“Sure are,” he said, pulling the thick fabric all the way off. “Damn, look at that. The twink’s packin’.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
His massive, slobbery tongue caressed my balls. The heat of his mouth soon enveloped my cock, and despite his sharp teeth, I barely felt them graze me.
“Well fuck,” I said with a half-sigh, half-moan as his mouth went from my crotch to my ass. “Whoa! What the hell are you doing?”
“Gotta eat something good tonight.”
I didn’t know when I passed out, but things started becoming clear as different smells assaulted my nose. Alcohol, wet fur, sweat, and semen mixed together in one angry, almost scolding odor. When I looked at the satisfied werewolf snoring with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, I’d never felt more ashamed than I did at that moment.
“Goddamn it,” I whispered, shoving Roscoe hard until he snorted awake. “I didn’t say you could sleep on my bed.”
“What, are you gonna kick me out?” He wrapped his arms around me, shoving his damp crotch into my back. “I’d like to see you try.”
I wasn’t sure if I had become a victim or if I’d gotten lucky, because even though I was hazy and sore, my reality was undeniable. It was clear as crystal why these werewolves’ cringey ways worked so well, especially if they were all that good in bed. One thing was for certain—absolutely no one could ever know about this.
“Just shut up and go to sleep. I’ll have to deal with you tomorrow.”
“Ooo…” Roscoe’s ears perked up.
“Not like that.”
His ears flattened against his head. “Aww…”
Chapter 2
Angry Afterglow
One of my eyes opened slowly as a bassy voice belted out the lyrics to “Doctor Jones,” which played obnoxiously loud from my television. I was way too tired to move, but when I heard the fridge open and close, a rush of panic made me snap my eyes all the way open. I jumped out of the bed and threw on some clean shorts before making a mad dash to the kitchen.
“What the—” I froze as plates of fried eggs, bacon, biscuits, sausage, pancakes and a half-eaten rib eye steak lay spread along the counter in front of me. “Where the hell did you get all this?”
“I found some money in yer pocket, so I got ya some groceries.”
My mouth dropped open. “WHAT?”
“You had like three hundred bucks in there, buddy.” He held up an open jar of mayonnaise. “Yer welcome.”
“Where the fuck is my money, Roscoe?” I asked through my teeth, balling my fists.
“Relax. I didn’t spend too much.” He pointed to a wad of cash on the counter, and I ran over to count it.
“You spent one hundred and fifty dollars!”
“Yeah, and look.” He opened the fridge, now full of food—and, of course—a few cases of beer. “You can thank me later with that ass again.” He gave me a slap from behind, and I reached for his neck.
“I’m going to kill—”
“You didn’t have no food,” he interrupted, holding me back with one arm.
“I eat at work,” I shouted, pointing to the banquet on the counter. “I have rent due in a week, and I’m barely scraping by as it is.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get paid on Thursday, and I’ll help with the rent.” He winked, which infuriated me even more. “Gotta get to work at six today, so I’ll be home late, babe.”
I paused and cocked my head. “Dude, this was a one-night thing. You’re not staying here.”
He turned off the stove and moved the skillet to the side before strutting over to me. “I know the way to yer heart.” He pulled me into him, squeezing my rear end with both hands as he laid into me with a deep-tongue kiss.
