She writhes, not really trying to escape. “Spank me, Tank. Harder.”
Oh, fuck no. Did she really say that?
I warm her ass, slapping harder, loving the way she bucks on the bed, the little grunts and whimpers she makes.
The next time I check between her legs, I groan. “Fuck, baby, you’re sopping wet.”
“Tank,” she screams as her orgasm hits her. She squeezes her thighs around my fingers. I wedge three into her pussy and plunge as her muscles contract and spasm.
I lie down beside her and pull her into my arms, trying to slow my breath, push the wolf back down.
She rolls into me, pressing against my bare chest. She nuzzles my skin, and I breathe in her intoxicating scent.
She licks my neck, but I don’t think she’s aware of it; her Fox is still close to the surface. After a moment, she raises her head.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby. Do what you want.”
She explores, tracing the curves of muscles, finding every little scar where a wolf’s teeth or claws caught me when I was a teen and didn’t have enough to eat so my body didn’t fully heal.
She runs her tongue over one flat nipple, and I shiver. She kisses down my chest and slowly arranges herself on her knees, between my thighs.
My dick bobs with approval but I say, “You think you deserve my cock?”
She nods.
I catch her hair and tug it so she looks up at him. “You gonna be a good girl?”
“Maybe. Probably.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. This girl drives me fucking insane.
I burrow my fingers in her hair, watching the rainbow of colors and waves cascade as she hollows her cheeks and sucks.
My vision starts to tunnel, hips strain to push my cock farther into her mouth. I don’t want to choke her, at least that’s what I tell myself when I tug her up on all fours, positioning myself behind her.
I even remember a condom, which is a goddamn miracle.
She waits for me, pussy slick and ready, thighs trembling with my desire. I slide right in.
I’m not a big talker. But there are words exploding in my head. The ones I’m showing her with each hard thrust: I own you. You are mine.
I pound into her. She presses her front into the bed and pushes back against me, meeting me, welcoming me. I hold her down and hammer her reddened ass.
“Yes, Tank, yes!” Her tight muscles grip my dick.
I flip her over, prop her leg over my shoulder and pound myself home.
“Oh, I’m going to-”
“Take it, baby.” I palm and squeeze her ass.
A cry breaks from her as her orgasm blows up.
I lose my mind the second she starts keening. Every inch, every limb, every cell vibrates with white hot pleasure.
“Fuck.” I fall on top of her, my arms holding my weight but my body covering hers.
I tuck my face into her neck and shoulder. My teeth scrape her skin, and she shudders, still in the grip of her ecstasy.
I hammer into her, blind with need. My balls tighten, thighs grip. My thrusts become erratic.
“Fuck, yes, Foxfire!” I shout as I come. As I let loose, I bite down. Hard.
Hard enough to break the skin. A mating bite.
I fucking marked her.
Foxfire
I bounce up at the crack of dawn. Tank slumbers beside me, and I let him. He probably needs a break, poor guy.
My fox is eager to be on the prowl.
I check the mirror before I leave. Yep, Tank clearly bit me. It’s deeper than I first thought. Broke the skin and everything, but it’s already healed. I push my hair back to admire the bite and then arrange my colorful locks over the marks to hide them.
I stop by my mom’s room on the way out, pressing my ear against her door. I try my nose, but I only smell hotel carpet and cleaner. My fox is impatient, so I hurry on down to the market. It’s early, and most of the stalls are being set up. To my surprise, Sunny is there, holding a paper cup. Tea, from the smell of it. My nose is getting better.
“Darling! Did you have fun last night?
“Yeah. It was wild,” I report, truthfully enough. I didn’t check before I left, but I’d guess last night’s shenanigans broke the bed again.
“Good.” She beams. “You’re up early.”
“Uh, yeah. There’s a booth I want to see. Where did you get that?” I motion to her cup.
“The coffee shop-want one?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I was going to sniff-uh, check out some of these booths.” I hand her my money and stroll on.
The booth I care about is already set up, the table sparsely dotted with products. Wood carvings. Woven blankets. Jars of honey. That sort of thing.
Then the fox comes into view. She wears a long jean skirt and flower-patterned blouse, homemade from the look of it.
As soon as I come close, she stiffens.
“Hey,” I call, keeping my distance. “Can I talk to you?”
Her nostrils flare. She’s caught my scent.
“I’m just here to talk.” I spread my hands.
I pad closer and pick up a jar of honey, pretending to study it. Red Farm Honey the label reads.
“All right,” she says softly. “But in a second, I gotta go.”
I study her. According to Tank, there are few fox shifters. Is it possible we’re related?
“I’m looking for information about… someone my mom knew.” I point out Sunny, who’s chatting with someone outside the coffee shop. “She does markets, too, and had a booth like this next to someone. His name was Johnny.”
Recognition flashes in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything.”
I just stare at her.
“I don’t know anything about that.” She glances around nervously, as if she’s expecting someone to pop out and attack her. “I have to go.” She darts around the stall, and gets on a bike she yanks out from under her table.
“Hey, wait,” I say. “Please. Johnny was my father.”