“I’m not done with you yet.” He set a pace that made the previous one feel like a warm-up. His hips slammed against my ass with each thrust, the impact jolting through my whole body.
His free hand cracked across my right cheek. Hard.
“Gentle is what you deserve.” Another spank, left cheek this time, the sound ricocheting off the cabin walls. “But it’s not what you need, is it?”
He was right, and I hated him for it. I hated how the sting radiated outward from each slap and merged with the fullness of him inside me. I hated how the sound of his palm landing on my bare ass made my pussy clench in a way he could obviously feel because each time he groaned low in his chest and fucked me harder.
“You like that.” It was not a question. His hand came down again, harder this time, and I sobbed. “You like being fucked hard with your ass bright red, don’t you my naughty mate?”
“Yes—” I was past pride. “Please don’t stop!”
He didn’t. He drove into me with a ferocity that rattled the boards on the window and made the bed frame creak in sympathy across the room, his hand falling on my ass in sharp,irregular slaps that bloomed hot and bright against skin already flushed from the earlier friction of the wall.
The second climax hit without warning. One moment I was absorbing each thrust, the next I was convulsing around his cock and doing my best to keep from screaming.
He buried himself to the hilt and held there, and I felt his cock pulse inside me as he erupted with a roar that belonged in the wild. Hot, thick spurts flooded me until I could feel it pooling deep inside, his hips grinding against my ass in slow rolls as he emptied himself completely.
We stood there, pinned together against the wall, his chest heavy on my back, both of us shaking. His breath was hot and ragged against the nape of my neck, and I could feel his heartbeat through his cock, still buried inside me, and through his chest where it pressed against my spine.
After a long time, he pulled out slowly, and the sensation of his come sliding down the inside of my thigh left my face burning.
He turned me gently and scooped me up. Not over the shoulder this time. Against his chest, one arm under my knees, the other around my back, cradling me.
Carrying me to the bed, he set me down, then lay beside me and pulled me against him. My head found the groove between his shoulder and his chest, and it fit there like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
His arm wrapped around me, heavy and warm, his thumb tracing idle circles on my hip. For a while, neither of us spoke. Light filtered through the boarded windows in thin golden bars, striping the floor and the far wall. I could feel his come stillseeping out of me, warm against my inner thighs, and I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Until the memory of the Chernobyl-coyote forced itself to the surface and informed me that sexy time was over.
“So,” I said, when my vocal cords finally agreed to cooperate. “That creature.”
His thumb paused on my hip, then resumed. “It’s called a skinwalker.”
“What is it?”
“They’re ancient spirits, born from the dark side of the earth’s elemental magic. They can take the form of animals. Twisted versions, usually. But when they encounter humans, they learn to take human form too.”
I thought of Mark standing in his doorway with his shirt buttoned to the collar and his eyes vacant. The perfect assembly of familiar features worn by something that didn’t understand what they were for.
“It killed Mark.”
“Yes. It killed him and took his form. Used it to lure you into the mountains.”
“Why me?”
“Because of what you are.”
I lifted my head to look at him. “And what am I?”
“I’ll get to that.” His jaw tightened, and I saw the tendons in his neck flex in a way that looked involuntary. He almost seemed tobe struggling to stay in human form. “The skinwalker has been tracking you. It won’t stop until it has claimed you or it’s dead.”
“Claimed me?”
“To mate.” He said it as if he’d told me before. Which, come to think of it, he had. Right before the magnificent fucking he’d just given me. I’d just decided not to process it at that point.
It was now time to process it.
“Skinwalkers reproduce by—” he continued before stopping abruptly as if in physical pain. A ripple moved through the muscles of his forearm where it rested across my stomach. His body was doing something beneath the surface that his face was working hard to conceal.
