Crazy for the Werewolf (Paranormal BBW Erotic Romance, Alpha Wolf)

Copyright © 2013 by Cassie Laurent.

Kindle Edition

v1.0


Crazy for the Werewolf
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or portions thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form whatsoever without direct permission from the author.

This book is intended
Only for Mature Audiences 18+
. It contains mature themes, substantial sexually explicit scenes, and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

UUID: faa2ad80-a4c6-4a15-85e1-685536c56971

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I looked back at the clock again. 5:15 PM. Dammit, this last hour of work was crawling by at an impossibly slow pace. I’d finished all my work for the day, sent the reports up to my boss for editing, answered all my e-mails, etc. For this last hour I was counting the minutes, waiting for the day, and the week, to finally come to a close.

Normally, I’m not like this. I love my job, and while I look forward to the weekend like anyone else, Fridays never go by this slowly. I’m usually so busy that the weekend is here before I know it. The fact of the matter was that as soon as the clock struck 6:00 PM I’d be getting out of here and hailing a cab to JFK.

Two weekends from now my best friend Tara would be getting married to the man of her dreams. Tonight we were catching a nine o’clock flight down to Miami for her bachelorette weekend. I’d packed my bags and brought them to the office, just so I could head straight to the airport after work. Even so, it would be a close call getting to my gate on time.

The rest of the girls, Kim, Ashley, Hannah, and of course Tara, were planning to meet up at our gate just prior to the flight. Since we were coming from all over the city, from our various office buildings, this was the only plan that made sense. I just hoped we would all be there in time for the flight; I didn’t want to arrive in Miami a minute later than scheduled. I was so ready for this weekend of bachelorette festivities to begin.

Truth be told we didn’t have any particular plans for the long weekend. We’d rented a great villa right on the water thanks to Hannah’s careful planning. From there we just sort of figured we’d let things happen. With five curvy girls in a city known for its beaches, flashy cars, and fast-paced night-life, we didn’t expect it to take too long before trouble found us.

I spent the next half hour checking and re-checking the weather in Miami. Things looked perfect for this weekend. I was looking forward to working on my tan during the day and getting wild in the clubs at night. Drinking margaritas on the beach sounded perfect after a long week in the office.

Just then another e-mail came in from my boss, a last minute question about the most recent report I had sent out. I opened up the Excel file and re-checked the numbers and got back to him with an explanation. There was a simple calculation mistake in one of the formulas, but everything was in order now. I re-sent the file and looked up at the clock. 6:15 PM. Dammit, why couldn’t he have gotten back to me sooner? I closed my e-mail and shut down my computer before my boss could come back with another question. If he e-mailed me again, he’d get an auto-responder telling him I was out of the office until next Wednesday.

I grabbed my bags and rushed to the elevator. It couldn’t get down to the lobby fast enough. As soon as the doors opened I rushed through the lobby, my heels clicking loudly across the marble floors. Outside the air was hot and humid. I hailed a cab and set my bags in the trunk before sliding into the backseat, grateful for the cool AC blowing inside.

“Where to?” asked the cab driver, looking up into his rearview mirror.

“The airport. JFK. Thanks,” I said, not meaning to sound rude, but I knew the stress in my voice might be misinterpreted, so I clarified. “Sorry, I’m in a rush, my flight takes off at nine o’clock.”

“No problem, miss. I know a shortcut. We avoid traffic, yes?”

“Yes, that’d be amazing.”

I buckled my seatbelt and hoped he knew what he was doing. I knew we were cutting it close, shortcut or no shortcut. I couldn’t feel relaxed until I was through airport security and boarding the plane to Miami. For the time being, however, there was nothing I could do, so I started daydreaming once more about the weekend to come. Drinks on the beach, dancing in the clubs, maybe a weekend fling? I tried not to let my mind wander too far, but I couldn’t help it. I was ready to get out of New York and really let loose with my girlfriends.

The cabbie wasn’t joking. About fifteen minutes later he was pulling the cab up to JFK. I was almost certain he’d run a red light or two along the way, but I didn’t care. I tipped him extra for the good work. I stepped out of the cab as he wished me a safe flight.

I got to the ticket counter just in time to check all of my bags. I knew it was only a long weekend, but I brought a number of outfits so I’d have options to choose from when going out at night. I brought all my best dresses, low-cut and tight to show off my curvy body. I had been something of a heartbreaker in college, using my voluptuous body to get guys to bend to my every whim. I’d been too busy at work lately to really have any fun, though. With all this pent-up energy, Miami had no idea what was coming to it.

I walked quickly toward security, but soon found an incredibly long line. Fortunately, it moved quickly enough and before I knew it I was walking through the large terminal toward gate C.

“Natasha!” I heard Kim and Ashley yell as I came around the corner of C66. They were in line holding their carry-on baggage and boarding passes. I waved enthusiastically, relieved to have finally made it. Now that I could see they wouldn’t be leaving without me, I could finally relax.

“Where are Tara and Hannah?” I asked, realizing suddenly that they were nowhere in sight.

“They’re on their way. Supposedly they got stuck in some pretty bad traffic in Queens. Tara said they were at security. I thought maybe you’d seen them there,” said Kim.

“No, I didn’t see them,” I said, now feeling somewhat nervous again. Our plane was starting to board. If they didn’t get here in the next few minutes we’d either have to get on the plane without them or miss the flight.

Just then I received a text from Tara:

As I finished reading the text message, I heard Tara’s loud laugh as she and Hannah ran up to join our group.

Final boarding call for flight 2850.

The mechanical, barely intelligible voice rang out across the PA system. We’d have to wait until we were on the plane to catch up. The line moved forward and we handed our boarding passes to the flight attendant who scanned them and wished us a safe flight. We found our seats in first class and settled in for the ride. At least for now, the trip was running on schedule.

About an hour after takeoff we were on our 2nd glass of champagne and feeling rather tipsy. Normally, I don’t travel in such style, but we’d gone all out in honor of Tara’s bachelorette party. After a taste of such luxury, I couldn’t imagine having to fly all the way to Miami in anything but first class.

The conversation revolved mainly around our plans for the weekend, which were still pretty up in the air. Everyone wanted to do something different. Hannah wanted to hit a hot nightclub someone had told her about. Kim wanted to go to some restaurant she’d seen in her Zagat’s guide. Tara, who was starting to get rather drunk now, was talking about how she just needed to find some hard dick. This was her last chance to have a hot fling before getting married to her fiancé. We laughed, partially because I think a little hot sex was something we all had in the back of our minds as we daydreamed about the weekend ahead.

When we landed in the airport we hadn’t settled on anything concrete, so we ended up buying a bottle of Patron in the duty-free shop, figuring we’d head to the villa and see where the night took us. In the baggage claim area a driver was waiting with “Tara Hamilton” written on a placard; we were riding in style tonight and had made arrangements for a limo to take us from the airport to the villa. After barely fitting our luggage in the trunk, we got into the car and gave the driver our address. Fortunately, we weren’t too far from our location. Given the length of the flight, it was almost midnight, so if we wanted to go out we’d have to get changed quickly.