Mated by Moonlight

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So, an Alpha female wereling walks into a bar, and...

The rest of the joke was on Beck Villanova as his good sense evaporated like dry ice at the sight of the pocket-size beauty stalking toward him. Waves of lustrous sable hair brushed her shoulders when she twisted her curvy hips to angle between the close-packed tables. A whisper of night wind from her entrance carried her scent to him: rich, warm and spicy as an amber incense stick, smoldering.

Thankfully, the massive pine bar stood between them, or he might’ve gone right to her. His uncle who’d carved the soft wood himself more than fifty years ago to honor the trees felled to make way for the Sun-Down Tavern would no doubt have had a better joke about mighty wood.

Distracted by the insistent thump of his cock against the fly of his jeans, Beck half turned toward the taps and gave himself a quick adjustment. The brush of his hand made him groan as his erection surged higher.

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