Wild West Female Outlaws Novels & Stories

A rogue as a mate was, in fact, a hidden blessing. The females in established packs tended to be rough, limited by stale traditions and stupid fertility rules; some even only allowed themselves to fuck their mates when the moon was at its highest point. But the rogues... they were different. They tended to be females filled with wild, untamed lust. They took orders from no one but their man and were fucking bold, experts at surviving on their own.

I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I raced through the dark expanse of the forest. I ran until my legs felt weak and was unable to continue. I didn't know what I was running from but I knew from what my gut was telling me that it was bad. I looked behind me only to see the shadowy figure of death. The shape outlined that of a wolf. Its' features were unknown but I knew that it was here for me. Was I dreaming? I asked myself as I gazed at the figure.I slapped my face, hoping that it would help wake me up but I was wrong.

“Now, we have a defenseless little she- wolf on our hands. One of our own kind. Are we really going to leave a fellow lone wolf to die?” “Or send her into the arms of our enemies?” Ethan asks. At last, Warrick grunts before turning to leave. I look at Ethan and smile. Ethan doesn’t need any more pussy. Women love his outlaw charm. They see his tats and they want to ride him like a motorcycle. I’d be lying if I said we didn’t have a certain… Reputation around town. Sometime in the last ten or fifteen years, word got around that we’re always good for a few multiple orgasms.

Damn it all to hell. He moved to stand, drawing her up by the arm. As soon as she was on her feet, he had ahold of her. There was no way she’d dare try to overpower him. It would be a losing battle, and she had to recognize that. “Walk,” he ordered, nodding in the direction of the cabin and, more importantly, Silver. He needed to get this woman subdued and back to the Missoula ranch. Savior or not, she was one of only five active Wild Eight remaining. The nefarious pack had been disbanded following the start of the war, and the Grey Wolves had been searching for the remaining few survivors ever since. Maverick wasn’t a fan of loose ends, and neither was Jeremy.

It was an awkward fact, but it didn’t lessen his feelings for her one whit. She had been abandoned in Lonesome Dove by a gambler who decided she was bad for his luck; she lived over the Dry Bean and was known to receive visitors of various descriptions, but Newt was not a young man to choke on such details. He was not absolutely sure what whores did, but he assumed that Lorena had come by her profession as accidentally as he had come by his. It was pure accident that he happened to be a horse wrangler for the Hat Creek outfit, and no doubt

"Hi Alexandra, this is Jenifer Walter. Hope you don't mind, Jeremy gave me your number after our meeting. I'm in Denver for the next couple of days and would love to meet in person before heading back to Atlanta. Looking forward to hearing from you!" Alexandra blinked in surprise. Jenifer Walter. The name brought a flood of memories and admiration. Jenifer had been the first woman to play in the Wild West Indoor Football League, a formidable linebacker and occasional running back for the Texas Oilers. But why was she reaching out now? And what exactly was Jeremy up to? Taking a deep breath, Alexandra wondered, *Is Jeremy having Jenifer do his dirty work now?* Her relationship with Jeremy was

Why don't we just end it all together? The chaos unfolded rapidly, people running for their lives, firefighters battling the blaze, and cops swooping in. They pinned Silvia down, but she just cackled like a madwoman. Then, her eyes locked onto the camera with eerie precision. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it looked like Silvia mouthed the words, "Joanna, I let you down in our previous life. If there's another, I'll be the one to lift you up." With that, she wrenched free and leaped out the window from the hotel's top floor. There was no way she could have survived.

It was the sound of a woman pushed past the edge of reason. His hands, vast and utterly ruthless, dropped from my waist to my thighs. They didn't ask my legs to part; they simply commanded them, shoving them wide in a single, swift, and demanding gesture that left me fully exposed on his mahogany desk. Before the chilling shock of the cool air could fully register, a muffled cry of protest escaped me. A violent rip, loud in the charged silence, signaled the ruthless destruction of the flimsy red lace, my favorite pair.

Wren plonked herself onto a stool that appeared to be in stark disproportion to her gangly legs, before launching into her usual string of grievances for the day. “I swear, I’ll skin that wolf next time I see it.” Wren proclaimed. The girl, wrestling one of her wet boots off to place it next to the fire, the marred footwear was soon joined by its pair as she continued, “He either scares off all of the animals or takes them for himself. All I can catch these days are these damned rabbits!” The discontented grumblings, something that Tilla had heard many times before, she thought little of them as she finished fastening Clint’s bandages.

Their ill luck had been a persistent companion long before this predicament, and the last thing I wanted was for them to be unjustly held accountable. I found myself staring into the frosty blues of Winter's gaze. It was a gaze that held boldness, indifferent to my identity. There was no expectation, no ulterior motive. The same was true for her friend, and it struck me that these women weren't attempting to seduce us despite possessing the allure to do so. Instead, they seemed focused on simply navigating through the challenges before them. This marked the first time we wouldn't be on someone's menu.