Red & Wolfe, Part II: An Erotic Fairy Tale

by Ella James

  RED & WOLFE

  Part Two

  An Erotic Fairy Tale

  ELLA JAMES

  Chapter One

  RED

  I’m really here. I’m at the island. The mythical place I’ve imagined for years sways, bumps, and waves around me—real life; technicolor.

  The rain is slick and warm and tastes a little salty. It melds my hair to my head, coats my face, makes my lips and skin feel soft. My drenched clothes cling to me, weighing me down. When Race leans down to pick me up, I wrap my arms around his neck and hook my legs around his waist, clinging to him as the ocean knocks the boat against the beach.

  It’s foolish. Reckless. Senseless. I know it is. I keep waiting for my conscience to kick in—that little voice that sometimes shouts when deep down, I know I’m way off course. So far: silence.

  He wraps his arm around my back, his big hand spreading out just over my ass. I feel a brimming heat between my legs, the urge to rock myself against his hip.

  He leans down and nips my neck, just under my ear, and I can’t hold back. I push my pussy against him and he finds me with his fingers, stroking through my jeans. “I’m not finished with you yet, Red. I’m going to make you come so hard you won’t know your own damn name.”

  “Asshole,” I breathe.

  But I want it. I want this.

  He dips a hand into my jeans, his fingertips brushing the top of my mound. I’m shivering. I just can’t seem to stop. His finger dips between my folds. I’m wet there. So fucking wet for him. He slides inside me, burying his finger, and I see stars.

  “Oh God…”

  He leans me up against the steering console, lifts me up a little, so my butt’s cupped by the wheel, and covers my nipple with his mouth, sucking me through my shirt and sports bra. Warmth spreads through me, leaving me lust-drunk and weak. His thumb drags over my swollen clit. The finger inside me curls—so deep, in just the right spot. I clench around him, panting…

  “Oh God...”

  “I'm gonna fuck you, Red. I’m gonna make you come so hard.”

  I moan as he pushes my unzipped jeans aside and drags his tongue down the skin around my panties. His eyes flick up to mine. He holds my gaze as he rips my panties at the waistline, then leans down and presses his lips over my clit. His tongue flicks against it. I buck.

  “Red… So sweet.”

  And, Jesus Christ, he’s tasting me. Sucking me. Pushing his tongue against me. Flicking the moist tip of it up and down. Then lighter; feather-light; teasing…

  “Yes!” My fingers dig into the thick muscle of his shoulders. His tongue spreads flat against me, wet and slick, it’s everything. His wet tongue is the end and the beginning. Up and down he drags it, killing me. His fingers inside me pump in time with my pounding heart. I spread my legs out, taking him deeper. Trying to take him deeper, but—

  My eyes fly open as he slides his fingers out.

  “Oh, fuck. Please!” I rock my hips, surprised by how helpless, how breathless my own voice sounds, even as I grab his bicep and sink my nails in.

  His eyes are dark and hard, framed by strands of wet, black hair. “Do you want this, Red?” He drags a finger over my sensitive, swollen flesh and I gasp. “Tell me that you want this.”

  I pant, “I want this.”

  Without his fingers inside me and his mouth on my clit, my cunt is raging.

  “You look like you need a good fucking. Is that true, Red? Even from a stranger. You’ll accept a thorough fucking. Take the pleasure that I give you.” His fingertip plays at my entrance, sliding in. I clench and unclench, ready, but he doesn’t come farther.

  “You’re ready to be fucked?”

  “Yes! Please!” In this moment, all I need is an orgasm. He’s an asshole but he’s hot as hell, and he has magic fingers and a magic tongue.

  He grins, but it’s a dark thing—more like the baring of teeth. “Okay, Red.”

  He shifts me off the steering wheel and into his arms, hefts my bags onto his shoulder. I’m thrown off-balance when he leans down to open a small cabinet in the boat’s outer wall. He hefts an anchor in the arm that’s not wrapped around me.

  He steps over to the boat’s side and drops it into the roiling sea. I hear a low thunk as it submerges, followed by the rattling of the chain as it clinks over the side. Then we’re moving toward the nose of the boat. Race steps down into the waves then strides across the beach, toward the forest. We don’t make it that far before he lays me under a palm tree and starts peeling off my clothes.

  His hands work deftly, relieving me of my shirt and then my bra. My breasts bounce free, tantalized by raindrops, cupped by his big palm. His other hand begins to work my jeans off. “You will come for me, Red. More than once.”

  I nod. I know how shameful it is; I’m disturbed by the degree of departure from my usual self, but I'm doing this. I want to feel pleasure. Need to, after what this last month has been like. Maybe Race is the wrong place to get that pleasure—hell, he definitely is—but he’s here. He’s offering this now. And now is the time I’ve lost my mind.

  He fondles my breasts, sending sparks of pleasure through my belly; the sparks fall down between my legs and leave me dim and drugged. He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a bulky, deep-tanned chest. From shoulders to happy trail, he’s lickably flawless. My pussy pulses in appreciation.

  He pulls his slacks off, and…his hips. Dear God, those chiseled hips. Those abs. They’re so cut they don’t look real. You could bounce a penny off them.

  I follow his happy trail down to the elastic of his black cotton boxer-briefs. Below that is a sinful bulge. I reach for him, aching to touch it. I can’t help myself. Before my fingers make their mark, he pulls away.

  “Not yet, Red.”

  He pushes me into the sand and peels my jeans off, then my torn rainbow underwear. He slides his button-up under my ass and pulls down his boxer-briefs, freeing an enormous, vein-striped, purple-headed fuck machine.

  My pussy creams. My fingers twitch. I reach for him, and he moves his hips. His cock, pumped up and pointed toward his navel, is the biggest I've ever seen. If I wasn’t out of my mind with lust, I might be scared of it. The balls below are similarly impressive: drawn up tight, they’re still weighty—the definition of well hung.

  “Not yet.” He holds a finger up. “I need to make sure you’re still ready.”

  He plants a palm on my shoulder, pinning me against the sand. Then he climbs on top of me and slides one of his fingers into my pussy.

  I’m swollen and dripping wet. My cunt spasms around his finger, aching for more. I grab at his arm. “Now. Please.”

  His eyes flicker to mine, and then back down. “I want to be sure…” He glides his finger in and out of me, and when my knees are clenching around his thighs, he curls his finger, bends down, and starts to tongue-kiss my pussy. I writhe. “Oh God! Fuck!”

  “Patience, Red.” He licks me once more luxuriously, and moves his mouth off my throbbing flesh. He gives me a smile that’s pure male dominance. “Try to exercise some patience. You’re going to come. I promise.”

  I’m barely holding onto sanity. He pulls his finger out and slides two more in. I’m so full. Almost painful but it feels amazing. I rock against him, forcing his fingers deeper. He smiles and bends back over me, licking me gently… I clench and unclench, needing more.

  “I need you…inside me.”

  “I’ll say what you need.” His dark eyes rove up my naked body. A wide grin spreads across his face, and then he does it: He turns his hand a little, pulls his fingers out of me, painting me with my slickness. He rubs his thumb over my taint. He lifts his head to watch
my face and gently pushes in.

  “Oh fuck!” It hurts at first.

  I don’t know what to do. Grunting. I think I’m grunting. My hips jerk as he sinks his thumb in all the way. I can feel it through the walls of my pussy, but my senses are overwhelmed, because his fingers are inside there—pushed into my dripping pussy as far as they can go, twirling slowly as he presses his thumb just slightly upward. Pleasure ripples through me.

  And then he lowers his mouth back to my clit. All it takes is three slow strokes of his soft tongue. My body convulses as my mind shorts out.

  Somewhere far away, I feel his thumb leave me; he draws his fingers out. I try to curl over on my side, but he’s pushing my legs open.

  I can’t breathe. “I can’t breathe!” Tears stream down my cheeks.

  “Yes you can.” His fingers are on my cheek, and I can smell the sweetness of myself. His hands are in my hair. Somewhere, thunder claps.

  I’m shivering. I clench my teeth.

  “Oh God.” I can’t believe he did that to me!

  I suck a deep breath in and notice something pressed against my core. It’s warm and smooth, moving slowly in a circle, re-arousing tattered nerve endings. My eyes can barely focus enough to see his swollen, purple head, but I enjoy the feeling of it. I’m growing hungry for him, parting my legs a little wider, when he leans forward, stretching his magnificent torso out over my chest, and clasps my hands in one of his. He presses them into the sand over my head and looks down at me with black, hypnotic eyes.

  “I’m going to fuck you. Now.”

  His eyes bore into mine and my lips tremble as I nod.

  I watch as he takes himself in hand—he’s that long—and, positioned with his head between my swollen lips, he balances his weight on his arms, restraining both of mine, and rocks his hips.

  The moment his thick cock punches into me, I’m blinded. Deafened. I know nothing but the fullness of my cunt. My hungry, swollen, dripping, ravaged cunt. I’m stretched so tight. He’s buried so deep. He rocks against me and I swear to God he’s rearranging me inside. I’m trembling violently, quivering, stretched painfully around him but deep within me, pleasure ignites.

  He starts to fuck me, hard and fast, brutal. I return it thrust for thrust, lifting my ass off the ground, throwing my legs wide, opening myself so I can take every inch of him. I’m so wet and warm, so drunk. I need him, all of him.

  I clutch his shoulders. Claw his neck. His balls punch my pussy, sending shockwaves to my clit. I hear him groan, but I can’t even open my eyes to see his face.

  “Red…”

  “Fuck me.” It’s barely a whisper as he does just that. He drags himself out of me slowly and pushes viciously back in—over and over, making me groan and grunt and whimper.

  I’m so wet that when he shoves deep inside me, the base of him glides deliciously against my clit. My eyes leak. My heart gallops. My chest tightens. I wonder if it’s possible to fuck to death.

  Then I feel him expand inside me. He’s pressed so tightly into me, I’m not sure my pussy will ever let him go. Suddenly he lets go of my wrists. Hard fingers clench the soft skin of my ass, lifting me up, clutching my hips as he groans, pulls halfway out, and slams me one final time.

  I come with a primitive scream.

  I can feel his body quake as he unloads inside me, but my mind is somewhere else. Heaven, maybe.

  I’m limp and helpless when he pulls out, leaving me soaking wet and sore.

  I’m so exhausted, so empty now, I can do nothing but curl into a little ball and shut my eyes.

  Chapter Two

  RED

  I guess he dresses me. Dresses himself. It’s not until he’s crouching in front of me with my bags on his shoulder, drawing me close to pick me up, that my synapses start firing again.

  I’m wet and cold.

  There’s sand in my hair. In my bra. In my underwear. Once my focus shifts down there, I’m stunned by how sore I am. Sore from over-use. I’m wet, too. My panties are tattered and soaked, and not because it’s raining. My legs feel unsteady, like I’ve just stepped off a roller coaster. My stomach is tight and fluttery, as if moths are bumping around inside, trying to force their way out my throat.

  Oh, this is so not good.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Did I just have some kind of mental break?

  No Red, you were horny.

  He’s a stranger. A stranger I can't trust!

  I look at Race, and even now, I still can’t see straight. I don’t see a strange man. I see a man my body appreciates.

  I feel pleasantly off-kilter. Breathless. Excited. I take a deep breath and work to keep my face impassive. He doesn't need to know that I want to lick his tanned throat and smell his wet, dark hair and throw my head back and let him mark me like an animal.

  Of course he knows!

  Rage. Embarrassment and horror.

  But that was the most fabulous sex of my life.

  I didn’t know sex like that existed.

  Dammit, it was way too good! Addictively good!

  That’s as far as I get before he throws me over his shoulder and starts toward the shadowed trees.

  I see the beach spread out behind us as he strides across the rain-pocked sand. It’s deep tan, zigzagged with lines of black silt—the ocean’s scribbles. Waves crash to the shore, but they’ve petered out some since last I looked. Behind them, the boat shimmies in the current. It’s getting dark. The cloud-strewn sky seems to hang low over the horizon line.

  I can’t see mainland anywhere. Can’t see anything but this island.

  As we move into the trees, the rain peters into a dribble. Further beneath the cover of pines, oaks, and other leafy, moss-flung trees, it’s almost dry. Every few steps, a raindrop hits my head or shoulders. I look around, trying to pin down some specifics on exactly we are, but it’s no use. It’s all just trees to me. Trees that rise up from a boggy ground of decomposing leaves and pine-straw. Trees where moss sways gently in the breeze.

  A part of me wants to jump down and run from Race, but where would I go?

  I lean my cheek against his neck. My stomach quivers, almost as if I’ve been kicked in the gut—and all because of his scent: sweaty man and sex and saltwater.

  I wonder what kind of man he is. I know he’s a sex god, and controlling. And an asshole. Manipulative. Doesn’t like people. I shut my eyes and breathe slowly.

  Yeah, you’ve really gone and done it this time, Red.

  As if he hears my thoughts, Race looks down at me. I can feel him more than see him, since I’m turned toward the trees behind us.

  I don’t move a muscle as I contemplate my options. How do I even know what they are when I know so little about him?

  Who likes solitude so much they want to live alone here?

  Who has millions to throw into the purchase of an island?

  Who has the power to put money into my bank account, then yank it out?

  The trees quiver around me, as if they know the answer but they simply cannot speak.

  Suddenly I can’t handle being carried by him anymore. I lean back so I can see his face, which is still gorgeous, even now that the sight of it fills me with a shame so strong it verges on panic.

  “Put me down,” I manage, sounding almost normal.

  He sets me on the ground, and my eyes are pulled up his delectable body, to his face, as if my gaze is being controlled by a magnet.

  His hair hangs wet in his eyes. He brushes it back, and I can’t help feel a renewed burst of lust. The dark, dramatic eyes; the chiseled jaw; smooth cheeks; biteable lips. Lips that kissed my pussy. And that short, soft beard that tickled me. The memory leaves me so unsteady, I don't know what to say.

  This is probably nothing to him. I bet he’s used to getting whatever he wants. If not in life, with women surely.

  I glance through the trees behind him, where I can just barely make out the boat, bobbing against the shore, and the waves rolling into the sand. I jerk my thumb that wa
y and manage to loosen my too-tight throat enough so I can tell him: “What happened back there, that is not the norm for me. At all. Ever. That was you getting lucky because I’m going through a weird time in my life.”

  He looks me up and down, igniting a trail of heat from head to toe. His face is hard to read—just thoughtful, maybe. “Weird?”

  I bite my lip. “It’s nothing that you need to know about. But it doesn’t have to do with you—what happened. It had to do with me. I was having a reaction to some things that…to some difficult things. Not you. ’Cause you’re an asshole.”

  His lips twitch, as if my calling him an asshole is amusing. “‘What happened?’” He arches one brow. “You mean the fucking we did.”

  “Yes. We fucked, okay? I know that.”

  He’s staring at me, prodding me with his eyes. I’m not sure to what end.

  “It was very nice, okay? You’re a total stud. In every way. And I enjoyed myself. I’m not going to lie about it. I’m sure I couldn’t if I tried.” I grit my teeth, because I fear I may be blushing.

  He smirks. “No, you couldn’t, Red.”

  I wipe my hands on my jeans, even though my hands aren’t wet and my jeans are. It’s a nervous habit. “I thought we agreed you were going to stop calling me that.”

  His smirk deepens. He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well I’m not a ho. I’m really not. And I mean it when I say nothing like that is going to happen again.”

  He folds his arms across his chest and looks ridiculous standing there with my bags on his shoulder, in an I-conjured-this-man-from-my-dreams sort of way. I have a brief and random longing to touch his beard. This leads me to realize I didn’t touch his dick one time during our…exchange. I wonder if that was intentional on his part. I remind myself that I don’t care.

  He’s smirking at me again. The smirk smooths out, but his lip is twitching like he wants to smile. “You think it won’t.”

  “It definitely won’t. You paid me to come here—” And I did come, didn’t I? My sex-starved inner horn dog wags her tail. I am definitely blushing now. I take a deep breath and try again. “You paid me to see this place. Not have sex with you. And I’m aware it’s not like you dragged me into it or anything, but let’s be honest, you enticed me back there on the boat. You’re a practiced seducer. I have no doubt.”