Wicked

      The Wild time was almost over.

      A shame, because Farah loved it. She could feel the heat loosening its grip on her body, and she mourned the loss. It would be another year before she felt the instincts of her feline side slice through her so keenly. Why did it have to end, this time away from time? It always drew to a close long before she was ready.

      The chill of a mountain breeze brushed against her, but she’d shifted into her Lynx form, and her thick tawny-and-black spotted fur made her impervious to the cold of gathering dusk. Her claws dug into the soft ground as she wove her way through the trees and down the mountainside. Her car was parked at the base with all the others belonging to the shifters who came to Wild.

      Something tugged at her senses, made her pause in her tracks. She glanced around, but saw no one. The birds twittered in the trees, the night animals beginning to stir in the forest. She could smell other Lynx, but nothing seemed out of place. Twitching her shoulders, she took a few more steps down the slope when her instincts stopped her again. They urged her away from the direction of her car, told her something good awaited her if she went left instead of right. She huffed out a breath and gave in to the internal pull. She didn’t want to leave anyway, so what would it hurt to take a few more minutes and see what lay in that direction. She turned and trotted toward the sound of running water. A few nimble leaps and she went from a small boulder to a massive one overlooking a wide river that snaked its way down to a lake. The long rows of parked vehicles were beyond the lake, though she couldn’t see them from where she stood.

      The scent of sex, of hundreds of cats in one place, permeated the air. During the first week of spring, every female Lynx went into heat at the same time. Those in North America gathered here, in the Sierra Nevada, to rut with an abandon that never failed to make Farah shiver from the delicious thrill of it.

      Wild was an awakening she could feel in the air; it was an awareness of possibilities, of beginnings. It was also when Lynx came to find their mates, but that had never been her aim. Limiting herself to one man wasn’t something she was interested in—her sexuality was the one area in her life where she let go of control. She loved the visceral novelty of a variety of lovers, the endless combinations. For her, Wild was seven days of leaving the trappings of humanity behind, the ambitious drive of the lawyer; seven whole days of embracing the side of herself, her straightforward logic usually strangled into submission.

      It was divine, that carnal release from all restraint. A game she loved to play with as many willing men as she could. There was no shame in her sexuality, no fear of harsh judgment, just the instinct to fuck burning through her body. She purred with pleasure. There was no better time of year than Wild, and she shoved away the understanding that her time was almost over. It made her ache to even think of it.

      A low, masculine groan drew her gaze down to a trio of Lynx tangled on the bank of the river. Twitching her tufted ears, she let her purr rev up. She sprawled across the top of the boulder, intent on enjoying a little voyeuristic fun. This was as good a way as any to end Wild.

      A nude blonde woman knelt on the ground before two large and equally naked men, stroking one while she sucked the other. Farah’s body tightened, a shudder passing through her. The other woman whimpered, her lips stretched around the wide cock. The second male had a longer dick, and her hand rotated around it, pumping him hard in the circle of her fingers. The look of ecstasy on both men’s faces was almost painful in its intensity. One man had his head thrown back, his fangs bared, his shaggy brown hair brushing his muscular shoulders. He was a picture of hedonism. His hand fisted in the woman’s hair while she took his cock deep in her mouth, sliding all the way to the base of his shaft.

      The other male dropped to his knees beside her, running his hand over her bare back and down between her legs. She arched, screaming around the cock in her mouth.

      Farah ran her tongue down a long fang as she watched, savoring the curl of heat that wound through her. Witnessing their pleasure aroused her, made her burn. She shifted into her human form, her fur retracting and her limbs reforming into the shape of a woman. Her dark hair tickled her bare skin as a breeze caught the long strands—it was an excellent metaphor; sex was the only time she let her hair down. And Wild was all about sex. Her hair spilled across the stone as she lay back, letting her legs fall open. Her nipples tightened to hard little points, the frigid wind caressing her overheating flesh. The walls of her sex clenched. She was wet, slick with juices.

      Rolling her head on the boulder, she kept her gaze fixed on the scene before her, but her hand drifted down her torso until she reached her pussy. She bit her lip, holding in a moan that might alert the trio to her presence. The touch on her hot, wet flesh made her muscles jolt. God, it was good. She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing as she stroked her hardened clit, teased it until more moisture gushed from her core.

      When she looked again, she was caught by the golden gaze of the second man. He smiled at her, his teeth a white flash against bronzed skin. His fingers toyed with the other woman’s sex the way Farah fondled her own. Her breath caught at the intensity of his eyes; the feel of his gaze moving over her was as effective as a caress on her flesh. She shivered, arching off the rough stone surface beneath her.

      His smile widened, his hips bucking as he shoved his cock through the blonde’s fingers. Farah’s free hand flexed against the boulder, wishing she were touching the golden man. He drew his fingers up and down the blonde woman’s slit, and Farah echoed the movement. Nodding, he encouraged her, demanded greater response from her, pulled her deeper into the erotic game.

      Plunging his long digits into the blonde’s cunt, he fucked the blonde with his hand. Farah’s fangs punched through her gums as she followed his lead, driving her fingers into her drenched sex. Her wetness shocked her—she didn’t remember the last time she’d been so turned on, even at Wild.

      Instinct tugged within her, whispering through her mind. She shuddered, pushing away the feeling to concentrate on her physical pleasures. Tingles broke down her limbs as she played with herself, the carnal view before her only fueling her lust, her uninhibited feral nature. Watching the men be suckled, stroked, touched made her writhe in heat. She wanted to be the woman between them. Rubbing the pad of her thumb over her clit, she continued to finger-fuck herself, building toward an orgasm. Her inner muscles clenched around her thrusting digits, each groan from the group before her ratcheting up her lust. Her skin felt tight and hot, barely able to hold the sensations swirling through her. She bit her lip to hold in a scream, shoving her fingers deeper, pushing herself higher. But those murmuring instincts wouldn’t quit, they rose with her pleasure, sharpened to a screech, punctured the cocoon of sensuality that wrapped itself around her.

      Mate.

      The realization hit her, stunned her. Her eyes flared wide as she froze and stared at the two men. One of them was her mate. She felt it, sensed it, knew it to her bones. The man with shaggy hair twisted his hand in the blonde’s hair, driving his cock between her lips; her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him hard. The