The Moonswept Alpha (Paranormal Werewolf Shifter Romance)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

The Moonswept Alpha @ 2014 by Emily Stone. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

The
Moonswept Alpha

The room was awash in colours of the rainbow as the young couples traipsed and pirouetted across the wide expanse of highly polished floor.  On the edges of the crowded floor a tall, dark haired man watched with half closed eyes, his right foot tapping idly with the beat of the music.  Suddenly his bright brown eyes flared wide open as he observed the appearance of a woman at the archway that led to the crowded dance floor.

She was a little over five feet tall, her hair carefully arranged to fall from her head and frame the slightly cherubic face.  There appeared to be little makeup on her rosy cheeks yet her pale complexion allowed the small glows of pink to highlight her high cheekbones and accentuated the full red lips.  For a moment, the dark haired man imagined them encasing his rigid cock as she knelt at his feet in the parlour upstairs.

That same flesh now pressed tightly against his doubloons and he shifted a little to make the growth in his trousers become less obvious.  Setting his glass of whiskey down on the table beside him he made his way quickly around the edge of the dancing couples to better observe the woman.  Her hair shook a little as she craned her neck to get a better view across the room and for a moment he thought that she would move before he got close enough to see her better.

In his eyes she was perfect.  A full figure accentuated by the heavy breasts that pressed tightly against the plunging squared-off neckline of her blue gown.  The tops of the massive globes a light pink, flushed as if from exertion.  Another of the young men from his court lingered nearby and for a moment the dark haired man found himself consumed with jealousy that the object of his interest had already spread her legs for him.  His tension was somewhat relieved when the woman apparently ignored the man as she continued to search the room for a missing companion.

“Looking for someone?” he found himself asking as he closed the gap between himself and the gorgeously curved woman.  He found his eyes drifting down from her massive breasts over the curve of her stomach and down to the solid legs and buttocks.  He gulped as he found himself caught staring at her well rounded backside and hoped that the woman did not read his thoughts about that particular piece of her anatomy and the flesh at his groin that seemed to get even harder with those thoughts.

“Lord Fitzclarence,” she replied, though to the man himself it sounded more like a question as to his identity rather than the person for whom she searched.

“Yes, my lady, though I do not know your name,” he smiled as he stepped in closer to her and let his lips open broadly into a grin as she curtsied prettily in front of him.  The dip of her body gave him an even better view of the tit flesh that seemed to be barely contained within the bodice of her gown.  It was with great self-restraint that he did not reach out a hand to make sure that they did not fall from their precarious encasement and embarrass the woman.

“Cassandra Higgins, my lord,” she answered and then flushed as her eyes slowly made their way up the tall man who bowed slightly to her.  The bulge at the man’s groin surprised her and she quickly assessed that the bulge was being made from something quite sizeable in the man’s trousers.

“Shall we dance, Cassandra?” he asked softly as he moved closer to her and crooked his elbow.

“Certainly, my lord,” she smiled as she placed her hand daintily upon the proffered forearm though for a brief moment both of their eyes met as her large breasts jogged his elbow as she turned to place her fan with her shawl on the seat behind her.

Turning to face him she moved easily into his arms as he sought her hand and her back in the waltz position.  She in turn allowed her left hand to rest easily on the man’s hip.

“It is a pleasant evening, my lord,” said Cassandra as they twirled lightly despite the very crowded floor.

“Much more pleasant for having met you, my lady,” returned Lord Fitzclarence.  “I have not seen you at one of these things before, how could such a lovely
woman have escaped my attention?”  His tone was light and flirtatious and Cassandra found herself blushing deeply at his lovely woman reference.

“It is my first time out, my lord.  I only came because my friend asked me to come with her.  I haven’t seen her since just after we arrived.  A blonde woman, tall, wearing a green dress.”

“Please, call me Aidan, Cassandra.  I think I saw a woman of that description out in the gardens before.  She seemed to be having a quiet interesting intercourse with a couple of the young men she was with.”  Aidan did not mention that the young woman in question was on her knees behind the gardener’s shed and the two gentlemen were laughingly filling her painted mouth with their hard cocks as they twisted and fondled her breasts that were bared to the night air.  A line of several other men drinking from a keg of rum that they had purloined seemed intent on ensuring that the young woman’s mouth, and no doubt her other orifices, would be kept well entertained for several more hours yet.

“Oh, well then as long as she is being entertained.  She was dreadfully afraid that she would be bored.  Michelle tells me that these things can be frightfully dull and she was worried that I would find it so as well, Aidan.”  The pronouncement of his name instead of his title seemed to cause the young woman to blush profusely and Aidan smiled in encouragement at the soft voiced informality.

“Yes, Cassandra, they can be quite dull.  This is the sixth ball I have been to this season and there are still so many more that one must attend for appearances sake.  Life can be made quite miserable when one is a Lord and single and does not put in an appearance at these dos.  The matrons and widows can be quite insistent in their invites.”  His eyes held a twinkle as he complained his lot that Cassandra found warmed her even more than the feel of his hand on her bare back.

The music ceased and then began in a more upbeat tempo than the previous slow waltz.  Laughingly she allowed the tall man to sweep her into the dance and found herself pressed hard against him as they jittered and rocked
on the now even more crowded floor.  Pressed hard against him she found his broad chest rumbled with laughter as they tried to keep up with the rollicking tune that was probably more suited to sailors jigging than formally dressed couples.  Inadvertently her hand slipped from its precarious position on his hip and slid between their bodies.  Her hand flexed and the bulge she observed earlier seemed to have been covered by her dainty fingers.

“I am sorry, my lord!” she gasped and quickly retrieved her hand.

“Not at all, my lady,” he heatedly whispered in her ear as the bodies pressed all around them.  “Your hand was in perfect position.  I regret to say that moving my own to caress the fabulous flesh of your wonderful assets would seem too obvious, even in this crowd.  But pray, do not allow me to stop your exploration.”

Something in his tone, part playful and part command, made her senses reel and Cassandra found her replacing her hand over the firm bulge that pressed hard against her stomach.  “This is awfully wicked,” she whispered hoarsely.  Her lips and mouth felt suddenly dry though the heat from between her thighs alerted her to the flood of moisture from her sex and a small tremble of her knees.  The bulge she felt in her hand seemed to pulse and her fingers attempted to wrap fully around it.

“Wicked?  Perhaps,” he replied.  “But it certainly makes the evening less dull, don’t you think?” he teased her as his hand on her back made a sudden dive to her firm buttock and squeezed it hard.

Her reaction was to squeeze the bulge her hand held in a similar manner and was strangely pleased when he gave a short heated pant against her ear.  “I am going to take you upstairs to the parlour and fuck you hard, Cassandra,” he breathed hotly into the hair above her ear.

“But first,” his hand retreated from her buttock as the music rose to a loud crescendo of strings signalling the end of the tune.  “I am going to paint these beautiful tits of yours with my cream and watch you rub it into your skin.”  His voice stayed low as the music finished and couples clapped in exuberance around them.  Reluctantly Cassandra found her hand leaving the bulge that she had been caressing and joined with her other in clapping the musicians.

“Fourth door on your right up the stairs.  I shall see you there in a few minutes,” he whispered as he bowed low over her until his mouth was just above her shoulder.  Cassandra found herself nodding and smiling as he escorted her back to her seat.  Watching as he turned and moved back across the room acknowledging some greetings from others as he went.

Cassandra’s heart thumped in her chest and she looked around for the stairs.  People were moving up and down it as she watched and pondered whether she would obey the lord’s directions.  A small lurch in her stomach decided her as his blazing brown eyes briefly caught and held hers from across the room where he sipped from his wine glass in company with one of the widows he so disparagingly told her about.

***

Cassandra waited in the darkened parlour with a beating heart and extremely sweaty hands.  She had never done anything like this in all of her twenty-two years.  Her virgin sex however, was awash with her fluids and she could even smell her arousal.

A sweet smell that had only assailed her nostrils
in the past few months as she ran her hands over her light covering of dark curls between her legs and found the large nubbin of her clitoris as she lay in her bed at home.

It was an accidental discovery as she had lain on her cotton sheets last summer feeling extremely aroused by the stories she had overhead from her uncle and father in the den as they sat smoking their pipes and reliving their naval exploits.  The two men had been discussing the women they had met in France during the war and how they had no doubt left illegitimate children in the wombs of women that seemed to delight in sucking and fondling the men’s heavy cocks.

The young woman’s face had burned when she had delivered more port to them at her mother’s insistence and had come to the doorway just as her father finished describing a particularly absorbing encounter with a woman whom it seemed enjoyed frigging herself for a roomful of men.  His description of her fingers rubbing her clitoris and opening her cunny had created strange images and desires within Cassandra.  Fearing discovery she had coughed to alert the men that she was approaching and the two had switched topic to fishing for the ears of the young woman who deposited her tray in front of them and bid them goodnight.

Rushing back to her room she had locked the door and quickly stripped off her garments.  By the light of her bedside candle she had placed her hand mirror between her widespread thighs and examined herself.  A small moan escaped her mouth as she parted the heavy folds of her sex and found the swelling just above the opening of her vagina.  The flesh was quite sensitive and she repeated the words her father used.  “Clittie, cunt, flaps, cunny,” she whispered to herself as she touched each of the named parts and allowed her small index finger to rub into the opening that seemed to be getting wetter as she watched.

Returning to the swollen flesh that was now fully exposed as she played, she gently rubbed it in the manner in which her father described the woman doing.  Her gasps and moans were uncontrolled as she found herself pressing harder and faster on the swollen flesh.  “Oh my God,” she groaned as the sensations between her legs intensified and with a bucking of her hips she came.

It was too much for the young woman as the force of her first orgasm flung her heavy body back onto the mattress of her bed.  She did not see the squirt of liquid from her opening but felt the heavy spasms around the finger she had
left buried between her saturated flaps.  Lifting her hand with a heavy sigh as the finger pulled from her clasping cunny she grinned as she brought the finger up to her face and smelt the delicious aroma of her excitement.  Her tongue reached out and tasted her finger and then sucked it back into her mouth.  The taste was even finer than the small sips of wine her parents allowed her at the dining table.  Eagerly she reached back down between her thighs and captured more of the slippery nectar.

She lifted herself up and looked back down into the mirror and was surprised to see the polished surface covered in moisture.  Raising it up to better examine the surface she was overcome by the same sweet smell and was delighted that
when her tongue flickered out and tasted the copious spending to find it the same as she had sampled from her fingers.

From the
n it had become almost addictive.  Spending hours in her room, day and night, frigging herself.  It felt so wicked to say the word that she now knew was a coarse vernacular for masturbation, a practice the church frowned upon.  She did not care, the wicked use of the words cunt, cunny, frigging in the privacy of her room made her feel as if she was discovering the darker side of herself, one that was rarely allowed to appear in public in fear that the Almighty, or more likely her father, would strike her down.

Now, here she was in a strange Lord’s parlour whom had promised to fuck her hard and cover her tits in his own genital fluids.  Her continued secret education by her uncle and father as they rambled their memoirs to the young woman’s ears as she hid in the adjoining room
had given her a fair idea of what the older Lord’s intentions were.  Her uncle had described quite graphically how he had blown his fetch over many a woman’s tits.  Especially, he had told her father in one particularly enlightening night, the pox ridden hoydens in the war camps.  Using their tits to enclose his big cock and their mouths to enhance his pleasure.