Mistress of Souls, page 5
Then I slid two fingers into the pocket of her jumpsuit, where I could see the outline, and plucked her phone out. I held it up to her sleeping face, and luckily, it unlocked. I quickly texted myself and added my name to her contacts: Hunter, yer next lay.
My heart accelerates with anticipation as I look at my phone.
I read her message and laugh at her blunt but flirtatious message.
Cheetie: So, the Pup thinks he’s clever. How the hell did you get into my phone?
Shaking my head, I respond with a grin still plastered to my face.
Hunter: That’ll be my secret Cheetie *wink emoji*
Cheetie: Hmm, taking advantage of a helpless drunk demon.
Cheetie: Very chivalrous, dick.
Hunter: I never claimed to be a good guy.
I am definitely not a good guy. The thought of her sultry voice makes my cock twitch. She is a sexy challenge. I haven’t heard anything from her in a bit, so I text her again.
Hunter: Och, ye miss me. Ye inviting me on a date?
Cheetie: First of all, yeah, right. You’re the big bad alpha wolf. Shuddering in my little boots here. Second, fuck off.
Hunter: Seriously, lassie, if ye want to see me again, ye just have to ask.
Cheetie: I regret not deleting your number the second I found it.
I can hear the sass and sarcasm that fills her words even through the text. Her looks might’ve been what initially drew me in, but her personality and quick wit make me look forward to future conversations with her.
I flop on the couch next to the giant mountain of laundry I’ve yet to fold. A couple of random socks and pieces of clothes fall to the floor. Sighing, I reach down, pick them up, and fling them back onto the pile. Fuck it, I might as well chug it, a perfect way to delay the tedious chore of folding.
Lifting my hips a bit off the couch, I slide my sweats down to my ankles, not giving a shite that my bare arse is nestled on the cushions and my clean clothing. Legs free, I spread my knees wide and stroke my cock from the head to the base. My thumb runs along the barbells in my piercing with every languid movement, sending pleasure radiating through my bollocks.
Cheetie: Although… I wouldn’t mind playing with your thick cock for a time or two.
Hunter: Aye? And what would ye do with it?
Cheetie: I could think of a few things… I’m getting so wet just thinking about them *wink face*
There is no way I am going to last with her sexting me like this, so I grab one of the short, worn cotton ropes from the laundry to my right and untangle it from a pair of black boxer briefs. I bind my bollocks with it to enhance the pleasure and drive off, coming too quickly.
I think of Mariax and all the filthy things I plan on doing to her. My cock is unbearably hard, and I throw my head back on the couch to take a moment before I come all over myself.
Hunter: Damn, Cheetie, ye can’t tease a man like this. Tell me now, or I will drive over there and fuck ye raw.
Cheetie: mm hmm…
Cheetie: You have a lot to learn about control, Pup. BUT b/c you aren’t my sub yet, I’ll play with you…
My phone vibrates on my thigh. I look at it and curl my fingers around the rope. I curse viciously at the photo she sent me of two gorgeous, round tits trapped under a soaking-wet white crop top. Her nipples are hard as hell, the barbells poking through them making them that much hotter. The thin material hides nothing, but it feels like there is an air of unknown about them all the same.
I twist the loop tighter around the base of my bollocks, trail the tail end to cross over the top of my swollen knot and around my shaft, then circle back to capture the base of my knot. I tie an easy-release bow at the base of my shaft, facing me. My bollocks and knot look like two pairs of ripe cherries sitting atop one another: red, swollen, and begging to be tasted.
I switch my phone to my left hand and cup it as if it’s my lifeline. I squeeze my cock with my right and pick up the pace with my movements, hissing through my teeth.
I can’t stop picturing her flat on her back under me…my thighs on either side of her ribcage and my cock sliding between her oiled tits as she squeezes them together.
My phone vibrates again, but I don’t stop jerking off. I make a slow corkscrew motion over the head, my thumb skimming the slit each time.
The incessant buzzing continues, and I am forced to answer it.
“Aye?” I put the phone on speaker and answer on a growl, not bothering to hide my lust coated voice.
“Hunter, are you too busy jerking off to my pic to text me back?”
I continue my methodic strokes, adding more pressure to my piercings. “Of course, I am, woman. Ye sent me a filthy pic of yer tits,” I groan, my Scottish accent distinct with my arousal. “Plus, I know ye are wet at the thought of me hard and moaning yer name.”
“It’s not hard to make you want me, big boy,” Mariax teases. ”But the thought of you rubbing one out makes me wish you were here to titty fuck me and come all over my throat. Send me a pic and wrap your hand around your thick cock too,” she commands, followed by a breathy moan.
I hang up and don’t hesitate to do as she demands.
I love my incredible cock as is, but add in the ladder and light bondage…it’s godsdamn irresistible. I take the pic, making sure the angle shows how raging my cock is, all of my rungs, and my knot and balls turning a deep reddish purple. I attach the pic and press send.
Hunter: Make sure ye scream my name when ye come, lass.
She doesn’t respond for a while, and a bit of the need consuming me vanishes with my growing anxiety. I frown at my phone, willing her to text me back.
She sends another picture, and I’m speechless… The curves of her tits take up most of the frame, but beyond her gorgeous rack, I can make out her out-of-focus pink belly and tail between her thighs.
The view is so fucking hot, I cum without any buildup.
I give myself a few more hard strokes anyway, the rungs of my ladder creating extra pressure against my cock. The pleasure builds in my tortured bollocks before reaching a peak and forcing itself to every nerve ending in my body. I moan and curse in Gaelic as cum jets out in hot streams all over my hand and abs.
The dirty picture and idea of thrusting my cock between her tits plays on a loop in my head.
The woman knows how to get under my skin as no other has. Granted, I only ended my long-term relationship with Patrick recently. Plus, it’s hard to get to know someone when yer cock is in their throat. I open my eyes and grab a T-shirt from the pile next to me to clean myself up.
We spend the rest of the day texting back and forth, sexting, and bickering as I continue with the necessary evil of house chores.
Despite my hatred for the endless pile of laundry on the couch next to me, I find myself high on Mariax. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this excited by the mere idea of how sex will be with someone. She already brings out my fun side like she has a direct line to my wolf’s need to play and fuck.
Although our conversation takes a turn and demands my full attention when she challenges me. A tendril of anger wraps around my mind, my jaw ticking with irritation. Doesn’t she know better than to challenge a Lycan?
Cheetie: I don’t think you could handle it. It’s better if you don’t come.
Hunter: WTF?
Cheetie: Yeah, you’re clearly not into the lifestyle. Tying up your balls is not even close to what I can do to you. It’s cool. Not everyone can handle the pain.
Hunter: When
Cheetie: ????
Hunter: When the fuck do ye want me to be at yer wee sex pit?
Cheetie: *laughing face* Sex pit? It’s called The Snuggle Pit. Come for the Snuggles. Stay for the Pain.
Cheetie: I don’t blame you if you chicken out. It’s okay. Maybe you need a few more decades to master your fear.
Hunter: Fuck off, woman. When should I be there, oh powerful Mistress Cheetie?
Cheetie: Well, we’ll see if you have the balls to show up. A week from tomorrow at one pm. Don’t be late, Pup. Only good boys get rewarded.
That last sentence went straight to my cock. I palm it again before giving it a couple of hard strokes through my third pair of sweats for the day. I can’t believe I’m getting hard once again and if she keeps it up, I will be doing fucking laundry again.
This creature is driving me mad.
I’ve never been one for praise, but hearing it come from her…she’s fucking with my mind. What is it about her that puts my cock in a permanent state? I swear I’ve jerked off more times than was appropriate, thinking about every inch of her exposed skin. The titillating image of her tits and throat covered in my cum will forever be in my spank bank. I roll my eyes. I need to get laid.
Determination floods through me while I think about her taunts. Challenge accepted, Cheetie. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m balls deep in her.
Her moans will be music to my ears.
Chapter 5
Hunter
The bright sunlight illuminates the sidewalk as I step out of the heavily forested park. I lift my tattooed forearm to shield my eyes.
I begin my trek through the few blocks it will take me to get to Mariax’s wee sex club.
I agreed to this session with Mariax when the sexy bitch threw down one too many challenges. My wolf and I couldn’t resist. Her fuckable mouth forming the words ‘don’t knock it until you try it, Pup’ brought my cock to life in an epic way, immediately throbbing and seeking escape from my jeans.
I generally hate it when someone talks down to me and thinks they can assign me some pet name, but something about her makes my wolf stand up and take notice. He notices a challenge and is willing to fight for dominance. I push my wolf to the back of my mind.
It’s one thing being a member of the Appalachian Pack. It’s another being the alpha. I am responsible for dozens of wolves, pups, and their families. The daily stress associated with the job could easily suffocate me.
I have my core group of friends in the pack, especially my beta, Charlie. But being intrigued by someone non-pack, not to mention a being of a different species, is new to me. I live for the pack. I will throw down my life to save my wolves. I’ve also fucked a lot of the pack members. Being the alpha has its perks, after all.
Maybe it’s been too long since I got laid.
That could also be why Mariax has sunk her claws into me so deeply, scraping the bone.
I arrive at the Snuggle Palace, where the Snuggle Pit is hiding beneath its levels, surprised that it’s actually in a decent part of town. I know no humans will enter this place or even know it exists.
Her wards appear solid. I can feel the stay-away vibes pulsing against my skin and making it itch. I don’t enjoy wards, but they’re a necessary evil because of all the shite that supernaturals and humans do to themselves and each other. I survey the three-story building, noticing a purple hue.
I crack a smile. I love how girly this lass is.
She’s such a contradiction to her flaming personality and dark outlook on life. I could tell from the moment I met her she was going to be a test of my patience—an interesting one, but a challenge nonetheless.
Mariax is an alpha as well. We are meant to battle, and only one of us will come out on top. I’m curious to see what is in this building and what she thinks she can do for me. I don’t have high hopes, though.
Maybe she’s as crazy mentally as she is crazy hot.
Usually, crazy makes for some fun sex, and I’ve definitely had some insane full-moon sex. The moon pulls lust and magic out of all of us.
Maybe I should invite her to a full moon hunt and let her revel in the moon’s glow beside me. I wonder if she’d be into it. Shaking my head, I realize I’m still staring at the building like a fucking twat.
My skin lights up like it’s a separate entity. It feels like spiders are crawling under it as the wards assess my intent. I push past them after what feels like an hour of judgment, and the feeling under my skin passes once I’m on the other side.
I turn toward the wards at my back, glaring at its foreign magic. It’s like looking through a haze into the city beyond, as if a cloudy piece of glass is on the other side of the barrier. The haze meets the glass, sliding up and around. It doesn’t go in any one direction, but it’s almost eerie to look at.
I walk down a few steps before turning right and coming face-to-face with the most ancient door I’ve ever seen. It stands at least eight feet tall and five feet wide. Runes have been sporadically carved into its surface and they thrum with protective magic. A band of pure gold was laid into the center of the door, making a perfect square.
I’ve always been interested in building architecture and random shite like that. I haven’t done anything with it except for construction though, which is not architecture by any means. I built the cabin on my land in the Pocono Mountains. I enjoy going up there once a month. I probably would spend more time there if I had someone to take with me. But this hidden facade is fucking awesome.
I knock on the door twice with the side of my fist. I get the feeling this is what it was like to gain entrance to a speakeasy. I chuckle at the thought as a small rectangular window opens in the center of the door at the height of my chest.
Oh, shite. It is exactly like a speakeasy door!
I stoop slightly to peer into the window-like opening. The sight that greets me is nothing like I expected. The large, greenish face of a male orc fills the little rectangle. I stay bent and put on my most charming smile, even knowing orcs don’t give a damn about niceties.
“State your business,” the orc demands, his voice thick and grating on my nerves like the ward did.
“I have an appointment with Mariax.”
The orc rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you and every client that comes here,” he grumbles. “Name?”
The sound of papers shuffling reaches me through the small opening. My frustration at the gatekeeping makes me bristle.
“Hunter,” I state briskly.
“Sorry, no Hunter on the list.”
“Come again? She invited me personally.”
“I don’t give a fuck. You’re not in the appointment book. Entrance denied,” the orc declares, slamming the little window closed in my face.
I stand, trying to wrangle my temper.
What the actual fuck?
I will not give up so easily. I pound on the door with vigor, smirking when the window slides open again. This time, a different face appears. The hairs on the back of my neck stand in warning as my brain supplies that it’s a werewolf.
“I thought he told you to leave. Now, run along with your tail between your legs like the little bitch you are, Alpha,” the shifter commands with a sneer.
“Who the hells are ye?” I question.
The werewolf doesn’t deign to give me a response before slamming the window once more. I stand there dumbfounded at my current predicament.
I’m saved from my thoughts when the heavy metal door starts sliding into a built-in channel.
Behind the door stands a short, curvy female with midnight purple wings. Her kinky purple hair swept back with a clip, just like how a stereotypical sexy librarian would wear… She even has black oversized cat eye framed glasses perched on her nose. But that is where the comparison to a librarian ends. Synched on her neck is a very prominent collar, complete with a big metal ring centered in the middle. It’s a rich obsidian embroidered with moons and stars. In between the celestial beauties, sharp silver spikes repeat all the way around.
She wears an emerald green corset with gold trim, tight leather pants, but I’m thrown by the cozy gray full length sweater thrown over it.
She taps her stiletto impatiently, planting a hand on her cocked hip and glaring at me, her annoyance clear.
Maybe I interrupted her crossword puzzle or some shite.
The female with a serious case of resting bitch face stands boldly in the center of the foyer. The enormous male orc and the werewolf, who enjoyed barring my entrance far too much, lean against opposite walls with their arms crossed.
I eye the female, amused. She’s like a wee guard dog, a ball of anger ready to attack.
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. The toe of her shoe taps irritatingly as she waits for who knows what. She acts as though I disgust her with my presence alone.
Since she continues to stand there without inviting me in, I decide to jump on this grenade. I tuck my hands into my pockets, a picture of cool indifference.
“I’m here to see Mariax,” I explain again.
They all stare at me, staying silent. It’s as though they enjoy the minute amount of power they have, acting like gate keepers on a power trip.
“This is where ye use yer words and invite me inside,” I say with a raised brow.
I wait a moment more before my patience gets the best of me. Screw it. I don’t need this bullshit, especially from such a wee pest.
“Okay then, nice to meet ye too,” I say, taking a step forward and attempting to push past the female.
Our standoff is interrupted when a cackle rings out from behind the beaded curtain on the other side of the welcome desk. Mariax struts into view on the tallest heels I have ever seen, all sexy swagger, pushing the curtain out of her way with a tinkle of the crystal beads.
All four of us turn in her direction. I raptly watch the swing of her hips and the bounce of her tits with each of her steps as my mouth waters.
Mariax is dressed in a tight black corset, her tits cradled in see-through lace cups. They’re so full, they’re practically spilling out. Her nipples tease me with the outline of their sharp points.
My eyes travel lower, taking in the rest of her. A bright-purple G-string, black fishnet stockings, and tall, thigh-high black leather boots are all that cover her lower half. Her seemingly random tattoos peek through the netting, begging me to tear them off and study them like she is an art exhibit.
