6. Elsie
Six
Elsie
I wake before the alarm, long before the sun has fully climbed above the trees.
That's not unusual.
I've always been an early riser.
What is unusual is the warmth coiled low in my stomach.
It isn't painful.
It isn't the start of a fever.
It's a sort of restlessness.
Like every nerve ending beneath my skin has suddenly decided to wake up before the rest of me.
I lie still beneath the covers, listening to my own breathing.
In.
Out.
The cotton sheet feels strangely warm against my legs, and I push it away with an impatient sigh before immediately wishing I'd kept it.
A cool morning breeze slips through the open window, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers from the woods.
Somehow, that only makes the strange ache inside me deepen.
“What on earth...”
My fingertips brush absentmindedly over the faint marks on my hand.
The Bear.
Last night rushes back all at once.
The fox.
The roar that seemed to shake the trees.
Cinnamon-colored fur gleaming beneath the moonlight.
Those impossibly intelligent forest green eyes.
And then...
The bite.
I stare at the tiny marks for a long moment.
They should hurt.
They don't.
In fact, they're almost warm.
A strange flutter spreads through my chest, followed by another wave of restless longing that makes me squeeze my eyes shut.
“Seriously?”
My face grows hot.
I haven't felt this aware of my own body in... well...
Longer than I'd care to admit.
“This has to be adrenaline,” I mutter, though even I don't sound convinced.
Maybe nearly being attacked has sent my hormones into overdrive.
Maybe relief is manifesting in bizarre ways.
Maybe I am finally losing my mind.
Whatever the reason, I know one thing.
I’m not going to get another minute of sleep.
This strange feeling I have low in my belly is spreading and—oh wow.
Oh my.
What the heck was I dreaming about last night?
I slide my hands over my body, tugging on my nipples, gliding over my belly as I reach between my legs and—fuck.
My panties are soaked.
I pull them to the side and glide my fingers over my hot, aching flesh.
Oh God.
That feels good.
Ridiculously good.
It’s been a really long while since I’ve had any, er, attention down there and while I’m a big girl with a healthy sex drive the thought of touching myself brings warmth spreading across my cheeks.
But I do it.
It’s like I can’t help myself.
The need to come is pressing down on me.
I spread my legs wider, pushing my middle finger inside my hot slit. Inside my mind I picture someone—I can’t see his face but he’s big.
Sexy.
Hot as fuck.
A growl sounds from somewhere and it only serves to make my pleasure spike.
Fuck. What is wrong with me?
I reach for my tits with my other hand and pull on my already tight nipples. Then it’s back to my wet pussy.
In and out—fuck it feels so good.
I drag my fingers out, bringing the hot, wet digits where my needy little nubbin waits.
Fuck, why does this feel so good? It’s never been like this.
But I’m too far gone to question it.
I start to circle my clit, rubbing it faster and faster, moaning loudly as I do—and the second I start to come, I swear I hear it.
The roar of something monstrous in the woods below my apartment.
It doesn’t scare me—like not at all.
And that should worry me. Instead? I come harder than I ever have at my own hands.
And when the tremors finally stop, I sit there stunned for a moment.
With an embarrassed laugh directed at absolutely no one, I threw back the covers and headed for a cold shower, hoping icy water—and a very large cup of coffee—might convince my body to remember how to behave.
But somehow, I doubt it.