Charlotte and Sasha twin wolf's

The deep purr of the 2025 Shelby GT500 roared beneath me as I raced down the open stretch of American highway, red and black racing stripes gleaming under the blazing sun. I’d only just arrived in the States from England—figured a long solo holiday would do me good. Didn’t know the tinted windows were illegal here. Back home, I rolled around like this every day. But here… apparently not so casual.

The Mustang hissed to a stop at a red light—except I misread it.

I coasted through it like it was a UK roundabout.

Flashing blue and red lights filled my mirrors.

“…Bloody hell,” I muttered, heartbeat already picking up.

As I pulled over, engine still rumbling, my window slid down, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her approach. Her shadow hit the pavement before she did.

(Charlotte): “Step outta the car, now.”

She was tall—11 feet of jet-black fur, curvaceous, massive bust barely contained in her tight police vest, and thick thighs that filled her uniform to bursting. A Glock 17 strapped to her left thigh, her presence was instantly intimidating and… captivating. Her tail flicked with irritation as she leaned down.

(Charlotte): “License. Registration. And what the hell is that print in yo' pants? …Boy, you packin' or you just stupid?”

I swallowed hard. My 14-inch imprint left little to the imagination beneath my jeans.

“U-Uh… just from England, miss—ma’am. Didn’t know about the tint laws here.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

(Charlotte): “Don’t play dumb. You breezed through that light like you royalty. And this tint? Illegal as hell. You ridin’ around like a damn ghost.”

She clicked her comms and leaned against the hood.

(Charlotte): “Cherry to Dispatch, I got one grey wolf—real skinny, wearin’ sin in his pants—and I ain’t in the mood for international excuses. Requesting backup. Send Sasha.”

Twenty minutes passed.

I stayed standing outside the car, sweating under the sun, completely silent. Then I heard it.

The roar of a V8—then the thunder of a 6x6.

A custom Ford F-150 VelociRaptor rolled up like a tank. Black-and-blue with police decals. The doors swung open.

Out stepped Police Chief Sasha.

13 feet of black-furred muscle, with huge breasts that bounced slightly under her chief’s vest. Her abs? Sharp as glass. Her eyes? Cold and blue as ice. A Colt EPR rifle strapped across her back, a Glock 19 on her right thigh, and two pups peeking from the backseat—barely toddlers, but watching with wide eyes.

She slammed the door and marched over.

(Sasha): “Charlotte. This him?”

(Charlotte): “Yep. 5'11 gray wolf. Big dick energy. British mouth. Says he ain't know nothin'.”

(Sasha): Looks me up and down “Illegal windows. Red light. And this bulge? Unregistered weapon, boy.”

I winced, still silent. Her pups—Zack and Nipper—peeked out the window from the truck, whispering to each other.

(Zack): “Mama, is he the guy you gon’ taze?”

(Nipper): “He’s got a big thing in his pants! Bigger than daddy’s!”

Sasha flinched. Her jaw clenched. She turned around slowly. For a second, she didn’t say a word.

Then she walked over to the Mustang, looked in the window, then turned sharply and smacked me across the cheek.

(Sasha): “DON’T ever remind me of that bastard again.”

(Charlotte): “Girl… he didn’t even say a word.”

(Sasha): “Exactly. And that’s what he did too. Silent when I walked in, tongue deep in that other mutt.”

I blinked, reeling from the slap but staying upright.

(Sasha): “I left my badge at home. I walked in to grab it, and there he was—balls-deep in a corgi from my gym! My damn pups saw it. I swear if I had a taser that moment, I’d’ve—”

(Charlotte): “Girl. Focus.”

Sasha’s eyes locked on mine. She stepped in close.

(Sasha): “So, you’re from England, huh? Don’t know our laws. Don’t know we don’t let strange young wolves run ‘round with steel dickprints on full display.”

I couldn’t speak. She reached up and tapped her badge.

(Sasha): “Should I arrest you? Or should we share you, huh?”

I froze. My ears flattened.

(Charlotte): “Oooh. I like that idea. He don’t talk much. Just stands there lookin’ fine. You think he’s scared?”

(Sasha): “Better be. Or not. I like ‘em nervous.”

She pushed my shoulder hard, spinning me back toward my car and pinning me against the hood with her broad hand.

(Sasha): “You lucky we ain’t draggin’ your behind to mama’s mansion. But lemme tell you, boy—next time you break a law in my city, you ain’t leavin without feelin’ my taser bite.”

(Charlotte): “That or the bed springs, sis.”

Sasha turned back toward her truck, opening the door and scooping up her rifle. She slung it over her back and looked once more over her shoulder.

(Sasha): “You drive slow now. And roll them windows down. Don’t make me send Nipper with a taser.”

(Nipper): “Mama let me taze him! Let me taze him, pleaaase!”

(Zack): “He’d smell like crispy bacon!”

They both giggled. I nodded quickly, sliding back into the Mustang, windows down, hands gripping the wheel tightly.

(Charlotte): “Drive. And remember, boy…”

She bent slightly, whispering through my open window.

(Charlotte): “Next time we stop you? We ain’t lettin’ you go this easy. You feel me?”

I nodded again, heart pounding, trying hard not to make the imprint in my pants even more noticeable.

As I pulled away, Sasha and Charlotte stood shoulder-to-shoulder, arms crossed, watching me disappear.

(Sasha): “He fine. But next time? He mine.”