A beast

I am looking up into this perfect stranger's eyes... he doesn't know what I am, he doesn't know that, even though he is as big built as he is, I have the power to bring him down. That I was a monster... a beast. Would he still be like this with me if he knew who I really was? That among my people, I was feared? Becoming an alpha was never easy for me.

I had to prove my worth. So many men mocked me, told me I was weak, that a woman couldn't rule, that women were made to be weak, to procreate, to submit to men and her mate to be a meek little thing that dotted on her mate, but I proved them wrong. It took all my humanity to become who I was... a feared shewolf that most alphas respected but hated.

They couldn't stand the fact that I didn't cower in their presence, that I never bowed down to any alpha. I've been challenged for my title a handful of times. Each of them misjudged me, thinking that I was weak. They wanted to prove to others that my father had made a mistake in putting a woman in charge of his pack to make her alpha, but they were wrong.

None of them lived to see how wrong they had been though... Shiro is a force to be reckoned with. She bows to no one and submits to no alpha. She's untamed when pissed off, but I loved her. She is fair and just, so I couldn't help but wonder. If he knew what and who I was, would he still be this gentle with me? Or would he demand respect and submission?

What if he knew how many had died by my hand or teeth? Would he still look at me with such hunger, or would he look at me with disgust? He grips the hem of his polo shirt and in one shift movement its off. I stare at him in awe, goddess he is even more beautiful, shirtless. His abs glisten in the faint light.

He was staring down at me, watching me as I took in his huge form. The man before me was about 7.5 feet tall. His large figure looms over me. I picture him picking me up and having his way with me on the counter top or maybe against a wall... his arms ripple with thick taunt muscles, ones I have never seen before.

Sure, werewolves are very well-built, they're strong, but they have nothing on this man. He smirks down at me and I squeeze my thighs. His eyes follow the movement of my legs, and he smiles in amusement. Oh he knows, he knows what effect he has on me. Then he reaches for his belt... he removes it but doesn't take his eyes off of my form. He watched, checking for my reaction.

His pants follow soon after, then his briefs and I suck in a breath, dear sweet mother of wolves. The sheer size of his shaft has me wondering if it is even allowed to be used for s*x. It stands tall and proud, hard as a f*****g rock with a drop of pre-c*m on the head. I lick my lips. On closer inspection, I saw scars riddled all over his chest and arms.

They tell a vivid story of what might have happened; Long and short, thick and thin, some light and some an angry red or brown color... he flexes his arms as he moves to pick up something from the ground. I am not sure what. I am too busy reading into those scars. Some of them look like gunshot wounds, or maybe I am wrong...

But the most prominent one is on the left side of his body, just above his V-line... it's long and red, it looks bumpy like he let it heal on its own, scarring the surrounding tissue. I trail my eyes down his legs, and they have scars too. His calves are thick, broad evidence of how strong his legs really are... 

"Are you done ogling me?"

I flush at his question and try to hide my face, but he shakes his head.

"I love it when you turn all pink. Don't try and hide it"

Then he is hovering above me.

He kisses my head and I shut my eyes, enjoying the feeling of having his lips on me even if it's just my head. He moves to the side of me, holding himself up by one arm and peers down at me. He tugs at my knitted dress shirt and I lift myself... he removes it and my bra in one go... it surprises me how fast he moves, but I don't say a word... I just lay back down.

My n*****s are hard and perked, not of the cold, no, of the way he is looking at my breasts with so much hunger, it's as if he is having this silent conversation with my breasts as they grow harder under his gaze... I am cladded in only my black lacy panties, which he seems to love, by the way.

"Have you ever been kissed?"

He asked me... and I shook my head no.

"How about here, has anyone ever touched or sucked on this?"

He asked, drawing a circle around my nipple... my eyes fluttered close for a few seconds...

"No."

I whisper...

"And here?"

He asked, running that finger down to my stomach. I sucked in a breath and a moan escaped my lips...

"And here?"

He asked again as he ran his finger down to my core, cupping it in his large hands... I gasped, my wetness soaking his hand and I flushed red and hot under his touch. I bit down on my lip and shook my head no...

"The weather is wet, very, very wet."

He murmurs and I struggle to function. I struggle to think straight or speak a coherent sentence.

He had been asking if I was wet all this time and I thought he had been talking about the current weather. He brings his hands up and holds both of mine above my head. He shifts so that he is straddling me, his hard shaft pressing into my stomach... his weight pressing down on me but not in a suffocating way...

"If anything gets too much for you, say the word, and I'll stop."

He whispered, then tied my hands together with what felt like his belt.

I doubt I'll ask him to stop. In fact, I am on the verge of telling him to hurry up, that I can no longer wait that I want every last bit of him that he has to offer me. Then he kisses me hard, yet gently. I struggle at first, but he allows me to find the rhythm. Once I had found it, I kissed him back just as hard... 

I wake up feeling disorientated and sore. Holy f**k why does my body hurt so much? Where am I, and why can't I remember much of what happened last night? I throw back the sheets that are covering me. They are stained red... I pull them off and look for somewhere I can wash them in... I find the top loader, load it up and throw in the sheets, then rush back to the room and dress in a hurry. My eyes scan the place and I spot a note. I grab it, then rush out of the house like my ass is on fire.

My head is heavy. I had a one-night stand. The stains on the sheets were evident. People said one-night stands were the best, but I couldn't remember s**t, was he that lousy in bed? I shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts... it's in the past and I will never see him again.