Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures (26 page)

over the round, resilient mound before lifting his head and burying it in her neck. The huff of his breath tickled and she flinched, pulling her shoulders back. A snarl rolled by her right ear and a second later, fangs tore into the soft meat at the base of her neck.

“Pavel!” Kaila cried out, startled at the bite, shocked by the pain that blazed where he continued to work his fangs into her. She felt warm wetness flowing down and realized he’d bitten her hard enough to break skin, to make her bleed. Even as her horrified thoughts registered his bestial action, her orgasm hurled her over into a howling storm of flashing sensations.

Her body jerked and spasmed and he rode her down, rode her hard until he was

snarling and growling, crying out in words too guttural for her to interpret. His cock bucked like a wild thing inside her, shooting gusts after gusts of boiling, thick sperm high up her milking channel.

Eons later Kaila jerked awake to find herself covered in a slack-muscled Pavel blanket.

She ached all over, and not all of the aches were a pleasant reminder of what they’d done.

Doing a quick recon of her body, Kaila realized her pussy was sore and still stuffed with Pavel’s cock that, though deflated, remained thick enough to need careful easing out. She discovered another more unpleasant burning ache in the crook of her neck. Lifting a hand to investigate, she fingered what felt like puncture marks. Then she remembered…

“You bit me!”

Pavel’s head snapped up. His drowsy expression fled, eyes meeting hers and widening

as he saw where her hand laid. “Shit!”

Feeling sick to her stomach, Kaila swallowed past a lump of dread. “Does this mean I’m going to turn into a werewolf on the next full moon?”

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Calorie-free Snacks

“I’m telling you, there’s something very strange going on around here!”

“But strange in a good way,” another client sighed, stretching her arms over her head.

“You’re on the late show. I noticed how different the staff was as far back as last week.”

A dark-haired woman, vaguely Italian in looks, nodded sagely. “They’re like Stepford

Husbands or something.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I mean! They’re perfect specimens -- tall, handsome, buff --

and they all like fat women, each and every one of them. And best of all, they’re calorie free!”

The ladies giggled. One said, “This place is so perfect, it’s almost scary.”

“She hit it on the nail. It’s not just the staff,” another woman chimed in. “It’s this whole setup. I’ve stayed at a lot of fat farms in my time, but I’ve never been to one where there’s no true dieting.”

“Maybe so, but how do you explain why everyone’s losing weight?”

A young blonde named Mary, barely on the far side of chubby groaned, “Hell, with

incentives like the staff members here, who wouldn’t meet their weight goals? I’m getting wet just thinking about this week’s reward.” She gave a sexy little moan. “All those who like it…Ruff…raise your hands.”

Sara tentatively raised her hand.

“We’re not in school, silly,” Lucinda taunted, “you don’t need permission to speak, nor must you wait to be acknowledged.”

One of the women hushed Lucinda. “Let her talk, Lu. Contrary to the high opinion you

have of yourself, you’re not the boss around here.”

“Go on, Sara…what were you trying to say?”

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Sara cleared her throat. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I was raising my hand

because…I liked Ruff, too.”

The group of women hooted and hollered until Mary shushed everyone. “I’ll tell you

something else. My sorry husband, Larry, insisted I come here. He’s moving in big society nowadays, and a frumpy housewife isn’t good enough to hang off his elbow. Hell, he’s no Brad Pitt or Hugh Jackman, but to let him tell it, I’m the one who needs fixing. Well, if giving him two children and getting stretch marks in return is wrong, he’s heck out of luck.

As far as I’m concerned, those marks are badges of honor. I’m through cowering under his dictatorship. Things are going to be different when I get home. For one, he can start showing me some love and respect, no matter what size I am. If he can’t do that, Lawrence can haul his sorry ass out of my house!”

After a few of the other women followed Mary’s example, sharing their post-spa plans, Sara spoke out again. “When I get back, I’m going to sell my house and buy a smaller condo, maybe rent out the second unit.”

Lucinda gasped. “Sell your family’s stately home…why?”

The diminutive woman squared her shoulders. “My family has all passed. There’s no

one left to leave it to after I’m gone. Better to sell the house now and enjoy the proceeds than to leave it to the government. Besides, I don’t want to live next to you anymore.”

“Well, I never…!”

“…lived.” Sara finished the irate woman’s sentence. “I know you haven’t, Lucinda. And you probably never will, but I’ve decided I want to.”

“You go, Sara! It’s good to see you speaking out and taking up for yourself. In addition, you’re looking great. How many pounds have you lost so far?”

“Seven,” the stout dowager crowed. “Not much more to go and Lucinda is going to owe

me a certain necklace!” She sobered. “You know, I’ve never before lost weight so easily and it got me thinking…what if they’re addicting us to something…putting something in our food or water? What if, when we leave here, we gain all our weight back?”

Rosemary’s dreamy smile softened her lined face. “I, for one, don’t need food to addict me. I’m already hooked on this program.” Her smile widened, eyes taking on a slumberous glow to match the one transforming her aged face. “I’ve met my weight goal two weeks in a row.”

“Oh, Rosie, that’s wonderful! Tell us what sort of fantasy you requested. Whom did you choose?”

Her freckled skin flooded with hot red color. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell her fantasies, but I chose Brandon. And he was so sweet to me!”

“I’ll just bet he was!” Anita, a plump young thirtyish woman married to an ambitious

ad exec cooed, fanning herself. “That boy is built like a Mack truck. I wouldn’t mind checking him out, myself.”

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“What did he do…smear that dried up old cunt of yours with those strawberry tarts

you stole so you’d be wet enough for him?”

Lucinda’s nasty comment resounded throughout the dining room. Shocked silence

reigned as all eyes turned toward Rosemary to gauge her reaction. The older lady’s face crumpled, turned brick red as all her lively joy drained away.

“That was mean, Lucinda.” Sara spoke up quietly yet firmly, the expression in her eyes stern as she stared down the woman she’d called friend for years. “I hardly know you

anymore. In fact, I don’t think I care to know you anymore.”

Lucinda dropped her own eyes, voice surly as she tried to backpedal. “I didn’t mean

anything by it. Can’t anyone take a joke?”

Cacophony broke loose as the other clients rushed to the shattered client’s defense. En masse, a dozen voices clamored, condemning the vindictive socialite for spoiling Rosemary’s moment of triumph.

“It’s all right, everyone.” Rosemary held up a hand, her soft words halting the outcries.

“Lucinda can’t say anything to negate this wonderful truth I’ve found.” She stood and faced the other clients.

“For years, I let how others viewed me color how I felt about myself. As a result, I

became a bitter old hag, hating myself and everyone around me. Believe me when I say

there’ve been many times in the past when I’ve been as nasty as Lucinda. I’m not proud of it, but I’ll let the memories serve as a reminder of who I was so I never go back there.

“I came here for the weight loss program, but I’ve gained so much more. I’m actually

glad I stole that tart because by forcing me to face the consequences of my actions, Brandon taught me I was worth the effort. He proved someone cared enough about me to make me

stop self-destructing.” She glanced around the circle, gaze searching the crowd. “I don’t see Kaila here and I’m sorry about that because she was one of the persons I’ve been very cruel to. I won’t feel right until I’ve apologized to her. Regardless of what happens after we leave here, I’m done letting my bitterness spill over to everyone around me. I’m done hating myself. Lord knows I’m old, but I’m not dried up, and at least one person thinks I’m worthy of love. That’s enough to go on with.”

* * * * *

distant conversation, aware their clients would freak if they realized how easily the personnel could overhear them. The human females had no idea how sharp the staff’s

hearing was.

“Go, Brandon!” Travis whispered, pumping his fist in salute to the younger wulf. “Your client is making great strides!”

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A dark-haired wulf snickered, “A firm hand and a hard cock will soften them up every

time.”

Brandon lowered his head. He didn’t like the disrespectful tone in the wulf’s voice

when he spoke of Rosemary. “It wasn’t like that, Delin.”

“It’s always like that, young padiwan.” Delin grabbed his crotch and rubbed the hard

bulge beneath his zipper. “These human females melt like syrup for wulven cock. We’re their new secret weapon against fat. Lose the weight -- find the G-spot.”

Brandon stiffened. “Cut it out, man. If Pavel heard you talking like this he’d kick your ass off this island so fast your tail would twist.”

The older, hardened wulf sneered and cupped his crotch in an even more lewd gesture

than before. “The high and mighty Alpha Prime Pavel can suck my dick and lick my furry balls if he ever climbs off that juicy bitch of his! He ain’t my Alpha and I’m not afraid of those old rumors going round about how he offed his sire while still a pup. He probably planted them, himself.”

Travis spoke up. “You gave throat oath to him, so I’d say he is definitely your Alpha.

And you’re actively disobeying him when you treat the clients like they’re your inferiors --

you make them feel uncomfortable.”

Delin cocked his head at Travis, brows lowering. “Who gives a fuck? They sure don’t --

fuck, that is. I signed on to this gig for some pussy and so far none’s been forthcoming.”

The other staff member, a calm, quiet wulf who was a favorite with the ladies, sighed.

“No woman’s going to choose you as her fantasy unless she’s deep into BDSM. What do you expect when you eye them like they were whores?”

“I expect to fuck me some grateful monkey ass, is what I expect,” the angry wulf

snarled, tossing back his chair and rising from the table. “I’m out of here!” Tossing a dismissive glare toward Brandon, Travis, and the other wulves, he whistled sharply. “Hey, Alice in Fatland, time to get your rabbity ass in gear!”

Across the room, a Bronx flavored voice yelled back, “My name is Anita, dickwad!”

“Why, you insolent dirt-monkey, I oughta…!” The wulf’s eyes went incandescent,

glowing with heat as his body shimmered on the edge of shifting. Brandon and the others gasped, rushed to their feet and circled the out-of-control wulf, shielding him from the clients’ views. “What the hell are you thinking, dude?”

Travis, as big and bulky as Delin, got in his face, snarled low and menacingly. “Back the fuck down and get your ass somewhere until you’re calmer! You’re dead meat if you blow this operation.”

Delin jerked away. “I’m okay. Back off. I have to take my client for her exercise.”

Brandon shook his head. “Hell, no, you won’t…not like this. One of us will cover for

you until you regain control. Go hunting, do something to take this edge off or there’s gonna be trouble.”

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The older wulf bared his teeth. “The only trouble I see is what you’re about to step into if you don’t get out my way. I don’t need a punk adolescent telling me what to do. Fucking that dried up monkey bitch don’t make you a man, cub.”

Travis backed Brandon up. “You’re not taking the client anywhere right now. You can

rendezvous with us in the dining room, collect her after dinner.”

Delin’s face contorted in anger, but he kept his human shape. He shoved past the

wulves circling him and once free, turned and snarled, “This isn’t over.”

Travis made his way over to the clients, a calming smile on his face. “Anita, your

trainer isn’t feeling well. I’ll be covering for him until after dinner, so when we’re ready to go, you’ll be coming with me.”

“Good thing, too.” Anita huffed. “I think I’ll have a word with the director. I don’t want him as my trainer any longer.”

Left alone with the other wulf, Brandon extended his hand. “Hey, I’m Brandon, son of

the Bitch Lessa. I’m a moon-cub out of the Western America pack.”

Smiling slightly, the brown-haired wulf took Brandon’s hand, shook it firmly. “I’m

surprised your dam didn’t name you Lucky. It’s always nice when a pack fathers a joint cub.

I’m Ruff, by the way -- from the other side of America, which makes us cousins of a sort. My dam is Rhutha, my sire Drake.” He frowned toward the door through which Delin had

stomped, an exasperated sigh lifting his impressive chest. He met Brandon’s gaze straight on.

“We’re going to have to report this. I know Delin. He won’t let the insult lie.”

“I wasn’t trying to insult him, but he was clearly out of control. There’s no way I was letting him near a client like that.”

“No!” Ruff was quick to agree. “You did the right thing, you and Travis, but Delin

won’t see it like that. He can be vicious.”

Brandon nodded. “I’ll tell Pavel first chance I get.” He looked toward the door, too.

“What makes him act like that?”

Ruff’s smile was far from humorous. “How old are you, Brandon?”

“Thirty-one.”

The other wulf sighed. “Still a cub. Tell me, were you a virgin before coming here?”