Moaning happily, Emily squirmed under the covers of her bed. Last night was fantastic. A night out with girlfriends – when had she last done that? I mean sure, she’d slept with one of them, but they weren’t together, so Sonnie totally counted as a friend.
Two of them now, I guess.
And to top it all off, Mable…
As her sleep-fogged brain reconnects with all the signals coming from her body, most of them a very satisfied kinds of achiness reminding her of last night’s bedroom activities, a grin spreads across her face. She knew Mabel’s bite marks would have healed over long before they appeared thanks to her lycanthropic nature, but the memory of them still had her tingling. Poor Mable would definitely look worse, covered in hickeys. Another low growl rumbles in the Ithaeur’s chest.
God, fuck. She wasn’t kidding when she said she likes it rough. That girl was like a wild animal, and exactly what I needed. 10/10, would go again. Always the quiet ones, huh?
If that’s true, then what’s your excuse? And you don’t have to fuck people to make friends you know.
She was licking my neck and tits. She wanted me! I’m not made of stone. You know what? You’re not going to spoil my mood. In fact, maybe a little morning nookie might improve your disposition…
“Mmmm…Mabs?” she says throatily, not opening her eyes for the morning sun.
Slowly, she rolls back over, looking across the bed.
Nothing.
“Mable?”
The Werewolf steps out of the covers and into the flat, feeling a little light-headed. Living room, kitchen, bathroom all empty. Dad’s room still locked. Of the curvaceous vixen, there is no sign.
“Damn. Oh well. Her loss…”
Emily slipped back into the covers, memories slipping back to last night with a smile, and her hand slid into the drawer beside her bed.
Mable Wood Psychangel Just a little final epilogue!