Curse Of The Wereslut Read online

  And then it drowned her.

  Her hips bucked and writhed as a deep-throated moan escaped Brittney’s lips, forcing herself to show some restraint by biting down on her forearm to quiet the scream that threatened to rip from her lungs. Her entire body was on fire as her legs shook and she desperately flailed for something to grab onto.

  Her orgasmic writhing proved too much for Brandon. Unable to hold himself at bay, as he thrust harder and harder into Brittney’s trembling form. His cock pulsed, his thick shaft convulsing inside of her sopping cunt as it milked him desperately for a taste of that sweet seed. His dick was more than happy to oblige her, a thick rope of his semen gushing one another deep into her wetness.

  As her lover released himself inside of her, Brittney could do nothing but scream into the flesh of her arm, her vision blurring as she felt her gnawing hunger finally abate in an explosion even greater than her own orgasm, heightening her senses akin to being high. Her chest heaved and she whined, her legs shaking uncontrollably in inexplicably intense pleasure.

  She felt Brandon leave her as their fits of pleasure receded into oblivion, leaving the young man lying on his side to catch his breath. Brittney, however, had no intention of cuddling with the spent young stud. He was no good to her with a pair of spent balls, and she was already beginning to feel the grumblings of another need within her.

  “Thanks for that, sweetie,” Brittney cooed, smirking as she began to dress herself again. “I think you know how to see yourself out.”

  Brandon seemed too dumbfounded by the intensity of his own orgasm to understand what was said to him. He only watched her, his mouth slightly agape as she slipped out of the bathroom stall and out into the theater. She had a movie to catch, after all—and if she was a lucky girl, someone might be willing to get a quickie in the back of the theater.

  She didn’t think about Bryce, the man trapped inside her. She didn’t think about what would happen when she woke up the next morning, her pussy replaced by a dick and her stomach churning with regret. All she thought about was the curse of the wereslut, and how it was more of a blessing in disguise.

  She wouldn’t learn the truth until later, and by then, it might already be too late.

  Thirsty for more? Click here to read part 2 of the Curse Of The Wereslut trilogy, “Revenge Of The Wereslut”!

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  Book 2: Revenge Of The Wereslut

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  Book 1: Curse Of The Wereslut

  Book 2: Revenge Of The Wereslut

  Book 3: An American Wereslut In London

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  Here’s a little taste:

  Barefoot, she tip-toed past the living room, avoiding the slats of the laminate floors that she knew squeaked, and inched her way toward her stepbrother’s bedroom door. She bit her lip nervously and noted that his doorknob did not come with one of those big keyholes she had seen in so many movies. That would have been perfect. She wouldn’t have even had to open the door to peek inside.

  But this was not a movie, and she was going to have to do things the hard way.

  She pressed one hand palm-down against the whitewashed door and slowly, so very slowly, she gripped the doorknob with her other hand and began to turn, making sure to grasp it tight so she wouldn’t accidentally jiggle it with her anxious trembling and give herself away. She held her breath, waiting for the knob to stick, to hear that telltale click that would reveal that her stepbrother had had the good sense to lock his door last night.

  But it never came.

  Instead, the knob turned fluidly until it could go no farther, triggering no warning bells to announce the entrance of an uninvited guest. Susie let out a silent breath of relief and set her feet against the floor, curling her toes for traction. Then, very gingerly, she began to push.

  The door squeaked and Susie almost did, too. The sound shattered the quietude, sending out reverberations in all directions at a volume that she perceived to be akin to a big church bell declaring the hour—and her doom.

  She cringed, certain that she would soon hear groggy, annoyed voices beyond the door asking her what the hell she was doing trying to sneak into her stepbrother’s room. Fear and shame worked in tandem to paralyze her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the blow.

  But moments passed, and none came. Other than the single protestation from the old brass hinges of John’s door, she found no other objection to her advances.

  She took this as a sign of good fortune and slipped her face carefully into the crack between the door and its frame to take a long-awaited peek inside.

  She stopped, looking closer at the lily-white sheets crumpled up upon the bed, and nearly gasped out loud as she saw Maddie writhing beneath them.

  The caramel-skinned goddess was arched almost completely off the mattress, her knuckles as pale as the sheets she clenched between her fingers. Her mouth was open in a muted cry of ecstasy, sumptuous lips still stained pink from the previous night. Her long, jet black eyelashes fluttered, leaving little fairy wing smudges of sweat and mascara along the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  Susie watched as Maddie tightened her jaw suddenly, her knees rising up into twin peaks that, with the sheets lying atop them, appeared snow-capped. She let out a strangled cry; a guttural utterance somewhere between a whine and a growl.

  Susie heard a chuckle from between Maddie’s legs. “Shh,” she heard John warn her. “My sister’ll hear you!”

  “Ay, Dios. Let her—I don’t care!” Maddie panted, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. “Maybe I want her to hear. She’d be so jealous…”

  John reached up and pulled the sheets away from Maddie, revealing her round, wide hips. He began tracing the protrusions of her pelvic bone with his fingertips, and Maddie shivered under the delicate caress of his rough, but tender fingers.

  “I’m not going to finish you unless you behave,” he whispered into Maddie’s pubic mound. From where Susie was standing, it looked bare, but that hardly surprised her—even if it did make her feel a little self-conscious about her own fluffy, but well-kept muff.

  “Besides,” he continued, “should you really be concerned about making my stepsister jealous?”

  Maddie whimpered a little more loudly and John snickered, quietly shushing her again. Reluctantly, Maddie seemed to settle. She reached up and grabbed a lock of John’s ebony hair to toy with as she pouted.

  “Fine,” she relented, looking away from him petulantly. “But you can’t put this all on me. If you weren’t so good, I wouldn’t have to be so loud.”

  John grinned. “Well, then, I’ll just have to dial it back so that you can keep it down.”

  Maddie grabbed a handful of John’s hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to eye-level. “¡Pendejo!” she accused with mock indignation. “Don’t you dare! I had to wait two years for this!”

  John grabbed Maddie’s wrist roughly and shoved it under her pillow, then grabbed her other wrist and followed suit. It all seemed so effortless, his large military muscles flexing.

  Maddie declined to struggle. Instead she submitted with a smile, lifting up her face to accept the
harsh, violent kiss John offered her a moment later.

  Without knowing why, Susie glanced down at herself. Her nipples had hardened through her camisole, prickling through the clingy fabric so distinctly she could see the individual bumps on her areolas. She felt blood rush to her cheeks.

  No way. Am I really enjoying this?

  She looked back up to John and Maddie, watched as their lips crashed into one another’s again and again with such vehemence and desperation that it looked as if they would burn up without each other.

  Releasing Maddie’s wrists, John ran one of his hands down her body to her breasts, each sheathed in a scarlet lace demi cup. He pulled each side down, exposing the puffy mocha nipples underneath, just as erect as Susie’s pink nubs were. She felt a little rush between her legs and winced, conflicted.

  How can I like this? she asked herself, squirming as she felt the first drop of thick, moist lust culminate in the crotch of her silk pajama pants. They immediately clung to the lips of her pussy, and she felt a shiver tantalize her spine. I want John to myself—all to myself. Don’t I?

  John closed his lips over one of Maddie’s nipples, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly now and again so that Maddie would press her hips up against his. When their bodies connected, Susie could hear a slick sucking sound that issued another droplet of desire from between her legs. Maddie must have been soaking wet.

  Well, she thought, taking one hand off the bedroom door and slowly sliding it beneath her waistband. Only one way to find out if I wouldn’t mind sharing…

  She dipped just the tips of her fingers into her pussy folds at first, testing her waters. She found them hot, slippery, and abundant, like reaching into a warm bath laced with silken oils.

  Susie had only touched herself a few times in her life, the last time being when her mom had caught her thinking about Jake Fisher, captain of her high school basketball team. Her mom had threatened to cut her fingers off if she ever caught her touching herself again, but she wasn’t here now, and she wasn’t seeing what Susie was seeing or feeling what she was feeling.

  Her dam was threatening to burst before she even touched it, and as she settled her fingers on the round little nub cradled within its rosy hood at the crest of her vulva, she couldn’t help but to coo softly as a distantly familiar warmth filled her all the way to her toes.

  John stopped touching Maddie suddenly. He turned, looking over his shoulder toward Susie at the door, his burnt jade eyes searching for the culprit.

  “Susie?” he asked. Maddie sat up on her elbows, following John’s gaze. “What the are you doing?”

  Susie’s blood turned to icicles, jabbing at her skin from the inside with each rapid pulsation of her heart. She recoiled, one hand over her mouth, hoping in vain that they had merely heard her, not seen her.

  But John was already up out of the bed, wearing nothing on his incredible body. He slammed his hand into the door to open it with such force that it nearly hit Susie in the face.

  “Are you serious?!” he demanded, a cocktail of shock, disbelief, and violation splashing across his face. “Are you really serious?!”

  “John,” Maddie called from the bed, seeming infinitely more placid. “Tranquilo. Calm down.”

  Susie withered, mortified as John pressed forward, seeming to tower over her as though she were only a few inches tall. She cowered in his shadow.

  “The hell is your problem? Who goes around looking in other people’s bedrooms? Huh? What’s wrong with you?!”

  “I-I’m so, so sorry,” Susie stammered, her tongue suddenly feeling dry and much too large for her mouth. “I just—I was curious. It was shitty. I swear, I’ll never, ever—”

  “Damn right you’ll never fucking ever!” John interrupted, and Susie shrunk back again. Then he softened, a look of disappointment crossing his handsome face. “Jesus, Susie. I can’t believe you.”

  Tears sprung to Susie’s eyes. “Wait,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please. I’m sorry, John. Please, wait…”

  “John,” Maddie said again, much more firmly this time. “Look at her hand.”

  John glanced back at Maddie. “What?”

  “Her hand,” Maddie repeated, sucking her teeth. “¡Ay, coño! Look at her damn hand!”

  John paused. He turned back to Susie and did as Maddie asked, his eyes trailing down Susie’s body to the hand still firmly wedged between her thighs.

  “Oh,” John said quietly. “I see.”

  Suddenly remembering that it was there, Susie made a fist. Her hand was soaked. She couldn’t just take it out of her pajamas in front of her stepbrother and his girlfriend, but she couldn’t keep her fingers pressing into her clit, either.

  She felt a prickling heat rise into her cheeks and she looked away. She had never felt so humiliated in all her life.

  Cats have it easy, she thought. Curiosity only kills them—they never have to hang around and clean up the mess.

  Maddie stood up, wrapping her svelte, supermodel body in the ivory sheets, and strode over to Susie. She regarded her coolly for a moment, then smiled a little and slipped one of her arms through John’s.

  “Cariño,” she said in a low, sultry voice. “Your sister is only curious… And besides… Maybe she can help us with our little problem. Let her stay.”

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