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She scrambles up, and then she stands there, scolding me, pointing at her basket, and telling me how the herbs are all scattered across the ground. At the same time, she also smells a little hot and needy, so she is not entirely cross, I decide, smirking to myself.
I love her. I love her scolding. I love the little treasure between her legs. I love her breasts and her ass, which are definitely fuller now that she has plentiful food, much to my satisfaction.
But most of all, I love her, her sweet ways and gentle nature, how she adapts, how she is a survivor.
Jasmine is the most amazing person I have ever met. My beast and I are very much aligned in our worshipping of her.
I settle my front legs down and rest my head on them so I can watch her. She has turned to her scattered herbs, and is rummaging around in the grass collecting them up again. I believe she has forgotten that I am here. Her berating continues but after a few minutes, she turns and stills.
“Doug, are you listening to me?” She plants her small fists at her hips.
We can mind-speak now, and I could answer, but sometimes I choose not to.
Sometimes, I like the little huff that she makes when she is vexed with me. She looks particularly cute and adorable when she reveals her feisty side such that I cannot resist the temptation to put her in this state.
Her eyes narrow in a way that tells me my mate is very angry with me.
Then she surprises me by chuckling, falling to her knees before me, and throwing her small arms around my beastly head.
She strokes my brow.
I shudder.
The feel of a small hand in my fur is absolutely divine.
“You are so beautiful.”
I chuff out a breath. I’m quite certain that I am the most fearful, ugliest beast in the world in whatever form I take. It is ever a wonder to me that Jasmine loves me at all. It is a greater wonder that she speaks with such reverence when she says as much.
“Do you want to ride me back to the cavern?”I ask, trying to keep my eagerness in check. I like her to ride me. I like the feel of her wet little pussy against my fur. It doesn’t matter what form I take, I’m still a filthy beast—obsessed with rutting the hot, tight place that, while part of my mate, assuredly belongs to me.
Her choice of clothes is modest compared to shifters, perhaps a legacy of her former upbringing when she was a village lass. A hide dress that reaches her knees, but she never wears any undergarments, which is my only stipulation, for I need her often, and I’m too impatient to wait.
I’m glad to say the feeling is mutual and that she is as enthusiastic for me as I am for her.
“I cannot fucking wait to get back to the den,”I say, weakly.“I need you now, mate.”
* * *
Jasmine
He needs me. I love that he needs me, how he starved me of the connection I craved when we first met, and how joyfully I embrace it now. I can never get enough of Doug or his thick orcish cock.
My answer is to kneel up, kick off my shoes, and tear my dress over my head. It lands several feet away with awhoosh.
The air crackles, and where a white-furred beast once lay, a white orc now towers over me, his cock already hard and glistening in the most arresting way.
I reach for him. He only moans weakly as I stretch my lips wide to stuff the fat head between them and lap up all the sticky goodness.
“Mmmmm!” I hum around him.
“Gods, Jasmine!”His rough fingers spear my hair, shaking a little. He is still uncomfortable with me tending to him like this. It is his own fault for shifting in a way that offered me the opportunity for my sneak attack. His resolve to peel me off weakens as I dutifully suck.
I want to make him come. I’m obsessed with his seed, but I’m also feeling strangely wild. Perhaps it’s being here in the forest, the sun already warming me. I don’t know, and I don’t care.
I feel free.
My lips pop off his cock.
