DREAMS OF THE OASIS III
Werewolf in L.A.
Available from Ellora's Cave
www.ellorascave.com
Published Sept. 2006
Anthology
Copyright 2006 Marianne LaCroix
All rights reserved.
“I’m Estelle, what’s your name?” She offered her hand and gasped at the contact of flesh upon flesh. His heat caressed her skin in a welcome embrace.
“Jack Butler. I’m the new stuntman here at International Star Studios.”
“That would explain why I’ve never seen you before.” He continued to hold her hand and she enjoyed his comforting hold.
“I don’t usually talk with the actors off stage.”
“And why is that?” She took a hesitant step forward just to get a little closer.
What did he look like under the mask? He radiated appeal, raw animalistic sexual appeal. And it zeroed in on her pussy, now aching to be petted by this stranger.
“Because…because not many people understand me.”
She moved closer still, her body now touching along his. The contact was electric, and she slowly breathed in his spicy scent. The throb increased at her clit. “And how do you feel about talking with me now?” Her voice was breathy, heavy with her growing desire. Since when was she ever turned on by a man she just met?
“I think you’re playing a dangerous game here, Miss Lane. You don’t know me.”
She tilted up her face to his. “I think I want to find out.”
Electricity crackled about them, she clearly felt it in the air between them. He leaned forward, his lips mere inches from hers. “Want to crawl into the bed of a wolf, Miss Lane?”
She grasped his shirt as she moved to him, her body a heated puzzle piece finding the perfect fit. “Yes,” she breathed.
When his lips touched hers, hesitant at first, she felt the jolt of contact course through her veins with each beat of her racing heart. With her sharp intake of breath, his kiss turned demanding. Mouths ground together in a newfound passion. He urged her lips apart and at her moan, his tongue dove into the sweetness of her mouth. He held her securely at the shoulders as he plundered her mouth, primal desire fueling the flames building between them.
She wanted him closer, much closer. Wrapping her one leg about his, she heard him moan as he moved his hand to her thigh and pulled her to him.
Her cunt was hot and weeping with want, her clit pulsated with need. She rubbed her lust-driven body against his hard, powerful frame as their tongues danced in tempo with her increased heartbeat.
He held on to her thigh, raising it higher, and she ground her pelvis against his. The skirt of her dress bunched at her waist, her crotch rubbed wonderfully against his straining cock within his pants.
He groaned as she panted, thrusting her hips against the bulge, the fabric-covered rod pressed against her swollen clit and she whimpered against his kisses.
He pulled his mouth from hers and he gasped, “Estelle.” He nibbled her neck, her sensitive skin tingling beneath his lips. “Ever been fucked all night long, little Miss B-movie queen?”
Then a gasp from behind her snapped her from her blinding ecstasy of the moment. She was making out with a stuntman dressed like a werewolf, albeit a bad rendition of one, but this was a low-budget film.
“Hussy.”
She recognized Donald’s voice immediately.
She lowered her leg and straightened her dress. All the while Jack held her to his side in a protective embrace. Was it protective, or was it possessive? Either way, she appreciated the secure warmth of his body pressed to her.
“So, I’m not good enough to go to dinner with, but he is good enough for a quickie fuck while on a break? Two-bit whore.”
Without a word, Jack moved in a flash and threw a punch to Don’s jaw. The unexpected force dropped the actor on his ass, grasping his jaw in pain.
“Don’t you ever speak to Miss Lane in such a manner. I ever hear you call her that again, I will make sure you don’t work for a week…or more.”