Alpha Heat by Deva Long

As his manhood stretched me open I arched my hips, capturing more of him. He moved faster and that burned, making me catch my breath. He slowed and looked at me, his eyes now only inches from mine. “Yes?”
    “Yes,” I arched up into him again, pulling against the belt, feeling another kind of burn as the leather dug into my wrists. “Take me, Sir.”
    He propped himself up on one hand, his shoulder muscles rippling, as his other hand found my breast. His fingers grasped my nipple, and squeezed in time with his thrusts. He pinched harder each time, and each time the sharp pain turned to ecstasy as he parted me and drove deeper. I locked my legs around his back and thrust myself to meet him.
    “Harder Sir, harder.” He obliged both with his cock, and by squeezing my poor nipple. Both of the sensations were sharp and welcome, driving me further and further over the edge. My begging became senseless, too quick to complete even a full, “please,” and I heard myself moaning, “puhpuhpuh,” over and again into his neck as if I floated above the bed watching this berserk couple melting into each other.
    I climbed higher up the next hill with his every movement, his every painful pinch, and the stars burst forth again. With one great pull I yanked my wrists loose from the headboard and wrapped my bound hands around his neck, pulling him to me and sighing one long, “ohhhh,” into his ear.
    That seemed to send him beyond the edge as his thrusts s became almost frantic and he pushed back against my hands, rising. His hair flared like a halo in the flickering candle light.
    My Norse God swelled inside me and I felt all the wrinkles of my pussy flatten as he stretched me. Every bit of my inner surface, every nerve-ending, touched him now.
    The candle had grown brighter, and his hair longer. He opened his mouth and I saw his canines flash, much longer than the teeth of a man.
    “Grace, oh shit, Grace. Grace. GRACE.” He said my name with a howl, a sound no human throat could make.

fifteen
     
    I jerked my hands back from around his neck and my feet flailed as I backed up the bed to get away from him. His cock throbbed, and I saw the condom bulge outward with cum pooled within, jets pulsing the thin membrane outward. I realized he was transforming into something else. Something not human. Something like the werewolves in those popular shows. Unlike those transformations, claws popping through skin, teeth falling out, Karl seemed to be changing more organically with fur shooting out like sped up movies of grass growing. Golden grass, springing up through his naked skin. His hair grew longer and puffed out like a lion’s mane as I watched it.
    His nose broadened and his eyes enlarged.
    “I won’t hurt you, Grace.” His voice had changed also, deeper, with the brass sound of a large dog’s throat.
    “No, no, I can’t— Karl. What the hell!” I had been panting in lust moments before, now I hyperventilated. I backed right off the bed to the floor on the other side. He pounced to the side of the bed, his now furred hands showing long ivory colored nails that cut slits into the fancy sheets.
    “Wait. This. Will. Pass.” He hunched his head between his hands. Cords or muscle bulged from his neck.
    This girl was not going to hang around and see if it did.
    I grabbed my dress from where it lay in a green pool on the floor. The candle flared as the pent up wax melted a way out, running over the table.
    The maid’s going to hate that.
    Many sexy songs I didn’t recognize had been streaming from the sound system, but I knew this one. Radiohead. The singer wailed about not belonging.
    I don’t belong here, either.
    Karl Norman wasn’t just some arrogant rich guy hiding an inner sweetness and a kinky secret. He’s a something sick, something different. A monster. A beast from legend.
    A beast I wasn’t ready to save.
    Pouring my dress over my head, grabbing my shawl, I glanced back one more time at Karl.
    I could breathe