Wolf Tales

Chapter 4

As she turned to the next page she wondered not for the first time what on earth her grandparents were doing with a book like this? It just didn't seem like their reading style.

It is a mistaken assumption that a werewolf can only shift during a full moon or even any kind of moonlight. The shift can take place at any time of day or night and depends on the circumstances. But they must change at least once every forty-eight hours or the gene in their blood will create havoc in their system."

Hmm. She wondered what kind of havoc?

"What do you think, Mischief? What would happen to them?"

"Mrow." Mischief leaned back and rubbed her head against Jamie's tummy.

"My thoughts exactly."

"In human form the warrior men are extremely masculine. The hair on their head is thick and luxurious, their body is muscular but lean and they are endowed with a larger-than-normal penis."

What? Holy s**t! The pulse between her thighs woke up, thudding in her suddenly wet p***y and her n*****s tingled as she stared at the drawing. How was it even possible something that large would fit into her narrow channel?

Wait. Her channel?

Unbidden the image of Mike Volka flashed in her brain, more moisture soaked her panties and heat crept up her cheeks. What was wrong with her?

She put hands over Mischief's eyes. "Don't look, kitty."

Jamie took a sip of her soft drink, a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly as she turned the page.

"Shape shifters mate for life, protecting their mates to the death. They have superhuman strength and senses. In human form they are distinguished by longer hair than usual on their heads, thick eyebrows and lean muscular bodies."

She stared at the image drawn on the page, stunned when the paper seemed to shimmer and that of Mike Volka replaced the anonymous face. What on earth? She jerked so hard she nearly dropped the book and Mischief dug in her back claws to keep from falling off her lap.

Jamie shifted the book on her lap, resettled Mischief and took a sip of her drink. Maybe she should be drinking wine while reading this, just to settle her nerves. Because the more she read, the more the male shifters turned her on. And the more Miko Volka found his way into her thoughts.

Was his p***s as long as the one in the picture?

Holy s**t! Besides the erotic thoughts, did she think Mike was a shifter? Shapeshifters were supposedly mythological creatures, but what if they were real? Was that even possible?

She turned another page.

"Shapeshifters are known for their great s****l prowess in both wolf and human form. When they mate, they are able to - "

Okay, that was it. She needed more than a soft drink to keep reading.

"Mama will be right back." She lifted Mischief from her lap and set her in the chair. "I need something a little stronger if I'm going to read about shifters and sex."

As she took down a wine glass in the kitchen and pulled the half-finished bottle of white from the fridge she glanced out the window in the door to the back. The rising moon cast ambient light in the yard, enough so that something caught her eye.

Carrying the bottle and glass she stepped over to the door to look outside. Something big and black streaked across her yard, moving from the corner nearest the front over the lawn at an angle and leaping the shrubs that formed a living fence with the yard of the neighbor she backed up to. She blinked, sure she'd imagined it. She was pretty sure she knew every pet in the neighborhood and she didn't recall anyone having a large black dog. Certainly not one who could leap over a six-foot high line of shrubs.

Curious, she opened the door and stepped out onto her miniscule back porch, straining to see through the thickening dusk. No, nothing out there. Had she just imagined it?

Maybe it was a shifter in wolf form.

Holy crap, Jamie. Far-fetched much?

Maybe she should stop reading the book. She closed the door with a deliberate motion and made sure to turn the lock.

"Am I going crazy, Mischief?"

The little cat, who had jumped down from the chair, just looked up at her and c****d its head.

"Mew."

"Yes. My words exactly. Come on, let's sit down again so I can drink some wine. I think this book is doing strange things to my mind."

She sipped the wine as she found her place on the page she'd been reading.

"Hmmm. This is interesting." She squirmed in her seat. "This says when wolves mate they use their tongues very cleverly."

The thought of a long wet tongue licking her between her thighs, stroking her labia and twisting the tip around her clit sent streaks of heat racing through her and her blood pumping in her veins.

Good lord! What was the matter with her?

She closed her eyes for just a moment, to clear her head.........

.........and opened them again as the stroke of a hand on her cheek roused her. She inhaled sharply at the sight of Mike Volka leaning over the chair, staring at her with those hot amber eyes. His dark hair had fallen forward like a silk curtain and there was just enough scruff on his chin to give him that extra sexy look. Her breath caught in her throat when he slid one thumb lightly over her bottom lip.

"You sleep so nicely, Jamie. But this chair has to be uncomfortable."

She shifted her body and looked down at her lap. "Where's my book? And Mischief?" She frowned. "What have you done with them?"

His smile was enough to set fire to her nerve endings. "I put the book over there on the coffee table. It had slipped to the floor. I didn't think it was good for something that old to just be lying there."

"And my cat?"

"Is sleeping peacefully." He gestured toward the couch.

Sure enough, the little ball of black fur was curled up against one of the throw pillows, deep in a kitty dream.

"But how - ?"

"Ssh."

His scent tantalized her nostrils, something clean and earthy, soothing and arousing at the same time. He leaned closer to her and brushed his mouth over hers.

The simple contact was electric, waking up the pulses in every one of her erogenous zones. His tongue traced a path along the seam before pushing gently and coaxing her to open to him. When he thrust inside her mouth the contact, almost animalistic, stole her breath.

Jamie lifted her hands and tunneled her fingers in his hair, the thick mane of black silk rich and thick to her touch. Reason fled as the kiss drew her into an erotic vortex. She clutched at his hair as if it was a lifeline, anchoring her as his tongue plundered and his lips bruised. When he lifted his head at last she gave a cry of protest at the loss of contact.

"We need something more comfortable than this chair." The rich bass of his voice vibrated through her.

Before she could comment he lifted her in his muscular arms and carried her through the living room.

"Which way?"

She didn't have to ask what he was looking for, just pointed to the short hallway. "The door on the right."