Mated To The Mountain Lion Read online

  Table of Contents

  Mated to the Mountain Lion

  Salem Shifters One

  Salem Shifters Two

  Salem Shifters Three

  Mated to the Mountain Lion

  Terra Wolf

  COPYRIGHT

  ©2018 Terra Wolf

  Mated to the Mountain Lion

  All Rights Reserved worldwide.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Some may be used for parody purposes. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  Parts of this book were originally published as Back In The Saddle by Ellie Wild

  Chapter 1: Dallas

  University of Oklahoma 2007

  My hands drifted along her waist even as her lips brushed against mine. She was magnetic, that Autumn of mine, and I felt my jeans tighten as my hands slowly drifted up her shirt. She pressed into me and bent her body backward, and I could feel her hard nipples underneath the cloth of her shirt while her lips trailed down my neck. We plummeted to her bed, nothing but limbs and fabrics flying in all sorts of directions, and I could smell the scent of lavender wafting through the air.

  She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and I couldn’t wait to feel her silkiness on my tongue.

  Her hips were thick with the strength of riding horses all her life. I moved my body quickly downward towards her panty line and tugged away at the fabric. I slung her legs over my shoulders while my tongue drew its memory along her swollen core, and she pulled on my hair, trying to bring me closer and closer to her body. She shook and writhed under my hands as they trapped her on the bed, and the strings of obscenities that fell from those innocent lips shocked even my ears.

  “Fuck, Dallas. Please. Please don’t fucking stop. I’ll do anything.”

  Her breathless cries spurred me on, and I realized I’d be anything she wanted me to be. I’d wake her up with rolling orgasms and pin her to the wall when she needed to be set straight. I’d take her up on every promise she made while chasing her orgasmic high, and I’d ride her bucking body all the way into the sunset if it meant I could feel her strong legs shaking uncontrollably along the stubble of my cheeks.

  Her breathless comments antagonized my throbbing cock, and when I finally felt her fall over the edge, with her hands clutching my hair and her legs shaking around my head, I reached down and pulled my cock free from my boxers. It ached against the cool sheets of the bed, thick with the desire to feel her. I reared back onto my heels and surveyed her trembling body before one word flew from my lips.

  “Anything?”

  Her half-hooded eyes connected with mine, not to mention the beast within me. I gasped for air while her body slowly spiraled her back to earth. Out of all the women I’d ever been with, she was the only one who threw her entire being into sex, and it was addicting how powerful she could make me feel. Her earth-shattering orgasms always left her weak and pliable in my hands. I knew exactly how I wanted her tonight.

  Exactly how I wanted her every night for the rest of my life.

  I laid myself down on her body and propped myself up on my hands, my thick shaft slowly rubbing up and down her swollen and sensitive folds before I slowly slid into her. She met my eyes while her body trembled in my wake, with her milky skin that held a burning passion between her legs, and the flush that spread over her chest when I bottomed out into her tight core complimented the raging blue of her eyes.

  I thrust into her slowly, watching the frustration cascade over her features with a grin on my face. She was mine. Autumn August was wholly and entirely mine, and I was never going to let her forget it. Our skin slapped together in the darkness of my dorm room, and my balls hit the crook of her ass when she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. I lifted myself up onto my knees and unhooked her legs before I tossed them over my shoulders. I could tell by the way her eyes widened that things were about to get interesting.

  I folded her in half and laid my body weight onto her hamstrings, trapping her underneath my body. I wanted her immobile, forced to take the pleasure I was drilling into her body while she raked her nails up and down my arms. Her dirty obscenities devolved into mindless drones while her jaw hung open, and I thrust my tongue between her sweet, pillowy lips and swallowed every single groan that wafted up from her stomach. I felt her fingernails raking down the muscles in my back, and my hips snapped against hers so hard the bed was knocking against the wall.

  She could draw any pattern she wanted with those nails, so long as it was my body she was drawing them on.

  “You’re mine,” I grunted. “And you’re beautiful.”

  “Fuck, Dallas. Oh… yes. Right there. Right there. Right-”

  My hips stuttered just as her walls gave way to my cock. They fluttered around my dick, milking my body for everything I could give her, and I filled her core with the essence of myself. I choked her name into the nighttime air while our cap and gowns fluttered from the air conditioning on the floor, and the only thing I could think was how I wanted to do this.

  This was how I wanted to end every day for the rest of my days… buried inside of Autumn as her body gave its control over to me.

  I could smell our scents entangling with one another while the sweat from our bodies dripped onto each other’s skin, and as she slid her legs from my shoulders, I watched her body shudder while I slowly pulled out from between her legs.

  My body felt naked when it wasn’t pressed against hers.

  I held her entire being close to me that night. We didn’t bother cleaning up or showering. We simply stared into each other’s eyes before I finally watched her fall asleep. We’d reached the end of the road called childhood and were about to venture out into the cold world of adulthood. I thought back to our graduation ceremony that morning and how proud I was when I heard them call her name.

  My Autumn was nestled safely in my arms, and she had graduated college when no one else thought she would.

  But when I woke up the following morning, it was to an empty bed; Autumn was nowhere to be found. No water was running, no breakfast was being begged for, and no lights were on in the dorm room. There wasn’t even a note scrawled out to give me any sort of inclination as to where she had run off to.

  And just like that, my Autumn was gone. No rhyme, no reason, no explanation, and no apology. She took what she wanted, she gave what she could, and she left before sunrise.

  And she dumped my heart at the entrance to my dorm room before she’d left.

  Chapter 2: Dallas

  I saw the angry bull off to my side as I stood on the railing of the cage. The barrel men were lined along the opposite wall, and I couldn’t help but feel a tremor begin in my legs. I took a few deeps breaths to slow my breathing, but I couldn’t help but get angry at the nerves I was feeling and the unbearable urge I was feeling to attack. I clenched my teeth, trying to ignore the ache in my jaws, my natural predator’s instinct trying to emerge.

  It had been a few years since I’d ridden a bull, but it was like riding a fucking bike; you just get back up there and do it. There ain’t no practicing or trial runs or nothing like that. You just hop up, jump on,
and feel the bull underneath your legs.

  See, that’s the thing about bull riding--everyone always thinks you gotta tame the bull and somehow control its rage. But you can’t control the rage of a bull any more than you can control the path of a tornado. It just takes off, and all you can do is protect yourself and move your body in contrary motion to how the bull is bucking. I picked my eyes up and looked around the stadium, realizing every single seat was full. Sure, I’d been advertised a bit around town with getting back into the swing of things, but I didn’t think this many people would show up just to watch the ride.

  It calmed my nerves a bit, seeing all them out there.

  I love performing for a crowd. Yeah, sure, I got myself my own ranch and all, but there ain’t nothing like riding for a crowd. Making people smile has always been a thing I’ve enjoyed, and if I can make them smile while doing something that makes me smile, then even better. I just had to be careful to maintain my control. The people may have wanted a good show, but I was pretty sure that show didn’t involve me shifting into my alternate form and scaring the shit out of both them and the bull; mountain lions weren’t supposed to be a part of the program.

  “Mr. Rawlings? Time to go.”

  One thing I’ve always prided myself on was that I never had a re-ride. Even if I knew something had gone wrong with the equipment, I always knew I could hang on. I never needed the barrel men to dig me outta trouble, and I always felt confident at the draws before the competition. Bull riding ain’t ever about the animal you get. It’s always about how you can cope with the situation handed to you for eight solid seconds.

  Don’t sound like much time, but when that rough stock drops for the first time and that bull takes off, it sure as hell begins to feel like a lot of time. Add in the constant struggle to stay in the right frame of mind, not to mention the battle to stay in human form, and those eight solid seconds quickly start to feel like nothing short of an eternity.

  Of course, the draw this time around for my homecoming ride was that they had given me the bull that had almost killed its last rider. When any rough stock ends up wounding or killing its rider, there’s usually some sort of investigation that happens to determine whether the animal should be retired or not. After this bull’s investigation, they decided that the rider didn’t do everything he could’ve to roll off the bull right, putting his body in the bull’s way.

  I had to keep that in mind when finally rolling off this bull after my ride because if I rolled off wrong and almost got hurt, my own natural predatory instinct would kick in, and the mountain lion inside of me might pop out. Then I’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. All my life, I’d known the normal world didn’t know about shifters. And the way humans could be so hateful and timid about things they didn’t understand was all the more reason that my identity as a shifter had to be kept secret.

  I took a deep breath and hopped onto the bull, immediately feeling his muscles starting to twitch beneath my legs. When I did not get off his back, he began flinging me around in the pin, and I had to adjust my body weight in order to not slide off. Bulls flinging like this usually frightens even the best of bull riders, but for me, it was just a little sneak peek into what was to come. Nothing more than a little practice run to test how the bull moved. I could tell a lot about a bull by its preliminary shakes in the cage, like where it liked to throw its weight, which hooves were more dominant, and whether the bulls liked to rear backward or forwards. It’s like a little cheat sheet for the next eight seconds.

  When my name was announced over the intercom, the crowd went wild and I wrung my hand in the rope before I set myself. My shoulders were back, my head was high, and I watched the assistant open the gate before the bull I was riding shot outta the cage like a piston in a car. He leapt forward, tossing me with him, and I shifted my weight just before he dodged to the right.

  I kept my breath even with his kicks, making sure never to try and take in a breath while he was rearing up on his haunches. When he dropped his front shoulders down to the ground, I flung my weight back as far as I could. The bull was volatile, I’d give him that. Most bulls I rode kept their weight centered while they jumped in the air and bent their backs out, but this bull was dropping every side of him into the ground to try to knock me off. I halfway considered whether it was because the bull sensed something about me…It was entirely plausible, even if I didn’t want to think about it. Animals can be far more intuitive than humans at times, and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time I suspected that a bull sensed my inner being as a shifter. I’d come from a rather long line of shifters, and the one thing we shared in common, generation after generation, was that we had an affinity towards animals. Some we loved, and some we hated. Some, we just felt compelled to overpower and exert control over, literally like cats playing with mice.

  Just as the bull was going completely out of control, I remained in control. I relinquish the muscle tension in my arms and legs in favor of contracting my core and making sure my torso stayed as stable as it could.

  With every breath I took, I counted the seconds up. My last ride had been just shy of eight seconds, and I was determined to go the full eight this time around. My tan rawhide hat went flying through the stadium. From the corner of my eye, I saw it hit the ground beside me.

  So did the bull.

  He sharply and abruptly turned his body, sending my entire ass sliding off to the right. I tugged at the rope as far as I could, but couldn’t get my body back up on the back of that thing. His hooves stomped my hat, I felt my chaps riding off to the side, and part of me began to panic because I just knew I was about to fall off. The clock was only at four seconds and I had to find a way to hang on for another four while the bull dropped and dodged, determined to get me off of him.

  But I wasn’t losing to him today.

  I closed my eyes and felt the bull’s muscles shift dominance underneath my legs. Once his hind legs made contact with the ground, I swung my torso back to the left, forcing the saddle to slide back into place. The crowd went wild before the bull lunged forward, resulting in my nose connecting with his back. My eyes momentarily teared from the pain ringing through my nose, and the crowd’s cheers were replaced with loud collective gasps. Still, I held on, my body feeling like it was being pulled apart join- by-joint. Catching a glimpse of the clock, I realized we’d just passed six seconds. Only two more to go and I would officially beat my own record.

  My hand was starting to swell and I was pretty sure I had dislocated one of my fingers, but my competitive streak was too strong to give up now. As my grip began to slip, I clenched my thighs around the bull’s strong back, although he didn’t like that one bit. He flung himself around in a circle, making my body lean off uncomfortably to the side again. And just when I thought my hand was going to give way and throw me to the mercy of the bull’s hooves, I heard that telltale air horn that every bull rider loves to hear.

  I’d made it the full eight seconds.

  I loosened my grip from the rope, and the bull felt me shift. The barrel men came running out to capture the bull’s attention, and with a swift kick of his back legs, I went flying through the air. I tucked my head and protected my neck, trying to get a good idea of where the ground was before I came down on it, and when I rolled my body away from the bull, I heard the stamping hooves of the pickup men.

  The crowd began to scream…

  I opened my eyes and saw the bull’s hooves hovering right above my face.

  I threw my body off to the right and rolled out from underneath him just as his legs came down where my neck would’ve been less than a second ago. Someone grabbed my arms and dragged me off to the side before I could scramble to my feet.

  Offended, that damn bull had come after me and almost crushed my skull. I knew as I stood up and looked him in his eyes that I would be the last person to ever rode him. If it wasn’t clear with the last rider that the bull had no intentions of hurting him, but it was certainly more than clear
now. Plus, one look in its eyes let me know that the grudge this bull held toward me was personal. He knew who I was, or what I was, rather.

  Being a shifter, I had learned long ago that my affinity for animals came with a cost. I had a natural predatory instinct inside of me that I had to keep under control at all times. Yet, even as I kept it under control, it was still there, and plenty of animals knew it. So, when faced with an animal that had predatory instincts of its own, sometimes trouble was bound to ensue.

  I could remember as a kid, meeting my friend’s dog one day. That dog was usually sweet to other people, but was known to be aggressive toward other animals. The second it saw me, it got to growling and snarling up a storm, its fur standing up along its back and everything. And my friend, who knew nothing about me being a shifter, hadn’t been able to figure out why.

  “That’s so strange. He only gets like that around cats mostly,” my friend had said.

  All the while, I had been standing there, hissing in my throat and trying my best to not claw at its nose every time it came to close to me.

  “You all right, Mr. Rawlings?” one of the barrel man yelled.

  As the crowd was roaring and chanting my name, I panned my gaze around before jogging out of the ring. My heart raced and my hand ached, but when I hopped the fence, I turned towards the countdown clock one last time before smiling and shaking my head.

  8.4 seconds.

  I’d stayed on that damned bull for 8.4 seconds.

  The barrel man brought me my crushed rawhide hat, and I hooked my legs into the large pen fence before I dusted it off. I put it back on my head, saluted the crowd, and hopped back down before starting towards the back of the stadium.

  All the while, the crowd continued chanting my name until I got back to my trailer.

  Chapter 3: Dallas

  “Congratulations, Dallas!”