Red & Wolfe Part 4: An Erotic Fairy Tale (8 page)

 “Do you want to be used? Do you want to be treated like a fuck doll? It was fun and games before, but games are over, Red. If you stay with me, I’ll fuck you hard and mean. I’ll make you regret it.”

She takes a few shallow breaths, and I can see her thinking. Finally becoming afraid of me, or feeling tempted to make another dangerous decision—one like her ill-fated ocean swim?

She looks at the door. At my phone, shattered on the hardwood. And then she looks at me.

*

RED

I stand there with my arm wrapped around my waist, waiting to feel trepidation. Waiting to feel the urge to run. I feel neither. I look back up at him, consumed by that same feeling from the rocks yesterday. Right before I slipped into the water. Only this time, it’s stronger. This time, I’m diving in.

“I want you, Race. I have no idea why. Maybe I’m crazy. But when I think of leaving right now, I feel like I’d never stop looking back. So you want to fuck me?” I step toward the bedroom and curl my finger at him. “Come fuck me.”

For a bare second, his mouth softens, and my heart lifts. Then his lips flatten, and he closes the distance between us. He yanks the towel off me and shoves me against the side of the bed. He’s already hard—pressing against me as he takes my face in both his hands and fits his hot mouth over mine.

“Red,” he breathes. “What’s wrong with you?”

I bite him, and he growls, and then it’s tongues dancing. Stroking. Teeth and tongues and hands and his arms under my ass, his arms around my back. He’s got me on the bed, my legs spread wide. He drapes his body in between them and kisses up my belly, to my breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my neck. His fingers spread my pussy open, plunge inside.

“For what?” I breathe.

He’s straddling my legs now, moving gently over me. He wrenches his lips off my throat and looks into my eyes. “Do you want to stop?”

His thumb rubs over my clit, while two of his fingers scissor inside of me. I clench around them.

“No,” I gasp. “Don’t stop!”

He drops his head back down, tracing his tongue down my throat, along my collar bone, and down to my breasts, where he sucks hard and rhythmic as his fingers plunge still deeper.

“Oh yes! Yes!”

“Fuck doll wants to be filled up?”

I bite my lip and nod. I clench around his fingers.

He grins at me as he takes himself in hand and presses his head against my entrance. His cock pushes into me and I grunt, spreading my legs wider for him. I grab at his hips—the skin so creamy smooth—and he pinches my nipple.

“Tell me you like it, Red.”

I moan.

He rocks his hips back, pulling out so only the big, round head of him fills me, putting pressure at my entrance. Then he plunges in with vengeance.

“Oh!”

“My fuck doll.”

He draws slowly out again, and I moan.

Another sweet punch and he’s buried to the hilt. “Feel me inside you. You’re mine, baby.”

In and then out, slam in, inch out. And as he inches out, I lift my hips to him. My cunt is desperate for him. I want nothing more than to be filled so deep I can’t walk for a week.

I lift my hips like an obedient fuck doll, and he reads my mind. He licks his finger, then spreads my cheeks apart and teases my back entrance with my slickness. He pushes his way in, and I quiver around him. He starts stroking, gliding in and out. I’m groaning loudly.

Two fingers of his left hand tug and twist my nipples.

“Race! Oh Race!”

“Come for me. Now.” He pushes every inch of his cock into me. Then he grabs my elbows. Using the leverage of my body, he jerks himself out, then punches in.

I gasp, then groan, then shout my orgasm. I’m creaming all over him, wrapping one leg around his hip.

“Never…stop,” I murmur, only half coherent.

He answers with a quick twist of the finger in my ass.

He angles his body so he’s leaning down close to me. His hips work just as fast as before, maybe faster, pounding the breath out of me.

He stretches my ass, and a second finger slides inside.

I can feel every line of his cock inside my pussy—the plump head, the long, thick shaft. I can feel his big balls slapping my taint, and I yearn to suck them into my mouth.

“You’re going to come again now,” he commands.

I’m so slick; he’s thrusting fast, fast, fast.

His mouth on my breast, fingers in my ass, cock in my pussy. This is everything I need. Everything my life lacked before meeting him. For the first time in years, I feel as if I’m actually alive. And I’ll do anything to keep this.

As I come again, my eyes pop open—just in time to see his face go slack. He jerks out in one smooth movement and spews all over my belly.

CHAPTER NINE

RED

He returns a few minutes later with the first aid kit and a towel.

He scoops me up, tosses the towel out atop the sheets, and lays me gently down on it. He surprises me by wiping between my legs with a warm cloth.

“Thank you,” I murmur. I look up at his face, hoping to get some idea of where we stand.

He opens the kit and gets some gauze out, then some antibiotic ointment. His cock is still half-hard, and it gets all the way there again as he tends to my leg. I try to catch his eye, but he’s intentionally avoiding me.

I want to say something. Point out how that wasn’t the mean fuck he promised. Why not? And why are his hands so gentle now? I shut my eyes.

I try to keep quiet, but every time his hands brush my skin, I grow more and more aroused, until I’m hot and wet between my legs. The thought of leaving after this—of never fucking him again—makes me feel desperate.

I open my eyes and look at the top of his dark head. He’s bandaged the wound on my thigh and is wrapping one on my shin. Even as I stir, deliberately trying to draw his attention, he keeps his eyes on my leg.

“I’m still not leaving,” I say. “Not like this.”

His eyes flick up to mine, but they’re distant. Unfocused. His voice is low as he ties the gauze off. “Don’t worry, Red. You’ll get all the money I promised you and more.”

“No.” I lean up and grab his shoulder. “Look at me! I want to know why this happened. What kind of trouble are you in?”

He’s off the bed, pacing the small space between the bed and wall. Sunlight coming through the glass ceiling glints off his dark hair, then almost immediately is replaced by flickering shadows. I glance up. Dark clouds have blotted out the sun. “You’re leaving. It’s not up for debate.”

“You can’t make me go. It’s still my island.”

He steps over to the bed, looking infuriated. “I’m doing you a favor, Red. Protecting you.”

“You were hiding, weren’t you? I told Katie you were you. I let the secret out about where you live. So it’s my fault this happened.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

He stares at the wall in front of him, the wall where the back door is. The door that horrible man carried me through.

“Did you kill that guy?” I ask slowly. “The one in the tree house.”

He locks his jaw, and he must think he owes me an answer on this, because he looks down at me. “I don’t know. He wasn’t dead when he left. He deserved to be.”

I manage to hold his gaze for just a moment. Long enough to see it freaks him out. He doesn’t want to look me in the eye. Because he knows he’s being an asshole and he feels guilty?

He takes two steps to a wooden chair beside his desk, grabs a pair of jeans hanging over the chair’s back, and punches his legs into them. As he moves, I notice his left hand. He isn’t bending several of the fingers as he pulls his jeans on. I squint, and my tired eyes notice how red it is. Dark red and very swollen.

“What happened to your hand?”

He moves it out of my sight. “Just a burn.”

I slide out of the bed and step over to him. “Can I see?” 

He steps away, almost a hop really, since he’s still trying to fasten his jeans. He looks over his shoulder. “Get your things together. I’m taking you back to the harbor. Now.”

I open my mouth, because I’m going to protest, but he cuts me off. “I don’t want you here. I love your sexy little body but I don’t want
you
. The way you’re looking at me, Red? It’s sad.”

My stomach twists. “I don’t believe you.” But I’m whispering. Because really—I don’t know. Carl left me for a guy. I can’t hold a job. The few friends I have will probably move on with their lives, and on the family front—I’ve got nothing. “You do want me.” I say it because it’s the only hope I’ve got.

He shakes his head, standing straight now that he’s got his jeans on. “You don’t believe me? Try me.”

I step to him, barely breathing as I reach for his chest. There’s a moment where I wonder what I’ll do if he doesn’t respond to my touch, where some cold, executive function questions how the weak, emotional part of me will handle it if I can’t even appeal to this man’s ever-hungry cock. Too late to generate any useful predictions, though. I’m already in motion.

I tickle my fingers down his happy trail, and then run one finger up his belly. It’s warm and tight—the muscles deliciously firm and well-defined. I look into his face. It’s hard—so very hard—but I breathe deeply and keep up my onslaught, dragging my finger over his pec, where I skate my fingertip around his small, pert nipple.

I pinch it just a little, and I press my naked body closer to his. When I feel his powerful thighs, but nothing else, I look back down between his legs.

Nothing.

No bulge.

Jesus
, how embarrassing is that? I drop my hand and dash around him, headed toward the door. I wish I could call a boat taxi! I can’t stand to look at him again. And so, of course, my gaze is pulled to him.

I look back at the awful man who’s somehow worked his talons into my heart.

And that’s when I see: Behind his back, he’s got his hands in fists. The fingers of his left hand, so burned and chapped and swollen, are pressed tightly together.

CHAPTER TEN                                                 

RED

The second my gaze hits his hands, he unclenches them, but it’s too late.

I stalk back over to him, right into the line of his cold gaze. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you. You’re a coward!”

I look down to find he’s already getting hard. Of course he is! I strike a pose I know will emphasize my breasts and point to the bed.

“Lie down and let me do the touching this time. If you don’t want me, that should be no problem for you.”

His brows draw tightly together, and he blinks at me as if he’s coming out of a daze. A sex daze. Because he wants me. Of course he fucking wants me!