ShapeShifter Kisses

January 30, 2013

Immortal Shapeshifter ~ Part Three by Savanna Kougar


Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

So, here’s the next flash scene in what appears to be an ongoing story. At least, if the Muse has her way. Which she did, anyway. Because she fell in love with the title for this week’s flash, even though it’s not exactly descriptive of what happens. Hopefully, you all will forgive me for that, and enjoy the continuation of Zephan and Solanja’s story.

Lion Dragon Man at Midnight

Immortal Shapeshifter ~ Part Three

“Beyond fur, fang, and dragon wings,” Zephan muttered, more to himself than to Solanja, the beautiful woman not three feet from him on his couch.

Damn, if he didn’t feel her gaze, though, like miniature arrows striking his big ole mug. 

After a long swallow of his coffee, which he didn’t taste, Zephan lowered the mug. Might as well go with ‘unexpected’ flow. “Yep. That’s one way of sayin’ it.”

“Yes,” she uttered softly. “From what I deciphered you were a slave during the time of Spartacus, and fought alongside him.”

Zephan nodded, then put a lid on the memories that were as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. “They?” he prompted.

She hissed a sigh, and Zephan watched her head drop forward. Her shoulders slumped like someone had dropped a huge iron weight on top of her. “Some call them the Illuminatti.”

“Heard of ’em. The evil mucky-mucks runnin’ the world behind the scenes.” Zephan figured he’d hold his tongue on saying anything else he knew, and let Solanja explain it her way.

For moments, she nervously toyed with the mug. “What most don’t know is…well, there’s the black-hearted bloodline. They are terrorizing the world into surrender. And…” She lifted her head. Once again, her gaze appealed to him, and Zephan dived into the irresistible pool of her eyes–dark but with a sheen that was the same color as a peacock.

“There is the white-hearted bloodline,” she whispery continued. “Not many of us.”

Zephan knew from his own research…hell, from personal encounters…that the corrupted, priest-king bloodline she referred to had divided along genetic lines, during the decline of the last Egyptian dynasty.

“White-hearted?” he asked, to keep her talking.

Solanja clutched the mug tight, her fingers white. “Most of my ancestors…let’s say they followed the enlightened path. For centuries we’ve battled to stop those practicing the black arts. Just as they’ve fought against us, to stop the way of light.”

She tipped up her mug, taking a quick swallow of her coffee. The strain on Solanja’s face when she looked at him again, softened Zephan’s heart.

“There’s one rule.” Solanja paused, eyeing him for his reaction. “We are forbidden to end their lives, as they are forbidden to kill us off. To break that rule means they forfeit the power gained by their evil rituals.”

“You lose the power of good, if you knock them off,” Zephan finished for her.

She nodded. “That trait was originally placed in our bloodline so there would be cooperation instead of too much ambition between us.”

“However.” Solanja cradled the mug on her lap, her gaze following it, so he could no longer see her eyes. “While I can’t be killed, I can be captured…held…forced…” She heaved in a large breath. “You get the picture, right?”

As he let her words sink in, Zephan drank from his mug. Damn, if his mid-section didn’t tighten like a bigfoot’s fist plowed into him. “Because of what you discovered about me.”

Solanja didn’t lift her gaze, and Zephan was reminded of a tea leaf reader, the way she kept staring into the remains of her coffee.

“I…I travel extensively searching for relics, for the oldest manuscripts on Earth, and for the Law of One teachings. Whatever will help our cause. And, of course, to keep them out of the hand of the black-hearts.”

Solanja raised her gaze, and her eyes shimmered with the beginnings of tears. Zephan knew they weren’t false. He felt them trickle inside his heart.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I should have waited until I returned home to fully decipher the merchant records. But I wanted to make certain, and I was fascinated.”

Zephan watched her swallow back tears. Her whole body heaved as she drew in a large breath. “I was in the hotel room. I’d been studying the writings about you for hours. It was closing in on dawn…I thought he’d been sent by our side…but, it was a trick.”

As Solanja described what occurred, Zephan observed it before his mind’s eye. At least, how the good-looking SOB used his mental sorcery to put her in a trance.

“That blonde devil didn’t get the documents, but I was under his spell long enough for him to use his photographic memory.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Zephan dug for the soft cloth in his pants pocket, and handed it to her. He used it for cleaning his guns, but fortunately this one hadn’t been used yet.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed softly, dabbing at her face. “He escaped before I could erase…”

Scowling for several reasons, Zephan started to take a drink, but his mug was empty. He slapped it down on his thigh. “Why weren’t you being protected?”

From the expression on her face, he knew he’d spoken too harshly.

“Our ranks are too thin, I’m afraid.” She sniffled, suppressing her tears. “I should never have…I knew better than to…it was my mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.”

Zephan had to ask, the compulsion too fierce to ignore. “How do you know the black-hearts know what I am? Any proof?”

Solanja stayed silent for several moments. “Do you need proof to know I’m telling the truth?”

Well, she had him there. Given he wasn’t the only one who possessed psi abilities. Not by a long shot. She had her share.

“Besides,” she squarely eyed him, “I was taunted by that blonde devil with what he knew about you–when I allowed him brief telepathic contact.”

Straightening, she gave her hair a shake. “And not to mention, Lion Dragon Man, all the attempts to kidnap me lately…while I was searching for your location.”

Zephan couldn’t think of any other reply, so he uttered, “I don’t morph that often.”

Complete seriousness owned her expression, before Solanja spoke. “That’s to your advantage. Their Sweeper as they call the device, would zero in on your Manticore frequency. However, they can’t get a lock on your human-immortal vibes.”

“What a relief,” Zephan drily offered.

He’d paused a few beats before speaking. His human male side was too damn distracted. Yep, to the point of sheer lust. 

“It is to me,” she answered, her words purely heartfelt.

“How about I rustle up some grub? I could sure use some supper.”

When Solanja didn’t respond, Zephan added, “Unless, you want me to change into the Lion Dragon Man at midnight? That’s what happens when I don’t get a regular feeding.”

Zephan grinned to let her know, he just joshed her.

Her slowly spreading smile was his reward.



~ Have a Magickal and Miraculous New Year ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

January 23, 2013

Immortal Shapeshifter ~ Part Two by Savanna Kougar

Tuesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

The month of January is slip-sliding away fast, and here we are newly in the sun sign of Aquarius, in the Age of Aquarius. Likely, this will be a very interesting time period on our planet, to say the least. The whirlwinds of change are all around us now.

So, here’s the followup to last week’s flash scene. And my naughty snickering muse has done it again. The heroine has dropped a bombshell on the hero. Yep, it looks like there will be a part three.

Beyond Fur, Fang, and Dragon Wings

Immortal Shapeshifter ~ Part Two

“Come on in before you freeze.” Zephan couldn’t tell, if the woman was more frightened of having to knock on a stranger’s door, or having to trek back to her obviously disabled snowmobile.

“I have a ham radio,” he added, to encourage her.

While Zephan well knew he was no danger to her, she didn’t know that. He took a step back. Although, if she didn’t enter, he’d grab her and haul her inside, then deal with the consequences of having scared her to death.

To his relief, she moved over the threshold with tentative steps. Damn, she was a mite of a thing, and he guessed her age to be around the mid thirties.

“A ham radio will have to do then, Mister…?”

She continued edging inside. Hoping not to spook her, Zephan waited until he could shut the door in a casual manner.

“Just call me by my handle, Zephan.” He offered his hand in the modern way.

“I’m Solanja.” She removed two pairs of gloves, then gave him her small hand.

He embraced it briefly, but what Zephan learned with his sixth-sense ability astounded him. The least of which, was that Solanja was armed, and knew how to use the derringer she carried.

Zephan smiled to himself. He sure did appreciate a woman who knew her way around a gun. “Why don’t you come sit before the fire, and I’ll get the radio up and running.”

Pausing, he watched her stuff her gloves in her side pockets, then begin unwrapping the thick material guarding her face.

“I could put on the coffee pot,” he added.

She didn’t answer. Instead her gaze searched his face as if she intently studied every last contour and line of his big mug.

“Are you…?” she began. “I mean I was trying to find someone. When I got lost, and the snowmobile kinda went on the fritz. And…and, well now, I’m wondering if you’re…him.”

She frowned with speculation, and Zephan buzzed inside like a whole swarm of bees. His ominous feeling wasn’t because of Solanja. The danger to him, and to mankind, was from those–likely her family–who surrounded her.

He’d psi-picked up her reason for braving the frigid back country. She searched for someone important to her, her intention single-minded. Zephan sure didn’t think it was him. Still, why not find out?

“Might be,” he answered. “Don’t think so. Important thing is you’re out of the cold.”

She gave him a wide smile that reminded him of a flirtatious pixie. “Coffee sounds good. Warming up in front of a fire sounds good, too.”

Before he could move, she unzipped her heavy duty parka. Zephan observed the ultra-expensive garment she wore. Designed to retain body heat well below zero, it damn sure wasn’t sold on the regular market. That he knew.

Of course, what really caught his eye was how the skintight, black suit hugged her small, beautifully shaped figure. “This way, Miss Solanja,” he gutturally uttered, once his tongue obeyed his brain.

“Solanja, please. Forget the ‘miss’.” She stepped beside him as he moved toward the center room where his open hearth blazed.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her graceful strides. She’d professionally trained as a modern dancer yet that wasn’t her career. Her specialty, as he’d psi-sensed it, involved finding and purchasing artefacts–the ones that never made it inside a museum. Yeah, the priceless pieces of history the public was never supposed to know about, let alone view.

“Have a seat.” Zephan indicated his over-sized couch, the only decent piece of furniture in the small room. “Can I take your coat, Solanja?”

She shoved her hood back, shrugging out of the strictly utilitarian parka. With a soft confident smile, she handed it to him.

Figuring he’d do everything and anything to keep her feeling comfortable with him, Zephan turned and hung it over one of his coats. All of his other hooks were crammed with winter gear.

“Bachelor pad,” he explained as he faced her. “I’ll grab the coffee. Just brewed a pot. Cream, sugar?”

“Black for now, please. I could use a good dose of caffeine.”

With a flip of her short, curly, bronze-red hair, she lowered herself to the couch. Half-mesmerized by the glorious color of her hair, Zephan watched her bend over and unbuckle her tall, supple boots. Again, they weren’t the type marketed to the public.

Reluctant to take his gaze off her, he stayed long enough to watch her tuck her slim legs beneath her. Then, he headed for his huge old-fashioned stove, lodged inside a tiny room he called a kitchen.

So far, Solanja played it straight with him. What had him pondering overtime was the fact that–other than her cell phone, which was dead–nothing on her clothing or on her person tracked her location. No bio-device inside her, either.

At least, not that he could detect. Quite unusual for someone in her elite circle. Too unusual.

Zephan quickly placed two mugs beside the coffee pot, and poured out the fresh brew. He’d get answers soon enough. She wanted to talk.

Meanwhile, the mystery didn’t sit well with him. And, meanwhile, her woman’s fragrance tantalized his nostrils, competing with the steamy coffee he carried.

Solanja had worn no perfume of any kind, and obviously used cleansing products without scent.

Just who in Hades did she search for, as if her life depended on it?

Zephan eyed her as he crossed the room, and she eyed him right back. Gods, she was a distraction he couldn’t afford, but wanted.

“Hot,” he warned, handing her the mug.

After meeting his gaze, she sniffed her coffee for moments, then wrapped her hands around the man-sized mug. “It’s not Starbucks,” she teased.

“No, ma’am. Drink enough, and it’ll put hair on your chest. Be a real shame in your case.”

She glanced up at him quizzically, as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d said that.

Zephan grinned broadly. During his gentleman days in Spain, he would never have been so crude. He imagined the men she knew wouldn’t either.

Not taking his gaze off her face, he took a healthy swallow of his coffee. Once she’d taken a long sip, and sighed, he parked himself on the other end of the couch.

“Sure you don’t want me to get the ham radio operatin’? Must be someone concerned about you.”

It took a moment, but she looked at him squarely. “I don’t want to be found.”

“Running away from someone? ‘Course, that don’t make sense, does it? You wouldn’t be in the backwoods during a winter freeze.” A beat later, he continued, “You said you were searchin’ for someone. Must be important. Can I help?”

She lowered her gaze, and clutched her mug tightly. “I am running away.”

She paused, and when she looked up again, her gaze begged him to understand. “That’s only part of the story. I’m here to warn you, too.”

“Warn me?” Zephan narrowed his eyes as he rested his mug atop his knee.

She took a sustaining swallow of her coffee. “I’m sorry. I truly am…but, I didn’t know.”

Zephan didn’t interrupt her, waiting as she drew in a sharp breath. “I found..found records of you. I mean, there are ancient writings that describe what you are.”

“Ancient writings?” Zephan took a gulp of his coffee.

No doubt, the slaver merchants had kept meticulous records about him, and given she knew her way around artefacts–could read the languages.

“They know.” She spoke just above a whisper, her voice strained. “They know you’re beyond fur, fang, and dragon wings. I had to warn you.”



~ Have a Magickal and Miraculous New Year ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

January 16, 2013

The Immortal Shapeshifter Among Us by Savanna Kougar

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , — Savanna Kougar @ 7:43 am
Wednesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Here we are already at mid-month. Time certainly isn’t slowing any in my universe, despite leaving that superspeed year, 2012.

Today’s flash scene got going, and the heroine arrived on the hero’s doorstep, but…hey, time ran out, so their story will have to be continued.  

The Immortal Shapeshifter Among Us

“That werewolf ain’t the only one in this territory buildin’ underground. Preparin’ for the worst.”

Zephanaiah wrapped his hand around one of his favorite modern rifles, swung it upward, and sighted a target in his personal shooting gallery. In seconds, he’d shot the center hole–about the size of a dime–clean out.

With satisfaction he lowered the weapon onto the gun rack after reloading, and gazed around at his extensive collection of weaponry. Mostly guns, though–from powder shot muskets to specialized guns that used ice bullets.

Truth was, he possessed about every make and model there’d ever been. Another large room held the machinery and materials to manufacture ammunition, a trade he still learned.

Manly pride dictated Zephan take several minutes to scan the walls of his enormous bunker, where he’d mounted the pistols, handguns, derringers, glocks, hunting rifles of every variety, sawed off shotguns, tommy guns–plus the in-the-news, falsely labeled automatic weapons.

Not only that, he owned about a hundred custom-designed sidearms, including his most favorite, a pair of fast-draw, pearl-handled, single-action Colts. One thing Zephan knew for damn certain, he’d never be enslaved again.

Not without one hellacious fight to save himself, and anyone else. After fighting side-by-side with the Thracian gladiator, Spartacus, during the slave uprising, he’d ironically won his freedom by dying first.

He’d been reborn with the stench of death in his nostrils, covered by the slaughtered bodies of his comrades. With madness assailing him, Zephan had believed he’d been taken by the gods to an underworld hell, meant for the souls of rebellious slaves.

He’d wandered about, his throat parched from lack of water. Once he’d slaked his thirst at a village well familiar to him, Zephan had realized he remained among the land of the living.

Thus, his world travels began, mostly battling tyrants, and escaping the pursuit of slavers who knew what he was, one of the immortals. If captured, he’d be forced to breed like an animal, and be repeatedly killed for sport in the gladiatorial arena.

Reminiscent of Zephan’s past, battleaxes, spears, and other primitive weapons, along with knives and blades of every type, decorated his bunker walls, as well. A long sturdy table held several enormous, leather-bound tomes.

Inside, he’d recorded the detailed history of each ancient and modern weapon, beyond his personal experiences, that is. Given his constant search for more knowledge, Zephan was always adding to the pages.

He also listed ale recipes, having developed a yen for a goodly brew. When the finest ingredients were used, the naturally transformed grains and herbs were medicinal, and kept muscles on a man.

Zephan slipped his finger along the thin blade of a rapier he’d used during his days in Renaissance Spain. The life of a gentleman had suited him then.

These days his desire for freedom fired through every last particle of him, unrelenting, unceasing. He’d tasted liberty for far too long.

As an American colonist, he’d joined up with the revolutionary army, once the battles had begun in earnest. Later, during the Indian wars, he’d lived with the Apache, and known the freedom of roaming the great open lands as a warrior.

Since then, living on the fringes of society, as what some called a mountain man, suited his solitary nature. And, also suited the creature he shapeshifted into on rare occasions–what some now termed a Manticore.

The lion-dragon-man beast was a cousin to the phoenix, and had originally been genetically designed by the Atlanteans to defeat a race of giants. Somehow, Zephan had inherited genes that not only turned him immortal, but into this odd killer creature.

“I’m one of those damn complicated men they talk about in them romance novels,” he groused to himself, since no one was around. And, hellfire, dark humor had gotten him by for centuries now.

With his mountain man buddy, Dead Aim Dane, a puma shifter, sweet on the ranch lady, Stormy, they’d spent less time together, hunting in the backwoods around Talbot’s Peak.

He didn’t begrudge Dead Aim. But a man got mighty lonely. And with Brandon Wayne always tied down to his ranching business interests, and pleasuring his woman, that gal reporter, Leona Lane… well, he needed to find some new companionship. One of these days.

Zephan strode through a narrow archway, and into the armory he’d setup for the population of the Peak…just in case. He’d gotten the idea from the fact that the government of Switzerland armed their people to the teeth, had redoubts throughout the countryside, and expected the men to be highly trained with weapons. So far, no one had dared invade that tiny country.

Truth was too, Zephan was trying to talk himself into making an appointment with Dante, so they could discuss the protection of their territory. He well knew, the werewolf alpha, his pack, and his crew already patrolled regularly, and had stopped many a takeover attempt by various nefarious forces.

He’d stopped a few himself. On a couple of those occasions, Zephan had been on the same page as Dugger, the dingo shifter, and his warrior woman, Symone. They’d fought in concert with each other, ridding the Peak of invading enemies.

‘Course, many of the shapeshifters and supernaturals likely figured with their superior abilities a weapons cache wasn’t all that necessary for survival. But, Zephan begged to differ.

Besides, a free man, a free woman for that matter, was always armed. Or, guaranteed, at some point down the road of history, they wouldn’t remain free from the slavers who still operated in secret, and ruled by corrupting officials.

With that in mind, Zephan surveyed his stockpile of simple, easy-to-use guns and rifles, all of them in pristine condition. He’d even considered opening a shooting range with training classes. Although, he doubted that idea’s time had come.

With a harumph and a growl of frustration, he pivoted on his booted heel, heading toward the ramp that led to his humble abode above ground. He knew why the moment he stepped a foot inside.

Someone timidly rapped on his front door. While he hadn’t heard the sound, his gut knew. A man, even as an immortal, didn’t live free this long without relying on his gut instincts.

Who would be roaming ’round the back country as darkness settled over the snow-covered land, and the temperature fell like a rock–or fell like a boulder tossed by Odin himself…well, Zephan had to wonder.

As he strode over his stone floor, he sensed the woman begin to turn away. Not wanting man nor beast, and especially not a woman, left out in the brutal cold, he hurriedly jerked open his roughhewn door.

“Ma’am, can I help you?”

At least, she was dressed for the weather, with her face mostly covered. Her gaze met his, and Zephan fell into the dark intriguing pools that were her eyes.

“I…I think I’m lost. I…do you have a phone? The signal isn’t…”



~ Have a Magickal and Miraculous New Year ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

January 9, 2013

Due to circumstances… future heroine…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — Savanna Kougar @ 6:48 am
Here’s a pic of a future heroine in lieu of a flash scene, shapeshifter lovers. 

I hope the New Year 2013 is treating you right.  



~ Have a Magickal and Miraculous New Year ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

January 2, 2013

HAPPY NEW YEAR! ~ Preview of Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys by Savanna Kougar

New Year 2013 greetings, shapeshifter lovers.

I’m debuting my cover art…finally! And, for your enjoyment here’s a recently edited *X-RATED* chapter from my very first SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS erotic romance novel.

Blurblet ~

COMING SOON ~ A woman desperate to save herself and her prize horses. Two shapeshifter cowboys who have decided she is their one woman. That’s only the beginning…

Chapter Seventeen:
Sherilyn almost believed she dreamed.

Sherilyn almost believed she dreamed. Dontoya thrust inside her pussy, his cock so powerful, she shivered inside. Never had she felt so much like a woman.

He forced her pussy walls to stretch, to take his thick cock as he tenderly plunged deeper. Sherilyn had never enjoyed sex more.

She keened moans of pure pleasure as Dontoya possessed her with a dominance natural to him–obvious in every move he made, obvious in the languid prowess of his body against hers.

Never had she wanted to give herself more to a man.

Dontoya not only took her with his big bold cock, but handled her with care, both emotionally and physically. Her heart swelled with gratitude, and Sherilyn hoped like hell he would continue caring for her this way.

Dontoya, she sang inside her mind. God help her, but the feel of his fine, fine ass was driving her insane with lust. She undulated, matching his slow primal strikes inside her.

“Easy, darlin’,” he hoarsely whispered. “Let me do the work this time.”

Surprised, Sherilyn slitted her eyes. His smoke-hot gaze met hers, then devoured her face as if he’d found some sort of long-sought heaven.

With a strong thrust of his cock, he pinned her to the bed. “Give me your wrists.”

Sherilyn shuddered inside at his command, one that promised more pleasure. He caressed his palms from her head, and she relinquished his perfectly sculpted ass.

After raising her hands high above her head, Dontoya slid his work-calloused hands along her arms. Damn, but he turned her on–got her juices flowing faster than light speed.

He anchored himself on his elbows, and circled his thumbpads on the sensitive skin of her wrists. Sherilyn heaved ragged breaths. Her pussy convulsively clenched his cock, or tried. With his size, she wondered if he felt the small spasms.

As he lowered his head, his gaze scorched her. She trembled when his mouth brushed over hers. He nibbled slow kisses on her lips, the corners, the bottom fullness of her mouth–along the curve of her upper lip.

God, she loved it.

Even as Sherilyn marveled at his endurance as a lover, Dontoya captured both of her wrists in one hand. He forced her arms higher, his claim primitive. Obvious.

At the same time, the searing heat of his lips sparked sensations through her. His *take all the time in the world* kisses sensually tortured more than her mouth.

No, she sizzled down to her belly, all while his buried cock kept her wild with need. He tightened his grip on her wrists, and her clit jerked.

The jolt of near-pain pleasure was unexpected, and Sherilyn quaked inside. Never had she imagined this delicious intensity, not in her wildest fantasies.

“Dontoya,” escaped on the rush of her breath, once his lips hovered above hers.

“You belong to me.”

His raspy growl owned her. To her core, Sherilyn knew he didn’t mean just for the good-time moment.

He claimed her as a man claimed a woman.

His woman.

She could hardly believe this happened. Dazed, yet on fire, red-hot with want, she whimpered.

“Darlin’, I’m about to make you explode all nice and slow and fierce beneath me.”

Oh, God, yes.

She didn’t voice it, but so many men, so many similar promises. None delivered.

Okay, she hadn’t been with that many men…but, oh, please.

“Promise.” The word escaped before she had a chance to stop it.

“Widen those beautiful thighs of yours.”

His command and his praise of her, flashed like sexy lightning through her. Sherilyn eased her legs apart, his hand guiding her.

“That’s it, darlin’.”

Tremors of anticipation filled her womb as he sensually caressed her hip and thigh–as his eyes blazed to a fiery bronze, his gaze penetrating her.

“Promise,” he roughly purred.

He fused their mouths, his kiss long moments of exquisite plunder. Then his tongue masterfully slipped between her lips, tangling with hers.

The sultry embrace of his tongue coaxed Sherilyn into complete surrender. Her pussy throbbed, molten, his to do with as he pleased.

Nearly mindless, unable to do anything else, she rocked her hips. Still lanced to the bed with his heavy cock, her mound pushed against his groin, the sensation highly erotic.

God, she adored the feeling of being his sex captive–another surprise to her.

He nipped her bottom lip, then used his strength to halt her undulations. “No, darlin’.”

With a possessive rumble, he planted his elbow and raised above her a few inches. He withdrew his hard, hard cock only to lunge deep inside her.

With a power she craved and loved, he drove inside her. First to the hilt, then his shaft plunged inside her pussy. Over and over.

Over and over again. God, could she ever get enough?

Sherilyn continued basking in his slow yet forceful thrusts. No wonder women wanted him.

After she cast aside a pang of jealousy, she succumbed to her orgasmic excitement. Surging like a tidal wave, pleasure-pain rolled from the top of her mound  to her clit. “Oh, God, Dontoya.”

Ecstasy filled her, emanating from the steady strong glide of his cock–by how he constantly stretched her pussy walls. The next instant, Sherilyn flew, mindlessly soaring…and gone, slipping within a new realm of bliss.

She heard his beastly groan as he speared to her core. With a strong arch his back, he spilled his cum.

“Sherilyn, mate. My mate.”

When he let go of her wrists, then tenderly crushed her beneath him, Sherilyn swore no other man had ever felt this good, this fine.

Certainly, no man’s cock ever possessed her with such continued virility.

A tiny voice punished her with “he should have worn a condom…what about disease?” Sherilyn dismissed it quickly, her ability to be logical rescuing her.

Hell, she’d been as good as dead. If Zance could heal her with his magic wolf juice…and since they’d both gone to great lengths caring for her, she doubted Dontoya would have done anything to harm her.

Lost in clouds of rapture, Sherilyn combed her fingers though his long, silky smooth hair. He began to rise, and she murmured, “No…please. You feel wonderful.”

“He does, does he?”

She started at Zance’s already familiar twang.

“I’m not hurting her, am I, pard?” Dontoya asked once he’d swung his gaze toward Zance and raised his chest from her.

At that moment, it smacked her like an icy snowball in the face. She’d lost control of her life, her entire life, just like she’d lost control now, surrendering beneath Dontoya.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” Zance asked. “Is me being here botherin’ you?”

Well, double-dare hell, what did she say to that? Given the sheer immensity of the life changes she faced, Sherilyn didn’t have a clue what she was feeling…not exactly.

“Take that big breeder of yours outta her. I need to check her eyes. She smells fine, though.”

With the latent grace of a big cat, Dontoya tenderly withdrew his cock. He planted a sweet kiss on her mouth, then rolled from her, and off the bed.

“She needed,” he began.

“Yeah, pard, I know. Her female emotions are raw, and her hormones are doublin’ fast now.”

Doubling fast now!…what the ‘f’? Yeah, what the fuck? Because that’s what they both want. To fuck me senseless.


~ Have a Magickal and Miraculous New Year ~ 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

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