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I pulled myself away from her for a moment, and she looked at me, disappointed. Her breath was getting raspy, and she didn’twant to stop kissing. I chuckled and pecked her on the cheeks before getting out of bed and then out of my clothes. I was naked with her now as I returned to the bed, this time kissing her just slightly on the lips before starting downwards, down to the pit in her neck, on which I placed a small kiss, and she squirmed a bit. Seeing she liked that, I kissed it again, and a tiny moan, barely audible but sounding rather ragged, escaped her. I kissed away from the neck and watched as goosebumps rose on her skin and her shaking steadily grew.
From the neck, I moved to the bridge between her breasts and lifted the left one in my hand. I squeezed it a bit, and she squirmed again. I shifted my focus from the bridge to the areolas and then wrapped my tongue around the nipples. She groaned, and I swear I heard a bit of a growl, but soon it all settled into moans. I ran my tongue around the left nipple, taking tiny love bites, and watched her throw her head back as the pleasure hit her. She had her hand stuck in her hair and kept combing through it, using it to urge me on. I didn’t need any assistance because I was committed to this already.
I directed attention to the right breast and got the same reaction from her, but this time I didn’t abandon the other. I played with it with my hand as my tongue snaked around the right one. Soon, I moved away from that, her body an ocean I wanted to explore, I wanted to swim in with my tongue. I let my tongue follow down her body, placing tiny kisses along the way. She kept squirming on the bed, moaning louder now and wanted to move away. I pinned her down.
“Don’t move,” I told her.
“What if we wake them?” she asked.
“They won’t mind. Don’t move,” I said and glared at her, telling her I meant it. She stayed put on the bed, closed her eyes, and bit down on her lips to stop her from moaning, but it did little because I came up and kissed her, freeing the lips, then winking at her before returning to her stomach. From there, I kissed down to her thighs, and she opened herself for me. I kissed down her thigh, mapping it out for my memory as my finger trailed along my tongue. I did the same for the other thigh and then settled at the top of her mound, kissing it slightly, and she clamped her thighs together, imprisoning my head between them. I slowly inched them apart as I ran my tongue over her wetness and felt the warmth emanating out of her. I wanted to do that and look at her simultaneously, but it wasn’t possible, so I kept running my tongue over her and pictured her inside my mind. Her face was washed with bliss, and her lips were rounded in an open moaning. It was all I wanted.
I put my hand on her mound and flickered around it with my thumb too. Her legs shook a bit as that happened, and soon she pushed me off. She reached out to me and kissed me long and hard, the hunger effusing out of her body. She wanted more, and she wanted it now.
She reached down to handle my hard member, but I pushed her hand away. I laid her back down on her back and lifted her legs up to allow me an easy slide into her while still kissing her and caressing her breast. She held on tightly to me when I slid in for a moment; neither of us moved. We just remained still and enjoyed the moment. I was entranced by the silkiness and warmth of it, and it felt like home there. We weren’t just making love now. We were making something greater. It was hard to put words to it, but it felt so exhilarating that I felt I had transcended beyond being a mere werewolf.
After a while, we both started to move, and soon we found a steady rhythm. I flexed in and out of her while she gyrated into me and then out. One of the good things about being a werewolf was the flexibility and endurance. We didn’t get tired; we didn’t feel pain in our joints. All that mattered at that moment was the two of us and the pleasure slowly building in our bodies. It had started small, but now it was growing, filling us up as our moans took up a new tempo and her rhythm fitted right into it.
I held Hayley tight as the moment moved in. It built up in both of us, pushing us steadily to the end, and then she moaned out loud, suddenly not caring if Bonne heard us. She kept at it for a while before she calmed down, and then I felt my body go taut as a new sensation filled me up. It was different from everything I’d ever felt before. Blissful wasn’t the right word to describe it. It was beyond just heavenly. It was perfect.
Chapter Eighteen (Hayley)
I woke up later than the rest of them, and when I stepped out of the room, there was a young boy looking at me. He had a striking resemblance to Bonne and was dressed in a robe just like mine, only it had some animation graphics on it. I could see from the look in his eyes the thinness of his body that he was Bonne’s kid. The sick one, whom they were all waiting for to ascend. I have heard of the emergence of ascension causing kids to be sick; this was the first time I witnessed such. His thinness made me remember Ilad. Ilad was sick during his ascension, although he told me he had been a sickly child since birth. I smiled at him, and he waved at me.
“You’re Luke’s friend,” he said, and I started down the hallway and into the living room.
“Yes, I am. And you are Jade.”
“Cool. Yes, I am,” he said and went into a coughing fit. I waited for him because it seemed like he still had something to say to me. “Come, mum has breakfast.”
Smiling at him, I followed him to the dining room, where we had shown Bonne the pendant that he had joined to become a sort of medal last night. Luke was seated beside Bonne, who had a stack of books beside him and wasn’t paying much attention to his food. Luke smiled at me, and I went beet red, images of us together last night flashing through my mind.
Nellie walked into the dining room from the kitchen had placed a big bowl of spaghetti on the table. There were other things on the table—a bowl filled with pieces of chicken and some other things. I smiled at that. That was a big breakfast—the werewolf way. I looked at the kid, who was watching his father and Luke with pride in his eyes.
“I hate when he becomes like that,” Nellie said and sat down, taking a portion of the spaghetti before passing it to me. “He doesn’t care where he is. He keeps his head buried in the book.”
Bonne looked up for a while and smiled at Nellie, then smiled at me. “I didn’t hear you come in, Hayley.”
I knew that was a lie. He might not like to explore his werewolf side, but he couldn’t turn it off. He heard me quite alright, but was too absolved in his book to acknowledge.
“That’s fine,” I told him.
“I trust you had a good night?” he asked. He has a way of saying one thing and meaning two things at the same time. It was in the way he looked right at you.
“Yes, I did.”
“Of course,” he smiled and received the bowl from Luke, scooping out a small portion of food for himself.
The rest of breakfast was rather uneventful, and when we were done, Nellie made Jade help her clean up and left us to work. We got to work on the medal immediately, and Bonne put two books on the table, eyeing them interestingly. Those two seemed to have made the cut from the numerous ones on the floor.
“If we are going to find anything about the pendant, it will be in one of these two,” he said, smacking his hand on the biggest of the two books, a smile spreading across his face like that of a kid with a new set of Lego about to build.
He was loving this. Every moment of this, and it felt like the man that was a bit hostile to me last night, didn’t exist anymore. He was an interesting character.
“So, I got up early to start some work on it. Medals and medallions aren’t a big part of werewolf lore. In fact, for people who are better in tune with the earth, werewolves aren’t as romantic as you would expect them to be. They prefer practical things, which makes them boring, but I think I can understand it. If you get hit with so much sensory information as they do, you’ll try as much as possible to do away with things that might be emotive. So, if they wanted any message passed across, they were most likely to do it by word of mouth, with stories, and the ones that get a bit imaginative amongst them will write stories or books about it. Those are the only existing lore we have of werewolves.”
“You talk like you’re not one,” I said, watching him. I wanted to see how he was going to respond to that.
“I try not to be one,” he said rather dismissively, and I didn’t push it further. He wasn’t going to talk about it, and I didn’t want to dampen his interest in the medallion, as he calls it. I looked away from him and at Luke, who smiled at me, then at the two pendants that had now been joined together and were on the table.
