In this erotic alternate-world retelling of Red Riding Hood, Redd is a spoiled rich girl who always gets everything she wants in life: a submissive boyfriend, weyre servants, cars, and jewelry. Frankly, she's a bit bored by it all, and so she's been getting her thrills by becoming increasingly kinky behind closed doors.
But when she sees the dangerous, feral leader of the growing Weyre Liberation Movement on TV, destined by his Goddess to free his weyre-folk from slavery and oppression, she feels an awakening of taboo lust. While out checking on Grandma's empty cottage, kinky Miss Redd discovers an unexpected houseguest, and much more...
The first part in the Wolf Moon quartet!
This thrilling 7,343-word explicit erotica story contains femdom, a submissive male, roleplaying, werewolf sex, werewolf erotica, cuckolding, cuckolding a submissive male with a strapping weyre lover, oral sex, spanking, light BDSM, vaginal sex, swallowing, suspense and intrigue.
Warning: Adults only! All characters are over 18.
A queer-identified lesbian in real life, Lula Lisbon once wrote erotica solely for her own and her lovers' private pleasure. Her story fragments were always met with pleas for more, more, more! Thus Lula decided to start sharing her hottest fantasies with the world.
A former exotic dancer and unabashed sexual deviant with a love of kink and BDSM, Lula also possesses a passion for historical fashions, dark music, and craft beers.
The following is an excerpt of
Wolf Moon: Redd’s First Ride (Wolf Moon Quartet, #1)
By Lula Lisbon
Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon
“Who are you?” she shrieked. “And what are you doing in my grandmother’s house?” His arms were thick and bulging with muscle, his shoulders hard and broad. A thin cotton shirt clung to his torso, half-buttoned and gaping, and she could see the distinctive trail of silky-soft weyre-pelt running from just below his full lower lip, all the way down the middle of his hard chest and tight, six-pack stomach. His tawny eyes, wide and round like a wolf’s, pierced through her; his perfect lips parted to reveal white teeth, the long, gleaming canines impossibly sharp. Redd had always known her race was superior to his, but in this moment, she was just a little afraid.
“Well now, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing,” he drawled, looking her up and down, “and such a nice surprise. For your information, Clarissa Resahood gave me her permission to stay here while she was up North.”
“You… you filthy liar!” Redd gasped, full of righteous anger. “My grandmother would never give a fur-back lunaspic like you permission to stay in her house! You get out of here right now before I call the Federal Police!”
His golden eyes, full of playful amusement at first, instantly turned to icy steel. She squeaked as he gripped her arm in an iron hand.
“It’s a shame you’re not as loving and kind-hearted as your grandmother,” he growled. “I don’t have much patience for racist hate-spewing, and besides, you’re far too pretty to be talking like that.”
Struggling helplessly against his impossibly strong grip, Redd made a derisive noise, and spat in his face.
“No dirty moon-freak tells me how to behave! My father’s the Senator! When he hears about this, he’ll—” Her vitriol was cut short as he yanked her inside and slammed the door. Seeing the look of repugnance the weyre-male gave Redd as he wiped away her spittle raised the first real stirrings of fear inside her… and then, sudden recognition.
“You – you’re Mr. X!” Redd breathed, her heart beating wildly in her throat. “I saw you on TV today, you’re wanted for human murders and violent incitement!”
His nostrils flared, saying nothing, simply keeping her in his unblinking gaze; she felt as if he were raking her soul with that gaze, and finding her wanting. Suddenly she wondered if it were true, if they could smell female lust, if they could read minds and desires. His lip twisted in a sneer as if in answer, and his sharp teeth shone.
“I know it’s a crime for humans to help the WeCLib cause,” he growled, “but there’s absolutely no excuse for blatant racist ignorance like yours. Your mouth is far more filthy than any weyre could ever hope to be, and I’m about to teach that pretty ass of yours a lesson!”
His huge fist around her arm tightened, and he dragged her, protesting, over to the nearest chair. He ripped the luxurious fur coat away from her shoulders, throwing it aside like a cheap rag.
“Grab the chair and bend over,” the weyre ordered, his eyes dangerous.
“Why should I listen to a dirty fur-back?” Redd retorted petulantly. “I won’t!”
Before she could say another word, his hand flashed out quicker than she could see and tore the thin silk dress down the middle, exposing her perfectly smooth curves. Her jaw dropped in shock, and he forced her wrists together, tying them to the back of the chair. He swiftly pushed on the backs of her knees, so she had no choice but to fall into a kneel on the hard wooden seat, luscious round ass in the air. Angry tears welled in her eyes, but for the first time in her life, she bit back a flurry of vicious words. He seemed to know this somehow, because he gave a short laugh of derision.
“Not so high and mighty now, are you, little Miss Redd?” the large weyre scoffed. He slid his long, brown fingers across the silky expanse of her milky skin, feeling the moist under-curves of her firm breasts, the delicate valley of her waist.
He leaned in close to her ear, his musk filling her nostrils, his thin shirt and angora-soft pelt brushing like feathers against her naked back.
“I can smell you,” he said in a husky growl, caressing her hip. “Mother Moon is almost full, and I can smell your lust.”
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