by Celia Crown
Her closet fits her name; those red dresses are as short and thin as they can be without breaking the line of being cheap. My baby is expensive, beautiful, and priceless. No one can be compared to her, and no one will be able to step foot within our world without going through my corpse.
I hiss, stomach tightening as her little fingers wrap around the thick girth of my cock as she marvels at the size. Her amber eyes glow with want and sheer lust as her pink tongue flicks over the head.
The bead of cum drifts into her mouth, and she mewls. She is trying to kill me with those naïve and curious strokes, but I don’t dare to move an inch as I let her explore.
“So big,” she whispers, awe and amazement clouding her bright eyes.
My cock jumps at her compliment as she holds my cock up because it was too heavy that it was beginning to lay on my stomach. It’s obscene seeing her pure hands can’t wrap around my thickness, but I almost stopped breathing when her wet, hot, tight mouth takes me in her throat.
First time and I’m halfway down her throat. Pulling back, Scarletta makes a loud noise with no regard to the room that isn’t soundproof. Diving back down, her lips wrap tightly around my cock, slurping and stroking the base where she couldn’t take me in her throat.
I don’t usually cum this quick, and my hands have been a constant improvement, but it can’t beat the willing mouth of my Scarletta.
“Please let me go, Mr. Wolf,” she slurs, teary amber eyes water more as she pouts.
Her hands rub slick up and down on my shaft, as she cups my balls with her soft hand and bats her thick lashes at me. She could ask me to commit treason, and I would do it in a heartbeat.
“Baby—” I choke, hips bucking up as her finger teasingly taps the tip with drooling cum. “I—fuck, it’s dangerous.”
“But you’ll be with me,” she argues. “You can protect me. I know you can.”
I don’t reject that idea as my pride swells in my chest. Being a detective means I have to have the physicality to chase after suspects, and I’m strict with myself, so I never let my suspect get away unless it is beyond my control.
“You’re strong,” she purrs, kissing my cock with slick lips.
A squeeze to the shaft and a lick to my balls, she greedily sucks on the vein and trails up to wrap her lips around the tip with a hum. I ground my teeth, balls tight and stomach even tighter as the need to cum is just seconds away.
“You’re big.” She strokes my cock in emphasis. “No one can hurt me with you there.”
I pull her head up, her hair tangled between my fingers, and she moans at the pain. “Get your ass up here.”
She happily complies.
Chapter Nine
Scarletta
I rock my hips, chasing his tongue as he curls that muscle inside my pussy. The aching in my tummy wants to break, but it’s not enough to get to that point as I hold his cock to my mouth.
Mr. Wolf had me sit on his face, and it’s so embarrassing. I’m going to suffocate him, but he isn’t letting go of my thighs as my weight lies on his body.
He leaves me empty with a swirl of my clit in his mouth. “Didn’t you want to convince me, baby?”
My lashes flutter, my jaw aches from being stuffed with his big cock. I have never seen anything this big, and human anatomy can’t be used as an example when I have Mr. Wolf as a primary specimen.
My ministration halts for a moment when Mr. Wolf flicks my clit with a harsh finger, punishing me for my lack of enthusiasm. I can’t help the sparks behind my eyes and the scorching of my lungs.
He crooks his fingers, brushing against my tight walls and lips sucking on my clit. It’s unjust at how controlled he is when I’m drooling all over his cock, but I make it up with my inexperience.
Mr. Wolf seems to love that I know nothing about sex.
I swirl my tongue on the tip, sucking on the sensitive spot near a vein before swallowing him down my throat.
With the telltale sign of something massive coming, my toes curl and my hips push on his fingers. I teeter on the line of fracturing control and moan, sending vibrations down his cock and cupping his full balls in my small hand.
Fingers dig into my butt, yanking me down, and Mr. Wolf becomes a starving animal. My body stops fighting and enjoys the pleasure coursing through me as my orgasm knocks the remaining air from my lungs.
Thick cum shoots down my throat with strong pulses from his big cock, and it grows thicker at every pulse as I attempt to let the cum trail down my throat.
I want every drop even when my pussy is sore and aching from his rough tongue licking every inch of me to get my juices in his mouth. He pops out of my mouth, wet and trailing with creaminess coating his shaft where my mouth had been.
I shakily rub his shaft—still too big, too hard, and too hot. His taste remains on my tongue, and my mouth aches for more of him, and this is where the seed of addiction plants itself in my belly to want to be filled.
In my mouth, in my pussy. I just want him everywhere.
This is exactly what the religious nurse at the program had told everyone. Lust is a sin, and I’m going to Hell for this addiction, and I have no regrets for it.
Mr. Wolf pulls me off his lips with one innocent peck on my soaked folds, and the gesture is anything but innocent. My back is flush against his chest, the heat of his cock nuzzles between my butt when I shift.
He purrs in my ears, “There’s no going back, baby.”
Even in his state, with little control over his lust, he still worries about me more than about himself. I nod firmly; a slurred confirmation echoes from my lips, and he lifts me up with two big hands on my waist.
The sheer strength makes me shudder, the tip parts my slit, and taps against the small hole. A quiver sneaks down my spine, snatching my walls around the tip. I tremble, searching for his wrist for purchase as gravity lowers me on the widest part of him.
It hurts; that is not something I should be surprised at because I’m a virgin, and his cock is marvelously big with veins tugging on my soft walls. My stomach churns, burning with a wheeze fumbling out of my throat.
“You’re doing so well, baby. So good for me,” he replies with a voice deep and calculated.
“A little more.” A brutally harsh, unforgiving command.
I want to make him cum, so I lower my hips more with the help of his hands, but the tip of his cock nudges something inside of me that makes me bounce up from his cock. The soreness returns ten-times worse even though I’m not stretched to the limits, but I had only taken half of him.
Mr. Wolf is anything but a coward. He pinches my side with his fingers and yanks me down on his cock, completely and savagely splitting my small hole open as my walls coil around the intruding girth.
“There we go,” he purrs, his tone too sadistically dark and venturing on the line of dubious.
A galaxy explodes behind my closed eyes, etching on the blackness when I open them to struggle. It hurts more than I expected, and I never thought Mr. Wolf would cause me pain even if it’s not emotionally.
He said he would never hurt me, and he’s becoming a liar again.
“Hush, baby. I’m doing this for you.” He kisses my neck, murmuring against the erratic pulse with his arms lock me in his lap.
“You’re doing this for you,” I correct, hiccupping in the subsiding pain.
My lips turn into a pout; I am unable to look at him as he chuckles. I can hold onto this grudge for a bit longer and make him work for my forgiveness, but my plan is inevitably a failure as he rubs gentle circles on my hard clit.
“Still mad?” he asks.
I blush in shame as my pussy gushes with juices soaking his cock; the mortification of my cum running down his balls causes him to chuckle once more.
I can’t believe I can cum with mere whirls of my clit. Being split open by his thickness and tightening around his cock with cum drenching between us, I moan noisily and tremble in his arms.
“Short pain is better than
long-term pain.” That life lesson is not the right thing to say right now, but I have no words to tell him to be quiet.
“Mr. Wolf,” I beg, rolling my hips to his wet fingers.
He slowly thrust in response, finding a smooth pace to draw out my orgasm with such merciless pleasure. Holding my thighs open with one hand and his muscular thighs, his hips pummel up to fill my twitching hole with more blinding pleasure.
“Touch yourself, baby. I want to feel your little cunt cum on my big cock.”
My cheeks burn at his vulgar words, but my body is at his mercy. His words are everything, and I never want to go against him, especially not now.
I reach down with one uncertain hand, finding my clit to be too sensitive and difficult to touch. Nonetheless, mine are softer and less aggressive than his, so it took less time for me to get used to it. That also means that I can only cum with his fingers.
He knows this, and he’s making sure that I know that I’m his in every way possible. Without his permission, I cannot accomplish anything, and I cannot access my freedom. It’s a cruel fact that only becomes visible now, but no one had pointed out that this type of manipulation through time is what many people call grooming.
I’m fine with it. Mr. Wolf has my heart from the beginning, so it only makes sense for him to have my mind and my body to complete the set.
“I love you, Mr. Wolf.” My head falls on his shoulder, my breasts bouncing vigorously to match up with his hammering thrusts.
The filthy squelches and the choked moans are nothing compared to that erotic grunting from him, and it’s shiver-inducing to feel the sound travel from my perky nipples to my obscenely pink pussy.
My fingers stroke firmer and pinch my clit, but one small mistake of scraping my nails on that bundle of nerves trip me down the slope of the orgasm that I didn’t know was there.
“I know you do,” he breathes. “I love you too, baby, but don’t think I will let you get away with anything.”
He snatches my fingers away, replacing them with his own and rolling my clit harshly as his cock thickens. It tugs my walls further than comfortable, but the pain hurts so well that I cum again.
The room sways, fading out from the corner of my eyes as thick spurts of cum spray in my pussy. The disgustingly filthy squelches pour down from my gaping hole when he lifts me up, but he makes an annoyed grunt.
“Not acceptable,” he hisses under his breath, splitting my sore hole with his still hard cock.
More cum fills my cunt, and with every jerk of his hips, it drags my orgasm too slowly. This torturous feeling never dies down until his hot palm rubs my tummy.
I fall on the bed, rolling over and wincing at the emptiness of being left without his girth. Mr. Wolf sits on the bed, watching me with keen eyes as his cock bounces wetly. Our cum mixes together, smearing messily on his shaft with the glistening slick coating every inch of him.
How in the world did he fit himself inside me? My fingers sneakily crawl to his, linking our fingers tighter with a smile on my lips.
I should be embarrassed to be naked in front of him with creamy cum leaking between my legs, but I couldn’t care less about it. I’m satisfied and content when he leans down to kiss my forehead. The affectionate action warms my heart and lures me to sleep.
Too bad that’s interrupted by a phone call. It’s not my ringtone, so it has to be Mr. Wolf’s. He signs aggressively with a glare, impatience wringing from his face as I giggle.
“Hurry back,” I whisper against his lips.
He slants his mouth over mine, curling his tongue with mine. “Get some rest, baby.”
His godly sculpted body stands naked with no regard to self-consciousness, and I don’t think he knows what that is since he is so handsome that one look would get me swooning. He stalks out the bedroom, and his tight ass catches my eyes, and I have to shamelessly stare at it.
He’s mine, so I have the right to look at places that are only for my eyes.
Not five minutes pass, and he’s back with a scowl on his face. I catch the clothes he throws at me while he quickly dresses, but my brain is slower than normal as I try to figure out what’s making him hurriedly change.
“Berkshire Senior is too sick, and he needs to see you right now.”
I frown, incredulous at first. He was fine by the tone of his lawyer from earlier, but I guess whatever illness Mr. Berkshire has is cutting short of his ability to live more days.
Throwing on my clothes, I ignore the stickiness between my legs as I wiggle on a pair of sweatpants. It’s not mine from the wide waistline as I tie the strings, but the sweater is mine since it’s redder than the flag of Japan.
Mr. Wolf wouldn’t be caught dead in red. That color is too bright, and it makes him more of a target than he already is with his detective career.
He takes my hand, pulling me off the bed, and our feet barely have our shoes on before we’re making our way to the car.
The sky is darkening, signaling the end of the day. I didn’t realize that our scandalous activities have taken that much time.
“Seatbelt,” Mr. Wolf reminds kindly as he notices me spacing out.
I do as he says, and we’re speeding off the street after he had taken out a removable siren to stick it on top of his car.
This whole experience is a bit weird; Uncle Cal did that twice when I was in the car with him, and I never thought I would be in the car with criminals being taken to the police station when both times were supposed to be simple trips to the research facility.
“Who was that on the phone?” I ask, filling in the silence of the car as the day becomes darker.
The Berkshire mansion is out of the city, and it’s going to take some time to get there, but it’s rare for me to see Mr. Wolf going anywhere without contacting Uncle Cal. They’re partners, and they are each other’s backup.
“Berkshire’s lawyer. And I called Cal for backup. He’s coming with us. I don’t trust that family.”
I see. I shouldn’t ever doubt him. He would never be like those characters in crime shows who do things by themselves despite having good reinforcement just one phone call away.
Whether it’s luck or not, our trip didn’t have one red light. A yellow warning here and there, but we never experienced a red one, so my suspicion rises. Would this be a scenario where someone had hacked the traffic control?
Audacious and very questionable.
I don’t know how Uncle Cal had got there first, but his car meets ours when we entered the gate of the massive mansion. He’s standing outside waiting for us, and the cold air brushes my neck, and I shudder at the coldness.
“Took you guys long enough,” he grunts.
I memorize the whole trip from our car to the inner structure of the mansion. The style is old, a hint of Victorian-era mixing in a flare for dramatic effects. At first glance, it’s an old castle, but I feel as if Dracula resides in this place rather than a generational home for the Berkshire family.
The butler guides us to the bedroom of Berkshire Senior, who is bedridden with his lawyers at his side, but there is no sign of the younger Berkshire. A nurse and a doctor are checking his vitals on the machine while he has a tube for breathing in his nose.
“Mr. Berkshire, they are here.” One of the lawyers bends down, and the man’s eyes peel open.
“I-I don’t have time anymore,” he begins, getting straight to the point with no pleasantry. That’s exactly what I want; this place gives me the creeps, and I can’t shake the feeling that someone is crawling in the walls.
Watching too many movies will do that to someone.
The doctor passes me a list of symptoms and the name of the illness that they had concluded. The name is familiar, and I remember I had done research on that when I was given a project to prove myself during the time at the program for gifted children.
“You…” I murmur with curious eyes when I scan the list of symptoms that are consistent with what I have been seeing on the young Berkshire.
<
br /> I look up, seeing him trying to move his left eye because it’s dropping too low to have any vision in it. “You can’t see through your left eye.”
It’s a bold guess, but he only smiles. “Yes. I can’t; it has been years too.”
“My son is not a bad child,” he says with a sigh, eyes casting up to the ceiling. “He cannot control himself. It’s the disease’s fault; it made him unable to control his anger.”
His lawyer’s voice sharply cuts in. “For the record, my client is not admitting his son’s wrongdoing, nor will any of this be applicable in court. He will not be held responsible for anything.”
I ignore the man in the suit and scan the man’s prone state. “You speak from experience.”
“Yes,” he admits coolly. “Braxton is a mirror reflection of my younger self, and I wish to change that.”
His eyes drift to the two men behind me. “I understand if you do not wish to help my son and I support the justice system, for it will punish those who are guilty, but I am asking you to save my son’s life.”
Uncle Cal and Mr. Wolf are sympathetic people, but I’m not going to wager on how far their kindness goes when it comes to someone like Braxton Berkshire.
“Ms. Addison’s family should never have to go through the trial, and I truly wish they do not have to revisit the pain that he had caused.” Berkshire Senior knows the criminal system well to know that if he doesn’t say his son’s name, then the police can’t use his words in court without cooperating evidence.
“Fighting crime is their job, prosecuting is the lawyer’s, but my job is to research within the realm of my Hippocratic Oath.”
The old man smiles, but he’s smiling too early as Uncle Cal clears his throat. Mr. Wolf’s hand snaps around my wrist, but I am not done with this family as they have caused more harm than good as they claim they have done.
“I will not go out of my way to save your son, and I can ignore that oath within the best of my ability without breaking it.”
Berkshire’s face is not old, but when he frowns, it’s filled with wrinkles. This is one of the symptoms of that disease, and it further solidifies the best guest of the disease that the doctor had come to the conclusion of.
