Savage Satisfaction (10 page)

“This feels good.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad.”

Hands on her hips, he urged her to move, teaching her the
rhythm he wanted. Mirela’s hips rocked back and forth, his cock sliding in and
out, the head rubbing against the inside of her pussy. William slid his hand up
her belly to her breast. He squeezed each breast in turn, then lightly slapped
each before pinching her nipples.

“Hands behind your head,” he ordered. She obeyed without
hesitation. Smiling in savage satisfaction, William continued to toy with her
breasts, his touch growing rougher. He twisted and pulled her nipples until they
were swollen and pink.

“Lift your hips up, good. Now slide down my cock. That’s my
pretty falcon. Fuck yourself on my cock. Good.”

She rose and fell, her breasts bouncing. William pressed his
thumb between the lips of her sex, rubbing her clit. She jerked and moaned when
he found it.

“No!” He slapped her breast. “Don’t stop.” The pink imprint
of his hand faded as she began moving, faster now. Each downstroke brushed her
clit against his thumb.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on me,” he said, jerking his
hips off the bed to increase his pleasure.

“I feel, I feel…”

“You’re going to come, aren’t you? I want you to come from
fucking yourself on my cock.”

“Yes.” She moaned. “I’m going to come from fucking.” The
dirty talk pushed William’s arousal to the breaking point.

He needed to fuck her, harder and faster. Lifting Mirela off
his cock, he threw her down, rolled over her and shoved his cock back inside
her pussy before she knew what had happened.

William braced his arms and pistoned himself in and out of
her sex. Mirela whispered naughty dirty words in his ear, demanding that he
fuck her and make her come. He shifted her legs over his arms so that as she
thrust forward his belly rubbed her clit.

Mirela’s head thrashed side-to-side, words lost to her as pleasure
consumed her. William watched with a savage smile as her mouth opened and she
screamed in orgasm. Her pussy tightened rhythmically around his cock as she
came and that pushed him over the edge. William pumped his hips, spilling deep
inside her.

He rolled off Mirela. She curled into his side, head on his
shoulder, breath puffing against his sweaty chest.

Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his mouth and kissed
her palm.

* * * * *

“Your horse will bolt,” Christoffer warned as they made
their way across the grounds to the stables.

“He’s been trained to run with dogs,” William replied.

“I’m not a dog.”

They’d reached the stable. Andrew came out, leading
William’s gelding, who was already saddled. William saw Andrew looking at
Christoffer. William cleared his throat and the boy jerked his attention back
to the horse.

Andrew bent and created a lift with his cupped hands,
helping William mount up. With a brisk “Thank you” to the boy, William turned
the horse toward the woods, Christoffer falling in step beside him.

Christoffer was in a good mood, laughing and joking. William
did his best to smile and match Christoffer’s mood, but it was a failing
effort.

You have nothing to feel bad about
, William told
himself.

His nerves were raw. He couldn’t believe what had happened
over the past two days. He’d had gay sex with a werewolf, taken the virginity
of a werefalcon, and…started to fall in love.

Christoffer’s hair was gold in the sunlight. He wore his own
clothes and the tank top—skimpy for the cool autumn air—showed off his arms.
Now that William had let himself accept that he could act on his attraction, he
enjoyed looking at Christoffer’s firm young body.

“This is ridiculously English,” Christoffer said, indicating
the formal gardens.

“I’m ridiculously English.” William tried to say it with a
smile but failed.

Christoffer grabbed the horse’s bridle. “Are you upset about
what we did?”

“I don’t feel we need to discuss it,” William said, looking
around.

Christoffer’s face screwed up in anger. “Back to this? You’re
going to pretend you didn’t fuck me?”

“I’m pretending nothing.”

“But you’re fucking terrified of any of them finding out.” He
threw his hand out in an arch to indicate the grounds.

William bent in the saddle and grabbed Christoffer by the
collar, dragging him close. William’s horse pranced nervously.

“Do you want them to know exactly what you are, wolf? My
life is my own and is no concern of those who work for me. You serve me,
nothing more. That we choose to have a sexual relationship is secondary to
that.”

“I’m so sorry to speak above my station,” Christoffer
growled.

“You should be. What do you want? Do you want me to parade
around with you on my arm, introducing you as my boyfriend?”

Christoffer looked away. William released him—it was as he
feared. “I will warn you now,” he told Christoffer, “not to get, er,
emotionally attached to me.”

“So what, I’m supposed to live with you for the rest of my
life, fuck you, but pretend I barely know you?”

“Release my horse.”

Christoffer let go the bridle. William briefly considered
giving up on the idea of running with the boy, but he didn’t want Christoffer’s
sulk to interrupt his plans.

The issue of Christoffer’s feelings would have to be dealt
with, though William twitched with discomfort at the thought. He lived a quiet,
controlled life. The most emotional he ever got was watching rugby—he’d been
known to shed a tear when a crowd of Englishmen started singing
Swing Low,
Sweet Chariot
during a ripping game. He was ill-equipped to deal with
Christoffer’s emotions, and after this little display he was convinced the
boy’s feelings were stronger than lust.

Perversely, that was more frightening than fucking. Sex was
one thing—emotions another, more uncomfortable, thing.

But it would be a lie for William to say his emotions were
uninvolved. They were involved, just not with the boy.

He could still smell Mirela on his skin, and when he closed
his eyes he could see her, soft and helpless yet full of life. She satisfied
the barbarian urges inside him. He was fiercely pleased that he was her first
lover and, as she was his for the rest of her life, he would be her only lover.
She excited him, challenged him, yet made him feel more a man. She was
beautiful, obedient, graceful and exotic.

He could not wait to see her fly, could not wait to don the
glove her family provided and cast her from his arm.

He could not wait to fuck her again.

Daydreaming about his falcon, locked in her room as if she
were a princess in a tower, absorbed William until they reached the edge of the
forest. He planned to take Christoffer along the car path that edged the deer
park, as there was plenty of space and good ground for his horse.

“Come here,” William commanded. When Christoffer was close
enough, William leaned low in the saddle and slipped the token between the
disks of the collar. Christoffer rested his cheek on William’s wrist. The
collar popped open. William jerked his hand away, bringing the collar, which he
tucked into his jacket pocket.

Christoffer was already shedding his clothes. William let
him do it. The boy crouched and William swung off his horse. The horse had been
trained to ride for foxhunts with a pack of braying dogs, but it was best to be
careful. He held the reins below the horse’s chin, keeping his head down.

Christoffer the man was melting away into Christoffer the
wolf. When the change was complete, the wolf shook himself and stretched, chest
sinking down toward the ground, paws pressing into the dirt.

William’s horse took a few nervous steps but settled
quickly. William motioned for Christoffer to walk around the horse. He had the
wolf make two circuits before he was satisfied his horse wouldn’t bolt.

The wolf lifted his nose, scenting the air. When William
swung up into his saddle, the wolf lowered his nose and shook his head.

William clicked his tongue and the horse moved forward. With
heel pressure he quickened the pace to a trot, then canter. The wolf ran beside
him, eerily silent. William’s earlier stress over Christoffer’s feelings melted
away. The exhilaration of being outdoors, of feeling the wind on his face as
his wolf ran beside him, soothed William’s frazzled nerves.

They circled the deer park. There was one troubling moment
when the deer scented Christoffer and took off, en masse. His horse broke from
a canter into a gallop and William had to bring him down to a walk to gain
control.

The wolf cocked his head to the side, and William knew he
was asking a question. Feeling rather smug that he could read the body language
of the wolf, William nodded that he was all right, then increased his horse’s
pace. Noticing that Christoffer was not beside him, William looked over his
shoulder to see what was wrong. The wolf was again scenting the air. Slightly
concerned, William reminded himself to ask what it was Christoffer was smelling
once the boy was in a body that allowed him to be verbal.

This was a training exercise rather than pleasure, though
the training was primarily for William’s horse. When he actually took his
Hunting Pair out hunting he planned to do it atop the gelding. Part of William,
actually a large part of him, wished he were on foot, running beside
Christoffer.

They were three-quarters of the way around the deer park
now. The horse’s ears, which had been twitching, sometimes even lying flat,
shifted forward as the wind changed.

Licking his finger, William tested the wind and realized the
horse had, until now, been downwind of the wolf. Now Christoffer was downwind
of William.

William noticed a beer bottle in the grass at the edge of
the path. Youths from the village must be sneaking out here to drink. He’d have
to phone—

A growl pulled his attention away from the bottle. William
looked to the wolf, whose lips were pulled back in a snarl. The wolf’s nose
cocked up, then he shook his head. The growl died and William slowed his horse
to a trot. Something was wrong.

The wolf hadn’t slowed, and pulled ahead of William. Wishing
fervently that he had some way of communicating with Christoffer, William
trotted after him.

Ten yards in front of the horse the wolf swung wide. Lips
pulled back, exposing sharp teeth, the wolf raced toward horse and rider. His
gelding pranced from side to side and William fought to bring him under
control. What was Christoffer doing?

“Stop it,” William barked, grabbing mane as his horse pranced.

Christoffer didn’t stop. The wolf snapped at the horse’s
ankles as it ran past then circled around. The wolf’s growl escalated, the
sound vibrating in the air. The hair on William’s forearms stood on end.

The wolf snapped at the horse’s face and William lost
control. With a terrified whinny the gelding reared, front hooves pawing the
air. William stood in his stirrups, desperately throwing his weight forward as
he yelled for Christoffer to stop. The horse’s hooves hit the ground. The wolf
lunged again, snarling. The horse’s head thrashed side to side. William could
see white all around the eyes.

This time when the horse reared William couldn’t hold on.
Kicking his feet from the stirrups so he wouldn’t get dragged, William
surrendered to the inevitable. He hit the ground hard, landing flat on his
back. His mouth opened and closed, struggling for air that refused to come.

But the danger was not over. A drop hit William’s face and
he opened his eyes to see the snarling maw of a wolf.

Stunned from the fall, he couldn’t move, though his
instincts screamed at him to curl up and protect his face. The wolf—William
couldn’t think of it as his wolf, his Christoffer—pressed his nose to William’s
neck.

The wolf sniffed him, his cold nose sliding down William’s
chest.

God help me
, William thought as the muzzle pressed
into his crotch.

The wolf took a deep breath and William could feel the pull
of air through his riding breaches. The wolf bounded away, tipped its muzzle to
the sky and howled.

The howl was long and mournful, heartbreaking and
terrifying.

William’s breath came back in a whoosh. Rolling to his hands
and knees, he moved to rise but the wolf was there, snarling at him. On his
hands and knees William was shorter than the wolf, who from this angle was a
tower of muscle and teeth.

“What are you doing?” William demanded. Was the reasoning
human Christoffer even in there to hear him? The wolf’s eyes were wild and
savage, without a hint of human intelligence.

The wolf snarled, flecking William’s face with spit. William
pushed to his feet, only to fall again as the wolf knocked into his legs.
William’s wrist twinged as he fell and the shock of pain galvanized him to
action.

In a move best described as foolhardy, he tackled the wolf.
It felt as though he’d tried to take down a pony. The wolf’s nails sunk into
the ground and he forced William back. William scrambled to stay on his knees,
but the wolf was too powerful. With a twist, the wolf threw William to the
ground. He landed on his side and the collar dug into his hip.

William ignored the instinct to curl up in a ball and rolled
onto his back. The wolf pounced on him, chest down, snarl rumbling from his
throat. One paw was on William’s chest and the sheer weight of the animal
forced the air from William’s lungs.

Praying this would work, William shoved his wrist into the
wolf’s mouth, forcing the jaws open. At the same time, William jerked the
collar from his pocket and slid it around the wolf’s neck. He heard it snap
closed.

The wolf backed away, head thrashing. Magic crackled in the
air as bones popped and skin split, the snarling wolf becoming a snarling man.