The Fiery Kiss of the Werewolf

By Britten Thorne

Curvy nurse Maggie never dreamed that a handsome fireman would be interested in her. But she attracts the attention of Will, a big man with a bigger secret. Sparks ignite when these two get together - will Maggie give in to their fiery passion? Or will Will’s secret douse the flames?

Warning: This 9000 word short contains explicit language and graphic adult content, including hot and steamy sex between a curvy young lady and a fire-fighting werewolf.

Excerpt:
He sauntered towards me, his eyes heated, and I stood frozen like frightened prey. "It's pretty rude to forget a man's name," he said, his voice low and dark.

"I'm sorry!" I squeaked. What I meant was, "Please calm down it's not a big deal," but the apology was what came out. He stood in front of me, in my space. My feet felt glued to the floor - he was close enough that I could feel his body heat, and if felt good. My heart pounded so loud, I was afraid he could hear it.

"You're afraid?"

"No," I said. There were alarm bells going off in my head, but they weren't out of fear. It felt like he was toying with me. Maybe he thought he was being funny, but he was way too sexy for me to find him amusing. He was just turning me on. I looked up at him. No smirk, now, just that heat, that hunger.

Suddenly, with a movement too fast for me to see, he seized my shoulders. "You'll drive me mad, woman. I can't get the scent of you or of my head. And you make it even worse, scampering about without underwear. You're going to pay for it."

"What?!" His words made no sense, though “scent” stuck in my head, made me think there was a connection there. All I could focus on, though, was how strong he was, how good those hands felt squeezing my arms, how intoxicating it was to be so close to him. He ought to not tease a girl like this. He knows what kind of effect he has. He must.

"Well? Are you going to tell me to stop?"

I furrowed my brows. "Stop what?"

He snarled. It was a strangely exasperated sound. Then his mouth descended onto mine, taking my breath away.

I stood in shock for a moment. His lips slid against my lips; heated them, melded with them, devoured them. Devoured me. I was surrounded by his scent, that masculine essence that gripped me from the moment I met him. When the gears in my head started turning again, I was on my toes, my arms wrapped tight around his neck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Britten Thorne
• Release date: Sep 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301147762

Britten Thorne

Britten is a recovering Catholic schoolgirl with a raunchy imagination. Her favorite place to read erotica is on the train – there's nothing like having a dirty little secret in a crowded public place! When she isn't writing, she's caring for more pets than her landlord would find appropriate.

Book preview

The Fiery Kiss of the Werewolf

Copyright 2013 Britten Thorne

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

Warning: contains adult content

I've never had much of a sense of smell. I was never as bothered by the wide variety of stenches I encountered as my coworkers were. Public bathrooms weren't quite as hellish as others made them out to be. I suppose my sense of smell (or lack of) is why I made a pretty good nurse, if I may say so.

But I could smell him.

So when he appeared, amidst all the smoke and chaos, and I smelled him, I had a reason to believe I was just imagining things.

-

Good lord, Maggie, go home. My close friend and fellow nurse had found me on the couch in the employee lounge, sneakers off and rubbing my thick and swollen ankles.

I'm going as soon as I can get my shoes back on. I kneaded the tired flesh while my mind ran back through the twelve hour shift. All loose ends tied up? The important ones were, at least. The last of my paperwork could wait until I returned.

I stood up with a groan. Another six hours for you? I asked.

Afraid so. Carol and I often had overlapping shifts, which meant very few opportunities to spend time together outside of the hospital.

I mashed my feet back into my white sneakers and grabbed my purse from the coffee table.

See you tomorrow, I said, exchanging a quick hug with her before heading out the door.

Stepping out into the city streets at midnight on a Friday was generally a little depressing. Seeing people all dressed up with places to go, while I couldn't wait to get home made me feel a lot older than my 26 years. Not to mention how I looked, staggering out into the night with my curly hair in a frizzy bun, without a lick of makeup. I watched a girl pass in a tiny black dress and four inch heels, face flawless, every hair in place, and had to fight down a stab of envy. As if you could squeeze yourself into a dress like that. I was always too hard on myself when I was exhausted.

I pulled my sneakers right back off as soon as I sat down on the bus, and only half-wore them on the walk home from the bus stop, smashing the backs down with my heels. I was too tired to care about preserving their integrity.

I didn't even bother putting anything on once inside and out of my scrubs; I just crawled into bed in the nude. The sheets were cool against my back, and I was asleep in no time at all.

I was startled awake less than an hour later, groggy