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  “Yes, Maggie?” he said in his throaty, growl of a whisper.

  “Please…let me…” I could barely speak. I didn’t dare give voice to the desire that was welling up within my body.

  “Go?” he asked, almost sarcastically and sneeringly. He knew he had me, he knew I would do whatever he wanted.

  “No, I don’t want to go, I—I want…” I couldn’t finish my thought, for at the moment he mounted me, pushing his hard cock inside me, sending the most momentous sensations through my body.

  He brought his head down towards mine as he thrust deep inside me, coming in for a hot, wet kiss. My tongue swirled inside his mouth, flitting in and out. Animalistic hunger, lust, primal lust that felt like complete rapture. The rhythm of his body, the taught muscles straining and then relaxing as he pumped his member in and out of me, was hypnotizing. I gave myself over entirely to the demands of nature, to the primal desires of my supple, curvy body.

  His cock was enormous, and as it pulsed through me I felt tinges of pain that slowly gave way to all-encompassing pleasure. He lapped at my nipples, cupping my large, supple breasts with his hands as he pushed his member in and out of me, filling me with pleasure as the stimulation broke in waves through my body, making me tingle from my hands to my feet. I writhed beneath him, gyrating as he forced himself deeper.

  Small hot breaths escaped my mouth as I moaned unintelligible words, carried over into the beyond by the completion of this act, the cathartic energy that broke between us and spilled out over the darkness of the underground cave. His pumping became deeper and more furious, and in seconds I could feel him spilling his seed inside me, its warm stickiness lining my pussy and sending my own body into violent orgasm. I let my head fall gently backward to the ground as I moaned in pleasure.

  Words escaped me as I lay there in exhausted bliss with my eyes closed. I didn’t dare open them to look at the man, the beast before me. I didn’t want to take the chance that this was all some fantastic dream.

  Then I felt his hand brush up against my face.

  “Maggie, open your eyes and look at me,” he said quietly, but sternly.

  I did as he asked, wanting to please him, but perhaps more so driven by the fear of what would happen to me if I refused.

  “You’re my mate now, do you trust me? I need you to trust me, because I need you.”

  I nodded. “I trust you,” I whispered, weak and vulnerable as I lay on the ground, my voluptuous body depleted of all energy after the force of my orgasm.

  He was about to speak again when something emerged out of the darkness, bounding towards us and knocking Silas to the ground. An enormous, dark wolf stood over my body, growling as it looked me over hungrily, licking its chops, saliva dripping from its ghastly fangs.

  I glanced over in the darkness, my body trembling as tears streaked across my face. So now I was going to die. After I had found my place, after finding someone who needed me, I was going to die. But then I saw Silas in the throes of transformation, his strong, muscular frame swelling up as his body contorted and his features changed, his limbs morphing as he flew through the air. When Silas landed he was the majestic wolf of earlier, his grey fur emitting an illuminating, otherworldly glow in the underground darkness.

  He and the stranger circled each other, growling as they pondered who would be first to strike. The stranger made a move to grab me, snapping its huge jaws just inches from my face as I rolled away at the last second, a move of pure, animal-like instinct.

  Silas knocked the other wolf straight out of the air, their muscled bodies flying through the open space and landing on subway tracks almost fifty feet away. I was enthralled by the force of these creatures as I watched in horror as Silas pinned the strange wolf to the ground. The wolf was able to kick off Silas, leaving him lying on his back on the tracks. He was ready to go in for the kill, to pounce and finish Silas off for good.

  Silas dodged him and the strange wolf clattered into a large puddle to the side of the tracks, his dark grey fur muddied by the dirty underground water. Silas grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, making him howl in pain at the sharp teeth cutting through his skin. With all his might Silas hurled the enemy wolf through the air. The wolf somersaulted through the air and landed back on the subway tracks, his wet torso landing on the electrified third rail.

  I watched in horror as sparks shot out and the creature convulsed, writhing in pain as his body was electrocuted. I watched as the wolf turned back into a long-haired man with a scar cut vertically down his right cheek, just barely visible in the ephemeral light of the sparks. Silas bounded toward me, his body morphing back into the shape of a man as he jumped up from the tracks into the cave.

  I moved away as he came towards me, scared of him, scared of what he might do to me. I was sweating now, crying again, whimpers that expressed an involuntary fear. I’d been hurt so many times before, this was simply hurt taking a more visceral form. He leaned down towards me, making an attempt to calm and soothe me, but I couldn’t contain myself.

  “Maggie, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  I nodded, trying to stifle a sob. I still had no idea what I was doing here.

  “Maggie, you told me you trusted me before. Do you still trust me?”

  Despite all my reservations, deep down I knew that did trust him. Despite his volatility and the violence I’d just seen him visit on a strange foe, I trusted him with my life.

  “Yes,” I whimpered, trying to be strong for him.

  “I told you I’d protect you. You’re my mate now. I could never let any harm befall you.”

  His hand touched my chin as he leaned in for a deep kiss. I could swear I almost tasted his animal nature as my tongue spilled over his lips and into his mouth. Suddenly my fear was gone. I knew I would be safe with him.

  “Listen, we have to go. We aren’t safe here anymore. They’ve sent one to find me; there will be more to follow. It’s inevitable, the war we wage is endless, an endless struggle for life, for survival. But now I have you with me, giving me the strength I need.”

  He leaned in to kiss me again.

  “I know a place that’s safe, my brothers will be there, my pack. There is safety in numbers. I could never let any harm befall you,” said Silas. “But I need you to trust me.”

  Just then he pulled away from me as his body morphed back into that of the majestic, grey wolf, a supernatural wonder that stretched the bounds of my imagination—and yet here he was in front of me. Surely no dream could be so vivid. I’d known that all along.

  I threw my arms around Silas’ furry neck, holding on tight as he ran with boundless speed down the darkened tunnel of the maze of the subway channels. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care, because I knew I would be safe.

  Copyright © 2013 by Cassie Laurent.

  All rights reserved.

  v1.0

  Rocked by 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: 100e28b0-8da9-400a-9c8b-a094b0b0a123

  Pouring rain, again. It had been storming for almost three days straight, but despite the gloomy weather outside Carol was in the mood for champagne. Noting the fare for the cab, she pulled out a $20 bill from her clutch and handed it to the driver. The driver looked at the bill and then back at the meter, reaching his hand to the glove compartment to make change.

  “Keep it,” she said, slamming the door loudly and dashing through the storm and into the warm restaurant lobby. She was feel
ing quite generous on this special evening.

  Having forgotten an umbrella, Carol found herself almost completely soaked as she made her way to the small wooden podium where she waited for the maître d’. He came by shortly and, wary of her rain-soaked state, Carol timidly mentioned her reservation.

  “Two for Bodacelli.”

  “Yes, madam. I see two for Bodacelli at 8:45pm. We are very busy tonight, so I cannot seat you early. If you please, you may sit at our bar while you wait.”

  Great. Liza had said she would make reservations for 8:00 PM sharp. Now Carol would have to kill almost an entire hour alone at the bar. She felt her phone vibrate in her clutch. A text from Liza:

  Pushed back rez to 845. Working late on case. Have a drink on me while u wait. See u soon.

  Carol walked over to the bar, her new Manolo Blahnik pumps making a satisfying clicking sound as they tapped the smooth, hard marble floor of the restaurant. Embarrassingly enough, these were the only pair of actual designer shoes that she owned. She had even based her entire outfit around them, but what better time and place for flaunting her new shoes? Finding a seat at the relatively empty bar, she ordered a glass of the restaurant’s most expensive red wine. After all, Liza had said she was paying tonight.

  She sipped her wine somewhat anxiously, looking around the gilded room with its impressive floral arrangements and light pink, masterfully-tailored designer tablecloths. Sparkling silverware and crystal glasses clinked in the hands of the beautiful, wealthy patrons.

  This was where the famous come to see and be seen, she thought. Maybe this was why she felt so out of place. Carol had always been a curvy girl, and being inside this fancy restaurant alone made her incredibly self-conscious about her voluptuous figure. Especially when she spotted some well-known models sitting nearby. Models? Why the hell were they in a restaurant, she thought. Do they even eat?

  Carol hadn’t even made the reservation that night. Liza had done it, and she had been forced to take the circuitous route of going through her boss, a partner at Ellison, Slater & Booth who happened to know the owner of the place. There was simply no other way they could dine at such an exclusive restaurant on a Friday night.

  Château Ausone, 1961. So smooth and complex, it really was fantastic wine, even if it did cost $50 by the glass. It reminded her of something. Passion? Sex? Wow, I haven’t been laid in forever, she thought. No, clean up your thoughts, this is a classy place. And “laid”? Who even says that? She took another sip and rubbed her hand up her thigh, her nerves became less tense as she remembered once again that she was happy. Tonight was a celebration of all her hard work.

  She sat swirling the fine wine, thinking of Professor Sterling, her graduate adviser back at NYU. He was the reason for all this newfound success. He was the one who had read her collection of short stories and forwarded it to his contacts at the largest publishing houses in the City. A terse voicemail on her phone had earlier informed her of their interest in her first full-length novel; they were even willing to extend to her a $25,000 advance on the prospective work. Professor Sterling was the first person Carol called with the news of her good fortune, but he had declined her invitation to celebrate due to a conflicting engagement with his wife.

  Oh, Professor Sterling, so relentlessly sexy in his own way, but hopelessly devoted to his marriage. For three years Carol had made it more than obvious that he could have his way with her curvy body, nearly any time they spoke in the confines of his office. But every time, he had feigned complete obliviousness, not wanting to embarrass her by explicitly turning down her advances. She touched herself over her tight black dress, thinking of him. All those years of unconsummated passion, where they had grown so close intellectually, but hadn’t shared so much as a kiss in real life. What would it be like to have him inside her? His novels absolutely dripped sexuality; and of course, she’d read them all many times over. She envied his wife, wishing just once that he would have thrown her short stories to the floor, bent her over his desk, and given her the fucking she so badly craved from him.

  Suddenly Carol jumped, startled from her taboo thoughts by a dark, handsome man in an expertly-tailored suit who was down beside her.

  “Did I scare you?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “No, no sorry. I was just thinking of someone—I mean something else. I forgot I was even here, really,” she said quickly, giving him a polite, self-deprecating smile.

  “No, I apologize. I should have asked if this seat was taken. Is this seat taken?” he asked in his smooth, deep voice.

  “No, it’s not. I’m here by myself.”

  “By yourself? Who comes to Le Bernardin by themselves?”

  “Well, I’m by myself right now. I’m waiting for my friend actually. She’s taking me out to celebrate.” Sometimes Carol felt so gauche talking about herself, but she desperately wanted this handsome man to ask her what she was celebrating. This verbal prompt would give her an opportunity to brag about her newfound success.

  “Celebrate, ahh. What are you celebrating?” he asked, taking his cue expertly.

  Damn, was he gorgeous, so tall and handsome. Something about him made Carol feel as though she’d seen him before; she didn’t know exactly what it was that made her feel this way.

  “I’ve just received an advance for my first novel.”

  “Ahh, a writer. Wow,” he said, seeming genuinely impressed. “What is your name?”

  “Carol Grey.”

  “Carol, nice to meet you. I’m Lucas.” He took her hand and pressed it lightly, smiling again as he looked directly into her eyes, glowing and confident in his interaction with her. This man should be famous, thought Carol. He could be a celebrity with that damn smile.

  At that moment, a rotund man in an expensive-looking suit, Italian loafers and a garish printed tie walked up to them.

  “Lucas, hell of a show last night, hell of a show. I’m up in the company suite wining and dining clients as you play that electrifying solo. I swear my client damn near choked on his steak tartare. Closed the deal about fifteen minutes later. You’re making me a rich man, Lucas, a richer man.”

  Carol found it strange and a bit amusing how this big-shot, finance-type seemed so nervous around her mysterious new companion, stumbling through his words before awkwardly making an excuse to go.

  “Listen, I gotta run. Hell of a show.”

  Lucas just smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Howard. I do what I can.”

  As the man walked away, Carol inquired as to the odd exchange.

  “Oh, he manages my portfolio for me. Private equity guy, a real shark in fact. Ruthless in business.”

  “He doesn’t look ruthless to me. He looks… tacky,” Carol said, giggling as she watched the man exit the restaurant.

  “Oh trust me, the truly ruthless never do,” he said, winking again.

  Damn, what charm, she thought while staring intently at his sparkling eyes. Had she seen him before? Where?

  “So you’re a businessman? You do business with that guy, Mr. Howard? What was he talking about, some show or something? You really look familiar.”

  “Well, actually I…”

  “Wait, I know you. Oh my—Lucas Wilde? I’m sorry, I’m not really into rock music, but even I know who you are. Last night’s show is all anyone is talking about! I heard you turned into a wolf on stage, or something crazy like that. Damn, it’s amazing what they can do with special effects. Of course you know all about that, sorry, I’m just blabbering on here.”

  “Yes, those crazy effects. People seem to like it.”

  “Lucas Wilde. All that fame and money, and here you are acting like you’re just some normal guy. I heard you had a $2.1 billion contract on your last album, is that true?”

  Lucas was silent, but suddenly Carol felt her phone vibrate again. A new text message from Liza:

  Sorry cant make it. Boss making me work late tonight. Lets do dinner tomorrow night.

  Carol sank in her chair, dejected. Liza was always bre
aking plans for her stupid job. This was supposed to be my night, she thought to herself. Disappointment was written all over her face, obvious enough for anyone to see.

  “Are you ok?” Lucas asked.

  “No, no. I mean, yes, I’m fine. It’s just, well, my friend cancelled on me is all,” she sighed. “She says she has to work late on a new case, but she’s probably fucking her boss.”

  Lucas laughed, surprised to hear this brash phrase out of such a seemingly innocent girl.

  “Oh, wow. I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just this wine. I better go before I say anything worse.” Carol started to get up, but Lucas stopped her, touching her lightly on the arm.

  “Wait, you’re already here. You’re supposed to be celebrating. Have dinner with me. Please.”

  Hailing the bartender, he smiled once more. The bartender walked over to their seats and Lucas asked him to get the maître d’ so they could be seated in the interior dining room.

  “Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose, I’m sure you have somewhere else to be. I should go,” she stared at her feet, nervous and timid before him. Once again, her self-consciousness about her curves was getting the best of her.

  Lucas touched her chin lightly, nudging her face upwards so that she was into his eyes. “Please, have dinner with me. How would it look for Lucas Wilde to dine alone in public? Forget your friend, we’re celebrating in style tonight.”

  Soon the maître d’ seated them at the best table in the restaurant. Lucas immediately ordered a bottle of Krug Rosé, the most luxurious bottle of champagne on the list.

  “When in Rome,” he laughed. The waiter brought the bottle over, chilled in a big bucket of ice. Carol could hear the cubes clink up against the $700 bottle as she looked over the sumptuous items on the menu. The waiter began to open the bottle, but Lucas stopped him.

  “I can take care of this,” he said. “Tell the Chef that I want him to prepare us something that’s not on the menu. His finest dishes, we want to try them all. Tell him I’m celebrating. His finest dishes, all of them. Fill the table. Money is no object.”