats without shifting. Once they’re human, they’ll be done for. You want to play it this way? Dan mentally snarls. I’ll teach you to mess with the king of the jungle.

It’s a decent plan and he’s got the heart for it, but Tantor has other plans. They’re fast, for such big beasts. They cut the lions off from safety. Even shifting to animal form won’t save Dan and his brothers now. The Tantons curl their trunks around their pumpkin bombs and move in for the kill.

It’s Tantor himself who screams first, when something hard and painful dents his big wrinkled behind. He whirls with trunk and pumpkin raised, and takes a shot in the eye. His screech rattles the bleachers. Amelia covers her ears.

It’s Norm, of course. When you’re the runt of the litter you have to be smarter and tougher in order to keep up with the pride. Norm always has a Plan B. He plants himself before Tantor and takes careful aim with his modified paintball gun. He’s got a shoulder bag loaded with the little mini-Jacks the farmers market hands out to the little kids. Dan had wondered why he brought those along. Now he realizes just how rock-solid the tiny pumps are, when blasted at a target at close range. Dan’s been on the wrong end of paintballs often enough to know how they can hurt.

Norm shoots, he scores. He aims for the eyes and the knees. Once he’s got their attention he starts shooting at their underbellies. Dan and the elephants realize simultaneously what Norm’s aiming for now. Tantor trumpets a shrill retreat, and the whole herd pounds for their truck, amid rock-hard, flying Jacks.

The Lyon boys are still playfully cuffing Norm and slapping his back when Amelia runs up. She brushes right past Dan and Larry and Doug and goes right for the gun. “This is ingenious!” she exclaims. “What is it? Did you make it?”

“In shop class.” Norm puffs out his chest. “Say hello to the Pump-Zooka 2000. The test firing smashed our bird house from thirty feet off. Normally I wouldn’t use it on a living creature, but circumstances—”

He’s still talking while he and Amelia amble back toward the school. Dan can only stare after them, slack-jawed, as the girl of his lustings walks away with his runty little nerd of a brother. It occurs to him all he had to do was bring her a kill and she might have looked his way. Who knew swans were so bloodthirsty?

# # #

The winner? That would be Digger the wolf and his human girlfriend, Laurie. They were strolling past the school when the battle went down. After the fight they came out to harvest the seeds. “I’m going to see if I can grow one of these babies,” Digger says. “Make some pumpkin pie. Laurie’s got a recipe. I love pumpkin pie. Don’t tell the pack I said that, though, okay?”

Posted by Pat C.

~~~ 

 A Witchy Menagish Delight



Melissa ducked as another pumpkin flew by her.  A second and a third one barely missed her.   A heavy thud sounded as pumpkin guts spattered her goggles.  Air swirled around her as her broom took a nosedive toward Edwards Pond.  The sky around Talbot’s Peak was alive and full tonight.  Sharing airspace with flying debris was not on her flight agenda.

She tried pulling up and leaning back hoping to regain her altitude.  Thank the Moon Goddess, she wasn’t sitting sidesaddle as many of her broom-riding group insisted was proper etiquette.  Luck wasn’t with her on reclaiming her prior course and missing all the projectiles littering the sky.  

One action might bring things under control.  The one spell she knew might work.  Melissa wiped her face, goggles included, against her shoulder and spoke.  “Caldrons, stars and sky help this witch make a correction from this terrible flight.  Show me the way to avoid the pond and land safely.”



Two bright beams of light crossed before her.  Another arced across the night.  Two huge pumpkins crossed before and disappeared back into the dark.  As the second spot light appeared, Melissa aimed for it.  The ground beneath her appeared.  Two men stood underneath a tree close to where she aimed to crash.  As she whispered more magical words and prayed, her descent slowed.  One of the men looked up.  His eyes seemed to lock with hers.   Ridiculous as it felt, Melissa focused on him.  His goatee beard and dark hair attracted her.  His companion glanced her direction and smiled.  His neatly trimmed hair and mustache added an air of mystery to him.

Rhys rubbed his ear as a clap of thunder sounded.  Two more pumpkins flew off the catapult near the school.  Three others launched near town.  Twice Jon yelled duck before they got the spotlights working. At least they could avoid any incoming misfired shots and keep the pond from bombardment they hoped.  Their crab apple grove was the center of the upcoming Thanksgiving maze contest.  If too many of the trees were damaged, the maze would be less intricate and daring.  Who in their right mind had deemed Halloween as if it flew, then chunk it night? 

Jon yelled and pointed again.  This time to an object heading straight toward them it appeared.  Rhys squinted.  What had Jon called it?  A UFO?  Unidentified Flying Object?  Gods and Goddesses, how could they identify a bloody thing in the sky when anything and everything was flying and airborne?  Still there was a unique shape to the item.  “Oh hell Jon, run for cover.  It’s coming straight at us.”

Jon pulled the lever working the skylight backwards.  He whistled and grinned.  “Rhys, we got a witch coming in at ---oh man straight for the pond.  Grab the boat.  She’s covered with pumpkin too.”

Rhys uncovered his ears and headed straight for the small boat he and Jon kept near the pond.  The small fishing boat would hold the two of them.  He hoped the poor woman ditched the broom before she hit the water.  Separating witches and their brooms wasn’t a common thing or getting them to do it easily either.

As they tracked the witchy female, Rhys calculated how long until impact.  It would be moments.  He pushed the boat out into the water.  Keeping an eye on where he stepped, Rhys got in and padded toward the center of the pond.    Rhys turned the boat around as he reached his destination.  He shielded his eyes and blinked.  Parts of the spotlight beam hazily illuminated her.  Not a bad figure. Her flight suite hugged tightly to her and her long red hair, though spattered with pumpkin, reminded Rhys of fire.  Knee-high boots with several buckles covered her lower legs.  “Nice,” Rhys chuckled as two splashes sounded.


Melissa quickly blessed her broom as she let go.  She tossed her goggles and tucked into the best swan dive form she knew.  The broom hit first.  A small splash reached her ears as Melissa dove headfirst into the pond.  Spitting and sputtering, she broke the surface.  She pushed her hair off her face and blinked.  

“Want some help?”  A male voice sounded near her.  Melissa turned around struggling to keep afloat.  Wet leather didn’t stay buoyant long.  She swam toward the boat that came into focus.  

“How kind of you.”  Melissa reached for the outstretched hand in front of her.  As her hand touched his, images and heat seared their way up her arm.  Two nude men kneeling before her as she lay near a roaring fire in a fireplace flashed and faded deep within her psychic third eye.  

Minutes passed as Rhys struggled to get the witch into the boat.  “One more pull and we’re good.”  He pulled hard and caught his fishy smelling witch.  As he rowed for shore, he wondered if she had felt the heat and desire as much as he had.  

Jon met them at the edge of the pond.  He grinned as he helped the witch alight.  “A fine catch you got there friend.”  Rhys laughed.  Jon needed to watch his ironical sense of humor.  No telling what the witch might turn him into if he pissed her off enough.  

“Melissa meet Jon.  Jon, Melissa.” Rhys pulled the boat out of the water as two loud splashes sounded followed by several thuds.  

“Shit, they are chunking anything they can find tonight.  The Peak has gone bonkers.”  Jon shook his head and grabbed Melissa’s hand. “Come on with us and let’s get somewhere safe.”

Melissa didn’t hesitate.  If safe included the thoughts she was picking up off these two, the night was young and ripe for sexual play of a ménage kind.



Posted by Solara Gordon
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





Pumpkin Combat Zone ~ Kimylla and Night Runner

"It's a pumpkin combat zone," Kimylla muttered to herself, as she watched four launched pumpkins crisscross above her.

The giant beauties exploded on several buildings nearby, their chunky remains splatting on the streets of Talbot's Peak. Delighted screeches from kids and carefree adults knifed through her ears. Kimylla flinched, mentally lessening her extra sensitive hearing.

Obviously, they took their punkin' chunkin' really serious here. On her way into and through town, Kimylla had observed several catapults, the designs ranging from crude to complex.

Minutes later, she dashed for the recessed entrance of a shop. Globs of pumpkin guts rained down mere inches away from her knee-high suede boots.

Resuming her steps, Kimylla avoided the haphazard pieces and piles. She'd been warned about the 'wild, wild west' shapeshifter enclave, but business was business And she had lives to save.

She'd tracked him here. Night Runner.

The black super wolf likely visited another one of his off-world kind. White Fang Kent masqueraded as an investigative reporter for the G&B Gazette. So she'd discovered after an exhaustive search of the para-net.

In a desperate effort to find Night Runner fast, Kimylla had spoken with her numerous shadow-world contacts. Afterward she'd felt like a vampire sucking on the bloodless, the intel had been so spare.

Pay dirt, finally. Eureka!

She smelled Night Runner, even though the fragrance of ripe pumpkin saturated the cool crisp air. Having a particular fondness for pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread...any pumpkin goodness...Kimylla found it to be somewhat of a distraction. Especially, since hunger gnawed at her.

She'd neglected to eat much of anything for the past couple of days. Time ticked away like a time bomb. The eight human children, recently kidnapped at Yellowstone Park, were about to become an All Hallow Eve's feast.

Given the beast monsters she faced, Kimylla needed super-powered backup to  rescue them. "Give me ten more seconds," she prayed in a whisper.

Dodging hunks of pumpkin, and their slimy innards, Kimylla raced across the street. Seconds later, she burst through the vintage-twenties door into O’Malley’s Gin Joint.

**** 


"I've got company coming." Night Runner quaffed the barley malt ale that went down real smooth and easy.

"Expected or unexpected?" White Fang raised his brow above his Clark Kent glasses, then tipped up his tankard.

"Unexpected but more than welcome." Night Runner didn't hide his lust-inspired grin.

White Fang's blue eyes, so similar to his own, pierced him with man-to-man knowing. "By her scent and frequency I would say your welcome guest is a granddaughter of Aoife, shadow warrior goddess of the Celts."

"Part of her heritage, you're right on target, old man." Night Runner carelessly saluted the elder wolf-man with his tankard. "Kimylla is a red-haired Sunfire goddess."

"No wonder your inner tail is wagging like a cub about to taste raw meat for the first time." White Fang's drily spoken words hit their mark.

Night Runner downed a large swallow of his ale as he mentally commanded his tail and his iron-hard cock to cease and desist...for now. "Time to strike while the iron his hot," he mocked himself.

With a telltale raise of his brows, White Fang stood. "Pasha, my cat goddess awaits." His farewell grin was mostly an amused smirk.

"Right, old man, I'll pay the tab," Night Runner called after him.

**** 


Arms with a god's strength wrapped around Kimylla the instant she burst inside. Instinctively she resisted, but halted, realizing it was Night Runner. With not an ounce of give in his arms, he embraced her tight against his tall, fiercely hard frame.

Oh holy sun, when had any man felt this sinfully divine?

"May I assume you're glad to see me?" Her breathy words poured from between her lips, despite her somewhat compressed chest.

"May I assume you need my help?" he growled with way too much intimacy.

Kimylla ignored the way his hot breath caressed her ear, the way it made her entire body all juicy-sexy.

"Is there somewhere private where we can talk?"

Oh holy crap, why had she said 'private'? And, why hadn't she known Night Runner found her desirable?

Although, the super wolf could shield his thoughts and feelings, even from her. Seeking his help, had she walked into his seduction trap? Well, actually, run into his trapping arms.

"Trust me, beautiful Kimylla?" he velvety rumbled.

"Should I?" At least, her defiant nature finally asserted itself.

Night Runner laughed, low rolling thunder that vibrated every inch of her. Kimylla clenched her eyelids tight while the rest of her became his molten captive.

"Trustworthy is my middle name, as they say here, my sunfire goddess."

Kimylla sensed his intention as Night Runner's words stroked her ear. He gently removed his arm from her, then opened the door. In seconds, they moved into hyperspeed.

****

Finally, the woman who fired his blood to raging lust was at his mercy whether she knew it or not.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice soft as the wildflower blossoms he loped through as wolf. "I don't recognize this place." 

"You're in the Scots Best of Breed Tavern, lassie," a man with a Scottish brogue answered. "What cin I get for ya?" 

"Bring us dinner with all the trimmings, would you, Duff ole friend? I know my stomach's almost stuck to my backbone." Night Runner eased his hold on Kimylla, circling his palms over her delicately rounded belly. "I'm betting you're hungry, right, sweet darling?"

"I'm starving," his warrior goddess announced. "And the food smells heavenly. Oh, if you have anything pumpkin, please..." she paused, casting her gaze toward Duff, who stood before his great stone hearth in his clan kilt. "Zeiran 'Duff' McDuff of Vretland?"

"The one and only, lassie. Sorry to say, I haven't made your acquaintance." Duff straightened to his full overwhelming height, his stance like a stud dog showing off.

"I know you by reputation. The Scottie dog shapeshifter who can hurl like a giant at the Highland games."

Night Runner wondered if Kimylla realized she stroked his hand. He also wondered if she knew how much his ramrod straight cock enjoyed the blatant curves of her ass. If she didn't, he would absolutely demonstrate later, once he slowly peeled off her skintight suede breeches.

"Ah, lovely lady, I'm retired now." Duff's grand smile took over his features. "I've got me fine tavern and me lovely place at Dante's. An' I'm settlin' into Talbot's Peak."  

"How about the table closest to the hearth?" Night Runner smoothed his palm down Kimylla's shapely arm as he moved beside her.

Duff gestured toward the table in his dramatic style. "The fire is crackling like a happy soul, and I'll be off gettin' your supper." He smiled at Kimylla, his eyes twinkling. "Lassie, I've brewed a special pumpkin spice ale, just for this seasonly occasion."

"Perfect. May I address you as Duff?"

"Surely, lassie. You two make yourselves at home. I'll be right out with pumpkin scones. Made by fairy hands," Duff added, and gave them both a wink.

****


Kimylla allowed herself to be escorted toward the small, dark-wood table that beckoned her anyway. She was tired, even for a goddess. Her stomach was on the verge of rebellion, demanding a good dinner. And, the only way she would gain Night Runner's help would be to hear him out.

He seated her like a gentlemanly rogue. Without taking his glittering, blue-eyed gaze off her, he lowered himself, so they sat close. Their knees touched, and he gazed into her eyes with a passion that sent licks of flame through her, deliciously sizzling her nether parts.

"It's like this, my sunfire goddess, I'll go to the ends of the Earth." He paused, his gaze devouring her face. "Hell, love, I'll go to the ends of the galaxy."

"To the ends of the universe," she teased, interrupting him.

"Yes." He captured her hand, then enfolded it within his tenderly.

"What do you want?" she taunted in a murmur, as quivers of excitement ran through her mid-section.

"I want you, Kimylla. I want you in my bed. I want wild primitive coupling. I want hours, days of lovemaking."

Kimylla let the shock subside, just a bit, before she asked, "Is that all?"

"For now." A slow wicked smile spread across his ruggedly handsome face.

"On one condition," Kimylla seductively teased.

His gaze darkened like storm clouds gathering, and his grip on her hand
possessively tightened. Kimylla shuddered inside, wanton in a way she'd never imagined, never come close to feeling.

"Your condition?" he finally growled.

With her heart thumping fast, like a rabbit's heart, Kimylla leaned forward. Their gazes locked and melted into each other for several moments. "You wear a bonnie kilt for me. Fine as Duff is wearing."


~~~~~~~~

Have a magickal and wicked Halloween!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~ 

~~~~~~