Stolen Hood

by The Grim Sisters

  “If you don’t, everyone will wake up to the news of who the Red Robin really is,” he states with an indifferent tone, like he’s talking about the weather and didn’t just threaten to reveal my deepest, darkest secret.

  Everything inside of me freezes as I try to keep all of my emotions locked away. Not only will that put my family, and John, at risk. Well, more than they already were considering where my fucking brother is, but it’ll take away the singular thing that gives me pleasure. Besides John’s dick, of course. Not to mention all the danger I’ll be in. I’m no Martha Stewart. I stole shit from some powerful fucking people.

  When I finally find my voice I ask, “why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why am I going with?”

  He chuckles softly, not bothering to answer. I’m already caught in his trap. A bird locked in a gilded cage. “I’ll be there to pick you up at 5. Until then Red.”

  The fucker hangs up.

  A sound has me turning to find a sexy, shirtless John, offering me a sleepy smile.

  “Who was that?” He asks, eyeing my body like he’s ready for another round. Fuck knows I am. It’ll take the edge off for what I tell him.

  Ah. Fuck. This is going to be all types of bad.

  “Richard,” I state, knowing he knows exactly the man I’m referring to, “is blackmailing me to go to a charity gala tonight, or else he’ll expose me as the Red Robin.”

  I wasn’t exactly positive what reaction I expected out of John. I think I saw a brief bit of shock at my honesty, followed by a darkness that slithers behind his eyes as his jaw clenches. He let out a low sound before his arms circles around me. When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous, “how does he know who you are?”

  I could hear the tinge of annoyance under his words as I pull back and meet his gaze head on. “We ran into one another while doing a job.”

  “That asshole told me he didn’t know who the Red Robin was last time I was in contact with him.” His jaw clenches as I try to figure out a way to de-escalate this. Mr. Caveman doesn't exactly have the best temper. I nearly roll my eyes at myself as I press a hand to his face.

  “It’s just business,” I respond drly. “I can’t imagine what he wants will be all that fascinating.”

  Unless he wants sex. That’ll be fascinating and hot. My mouth twists slightly in thought. I’m really bad at this relationship shit. I need to have a serious talk with John at some point because my feelings for Archie aren’t going anywhere, and that’s not including the sick sexual attraction I feel towards Mr. Richy Rich.

  “Do you want me to wait up?” He asks quietly.

  I inhale before ripping the bandaid off and blurt, “I’m staying at the Four Seasons tonight.”

  A barely contained growl rips from his throat as he mutters a curse after looking over my expression. I think I expected him to do a lot of different things, but in true caveman fashion, he tosses me over his shoulder and I realize very quickly, apparently, it’s off to bed we go. I mean, if he really wants to make a point, I’m cool with that. Especially if that point is made with his dick.

  Chapter Eight

  Robyn

  John spends most of the day making his point. I can’t say I’m complaining, but now I only have a little over an hour to pack and get ready for tonight. Lucky for me, I have a closet filled with couture gowns just for occasions like the gala. I received an invitation for it months ago, I just wasn’t planning on attending. Who could predict I’d be fucking blackmailed to go? I knew Richard’s silence was eventually going to come to an end. I’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop. I just didn’t think I would be the bug under it when it did. It’s necessary to regroup. I’m smarter than this. If he thinks for even one second he has me, he’ll pounce on that vulnerability. Rich is the fucking devil; beautiful and charming until he cons you out of your soul, and you’re his to do with as he see fit. He has a darkness in him that can’t be explained. A darkness I crave. How fucking twisted is that? The more I think about him, the more I’m not exactly pissed that he blackmailed me. After all, how terrible would it really be to hand your soul over to someone that fucking sexy?

  As I look through the rows of gowns hanging in my closet, a dark green floor length gown catches my eye. It’s sleeveless with a lace top that dips in a plunging V all the way to my navel where it flairs out in a silky material to the floor. It’s elegant and absolutely perfect. Plus, the girls will look real good in this dress with some expertly applied sticky tape. Lucky for me, I have some in my vanity drawer.

  I take my time showering and moisturizing my body. Wrapped in my silk robe, I blow dry my hair and go through the tedious job of curling it, and then shake it out before pinning the sides up with the two diamond combs Archie gave me for my birthday last year. He also gave me a ten carat square shaped emerald ring that I slip onto my finger. I don’t know why, but I want to wear something that reminds me of him tonight. I kind of feel bad because I left him hanging in the car, and then fucked John not even an hour later. I shouldn’t even feel bad. It’s not like Archie and I are together, but I have a feeling we could be. Easily. It’ll be like falling into the most natural pattern in the world. Fuck. See? Emotions make everything so God damn complicated. John and I really need to have that talk, so I can figure out what all us entails.

  The dress fits me like a glove, and I was right, the girls do look good. I don’t even mind the amount of cleavage I’m showing or loathe the sprinkle of freckles all over my chest, which are now in plain sight. Looking down the row of shoes in my custom walk-in closet, I grab a pair of dark green satin Manolo Blahnik with a crystal pendent on the front. Lastly, I have just enough time left to apply my makeup. Standing in front of my full length mirror, I have to admit that I look hot. Like a holiday Barbie or some shit around those lines. Grabbing one of my designer luggage bags, I throw in a random outfit. As soon as the sun rises, I’m out of there, no matter what the devil wants.

  At exactly 5 pm on the dot, the doorbell rings. I have to give Rich credit. He may be an asshole, but he’s a punctual asshole. Taking my sweet time, I go downstairs and when I open the door, my jaw drops. Maybe I should have taken longer so I could prepare myself for the force that is Richard York. The term tall, dark, and handsome had to be coined after him. Merely looking at him, takes your breath away. His dark locks which are the color of oil are styled to perfection in that fresh ‘just ran your hands through’ look that looks so hot on guys, his silver-grey eyes are so fucking unique, they could never be duplicated in their brillance, like God himself crafted them just for him. His skin is gorgeous. A rich olive tone that’s blemish free. His strong Roman nose goes perfectly with his plump full lips, and chiseled jaw. He’s a fucking work of art whose beauty will never fade, but it’s not just his face. It’s the overall package as well. I’ve never seen what’s under his expensive Armani suit, but I’m sure it’s just as lickable as his face.

  “Does it usually take you this long to answer your door?” He drawls in his trademark sexy voice.

  “I’m sorry Richie Rich, we’re down a butler,” I snark.

  The tic in his jaw is the only tell he gives over his displeasure at the nickname I gave him a long time ago.

  “Are you ready?” He asks, cocking a brow.

  Resigned to my fate, I grab my coat and bag, and like a proper gentleman, he helps me into the warm material and takes my bag from me. Once I lock the door, he hooks his arm through mine, leading me to his black Aston Martin. I’m not a car person, but I know this one is expensive as fuck, but that’s to be expected from a family like the Yorks. Again proving he has manners, he opens the door for me, and I slide in elegantly enough that if mean ass Ms. Ashdown were around, she would totally give me an A. Shutting my door for me, he strides around to the driver side like he owns this street. When he drives off, I avoid looking at him. I don’t know when he’s going to bring up the Red Robin issue or what he thinks this night will entail. What if he says I have to fuck him
? Will I? I would like to say I wouldn’t, thinking about how John, or even Archie, would feel, but I really don’t know. My mind says one thing, but my pussy, still sore from John’s delicious treatment, says another.

  “You look beautiful by the way,” he says suddenly, breaking me out of my inner musings. I can feel his eyes trailing over my exposed clevage and I may have purposely open my coat wider to give him a better view. What? I have always been very open with how fuckable I thought the man was. A sociopathic fuckable devil.

  “Thanks,” I reply dryly. No need to let on that I’m very happy he finds me beautiful.

  He maneuvers us easily through traffic, and soon he’s pulling up to the front of The Four Season where a valet waits to park his car. Once I step out, he’s already standing there, ready with his hand held out for me to take it. The paparazzi is standing off to the side and they go crazy upon our arrival, snapping pictures of us and calling out our names like we’re celebrities, and not some spoiled rich kids born into the right family. I was intent on ignoring them, but sadly, Richard had other ideas, and has us pose for a couple of photos before going in. No doubt these pictures will be splashed all over the post in the morning. I’m willing to bet my cup of morning coffee that we’ll definitely make page 6 and the bastard knows it. If the Yorks are good at one thing, it’s making a Goddamn point, and this? Well, this is essentially announcing the two of us go hand in hand. Literally in this case. Signed agreements between our parents say I’m his. An engagement was made when we were only ten fucking years old. One of the many reasons why I hate the devil, so I can’t help but to wonder, what he is playing at?

  Have I mentioned how much I hate events like this? I actually enjoy donating, but do we really have to go through the whole dog and pony show? Most of the people here don’t give two shits about the cause that’s being supported. This is just their way of being seen, socializing in the right circles. For the rest of the night, we schmooze with politicians and other rich folks like ourselves. When Rich gets caught up in a conversation over business with a friend of his fathers, I sneak off to check out the items for bid in the silent auction. It’s mostly trips and expensive jewelry, but when my eyes runs across an intricately carved bow with a quiver of arrows dating back to my many great grandfathers’ era, I knew it was kismet, and I have to have it.

  “See something you like, Red?”

  My gaze slowly turns to his. He’s standing there, stealing all the presence in the room and he’s looking at me like he really is the big bad wolf, and more than anything, he wants to eat me right here and now.

  Snapping out of his thrall, I pick up one of the ballets and jot a number down. I’m sure I bid too high. No one here will want an old bow and arrow set but me. Ignoring him, I trail down the tables to a less crowded section, showcasing the items that even the richest of bastards here, excluding Richard and myself, couldn’t afford. My eyes trail across priceless artifact after artifact before landing on one that catches my eye. I look down at a ring strung through a rose gold chain as Rich moves close behind me, pressing up against my back, slowly lighting a raging fire in me. The smell of his expensive cologne is intoxicating, and I inhale deeply. Now this? This is dangerous. I probably should have stayed closer to the watchful eyes of the nosy superficial socialites, at least I could trust my control better than being semi-alone with the devil.

  “You, Red, are more precious than any jewel in this room,” he whispers in my ear. His warm breath sends shivers across my skin, causing goosebumps to form a blazing trail lit from his flame to my center.

  “Charming words. I can see why you have such an extensive list of lady friends,” I snark once I’m able to speak. I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen him linked to many beautiful women foolish enough to think they can tie him down. The trail of broken hearts he’s left behind are enough to pave a highway. His highway to hell.

  “Actually, you’re the first. The only jewel rare enough to catch my eye. One that’s priceless and whose value will never be learned because there isn’t a scale worthy enough to base it on,” he murmurs against my skin as he leaves tiny kisses along the shell of my ear. His hands lowers, pressed against me like he’s molding clay, and they travel from my collar bone slowly downward. The tips of his fingers lightly brush my breast, just barely touching the exposed skin, teasing me. His lips move to my neck, and with the combined sensations from his hands, I’m barely holding on to my sanity.

  “I know you want me, so why do you continue to play games, Red?”

  Good question. Why am I playing? Oh that’s right. I don’t want to be another notch on a bed frame that has no room to carve it. “I don’t.” A God damn lie if I’ve ever heard one.

  “Liar,” he whispers, lifting his lips long enough to speak the words. His hands are gripping my hips and something very hard and rather large is grinding into my backside. Of course, he’s gorgeous and has a big dick. “I bet if I were to touch you right now you’d be soaked.”

  “Sadly, you’d be disappointed,” I get out in a husky voice. He’s rubbing tiny circles on my hips that are within his firm grasp, while I fight like hell to hold in my moans. I’m shocked I’ve lasted this long.

  When he nips the sensitive skin of my neck I’m gone, and all the fight in me leaves. He senses my surrender and gathers my heavy skirts into those magical hands of his as they trail up the bare skin of my thighs. With his destination already plotted, he rips one side of my lace panties, causing me to let out a small sound, before he rips the other side and lets them flutter to the floor. His fingers move to my clit, and as soon as they slide against my slick center, he moves closer and whispers in my ear “liar.”

  Fucking Richard York has the Midas touch of orgasms. That’s the only plausible conclusion I can make when his nimble fingers play me like a well tuned instrument and has me cumming in the most soul wrenching orgasm known to man all over his hand. I never knew I could cum that fast, but with his lips on my skin and his hands moving with the perfect pressure? You better fucking believe I came right there on his hand. When he moves his hand out of me, he brings it to his face and licks it clean before giving me a wicked grin.

  “So fucking sweet,” he murmurs after a sound emanates from his throat. Bending over, he picks up my discarded panties and pockets them in his slacks.

  When he leaves the room, I’m still standing there dumbfounded, wondering what the hell just happened. Once I get my breathing under control, I look down at the glass case and study the the ring and chain I barely glanced at. The ring is made from pure gold, carved like a crown with tiny rubies circling the band. It’s old, probably from the same era as the bow set I previously admired, but what catches my eye is the tiny bird in flight carved in the gold in the front. The words ‘I love thee ’ is inscribed on the inside of the band, and I’m curious where they found such a treasure? I go to reach for a ballet, but there isn’t any.

  “Excuse me,” I say once I flag someone who can help me down. “The ring and the rose gold chain, I would like to bid on it, but there aren’t any ballets left.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry Miss. That particular item has already been bought.”

  “What? By who?” I question, raising my brow.

  “Sorry, the buyer would like to remain anonymous,” she retorts before walking back to the display room.

  Well, that blows. Like the bow set, I feel like that ring belongs to me. Richard finds me shortly after and I avoid eye contact, still shocked I let him fingerbang me at a public event. When the winners of the auction are named, I’m disappointed to learn I lost the bid for the bow and arrow set to another anonymous buyer. My mood has plummeted greatly and I want nothing more than to go home, but I can’t because I’m being held prisoner for the night.

  “Are you ready to go?” He asks.

  “Home? Yes, I’m ready to go home,” I reply.

  “Sorry Red, that is not an option,” he says, taking my arm and leading me to the elevators.

  “Penthouse,” he te
lls the bellhop stationed in the elevator. The man doesn’t even bother to check his room key, probably use to seeing him. He just pushes the PH button and we all ride up in silence.

  Once we reach the room, Richard’s firm hand gently guides me inside. He doesn’t speak, he just continues to watch me like I’m a puzzle he’s hell bent on figuring out. Ignoring him, I walk over to the floor to ceiling windows and stare out into the night, since it’s way too cold to go out on the balcony. It’s a beautiful view. The twinkling lights of the busy city below shine like stars, shining over our misdeeds as people party the night away. I hear his steps before his touch reaches me, but I still shiver when he runs a fingertip lightly down my exposed arm.

  “Turn around, Red,” he orders in a husky but demanding voice.

  The order pierces through my brain and I follow his command with no complaint, which pleases him greatly, going by the flash of lust in his beautiful eyes.

  “Take your dress off.”

  “What?” I say, not as loudly or enraged as I wish.

  “You heard me Red, and you’re smart enough to understand and comply.” I can hear the warning in his voice, and I’m intrigued about what he would do if I defy him. I want his anger. I want to feel the rough touch of his hands as he forces me to his will. Push him to his limits until it’s far too late to turn around. Fuck, I’m just as sick as he is.

  A cock of his dark brow is the last warning I get. With shaky hands, I reach behind me and unzip my dress. Slowly, I pull the material down, making sure the tape comes off with it, and the dress falls in a puddle around my feet. I couldn’t wear a bra and Richard ripped my panties earlier, so now I’m standing before him naked and completely vulnerable as his heated gaze trails over my body. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I fear my body has broken him because he stands suspended for a moment just looking at me, but suddenly he growls and in a movement too quick to track, he crushes me against the cool window and his lips are on mine, laying siege. I kiss him back with just as much passion. Both of us battling for dominance. In a feral move, I bite down hard on his bottom lip, and he growls, pushing me into the cool glass pane of the window harder.