Page 12 of A Wulver for the Week (Pine Ridge Universe)

“ I fell. I stepped on a shell, and I fell. Yes, Grandma, that does rhyme. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. A day of massage and pampering is just what I need.” I smile and wave off the nineteenth inquiry into my well-being as I limp toward the Reflections Day Spa.

I may be walking like I’m in pain, but I’m actually floating in the biggest pleasure hangover I’ve ever had. Probably that anyone has ever had.

Craig says monsters live among humans, and if humans weren’t so closed-minded and afraid of people who look different, they’d see them. He also says there are way fewer monsters than humans left in the world, so when they meet someone—my heart is singing and skipping around my chest here—they make every effort to make a lasting, happy union. For wulvers, protecting and helping are key personality traits.

I think of how Craig woke me this morning by licking me to another orgasm after he ruined me with a half dozen last night. Caring for their partner’s pleasure is apparently up high on the list.

“Honey, what happened?” Gerri, draped in a lush white bathrobe that says “Bride” in gold letters on the lapel, rushes to meet me at the doors of the perfumed, softly lit spa entrance.

I can tell her. My eyes sparkle as I lean close to whisper, “Craig’s fault—and the fool asked if he could carry me to the spa since he was the one who left me tottering around like Great Grandma Verna without her walker!”

“Oh, my gosh! That’s amazing. Girl, you shouldn’t have kept him a secret for so long. He’s perfect for you. The way he looks at you... Mmhm ! I’d be jealous if Barry wasn’t looking at me the same way!”

“What’s the hot gossip?” Cora arrives, her phone out and her new nails flashing with little diamond appliques.

“Craig is a love machine,” Gerri rats on me.

“Girl! Hush,” I hiss.

“Like I didn’t know that? We share a wall,” Cora smirks at me. “That man doesn’t need to sleep, does he?”

“Um. He had a lot of coffee yesterday,” I fib. “Let’s go and get all luscious. This is Gerri’s moment, not mine.” I usher my younger cousins ahead of me.

“Minnie, listen to me. I’m not even like that. As long as you don’t get engaged during my wedding or the reception, I don’t mind if you want to make an announcement while the family is all together,” Gerri hints.

“Oh. Oh... Uh. We’re not at that stage yet.” I wish we were, but I’m not foolish enough to think a guy would propose after one night together. After six weeks of getting closer. After sharing a magical week in the islands...

Wait, are we at that stage?

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Mama suddenly swoops in like a bird of prey, her hair already in rollers.

“Mama!”

“He loves to fish, likes your family, your family likes him, he’s got a steady job, and he’s a Braves fan! What are you waiting for?” Mama whacks me on the arm with the novel she’s carrying.

“I don’t know! For him to ask me, I guess. That’s all. Calm down, Mama, you’re bending your book. What are you reading, anyway?” I snatch the book as my mother makes a grab for it. “ A Victorian Demon’s Guide to London, Love, and Being a Hero ? Mama, what...” I flip open a random page and immediately feel my eyelashes catch fire. “Mother!”

“I’m a grown woman, Minerva Johnson. And don’t make me ask Cora just what she heard through that wall—and these are not cheap, thin motel walls, neither!” Mama purses her lips and slaps my arm with the book for good measure.

“Yes, Mama.”

“FOR HIM TO ASK ME. That’s all.”

I wasn’t eavesdropping. Not really. Wulvers have great hearing, and I was just passing by.

Okay, okay. I was following Minnie because she was walking bowlegged, and watching her try to sit down at breakfast made me feel so guilty.

And turned on.

“You’re a horrible man, Craig Macpherson,” I mutter to myself as I leave the spa area and stalk off to the beach, ready for a day of fishing with the menfolk. “It shouldnae turn you on to see the woman you love having a hard time sitting down!”

Except that it’s from Minnie accepting me as I am. More than accepting me.

I picture the final moments of our first coupling, where my knot was still swollen inside of her but beginning to shrink. She was riding me, grinding her mound to my knot as it was starting to slide from her. She used me to bring herself off one more time, cum gushing across us, her fingers clutching the ruff of fur that lies over my sternum. I could feel her peaking over and over during the hour we were knotted together, knowing she was full of me, full of my seed, and totally, thoroughly uninhibited.

She’s mine. My mate. I’ve marked her.

And now I’ve heard that she’ll accept my offer of marriage if I just ask.

“You look like you’re lost in the sauce, son,” Minerva’s father is suddenly next to me, a fishing rod in one hand and a cooler in the other. “Did the storms keep you up?”

“I’m fine, sir, thank you. The storms dinnae bother me, and they’ve cleared out some of the humidity. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” The storms from last night blew through in the wee hours and left today bright and glistening with blue water and blue sky kissing in the horizon.

“It’s glorious! And it’s supposed to be this way for the next three days. Good wedding weather, and good weather for flying out. You and Minnie ought to make your next trip down to see us.”

“I‘d love that, or you could come and stay with us— I mean, with her. Or me. I have a little townhouse with extra rooms.”

“Stay with you two, huh? That sounds pretty serious. I guess now is as good a time as any to ask. What are your intentions where Minnie is concerned?”

“I would like to marry her, sir, with your approval. Or without it. I want to marry her either way, but I’m hoping you’ll like the idea.”

Mr. Johnson’s face breaks into a huge smile, and he sticks out his hand. “I sure do like it! The one thing about Minnie taking her sweet time to meet someone is that I don’t worry about who she picked. She’s too damn picky to just grab anyone off the streets.”

My stomach twists. Not anyone off the streets, but she did sort of grab me in desperation. And I’ve told her my secrets. Felt hers wrapped around me.

What if this is just a novelty? And it all wears off? Reality is so different from this tropical, all-expenses-paid vacation and constant celebration.

“My blessing, son. When are you going to pop the question?”

“Pop the question?” Grandpa Barty is suddenly next to us, his silvery white eyebrows arched on his tan forehead. “Wedding fever strikes again. Reflections is known for its romantic atmosphere.”

I can’t argue with that. “No one tell Minnie,” I hiss. “Don’t worry, Barty, I don’t intend to upstage the wedding. I don’t think that’s possible with all the trouble you’ve taken to create the perfect week in paradise.”

Would a proposal make it more perfect or less? When Minnie said that... Was she just getting her mother off her back? What if she meant it but not now? She’s a sensible woman. She’d like us to date for a while before a proposal, I’m sure.

“Well, don’t leave it too long now. Did I hear someone say you two have been dating for six months? And she chose you to attend this family wedding with her? My, my. That’s serious,” Barty muses with a wise nod.

“If it were up to me, I’d ask tomorrow. I mean—the next day. The day after the wedding. But somewhere private. I’m not one for taking big risks in public.” I shudder as I imagine Minerva’s pitying face, the slow shaking of her head if she says no...

“Risk! What risk?” Mr. Johnson pounds me on the back. “The girl is crazy about you.”

“Aye, I hope so,” I manage to laugh it off, but a little part of me wonders, is being crazy about someone enough to make you want to spend the rest of your lives together?

“MY GAW... LOOK AT YOU ! You’re too pretty to touch. And this is just the rehearsal dinner. What will ye look like tomorrow?” Craig demands when I sashay out of the elevator and meet him on the ground floor.

The rehearsal dinner is about to start, but all the ladies are still arriving with perfectly pampered skin and mani-pedis. What’s crazy is that ten of us will have to do some version of this tomorrow for the wedding, when a professional team of aestheticians and stylists will descend on us to fix our hair and faces.

“Tomorrow, I’ll look this good, but in my bridesmaid dress,” I laugh and slide over to him. I’m wearing white at the behest of the bride. All the bridesmaids are in white tonight, and Gerri is in stunningly bold flamingo pink. Tomorrow, the palette reverses, with her in a white mermaid gown and all of us in shades of pink and coral.

“You look like a bride,” he whispers, hand coming up to cup my cheek.

“Well... Thank you.”

“You ever think about when you’d like to get married?”

“Um. Like before next year, so my mother can stop hounding me about tying the knot.” I groan as I lean against him (although I am walking much better now). “Of course, then she’ll start hounding me about making babies.”

I feel Craig stiffen up next to me. “Babies? How many would you want?”

I look up at him, eyes twinkling. He’s so obvious right now—and so sweet. I’m not sure if he’s panicking thinking about kids or panicking because he’s trying not to throw me to the ground and rut me into the polished wooden floor. “That’s a decision between the parents, you know. Of course, compatible couples have similar ideas about parenting and offspring.”

“Three or four,” he blurts.

Chills dance along my spine. “That’s what I’ve always said, too. Exactly that. Three or four. Like, three is what I kind of envision in the house altogether, but then I bet you I get one more burst of baby fever and want another.” Especially now that I know how delicious making those babies can be.

I haven’t seen Craig all day. He’s been fishing. I’ve been spa-ing. Now that we’re back together, it’s like magnet meeting metal. All I can think about is drawing him to me. Into me. Feeling myself stretched so full that my pussy does new incredible things and gives me those bone-melting orgasms that I never knew existed.

“I am so tempted to rip you out of that dress and chase ye again, Little Red,” he purrs in my ear.

“I’m so tempted to let you,” I whisper back.

“Maybe you don’t want to make any bairns just yet, but you know how careful I am. Always taking the extra step. Extra time. I think I’d like to practice some more. Would you like that?”

Like running down the beach until he catches me, pushes me into the sand, and devours me right there in the moonlight?

God, yes.

Or does he mean practice pumping his cock into me, getting me to take that knot? I picture sitting on it, bouncing on it, making myself come as I grind myself to him before my pussy gives in with that wet plop and he fits into me with a stretch that brings tears to my eyes and makes my spine buckle.

“Yes.” Yes, either way.

“I don’t know how I can possibly keep my mind on dinner when all I want to eat is wrapped in this pretty white frock right next to me.” Craig runs his hand over my waist and stops at my hip, grabbing.

“You have to behave,” I giggle.

“All right, sweetheart, but only if you promise we can act out another fairytale tonight.”

The intensity in his voice sends juices rushing south. “Wh-what fairytale?” Because Little Red already got eaten up, and she’s begging for more.

“At midnight, this ball is over, and I get to take you home with me.”

I barely swallow a whimper. “Sounds good.”

“WE HAVE TO GO TO BED soon,” I cry, kicking off my heels and tearing off Craig’s shirt. A button flies off and skitters under the bed.

“Leave it,” he orders, his hands unzipping my dress. “What a pretty princess you are. Are you after the prince or the beast tonight?”

“Oh the beast, definitely. The beast in the bedroom, baby, always,” I admit, both to myself and to him.

I’m surprised (in the best way) when Craig pushes me to my knees and his belt drops next to me on the floor. Like a maniac, I tug him out of his black trousers and finally get the cock I’ve been thinking of all day. It goes straight into my mouth, and I take control of the “beast.” My hands slide around him, and my mouth goes into overtime, jaw stretching until it aches and my eyes leak as he fills the back of my throat.

“You can’t do that for long, or I’m going to come on that talented tongue—and I’d much rather fill your pussy.”

I take a breath between sucks, letting my hand keep up its pump and glide. “Really? For practice?” I arch one eyebrow.

“Aye, but I’ll go much easier. You can’t be limping up the aisle.”

“No, but once Gerri and Barry sail away for their honeymoon, I’m fair game. Everything is fair game,” I say, leaning into the word.

Which is really helpful, Minnie. Like he’s going to figure that you mean he can pop the question at any second and you’ll be all for it.

“Anything is fair game? Meaning I can suggest something, and you’ll go for it?” he asks.

I can’t answer because he’s cupping my chin and cheeks, carefully avoiding my hair, and bouncing his cock in and out of my mouth.

“Anything related to you, me, and happiness. Or you, me, and destroying this bed,” I finally manage to gasp.

Craig scoops me up and puts me on the bed with my knees on the mattress and my calves hanging off. “I won’t muss your hair, darling,” he reassures, standing behind me, rubbing his tip up and down my slit, making me writhe each time he touches my oversensitive clit.

“So, what’s the suggestion?” I ask as he slides slowly into me.

His hand comes up to wrap gently around my throat as his chest lands against my back. Sharp teeth trace my shoulder before the soft black fur rubs my cheek. “It’s a surprise for tomorrow night—after the bride and groom have sailed away. Although, technically, it’s only the first part of a surprise I have in mind, love.”

“It’s a two -part surprise? Wow. Do I get a hint?” I push back into him, impatient to lose the soreness of being stretched and find the raging bliss that comes from him filling me so full.

“I’m afraid you won’t like it. Or you’ll think it’s too soon.”

My heart leaps. “Does it involve you and me being together longer than this week?”

“Much, much longer.”

I sigh and thrust back against him, finding the rhythm of his stroke and wishing his knot was in me already—although, for the sake of walking smoothly tomorrow, we’d better wait. “Much, much longer sounds amazing.”

MY AUNT CHRISSY, WHO is a chaplain and a deaconess, leads Team Bride in prayer as we sit in a private room off the beach-side terrace. Six women in shades of pink, glowing, shining, and trying not to weep, surround Gerri. I’m proud to say that I don’t limp as I take my place as the first bridesmaid.

My mind should be on holy and spiritual matters as I listen to Aunt Chrissy preach on the blessings of marriage and the serious step Gerri and Barry are about to undertake.

But I’m still reliving last night and trying not to think too hard about what surprise Craig could have in store. My eyes open a tiny slit so I can watch the white, pink, and green bridal arbor being staked into the sand in front of the rows and rows of white chairs. In half an hour, we’ll be walking down a petal-strewn path. My baby cousin is getting married...

“And dear Lord, we ask that you remember those of us who have been gifted with good and worthy men—and let us not sit around and wait until we’re old and gray—or until our mothers shed tears of despair—before we take You up on that blessing, dear Father. Let the young women in our family act in a timely fashion and not be tempted to neglect the blessings You have bestowed!”

Now, that’s just cheating. Calling me out in prayer.

“Amen!” my mother says loudly and firmly from where she is patting my weeping, perspiring Aunt Belinda down with a lacy handkerchief.

“This is about Gerri,” I hiss at Mama when we scatter out of our prayer circle. “Not me.”

Mama abandons Aunt Belinda for a minute (which means she starts weeping again, and Gerri has to go and take a turn at patting and shushing). “Daddy and Craig went out on the boat all day yesterday, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” What’s that got to do with anything?

“He asked Daddy if he’d give his blessing,” Mama says, her lips in a thin line and her eyes bursting with excitement as she tries to keep her voice down.

“He what?” I gasp. My rump hits the white velour chair, and I fan myself. That’s not a hint. That’s not a fantasy. That’s the honest-to-God real deal.

“He wanted Daddy to say it was okay for him to ask for your hand in marriage. You’re going to say yes, aren’t you?”

I blink in surprise. “He did?”

“Yes!” Mama sits next to me and leans in close, long pastel pink nails excitedly clutching my hands. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I... Yes! Yes, it is. I’m just... What did Daddy say?”

“He said absolutely.”

Well, that’s a miracle. That might be up there with the man of my dreams literally being a fantasy creature. “You don’t think there’s something wrong with Craig? Or off about him? You don’t have some objection?” I whisper as the sounds of the string quartet on the beach begin and guests file in. When I look out the wide white-trimmed French windows, I can see Craig taking his place on the bride’s side of the aisle, laughing and joking with my dad.

“Now, actually, I do. I’m not too happy that you hid him from us for six months, baby. But.” Mama sighs heavily and gives me a warm, peaceful smile, “this proves to me that you make good choices. You found a man in your own time, a good man who suits you, a man you can respect and that you’d trust your friends and family to respect. Does he make you happy, Minerva? Can you see yourself living a whole life with him?”

Pachelbel’s Canon and the sounds of the waves ring in my ears.

My mother—after thirty years of henpecking and double-checking... just approves. Trusts me.

Honestly, I think that may say more about Craig than it does about me, but years of working in a hospital have taught me to be flexible and fast. My mother’s approval means a lot, and I know it’s not easily given, but the real question is mine to answer.

This week away started out with a lie and has ended up changing my life and the way I see the world. I know there are hidden things in plain sight now, and Craig is one of them. Could I live my life with him? Do I want to become part of that hidden world, and if I did, would my family be drawn into secrets or danger somehow?

Would my children be “monsters” like Craig?

I swallow hard and remember that once upon a time, Barry, Mr. Blonde and Caucasian, and Gerri, Miss Black and Adorable, would have been forced apart, too. There were times when people with my skin tone were considered less than human, and in some bigoted minds, we still are.

Anger rages in me, then cools down as Barry’s mother (who looks like a blonde Miss America Senior) comes in and throws herself into a hug that embraces both Gerri and Aunt Belinda. Barry’s family and mine are like a haven of light and love in a world that still has dark, ugly scars.

And Craig? Craig, the social working wulver who looks after the needy and the elderly, who truly cares for everyone? He’s out here trying to make the world more safe and sweet, more beautiful and healed—and only a handful of people will ever even know his true face. He doesn’t care, though. He’s not doing it for fame. He’s doing it because that’s who he is .

“There’s so many things people don’t understand... We’re all the same underneath,” I murmur, thinking about how Craig’s furry head doesn’t diminish the truest, gentlest, and most humane heart I’ve ever known. “I would be proud to marry that man, Mama. Proud to be his wife, and if I had children with him... I’d hope they’d have his noble heart.” I wipe hastily at my eyes. I’m not supposed to start crying until Gerri’s saying her vows! I at least need to keep my mascara from running until I walk up the aisle and all the eyes are off of me!

“Baby! Aww, honey, that is all a mother ever hopes for. I’m so glad you found him.” Mama swaddles me in her arms, keeping our cheeks and hair apart so we don’t muss. “Now, don’t you let him get away.”

IT’S A BEAUTIFUL WEDDING . The day is beauteous with a balmy breeze, and I can see now why a wedding in the early spring is so much nicer than a wedding in the hot, sticky Florida summers. At noon, as the wedding processional begins to play, it must be about seventy-five degrees and sunny.

Well. After spending three days straight with the families of the bride and groom, I’ve decided it couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of people. What lovely families.

I can see myself marrying into them.

I turn my head to watch the first of the bridesmaids begin their journey across the special platform they’ve spread in the sand. Cora. Tosha. Brittany. Missy. And then... my Minerva.

My heart seems to stop in my chest and the scent of gardenias smacks me in the nose. That’s my bride. My bride walks up the aisle in a skimpy but chic dress of delicate pink, clutching her bouquet in both hands. It’s all I can do not to jump across chairs and grab her. I want to haul her up to the minister right now and ask him to marry us. Gerri and Barry can wait.

“She’s beautiful. More than the bride,” I whisper to my future father-in-law.

He just smirks knowingly. I don’t think he can speak, actually, as I see him blinking rapidly. Are the tears because of how beautiful his daughter is or because he cries at weddings?

We stand as the wedding march is piped up on the flute and joined by the string quartet. Gerri sails down the aisle to gasps and audible sobs. Up by the bridal bower, Minerva wipes her eyes. I echo her gesture, but it’s not because Barry is openly sobbing as he stretches out his hands to his bride or because Gerri looks so angelic, like some angel of the islands, as she practically floats into his embrace.

No. I’ve lost my heart entirely to Minerva, and picturing this moment for us is about to turn me into a wee bawling babby.

I wouldn’t propose to her at someone else’s wedding. That would be tacky, wouldn’t it?

But tomorrow? All bets are off.

“MY CHEEKS HURT. MY feet hurt. My hair hurts. I haven’t been sleeping in my bonnet thanks to someone ravishing me until sunrise or massaging me until I’m in a coma,” Minnie moans and peels off her sexy, strappy sandals. She winces as she looks at the gouges her straps have made in her ankles and up her calves.

I shake off my jacket and kick off my wingtips, sitting beside her on the bed. I pull her foot into my lap and reach for the bottle of lotion on the top of Minnie’s suitcase. I squirt some in my palm and go to work, smoothing it up over her slightly sandy toes and heel, working my fingers into her tired muscles.

She flops back with a different kind of moan. “You do that, you’re going to end up married, mister. A man who will give you foot rubs is a man you keep.”

“Aye, well, then. I’ll do this every day after your shift. What man wouldn’t want to spend time rubbing his wife’s gorgeous,” I plant a kiss on her ankle as I lift her leg high, “shapely,” another kiss on her calf, “legs?” I end with my hands skimming up her thighs. “You were so beautiful today,” I say for the hundredth time.

“Much better than when I’m having a breakout, my hair looks like I stuck a fork in an outlet, and I’ve got my mask up and my face shield down?” she laughs, not stopping me as my hands go a-wandering, up to the waistband of the tight beige shapewear she’s wearing under her dress.

“For me, you’ve been the most beautiful woman in the world since the second I laid eyes on you.”

“The second you laid eyes on me? Wasn’t I having a screaming match with some fat-ass greedy bastard son who didn’t want me to put his ninety-year-old mother on oxygen the first time we met? We were! Because I remember thinking, “I’m being so unprofessional, and other departments are going to think I’m insane.”

“Aye, that’s true. We did meet like that, but I didn’t think you were mad, love. I thought you were a champion, a fighter for the people in your care. I lost my heart at once, especially once you stepped out of the ring and away from all the strong hospital smells. Then...”

“Smells? What are you on about?” she laughs as I remove the shapewear, now standing over her. I bend to the bed and kneel over her, burying my nose in her neck.

“Ahhh. Gardenia. Every wulver knows his true love by her scent. I knew you were mine not from first sight—but from first sniff. I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing that perfume of yours, and one day, we’ll have a garden full of them. Gardenias and wee bairns that fight like their mother—but hopefully not with each other.”

“Mmm, we have time to practice making ‘bairns,’ but not a lot. Remember, our plane leaves at eleven, so we have to be checked out and to the dock by eight to get to the airport with time to spare.” Minnie pulls me to her, her arms wrapping around my neck. She smells like sea, champagne, and, of course, gardenias.

I look at the glossy gold carriage clock that’s on the nightstand. Two in the morning! “That was some party,” I whisper, nuzzling my love’s soft breasts.

“It would have been shorter if everyone hadn’t gone down to the dock to watch the love birds sail away. But I’m glad we did. It was an amazing wedding. An amazing send-off.”

And nothing will ever top this spectacle—not with a social worker’s salary, that’s for damn sure.

“That’s fine for her. I want something simpler. I wouldn’t mind a beach wedding, though.”

“Would you? Now, when I was a boy, my favorite place to go was Sandwood Bay in Caithness. It’s... It’s breathtaking, but not like this. There’s nothing tropical about it. Instead, you stare out and feel like you’ve reached the end of the world. Remote. Beautiful. Haunting. Eternity’s there, right at the edge of the water,” I whisper, sliding off of Minnie and settling her in the crook of my arm.

The day’s highs and constant movement have taken their toll. Minerva looks at me with heavy eyes and a sleepy, peaceful smile. “The end of the world?”

“Aye.”

“I want to be there with you. At eternity. At forever,” she mumbles, her eyes falling shut.

I wait for a bit, my heart singing. Soaring. Then, I shimmy out of bed and find my phone. After ten minutes of scrolling, I make a call. I know it’s the wee hours of the morning, but one good thing about the paranormal people of Pine Ridge is that we’ll always answer the phone for another member of our odd little community.

Jan Stilz, the jeweler in town, picks up on the fourth ring, his voice confused and sleepy. “Craig?”

“If I pay you a hundred bucks, would you meet me at Binghamton airport tomorrow?”

“What? Craig, take a taxi.”

“Nay, Jan, I need your help. You have a ring on your website called Eternal Love.”

His voice is instantly alert. “A single karat solitaire with white gold band, complete with matching eternity band with sapphires in a baguette setting.”

“I’ll pay sticker price, laddie, if you bring it to me, and pay extra as well.”

“But... What time?” he sighs.

“About an hour from when I text you tomorrow. Probably around 4 PM.”

“It’s a Saturday. That’s my busiest day.”

“But you’ve made a grand sale,” I hint, knowing full well he’ll say yes.

“You’re tying the knot?”

“That’s my hope. If your ring does the trick.”

Jan yawns and chuckles. “ You have to do the trick. My ring is just the prize.”

I look at the sleeping beauty sprawled on the bed. “ She’s the prize,” I whisper.

“Good answer. See you tomorrow.”