A hooded figure
1090 Words
The way Amara’s fingers trembled when they touched his, said everything.
“Don’t… Please I’m sensitive there —” she moaned, digging her fingers into the bed as the wet heat of his tongue swept between her legs. “Oh, gods . . .”
She purred his name as he moved his body over hers, his hard-on settling between her legs.
Placing a hand on either side of her, he leaned in and nipped her breast again before sucking the n****e deep. Something unfamiliar, better, greater than any dream erupted inside her, liquefying in her veins as she grabbed his biceps, only able to get her hands around a quarter of them.
She held him feverishly, trying her best to suppress her moans. But then he switched breasts, pinching one n****e and sucking the other. She shook like a switch had been flipped inside her head, eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy, something she couldn't control.
She rolled her hips, rubbing herself up and down his erection as he kissed a hot, wet line down her neck. She moaned, scraping her nails down his arms, trying to crawl into his skin.
Her wolf stirred within her. Raw and unrestrained. Granting strength she would usually lack access to.
But so did his. They were both feral for each other.
He dropped back between her legs, not hesitating before dipping his head and licking her from base to c**t.
The growl of satisfaction that escaped him vibrated against her, he held back a laugh as he felt her fight the orgasm. He ran a rough hand down her leg, pulling her thigh over his shoulder.
It was almost tender, the soft sweep of his palm against her skin.
He ran his fingers through her hair, and she shook while spewing unintelligible words…. Incantations even — as he pushed his fingers inside her.
In and out. In and out.
Her eyes rolled back again, and again, her spine arching off the bed. A drop of sweat ran between her breasts as her body refused to obey her control.
He worked her like he had been here a thousand times, knowing just how much to give before pulling back.
Making her feel the very event of an orgasm… a toe-curling climax — then moving to arouse something else, restarting the process. He wanted her to beg him to put it in.
And that, she did.
“OH! It feels so good. Please.. I want you inside me.” She moaned.
He wanted her too
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
They hear the door bang. They freeze…. Just who could it be?
“I know you're in there, Lucian. It's urgent.”
“L-lyra?” Amara gasped. “What could she want?”
×××
“You know I'm ashamed of you right?”
“After everything I painstakingly taught you.”
“How could you let him in so easily...”
“You didn't even tell me to help youuuuu! Lucian is very hard to please. But I know all the tricks.”
“Wait… you do?” Amara asked, curious.
“Ah, never mind that.”
Amara wasn't sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't that!
She stared at Lyra with an incredulous expression on her face.
“So tell me, what did you guys do? Any feet stuff?”
“No, no feet stuff, Lyra! You interrupted us.”
“Mhmm, true. I guess you'll find out next time.”
“There won't be a next time with skills like that! You should get some man and practice.”
“Who? Like Derrick?” Amara asked.
“Oh no no. Silly girl, the reason you're so worked up is because you have two mates. While your attractions, your cravings, are normal. They are doubled twofold.” She paused, taking a biscuit from the basket before them, then continued; “So using either of them is a losing battle.”
“Ahh, what the hell. You'll find out yourself, you're a smart girl.”
“Anyhooo, I'll have to leave you now. Enjoy.”
She turned and disappeared before Amara. “So she's a twin deviant? Interesting.”
“I wonder what her twin is like.”
She pondered for a second before realising she was behind on tasks herself. The herbs were still unsorted.
♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎
Amara stepped into the bustle of the riverside market of the Onyxfangs pack, baskets swinging from her arm. Stalls were filled with quality stocks, to which her task now was to separate the real deal from the fakes.
The sun had just cleared the rooftops, casting long shadows that stretched between colorful canvas tents.
"Fresh chamomile, just picked!" shouted an elderly vendor.
Amara paused, scanning the crowd for the herb stall she needed. Behind her, a man in a dark cloak brushed past. She tensed, but when she turned, he melted into a group of shoppers. Was she seeing things?
Shaking off the unease, she approached a table overflowing with mint and rosemary. "Do you have valerian roots?" she asked the vendor, a thin woman with silvering hair.
"Only a handful left. People are stocking up this week." The vendor replied.
"I’ll take it. Also those dried juniper berries?"
The vendor nodded, weighing the roots. From the corner of her eye, Amara caught a glimpse of that dark figure again. slipping between stalls, following her path.
Her heartbeat quickened. She grabbed her purchases, offering coins hastily. The vendor’s brow furrowed at her sudden movement. "Be careful. Storms must be coming."
"Thank you."
She moved through the crowd, headed toward the exit. The figure mirrored her pace. Barely hiding the fact they were following her.
Her basket swayed as a child bumped into her, and she stumbled, nearly dropping everything. That was all the hooded person needed to close the distance.
One second they were gone. Next, she was pinned in an alleyway in the heart of the market.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
There was no reply.
She backed away, but the figure blocked her path. "I don’t want trouble."
A gloved hand reached out, lifting her chin. "You don't recognize me?"
She blinked — memory and fear warred. She couldn't see the face. Nor did she want to.
A shout echoed from the main avenue. Both spun toward the sound. In that moment, Amara twisted free, sprinting into the sunlit square.
She didn’t stop even when the market stalls vanished behind her, leaving only the sweat on her forehead and the burning in her lungs
- Writer
