Chapter 10
TEN
Gryff
I make myself cum again before lunch time and my knot still doesn’t fully deflate, which has never happened to me before. It’s been a long time since I’ve jerked off more than once in a day. Most days I don’t feel the need to do it at all.
I guess that’s Honey’s succubus nature. Powerful stuff.
Refusing to let myself give in to my urges to be near Honey when I’m in this state, I stay inside the rest of that day and the next.
The yard is a mess, and I really should have done it before now. Only I like that it puts people off coming to the door.
I need to do something, though, to keep my mind off the taste of my best friend’s daughter and the way her slick coated that dildo from base to tip.
What I wouldn’t give to have it coating me that way.
I try everything I can think of. I do a hundred push-ups and then a hundred more. I get out my old treadmill and go for a run, and then I remember why I hate the damn thing. Gives me vertigo every time.
I’m so desperate for a distraction I even call Dr. Voss, but her receptionist says she’s with a client, and I can’t bring myself to leave a message.
Finally, on Thursday, I take the mower from my shed and am just about to switch it on when my sensitive hearing picks up a little shriek from the neighbors’ place.
Dropping the cord, I race into the front yard expecting to find another rogue delivery driver or mail man or some passerby, but I see no one.
Weird. I’m sure I heard—
“Help!” Honey’s cry comes from above me, and I look up to find her dangling from the eaves of her house and then have to look away real fast. At that angle I can see right up her skirt to the pale pink panties with the very noticeable wet patch at the crotch.
God damn it.
Of course it’s only then I notice the fallen ladder lying beside the house.
Trying not to look up, I jog over and grab the ladder, righting it and propping it against the wall. “Here’s the ladder. Just climb down,” I shout to her, still looking anywhere but up.
Honey whimpers. “I can’t! I’m slipping.”
Cursing, I charge up the ladder before I can think about the fact that’s going to put me in really close proximity to those creamy, wet panties.
I’m approximately three-quarters of the way up the ladder when my cock springs to life—full throbbing hard life—inside my pants.
My mind goes a little bit blank for a moment.
Claws lengthen from my fingernails, and there’s a tearing sound as my shirt splits down the middle as my body undergoes the partial transformation.
The ladder groans under my increased weight.
Honey makes a frightened noise. “Um… Gryff? Is everything OK? I could really use a hand.”
“On it,” I growl, cursing myself for not having better control.
I shut my eyes—too bad I can’t shut my nostrils—and creep up the ladder until my hand brushes her leg.
I shudder, fingers curling around her ankle before I can stop them, but the last thing she needs right now is some asshole pawing her.
I focus all my energy into letting her go and climbing the next rung and the next.
I focus so hard I’m pretty sure I see them even with my eyes closed.
The slightly ribbed metallic texture of it, the black scuff where a boot has rubbed against the material.
Three more rungs and my fingertips graze the gutter.
One more and I clutch it like a lifeline, tilt my head away and open my eyes.
The smell of her is intense this close. Or maybe it’s always this intense, but knowing she’s spent all morning playing with her pretty little clit and soaking those panties is driving me wild.
Fuck!
I crush a roof tile in my fist, and it crumbles to the ground in pieces.
Tentatively I reach across and find what I hope is the safer ground of her waist, dragging her across and up against my body. There’s no help for it. It has to be done. We’re almost there. I just need to keep my desire for her in check for another few moments until her feet are on the ground.
I take one step down the ladder, and she slips.
She doesn’t go far. I’ve got my arm locked around her and her back pressed up against me, but she drops just enough to drag her round ass against the enormous bulge in my jeans.
Drag doesn’t quite cover it. Grind might begin to describe it.
It’s exquisite torture. At the same time, the sensual brush of her plump flesh against my hot and aching cock is agony.
A soft hiss escapes me.
Honey gasps.
I can’t let her go. I can’t drop her. I clamp down on the desire; I’ve got to think about anything but the way I want to sink my teeth into her neck as I ram my cock home between those thick thighs.
So I do the only thing I can possibly do here.
I open the rigid iron gate I’ve locked around my memories and let them loose.
We’re on foot, just a few of us. The ground radiates heat up into our boots even though the sky is dark. The stench of death is everywhere. I guess that’s why I miss it at first.
There’s chatter over the radio, so I switch the damn thing off, signaling for my men to do the same. I don’t trust this calm. It’s too still. There are enemy soldiers still not accounted for.
A soft groan catches my attention from a few yards away.
My long ears flick, searching for the exact location, but before I can find it, Macguire trots up beside me, his ears pressed back against his skull, whites of his eyes showing.
He’s brave for a fox shifter, and gutsy.
A rookie I’ve come to rely on when more experienced men let me down.
“Sir, are you sure? I’m pretty sure I heard command issue the order to evacuate the area. Something about an uncontained threat.”
I scoff. “This whole country’s a fucking uncontained threat. What makes them think we’re leaving without our soldier?”
He gives me a curt nod. “Understood, sir.” A moment later he falls back into position as I knew he would.
The wind kicks up, sand stinging my skin even under my fur. I hunker down and move forward, straining to pick up any sign of my fallen comrade.
There! I’m sure I heard it again. That muffled scream. A survivor. I won’t leave another man behind. Not after last time.
To my left is a crumbling wall, the damaged side revealing it to be more mud than brick. I make for it, crouching low and making my steps as silent as possible, trusting my men to have my back.
The scent is off. I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. Over the faint smoke and gunpowder of explosions and hot sand and sweat there’s the sweet, cloying scent of rot and a distorted metallic note of blood.
As I round the corner, the creature startles, its deformed body twitching.
It turns to me, and I’m frozen for a moment.
It can’t be. His face is horribly misshapen, eyes bulging from his head, lip swollen and covered in pus, but that face is a face I can’t help but recognize.
A face I searched for in the fallen debris of a house that collapsed on us under enemy fire.
Despite my wolf howling at me to run, I take one hesitant step forward. “Collins?”
The creature hisses.
This can’t be happening. That man was dead. Still is from the looks of it. In fact, the longer I look, the more disturbing details I notice—the arm that doesn’t fit properly into its socket, two different boots that do not match.
What the hell is happening here?
“Sir?” Macguire’s whisper reminds me my men are waiting for my orders. I can’t let them see this.
I pull my M16 and aim. “Macguire. Get the others back to the vehicle now!”
I have the thing in my sights. I have a clear shot. But something stops me from pulling the trigger. The half of his face that still looks human, I guess. My own guilt at leaving him behind last time. “Sorry, buddy,” I whisper as I steady myself.
I’m so focused on my target the drone is almost on us before the buzz registers in my ears.