“I don’t want to hurt him either.” I tell Sinclair, my voice a mere squeak. “I know, little one.” Sinclair assures me, “I never thought you did. It’s just your instincts. I’m afraid that dream was a blessing and a curse – we know what you are now, but your wolf is also fighting harder to come out n
Sinclair When I wake, it’s to the feeling of Ella’s round bottom undulating against my hard cock. Her back is flush to my chest, her naked body perfectly cushioned by my much larger form on one side, and the boundary of her nest on the other. I have no doubt I was already swollen with arousal when
“No, I know you do.” Ella answers, her skin flushing bright red. “In fact I think you might enjoy it too much.” She adds ruefully, earning a laugh in reply. I know she’s been overwhelmed by my dedication to making her see stars as often and frequently as I can, but I don’t feel the least bit sorry a
Sinclair “Hmm, where oh where could my little pup be?” My mother’s velvety voice sounds just on the other side of the cabinet where I’m hiding. I press my hands over my mouth to try and silence my giggles, but a few small sounds still escape. “Aha!” Mom whips open the cabinets two doors down, sho
“Mommy, I’m a fierce hunter.” I correct her indignantly, rolling my eyes at her silliness. There are some things Mommies just don’t understand. “Deadly pred-ters are not sweet.” “Says who?” She inquires, sounding slightly affronted.. “Um, says everyone.” I explain, as if it’s the most obvious thi
The door had been closed, and there hadn’t been another way out, but I still find myself scolding the young tabby. “Pancake what are you doing? Don’t you know ‘bout fire alarms? They mean you have to get outs!” Shaking my head, I scoop up the fluffy creature, “What are you doing in a locked room any
Ella Tears are streaming down Sinclair’s face as he relives his Mother’s death, and I’m doing my best not to burst into outright sobs. My heart aches for the little boy he once was, and for the burden he obviously still carries today. Hearing this story, I understand that his last conversation with
“Shhh,” Sinclair tucks my head under his chin, stroking my spine. “It’s okay, little wolf. I know.” “Stop comforting me! I’m supposed to be comforting you.” I complain. Trying and failing to wriggle free. “You are.” Sinclair lies – the rat. “It comforts me just holding you this way.” Settling, I