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Kitty Velvet
Mating The Lone Wolf (Werewolf Erotic Romance Fantasy)
Mating The Lone Wolf (Werewolf Erotic Romance Fantasy)
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Rock star Callahan White throws his life into becoming the White Wolf onstage – but offstage, he escapes into the forest by transforming into a white werewolf! None of his band’s groupies can satisfy the needs of this wolf, but when he catches Honour Oswin’s scent in the forest, he imprints on her- and must decide if he’ll reveal his Werewolf self to his newly discovered soulmate. She’s trying to escape the thoughts of her two year long romantic dry spell by hiking in the forest. Now, she’s so overwhelmed by their powerful chemistry, she can’t believe she’s letting him rip off her clothes – and how much she loves it. Tryst with the rock star; fall in love with the werewolf… Has the lone wolf found a mate, or will Honour become just another one night stand?
Onstage, the White Wolf. Impossibly tall and incredibly built, a perfect human man, with steel-blue eyes and a face chiseled and strong. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped on his chest, where black hairs matted wetly. You could practically see the pheromones dripping from his pores. His ripped, heavily muscled chest heaved.
He breathed deeply, outstretched his sinewy, ripped arms, and hollered, “YOU’RE AN AMAZING CROWD. I CAN’T WAIT TO COME BACK TO THIS GREAT CITY. THANK YOU, THANK YOU.”
The crowd throbbed and screamed with excitement, hanging on his every word, ready to throw themselves into a frenzy for him.
Callahan White, the rock star known as The White Wolf, knew the secret to his music was pheromones; he was an Alpha male in a world of tame, domestic creatures; humans that bored him to tears. And yet every night on tour, he poured his frenetic, wolfish energy into performance, because there was nowhere else for it to go. The shirtless, sweating rock star gave them what they wanted, and thousands upon thousands screaming girls responded, a manic crowd pulsing with desire.
There were the girls jumping up and down, perfect young breasts bouncing out of their shirts, nipples pressing against soft, stretchy cotton tops. There were the girls with that hungry look in their eyes, as they watched their idol perform passionate dances, their longing to feel him thrusting inside them written on their faces for anyone to see. Some of them knew all the words, and their moving lips looked like they prayed to him, their god, the White Wolf.
He knew some of those eager ones would make it backstage; some of them with backstage passes purchased at a high price; for others, the price might be as small as flashing their tits in the right direction or a blow job to a security guard. Every venue allowed a few of the sluts to make it to his dressing room; it was supposedly one of the perks of being a mega-star. And it was a perk; but it was nothing to him. He considered putting a stop to it, but no Alpha male would let anyone question his manhood – which would definitely happen if he stopped entertaining groupies. But what does an Alpha Male want?
What he couldn’t have, of course:
Love.
Onstage, the White Wolf. Impossibly tall and incredibly built, a perfect human man, with steel-blue eyes and a face chiseled and strong. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped on his chest, where black hairs matted wetly. You could practically see the pheromones dripping from his pores. His ripped, heavily muscled chest heaved.
He breathed deeply, outstretched his sinewy, ripped arms, and hollered, “YOU’RE AN AMAZING CROWD. I CAN’T WAIT TO COME BACK TO THIS GREAT CITY. THANK YOU, THANK YOU.”
The crowd throbbed and screamed with excitement, hanging on his every word, ready to throw themselves into a frenzy for him.
Callahan White, the rock star known as The White Wolf, knew the secret to his music was pheromones; he was an Alpha male in a world of tame, domestic creatures; humans that bored him to tears. And yet every night on tour, he poured his frenetic, wolfish energy into performance, because there was nowhere else for it to go. The shirtless, sweating rock star gave them what they wanted, and thousands upon thousands screaming girls responded, a manic crowd pulsing with desire.
There were the girls jumping up and down, perfect young breasts bouncing out of their shirts, nipples pressing against soft, stretchy cotton tops. There were the girls with that hungry look in their eyes, as they watched their idol perform passionate dances, their longing to feel him thrusting inside them written on their faces for anyone to see. Some of them knew all the words, and their moving lips looked like they prayed to him, their god, the White Wolf.
He knew some of those eager ones would make it backstage; some of them with backstage passes purchased at a high price; for others, the price might be as small as flashing their tits in the right direction or a blow job to a security guard. Every venue allowed a few of the sluts to make it to his dressing room; it was supposedly one of the perks of being a mega-star. And it was a perk; but it was nothing to him. He considered putting a stop to it, but no Alpha male would let anyone question his manhood – which would definitely happen if he stopped entertaining groupies. But what does an Alpha Male want?
What he couldn’t have, of course:
Love.
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