Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures (18 page)

BOOK: Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures
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106

Camille Anthony

Reflections

“Trying to see what others find so appealing?”

Rickard swung around, heart pounding a happy tattoo. Indigo leaned indolently against the doorway between the bedroom and hall, her lithe body unashamedly bare. His eyes found nothing shame worthy. It was all good. “You’re awake.”

She tilted her head, eyes dancing. “And no longer a cat…though still a pussy.”

Rickard lowered his lashes, shielding his gaze. “I behaved like a cretin. Allow me to apologize for my actions by taking you to dinner.” He laid a hand over his heart. “My word as an Orloffberg of Drestovia, I will offer you no inappropriate advances.”

“Wow,” Indigo drawled, straightening from her position in the door and sauntering slowly toward him. “That would certainly be some impressive assurance, supposing a woman wished to receive such.”

She circled him, trailing her finger chest-high along his flesh, over his robe, across his silk clad back, and then around to his chest again as she made a complete circuit, ending with her finger pressed firmly against his chest bone.

Rickard captured her finger and brought it to his mouth, lapped the top with the tip of his tongue. “What are you doing, Indigo?”

“Touching you, learning you.” She eased her finger from his grasp, twirled away from him laughing. “Perhaps I am teasing you. Perhaps I am seducing you. Which would you prefer?”

He preferred to keep her guessing. She didn’t need to learn how much power she already wielded over him. Rickard canted his head, smiled at her, turning his body to keep her in view. “I would prefer dinner.”

She finished her circling and stood facing him, an elusive smile on her full lips. “I, on the other hand, would prefer you.” Indigo brushed up against his chest, nipples beading as Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures

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they pressed against the hard smoothness of his chest and the soft silk of his robe. “Perhaps you would prefer you, also?” A shimmer, a wave of heat, and her body dissolved. When Indigo reappeared, she was him.

His lips smiled at him. His eyes twinkled with amusement, sparkled like costly jewels.

Pale silver-blond hair cascaded from his slightly off centered part to float to his shoulders. He was beautiful, body tall and muscled, trim belly, tight thighs, and buttocks. Rickard found himself standing toe-to-toe with his exact image, stunned at the lust sweeping through him.

Bold hands -- his hands -- landed on his shoulders, pushing his robe off and down.

“There, now we are equally naked. My, my, look at that!” A playful tap on his jutting cock drew attention to his decidedly interested reaction. “Don’t we love ourself, though?”

Nonplussed, Rickard watched his cock spring up in response to the sight of his own body. This had never happened before. His reaction made no sense to him, yet here was his penis, distended and swollen, throbbing like a sore tooth.

“Indigo,” Rickard sputtered, choking, not knowing how to defend his erection. “You can’t just go around wearing other people’s faces…please, I…” He broke off, unable to put in words what he was feeling. Conceit wasn’t something he suffered from. He had never cared much for his looks, which made it hard to understand why he had sprouted such a steel boner. It was too confusing…until he caught her gaze and saw her intellect looking back through his eyes. Realization dawned. He wasn’t reacting to his body, per se. He was still reacting to Indigo, only now in his body.

He knew, knew Indigo’s soul was inside that construction that resembled his admittedly handsome body. She remained her own distinct person, regardless what form she wore. She was wearing his features as temporary clothing, but it was her essence triggering his libido, not an attraction to his own body. All he had to do was get past his own face to the woman beneath.

When Rickard relaxed, so did his cock. It needn’t have. His arousal no longer bothered him now that he a logical reason to explain it.

With that behind him, Rickard gave in to his curiosity. “How do you do that? How do you affect such an exact likeness?”

“I am a multimorph, a touch shifter. Surface things, I can duplicate with just a look.

More complex things -- living cells, thinking beings -- require more detail.”

“So, is this just surface?” Rickard asked, indicating the body she wore. “Or is it true cellular metamorphosis?”

Rickard hadn’t known his brow arched in so high a curve until she sent the one she wore winging. “Once I touch anyone, I can craft a body that is closer to the original than cloning.” She stroked her body sensuously. “This body could get a woman pregnant and the blood tests would come back matched to yours one hundred percent.”

“Good God!”

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Camille Anthony

She smiled at his horrified expression. “Not to worry, babe. I’d never do that. One Rickard Orloffberg is enough for the world to deal with for now. But I see you know something about shifting with your talk about cellular versus surface transformation.”

He shrugged. “I live with wulves. I’ve always been interested in learning how they do what they do. Though most of the pack scientists like to keep their knowledge to themselves, I read everything I can get my hands on.”

She spread his hands out at her side. “If you like, you can get your hands on this. In fact, tell me where you want them to go…” Indigo placed her/his hands on her belly, lowered them until they framed the cock bobbing between strong, straight legs. “Do you like what you see as much as I do? Wouldn’t you like to fuck this body?”

“I’ve never been into masturbation. At best, it’s a stopgap. When I want sex, I go find it, or order it in. I own several fashion magazines, so I know without conceit that my body is a present fad, but I’m not much of a narcissist. So, thanks but no thanks.”

“No?” Indigo frowned, idly playing with her cock.

Rickard’s cock stirred.

“Please don’t tell me you’re straight vanilla.”

He had just enough brain cells left to shake his head side-to-side.

“So you do enjoy a little bi action?” Her hand was pumping up and down.

He nodded his head up and down. “With the right man.”

“But still not interested in this model?”

“Spare me.” Rickard groaned, shaking his head once more. God, he didn’t know what the fuck he was feeling. All he knew was she fascinated him. He wanted to see how far she would go, if she had a stopping point, but the investigation might kill him. Thank God Aricles had clued him in on her vision, warned him she would try to alienate him in an effort to protect him.

She shrugged. “Shame. It looks yummy to me. What’s the problem, cock not long enough? I could fix that…”

Suddenly, the cock between her legs was growing, lengthening until it hung

grotesquely erect, but so heavy the weight of it dragged it down. The damned bulbous head hovered less than an inch above the floor.

Rickard’s mouth sagged open. “God’s toenails, woman, that’s gross! You can’t even pick that monstrosity up. If you could, and get it aimed, where the fuck do you think you’d be putting it?”

Head tilted to the side, Indigo eyed the cock with a touch of pride. “I don’t know…I think it looks manly. Still, I suppose you’re right…there is a point where bigger ceases to be better. Of course, I could stretch to accommodate this lovely specimen, however” -- she eyed his butt, considering -- “I don’t think you could.”

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Rickard put a hand over his eyes. “Let’s not try and say we didn’t!”

She sighed dejectedly as the cock shrank back to human size, back to the familiar nine inches he’d once called to her attention. “Okay, but if you ever want to…?”

Rickard grimaced, thinking nine inches looked almost tiny, considering. “Honestly?

Many thanks but…er… no. I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe enough to let you anywhere near the back lot. I’d always have a lurking suspicion that something would, uh, implode.”

He/she held up two fingers together, an old scout salute. “My word as me -- whichever me I am at the time -- I would never feed you more of me than you could handle.”

Rickard bit back a smile. She was having so much fun he regretted it had to end, but he couldn’t wait to escort her about and introduce her to her future -- though he daren’t tell her so, yet -- subjects. “Well, now that you’ve had your fun, shall we dress and go have dinner?”

His mirror image pouted. “I’m not hungry…for food. We haven’t done anything to work up an appetite.”

God, but that is a cute expression. He’d have to use it more often; however, it wasn’t working on him. Straightening to his full stature, he said, “Indigo, give it up. You’re not ready for a relationship. You turned into a cat, for goodness sakes. So, I’m not going to fuck you and I’m certainly not going to fuck myself. That leaves us with dinner out or in. Which do you choose?”

Indigo gazed at him out of his eyes, her/his…her eyes, damn it! Assuming the same stance he had, she mocked his presentation. “Rickard, someone’s going to give it up. Since you’ve refused to fuck me, or fuck yourself, I guess that means I’m fucking you.”

She swaggered up close, grabbed his penis and squeezed, stopping before the grip became too painful. “Let’s get you lubed up and ready, hon. You’re the girl, tonight.”

Rickard removed her hand from his rising cock, his stomach muscles twitching at her forceful words. Maybe she had no stopping point. Maybe he didn’t want her to have one. He hadn’t been lying when he admitted to being a switch, someone who liked both being controlled and controlling the action during sex. “You’re not serious? You really think you can Dom me?” Did his voice sound too hopeful?

Indigo shook off Rickard’s hand and returned hers to his cock. Holding it with the head pushing into her palm, she said, “Look at me.”

Rickard looked up and into his most serious expression. He knew that implacable look, that intractable will that said my way or heads roll. He ought to. He wore it often.

“You better believe I’m the one you will answer to. If you play with me, you play in one sandbox. I might be a cat, but I don’t stray, and you’d better not, either.”

Rickard gulped, nodded. “I’m not interested in anyone but you, Indigo.”

His other self snorted. “Wasn’t that you in Kaila and Pavel’s bed three nights ago?”

Rickard stiffened. “That was private,” he snapped. “It was Drestovian business.”

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Indigo wagged his cock. “You don’t have private from me, mister. Talk.”

He understood his life would change, but Rickard hadn’t readied himself for it to be so swift in coming. He resented her questions, her demands on his intimate heart. Anger swamped his good sense and he told her more than she needed to know. “By ancient Drestovian law, the head of the kingdom’s military forces can only marry with the approval of the prince. The first night of that marriage belongs to the prince. In return, the bride of the ruling prince spends her first night of marriage with the captain of the royal guard. Both nights constitute secondary marriages, binding the two families into one.”

Behind his eyes, Indigo’s quick intellect calculated the angles. “Only one night?”

Rickard nodded curtly. “Just the one.”

A huge grin split the familiar face. “No problem! If we ever get married, you can be the bride. That way, you can have what you’ve always wanted: to get fucked by Pavel.”

“Please don’t tease like that,” Rickard requested quietly. “Pavel Janecek saved my life at great personal cost. I revere him above all others. I won’t lie to you. I’ve loved him for so many years, I don’t think I’ll ever learn to stop, and while it’s sexual as hell, it’s not a bisexual love. We haven’t been intimate for over thirty years. And what happened three nights ago didn’t go beyond a kiss between us.”

A skeptical eyebrow arched above speculating eyes. “We’re not counting the cocks meeting inside Kaila, then?”

Rickard put his hands on his hips. “No, we are not and where the hell are you getting your information?”

Rickard2 smirked. “Cats prowl and in two days, they can learn a lot.”

Rickard chose to ignore that leading comment in the pursuit of peace. “We might as well dress and go to dinner since I’ve lost the mood. I don’t much feel like making love.”

“In a paraphrase of the popular song, what’s love got to do with fucking? I will quickly get you back in the mood, because I want you and I intend to have you.”

“We have a slight problem, then. I prefer being Dommed by women. I don’t enjoy being dominated by a man.”

“Do you mean to tell me you topped Pavel? As Alpha as he is?”

Rickard gave a short nod. “What part of over thirty years ago didn’t you hear? I was older, he was virginal.”

Indigo’s voice softened, turned pleading. “Please, Rickard, don’t be angry. I really want this. I need to be with you tonight, now. I can please you, give you sensations you’ve never before experienced. I’m a shifter,” Indigo reminded him. “Just tell me what you like. Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you. Do you want short red hair, long red hair, or no hair?”

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As she/he spoke, his/her body merged into the different forms, reminding Rickard of that computer-morphing program that seamlessly shifts through different people, putting faces on dogs and making cats talk.

“Dark skin, light skin, or any shade in between. Do you like barely-there breasts, just a handful, or overflowing? Will you have your pussy furred or shaved?” She winked, sharing the joke of her recent incarnation as a cat with him. “Animal, mineral, or vegetable? May I have your order, please?”

Rickard wanted to please her, wanted her just as badly as she professed to want him, but she couldn’t have it all her own way. He was a switch, not a doormat. “First, you have to get rid of my body. And please, don’t ever put it on again.”

“I’ll agree with taking it off tonight, but not the part about not wearing it again.”

Rickard reluctantly nodded. He would choose his battles with Indigo carefully. Didn’t make sense to fight a battle he couldn’t win. Contemplating all the possibilities, Rickard chuckled, mentally rubbing his hands together.

BOOK: Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures
8.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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