Reluctant Mates - 21 Paranormal Romance Stories (Werewolf, Vampire, Minotaur and Monster collection) by Francis Ashe Page B
Authors: Francis Ashe
Tags: gay romance, werewolf romance, werewolf erotic romance, werewolf menage, vampire menage, gay werewolf romance, gay werewolf erotic romance, first time gay romance, gay vampire romance
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thrown over me. I fought and lost a battle to keep my jaw from shaking in terror, and then I lost another one to keep my nipples from straining and aching when his hand brushed between them and his fingers curled on my belly.
Whatever this creature was, he had muscles so large and so powerful that I knew I’d never seen their equal. And if that weren’t enough to chill me to the bone, there was also the swelling thickness that I felt on the inside of my legs, moving between them as he pushed my thighs apart.
“Why are you doing this?” I said, somehow, through my chattering teeth.
He only stroked his sinful girth harder between my legs. As ashamed as I was, and as much as I hated to admit my feelings, the way he held me against his body and how his...cock...was hardening against my untouched sex made a terrible, pleasing heat bubble up from inside.
“Shh,” he whispered gently as he ran his hand down my leg to the knee and then back up underneath my clinging tunic.
The tips of his fingers slid along his warm length and along my gentlest, softest parts. He sniffed my hair again, and withdrew, leaving me with a sinful desire to push myself on him and urge him to continue. Shaking my head cleared the thoughts, though somewhere deep down, I wanted nothing more than for him to touch me again.
A moment later, the strange, bizarrely wonderful moment that passed between us ended with his hoisting me off my feet. With a grunt, the beast slammed me down onto his rounded, muscular shoulder and on my side I felt something that couldn’t be real. Hard, stiff hair poked through my tunic.
As he walked, or rather clomped along the hall, every step drove more air out of my lungs and pushed me a step closer to unconsciousness. Stone on the ceiling and on the walls scraped my back, scratched my heels, as we went. The passage seemed to narrow until finally I felt myself rolling off him.
“What’s happening?” I said. “What are you doing with me?”
He grunted again as he settled me on the floor and something creaked into place. A door, I thought, that he was using to close me into some kind of a cell.
“Wait...here.” His voice was deep, hard and cold. At first I thought that I must have dreamed the words, but then he let another of his soft, taunting chuckles slip out before he snorted and slid a bar into place. Hearing a heavy clunk, and the sound of a chain being pulled through a latch, I went limp, fell into a heap and gave myself up to a fit of panic that lasted until I’d tired myself so thoroughly that my consciousness gave out.
Overwhelmed with terror, I scooted backwards along the floor, my torn clothes getting caught underneath me and tearing more and more the further I went until my back hit the wall. Outside there was a vague scraping sound, as though my captor was preparing something, and I hoped against hope I wasn’t about to be shackled to the wall and killed.
Drawing my knees to my chest, I clutched myself and waited for whatever awful fate beheld me. I sat there, shaking and weeping for so long that I thought the monster – for I was sure that whatever he was, he must be terrible – had forgotten me.
In the utter darkness, lost in my own thoughts, and completely helpless, when I first heard those scraping sounds coming toward my little cell, I once again thought it was my imagination. More than that, I somehow convinced myself that the whole ordeal was an awful dream. When the iron bar slid through the door and the beast took a deep breath as he stepped in, there was no mistaking reality.
Before I knew what was happening, a hard, callused hand closed around my biceps. The fingers were so big that just the one hand wrapped all the way around the top of my arm. He yanked me to my feet and pulled another deep breath into his lungs. A slow, trickling kind of exhale followed, and then he shuddered out loud, his voice rattling in his chest.
“You...are ready, aren’t you?” He said.
“Ready?
Whatever this creature was, he had muscles so large and so powerful that I knew I’d never seen their equal. And if that weren’t enough to chill me to the bone, there was also the swelling thickness that I felt on the inside of my legs, moving between them as he pushed my thighs apart.
“Why are you doing this?” I said, somehow, through my chattering teeth.
He only stroked his sinful girth harder between my legs. As ashamed as I was, and as much as I hated to admit my feelings, the way he held me against his body and how his...cock...was hardening against my untouched sex made a terrible, pleasing heat bubble up from inside.
“Shh,” he whispered gently as he ran his hand down my leg to the knee and then back up underneath my clinging tunic.
The tips of his fingers slid along his warm length and along my gentlest, softest parts. He sniffed my hair again, and withdrew, leaving me with a sinful desire to push myself on him and urge him to continue. Shaking my head cleared the thoughts, though somewhere deep down, I wanted nothing more than for him to touch me again.
A moment later, the strange, bizarrely wonderful moment that passed between us ended with his hoisting me off my feet. With a grunt, the beast slammed me down onto his rounded, muscular shoulder and on my side I felt something that couldn’t be real. Hard, stiff hair poked through my tunic.
As he walked, or rather clomped along the hall, every step drove more air out of my lungs and pushed me a step closer to unconsciousness. Stone on the ceiling and on the walls scraped my back, scratched my heels, as we went. The passage seemed to narrow until finally I felt myself rolling off him.
“What’s happening?” I said. “What are you doing with me?”
He grunted again as he settled me on the floor and something creaked into place. A door, I thought, that he was using to close me into some kind of a cell.
“Wait...here.” His voice was deep, hard and cold. At first I thought that I must have dreamed the words, but then he let another of his soft, taunting chuckles slip out before he snorted and slid a bar into place. Hearing a heavy clunk, and the sound of a chain being pulled through a latch, I went limp, fell into a heap and gave myself up to a fit of panic that lasted until I’d tired myself so thoroughly that my consciousness gave out.
Overwhelmed with terror, I scooted backwards along the floor, my torn clothes getting caught underneath me and tearing more and more the further I went until my back hit the wall. Outside there was a vague scraping sound, as though my captor was preparing something, and I hoped against hope I wasn’t about to be shackled to the wall and killed.
Drawing my knees to my chest, I clutched myself and waited for whatever awful fate beheld me. I sat there, shaking and weeping for so long that I thought the monster – for I was sure that whatever he was, he must be terrible – had forgotten me.
In the utter darkness, lost in my own thoughts, and completely helpless, when I first heard those scraping sounds coming toward my little cell, I once again thought it was my imagination. More than that, I somehow convinced myself that the whole ordeal was an awful dream. When the iron bar slid through the door and the beast took a deep breath as he stepped in, there was no mistaking reality.
Before I knew what was happening, a hard, callused hand closed around my biceps. The fingers were so big that just the one hand wrapped all the way around the top of my arm. He yanked me to my feet and pulled another deep breath into his lungs. A slow, trickling kind of exhale followed, and then he shuddered out loud, his voice rattling in his chest.
“You...are ready, aren’t you?” He said.
“Ready?
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