Feral (17 page)

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Authors: Sheri Whitefeather

BOOK: Feral
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Jenny came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it feel like I’m doing?” She reached down and fondled him through his pants. She wanted to touch him while he was making cum.
His fly bulged beneath her hand. But soon he pulled away, reminding her that his cock wasn’t the toy they’d be playing with tonight. After the fluid was ready, he filled the dildo.
They went to his room and he told her to strip. She peeled off her garments, tossed them aside, and waited for another instruction.
“Get in bed,” he said. “On your hands and knees.”
“You’re going to do this to me doggie-style?”
“After your fantasy at Sienna’s house, hell yes, I am.”
She assumed the position, her heart gathering speed. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“No.” He got behind her.
His nearness stirred a rush of exhilaration, and her pussy clenched in anticipation. He ran the dildo along her spine. He kept rubbing, caressing, heading toward his target.
Then he stopped.
“Noah
.
”
“Hold on. I’m getting the lube.”
She stared at the wall in front of her.
Waiting . . .
Oh, sweet damn. The solution was warm and slick and so were his fingers. Instinctively, she widened her knee stance, preparing for the dildo.
One, two, three . . .
Inch by inch, he made penetration.
He moved it in and out, then shifted the angle. Jenny sucked in a breath. The bumps hit their mark, massaging her clit. Whoever designed that feature knew what he or she was doing. Noah knew exactly how to manipulate it, too.
She moaned in fuck-me pleasure. “Now I’m really in love with you.”
He pushed the device deeper. “Don’t talk about love.”
“I can’t help it.”
“It screws with my head.”
And he was screwing with her heart. She envisioned him in her mind’s eye, thrusting the toy. “Do you have to make it come all at once or can you give me a sample?”
“You mean like this?” He shot a stream of the homemade fluid into her.
“Yes. Just like that.” The milky wetness assailed her senses. The fucking motion. The stimulating bumps. It was all so heavenly. “Can we do this again sometime?”
“We’re not done this time.”
“I know. But it just feels so . . .” Caught in a crescendo of flutters, she rocked forward, verging on orgasm. She panted, “Make it squirt a little more.”
He gave her what she wanted.
She asked for more.
Again, he gave it to her.
She told him to shoot the rest of it.
And he did. Oh, how he did. At the exact moment she was coming, he made the dildo fully come, too. Perfect timing. A strange and wild union. Jenny bucked and shuddered and collapsed on the bed.
Crazy in love.
Thirteen
L
ater that night, Jenny and Noah went skinny-dipping in his rooftop pool. With the moon shining in the sky and patio-style lights glimmering on the water, she relished the moment. But she relished every moment with him.
“You look like a mermaid,” he said.
“Like the ladies at the club?” She slicked back her wet hair. “They’re not real mermaids, are they?” She hadn’t even considered the possibility until now.
He slicked back his hair, too. “How could they be real mermaids when they have legs?”
“Maybe they transform when they’re in the ocean.”
“They don’t. They’re just regular girls pretending to be mythical creatures.”
She sat beside him on the steps of the pool. “So do mermaids exist?”
“Yes, but I’ve never met one.”
“Then how do you know they exist?”
“Because I know everything about the supernatural world.” He smiled, obviously teasing her. “I’m the king of my kind.”
“You are not.” She bumped his shoulder, teasing him right back. “If you were, you’d know who Lareina is and why she turned you into a shapeshifter.”
His expression darkened. “I don’t want to talk about Lareina, Jenny. Not tonight.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Tonight isn’t supposed to be about her.” She returned to the original topic. “Tell me more about mermaids.”
“There are different breeds, so not all mermaids behave in the same manner. That’s why the legends about them vary.”
“Do all mermaids sing?”
“No.”
“What else varies about them?”
“Some are kind to men and others will drown a man while pretending to rescue him. There is also a type of mermaid whose kiss can heal a sick human and whose tears have magical properties.”
“I wonder what sorts of things would make a mermaid cry.”
“I don’t know.”
Jenny sighed. “If I were a mermaid, I’d cry if I fell in love with a man. I’d want to become human so I could be with him.”
“You and your romantic ideas.”
“I wasn’t like this until I met you, Noah.”
“Or until Coyote put a fairy tale in your head. Most of this is his fault.”
“I didn’t fall in love with you because of Coyote or his rendition of ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ It helped trigger my quest to make you mortal, but what I feel for you developed on its own.” She tapped her chest, where her heart beat against her breastbone. “It happened from spending time with you.”
Noah went silent, and she studied his profile. Water dripped from his hair and onto his shoulders, creating diamond-like drops against his naturally bronzed skin.
He looked young and beautiful and immortal. Or maybe he looked immortal only because she knew that was what he was.
“Do mermen exist, too?” she asked.
He nodded. “The stories about them are similar to their female counterparts.”
“What happens if a mermaid or merman is taken out of the water?”
“It depends on what type they are. In some cases, their tails will turn to legs. But they can’t survive that way for very long. All mermaids and mermen need to be nourished by the sea, a lake, or a river, or they’ll die.”
She studied him again. “Are mermen handsome?”
“Why? Do you want to trade me in for one?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because there is a type of merman who will become human if he marries a mortal woman.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” She splashed a bit of water at him. “If only it was that easy with you.”
He splashed her, too. “Keep it up and I’ll turn you over to an ugly old merman.”
“They can grow old?”
“Some breeds do.”
“I wish I could see you grow old.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”
He frowned. “I know how you meant it.”
Suddenly she got an idea, a brainstorm. “We should try an age progression.”
“What?”
“You know, one of those computer sites that ages photographs of people. Then I could see what you would look like if you became mortal. I could see you getting older. We could do it at my house, tomorrow night.”
“Why would I agree to that?”
“To humor me.”
“More like to feed your fantasy to make me mortal. No way, Jenny. I’m not interested.”
She jabbed at his ego. “Maybe you’re just afraid to see an older version of yourself.”
He went macho. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“You’re afraid of how I make you feel.”
“I am not.”
“Then come to my house tomorrow night and we’ll do the age progression.
Please
.”
“Oh, great. Now you’re going to beg? You know it excites me when you beg.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “Pretty please.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
She nipped his earlobe. “Pretty please with pineapple on top.”
“You’re bribing me with my favorite treat?”
“Whatever works.” On the night she’d first gone to the club, he’d talked about rubbing chunks of pineapple on her and licking off the juice.
“Actually a full-on fruit salad would be good, with whipped cream and marshmallows. The whole bit.”
She nipped him again. “Okay, then, pretty please with the whole bit on top.”
“All right. I’ll do the age progression with you tomorrow if you make a fruit salad with me tonight.”
“Are we going to do sexy stuff with it?”
“Whatever works,” he said, borrowing her line. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s make it now.”
“Do you have everything we need?”
“Yep.”
“Even the whipped cream and marshmallows?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
They dried off, put on their robes, and went back to his apartment. Once they were in the kitchen, they gathered the ingredients. Earlier he’d made a recipe for cum, and now they were fixing an erotic dessert.
 
 
 
He had lots of canned pineapple, along with canned pears and mandarin oranges. For fresh fruit, they used apples and bananas.
She cubed the apples and diced the bananas while he opened the cans and drained the juices. He also grabbed a jar of maraschino cherries.
“We can add some of these for a little pop-your-cherry zip,” he said.
“My cherry has already been popped.”
“Not your food-play cherry. This is the first time you’ve done anything like this, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “Good point.”
They combined the fruit in a big plastic bowl. He added the whipped cream, stirring it slowly. The marshmallows came next.
“Where are we going to eat this?” she asked, imagining the wonderful mess it was going to make.
He grabbed the bowl, but he didn’t get any spoons. “In the shower.”
They proceeded to the master bath, a room with a custom-built glass-block shower stall, framed in glossy black tiles.
“Get in,” he told her.
She removed her robe and entered the stall. It was plenty big for two. Actually, it was big enough for three people.
“Have you ever had a ménage in here?” she asked.
He got naked and climbed inside, too. “I’ve never even had a twosome in here. No one uses this except me.”
Her heart did a happy little flip. “I’m the first woman you’ve invited into your shower?”
“Yes, but don’t make a deal of it. Now stand still, so I can cover you in dessert.”
Oh, goodness. She took a deep, excited breath. She didn’t care what he said. Being the first woman in his shower
was
a major deal. Apparently all of his other lovers had bathed in the guest bath, as she’d been doing up until now.
He took the entire salad and rubbed it all over her—across her chest, around her breasts, along her stomach, on the top of her mound, and down her legs.
Pineapples, pears, bananas, oranges, apples, cherries . . .
Frothy cream . . .
Little marshmallows . . .
“Do you want to taste it?” he asked.
She nodded.
He fed her some from his fingers, and then they kissed like fiends. It was the most beautiful kiss she could have imagined, wild and sweet and hungry.
Their bare bodies stuck together with fruit clinging between them and falling onto the shower floor.
When they separated, he started the sensual process of licking the treat from her skin.
He got on his knees to eat her, clutching her bottom while he did it, and marking her cheeks with whipped cream.
Was he leaving handprints on her ass?
She pitched forward, dizzy with the feeling. She ran her fingers through his pool-damp hair and got whipped cream in it. He sucked a marshmallow in his mouth and laved her labia.
Mercy. But she liked food play.
She glanced down and saw pineapples squished beneath her feet. She wiggled her toes.
Noah smiled. “Who knew you would be such a decadent girl?”
Yes, who knew?
She spread more whipped cream in his hair, and he did wicked things with his tongue. Then he shifted into lion mode and grazed her thighs with his canines.
She pitched forward again.
“Are you sure you want to make me mortal?” he asked. “I’m way more fun like this.”
“Don’t taunt me about that. Not now.” She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin.
“Are you ready to come?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then say it.”
“I’m ready.”
She practically keened out the words.
He grazed her thigh again.
“Please,” she said, desperate for him to put his tongue back inside.
“Sweet Jenny. Begging to be licked. I’m going to fuck you when this is over.”
“Make me come first.”
He did just that. He pleasured her, over and over, until she shook and shuddered and panted his name.
While she was recovering, he turned on the spigot and drenched her, and himself, in warm water.
Moments later, they kissed and scrubbed clean, with soggy bits of fruit floating around the drain. As promised, he fucked her. He pushed her against the shower wall and entered her with white-hot fury.
Taking her for the ride of her life.
 
 
 
Noah arrived at Jenny’s house the following night, cursing himself for allowing her to mess with his life.
What was he doing with a woman who was hoping to make him mortal? A woman who claimed to love him, who insisted that he loved her, too?
“This is a mistake,” he said.
“Come on, Noah. It’s just an experiment, and I already joined the site. It’s really easy. All you have to do is upload a picture and set the aging factors. It shows you the changes right away.”
“Are you going to do a progression of yourself?”
“I already did, and I saved it on my computer. Do you want to see the results?”

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