The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  “Well, yeah, you were a kid. Hell, at that time, you were just a baby.” Henry finished his last bite and brushed the crumbs from his hands.

  “So what?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “So that’s when I knew Eli was my best friend. Actually, it’s when I realized I really needed one. I’d—never had a real friend before. First I was the weird kid at school because my parents died. That freaks kids out, you know? Back then, small town and everything, barely anyone even had divorced parents, let alone… well, you know.”

  “Yeah,” Ellie agreed, grabbing her glass of water to give her hands something to do.

  “No, you don’t,” Henry said. “You don’t know.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I don’t.” You can’t do anything right.

  “Ellie,” he said, lowering his voice. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve felt I owe Eli ever since that day. It has nothing to do with you. I’m doing my best to try and live up to my side of our friendship. You know? And this…” he trailed off as he gestured at her, at himself, and the space between them.

  Ellie chewed on her lip, then asked, “And I suppose that seducing his sister would violate that relationship?” She didn’t think she had it in her, especially not without a little lubrication from the wine. She felt naked and ashamed sitting here, in this sprawling kitchen in the bright of day, using words like “seducing.”

  But Henry only nodded slowly.

  Ellie let out a big breath. Henry was right, after all. There was so much about him—about Eli, even—that she didn’t know. What else did she expect? They were both nearly teenagers when she'd been born. They'd shared a short, but full life well ahead of her. “Alright,” she told him.

  “Alright?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.” With a speed and determination she didn’t know she had, she swept out of the room. However, she wasn’t sulking anymore. What was the point? If Henry was devoted to fulfilling some deranged agreement with her brother that Eli probably wasn’t even aware of, so be it. She was done with all of this. Done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “It’s coming down again.” His voice roused her from the book she was devouring on the couch.

  “Not again,” she said. “I hope we at least keep the cable and Wi-Fi this time.”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “It looks bad.” Ten minutes later, the power went out.

  “I know Eli has some candles and emergency supplies around somewhere,” she assured him, getting up to search through the closet. Already, Henry was on the move stepping into the chilly little garage that doubled as a storage unit. “Hurry,” he told her. “We’ve only got about an hour of daylight left.”

  The phone lines were out again, too. He tried reaching Meredith to ask about supplies, but got nothing but dead air. By nightfall, Ellie was balled up in blankets on the couch with candles scattered around. He could tell the cold was starting to get to her. He forced her into his own thick, warm pajamas, much to her complaints. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up with these sleeves hanging down. And these pants! I have to roll them up like five times.”

  “But you’re warmer, aren’t you?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “At least the fireplace and stove are gas,” he said as he crouched over the fireplace.

  “That’s not much comfort when the actual heat is electric,” she retorted.

  “It’s something.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Look, Ellie, it’s going to be way too cold upstairs, even with the down blankets. I think for tonight we should sleep down here by the fireplace.”

  The words had crept out before he could stop them. Sleep? Together? Was that a good idea? He knew the answer.

  “I’ll go grab the blankets from upstairs,” he said, picking up the flashlight. “You move the table over by the wall to give us some room. And don’t worry,” he said, pausing in the hallway and shining the light into the flickering room. “I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on things. So, you know…”

  He didn’t want to worry her that he’d have another PTSD sleep attack.

  He thought it would be impossible to sleep with her so close, but the flickering of the candlelight did him in. Just a few minutes, he promised himself.

  When he awakened, he knew instantly from the inky blackness outside that it must be the middle of the night. And he was roasting. The flannel pajamas, the heat from the fire—the warmth from her cheek radiating against his chest. Wait, what?

  Somehow, in their sleep, they’d reached toward each other. Now she was pressed into him, and his shirt was stripped off and tossed onto the couch. He didn’t remember doing that, but he wasn’t surprised. It was burning up in here.

  His entire body was alive. He felt her stomach touching his, the massive nightshirt that she’d borrowed entirely too big to keep her modest. In a shock, he realized that the bottoms she’d borrowed had also slipped down. He’d seen her tie the drawstring tight, gotten instantly hard when she did, but it must have come loose in the night.

  His arms were wrapped tightly around her, and he was too scared to move and wake her. But his cock was also pressing hard into her thigh. Ellie sighed contently in her sleep, nuzzling her face farther into his chest. If he moved, if he nudged her away, he would see everything. He could tell by the softness and fullness of her chest against his, that she wasn’t wearing anything under the too-big shirt of his.

  Slowly, carefully, with all the skills of stealth maneuvers he’d learned in the military, he tried to disentangle himself from her. “Where you goin’?” she asked groggily, half-asleep but full of seduction. Damn, she’s gorgeous. The amber lights from the fire highlighted every line of her face—and lit her hair fully ablaze.

  Hell. How bad could one more kiss be? Just one. That was all. Just the one. He ducked his head down to her, with just one finger under her chin to coax her lips toward him—it didn’t take much. Their lips met, hers instinctively sucking on his lower lip. The quietest of murmurs and little moans slipped out of her, and it was enough to push him over the edge.

  Grabbing her waist, embracing that warm soft skin, he hoisted her closer to him and higher, so he could kiss her neck with ease. She moved with him perfectly, like she anticipated every move. Henry breathed in her scent, the lingering aroma of her shampoo, and tasted the saltiness of her collarbone. It was a taste he’d always craved, yet never realized until now.

  There was no stopping it now. With a simple flick, he opened the only button still clasped and spread open her shirt, his shirt, like wings. The breasts he’d been fantasizing about ever since he got just a peek the first night he saw her here begged him to come closer. A rosy pink bud, the perfect crowning touch to her porcelain white skin. But not yet. He was a master at putting off the inevitable, of teasing himself and saving the best things for the last possible moment. “Please,” she whispered, her nipples hardening as if on command, demanding his attention. He kissed every last inch of her perfect breasts before finally, inevitably, flicking his tongue over one nipple and then the other. It wasn’t until she said, louder this time, “Please, Henry,” that he sucked her nipples, somehow even harder now, between his lips. Nibbled and pulled gently, feeling her hands weave into his hair as she involuntarily raised and ground into him.

  He pulled the loose bottoms she was wearing off quickly with just one hand, working his mouth down her stomach. Already, before he’d even taken in or touched her wetness, she was grinding rhythmically and slowly into him—first his stomach, then his chest, desperate for him to bury his face between her legs.

  A part of him wanted to ask her if she was sure. Another part of him already knew the answer. She spread her creamy thighs even wider, presenting herself to him as he teased her. He kissed across the mound, into the crevice of each thigh where her skin was softest of all. Her hands pressed more firmly across his head. The dim flickers of the fire light were just enough to let him g
et glimpses of what he’d ached for all this time.

  One strong flicker of light, and he could see her clit was already swollen. Another flicker, and he could see how unbelievably wet she already was, her juices dripping slowly down her inner thighs and heading to her ass. I can’t believe she’s a virgin. He kissed as close to her clit as possible without touching it, eliciting an animal moan of desire and frustration from her.

  “Please.” This time it wasn’t a request, and he couldn’t deny her anymore. He blew gently on her clit, shooting chills through her entire body at the unexpected coolness of it. Finally, he licked that swollen sweetness firmly yet gently, the sheer heat of it shocking him.

  He’d never tasted anything sweeter. As he worked her clit masterfully, with a strong, practiced tongue and shifting between soft nibbles, flicks and licks, she kept one hand on his head. It was all animal instinct from her, and as he toyed with her slick opening with one finger, he couldn’t tell anymore who was fucking who. She was on her back, arching it, and he could easily pin her legs down and control when, how, and how hard she came if he wanted to. Or could he? With one hand, she was guiding his head, controlling his mouth, fucking his face with her sweetness. With the other hand, when he tore his eyes away from her middle, he could see her playing with her breasts and squeezing her nipples.

  When he tested her entry, which was still slick with her wetness, her movements shifted. She was no longer pushing her clit onto his tongue with whatever rhythm suited her. Now she was also encouraging his finger into her. With his other hand, he slid up her stomach and along her ribcage. Her hand was on his, guiding it to her nipples. “Henry,” she whispered over and over again.

  Just his fingertip was inside her now, the velvety wetness like nothing he’d ever felt before. Even with one finger barely in her, he could tell how tight she was. “Fuck me, please,” she said in that new, low voice of hers. The one he’d never heard before. “Fuck me with your hand.” He couldn’t help but do as she said, sliding his finger deep into her, feeling himself be totally consumed as he continued to suck her clit and pinch her nipple. “Yeah,” she moaned, riding his hand and his mouth like she was made for him.

  For a moment, he lifted his head and watched her beautiful face. As he slid his finger inside her, curling it slightly to stroke her G-spot, his thumb took the place of his tongue and rubbed her clit. Her eyes opened slightly to hold his gaze, right as he moved from one stiff nipple to the other, tugging on them gently. “I want you to come for me,” he told her.

  “I’m close,” she whispered. “Please,” she said again. She was propping herself up on her forearms, letting him have full reign of her entire body and giving herself more freedom to grind hard into his hand.

  “Please what?” he asked, bowing his head for an instant to kiss her clit.

  “Please don’t stop,” she said, her head rolling back slightly.

  “Don’t stop what?” he asked her between kisses.

  “Don’t stop fucking me,” she choked out.

  “Come for me.”

  “Now,” she told him. “Right now.” With a cry, she fell back and he lowered his head. With the softest of kisses on her clit, he could feel her coming against his finger buried deep inside her. Staying there, giving her something to push into with each wave, he tasted her juice flowing out of her and lapped up every last drop. His face, his hand, it was all covered with her arousal. It was intoxicating.

  Slipping his finger out, he gingerly cradled her ass and pulled her down to him. She was so delicate, so small in his hands. Even though she was still shaking, she reached down for his cock, but he pulled away. “It’s better this way,” he told her. It was the last thing he remembered before they fell asleep, her scent soaking into his skin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When she woke up, he was gone. She knew before she even opened her eyes, could tell by the coldness his empty space had left. Last night—the things he'd made her feel? It was unforgettable, unlike anything she’d experienced before. She’d fooled around with guys before, but even with Sean she’d drawn a firm line. She had a lot of friends, especially in high school and even Sam for a bit in freshman year, who would do “anything but” and consider themselves still a technical virgin. That wasn’t for her. She was an all-or-nothing girl. Nobody, not even Sean, had so much as seen any intimate parts of her.

  The night with Henry, it was beyond even the best she could have hoped for. It was pure perfection—until he pulled away. Pushing herself up, Ellie’s mind began to race. I may not know what I want to do with my life yet, but I do know Henry’s the one to take my virginity. All the way.

  Clearly, this was proof that Henry, and only Henry, was the person who could turn her on. She hadn’t wanted to admit this, but a big part of her was scared about losing her virginity. She’d heard stories. Some girlfriends said that it hurt, and others said it hurt way past anything they had ever been through. But it wasn’t just that Henry was obviously skilled. He’s probably been with scores of girls before. That wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was just how hungry he was for her. It was like he couldn’t get enough.

  Ellie had gotten herself off before, of course. But she’d never made herself come like this. What Henry did was on another level. She didn’t know it could be so delicious, or that the waves could last so long.

  Obviously, Henry wanted her just as much as she wanted him. He just couldn’t let go of all those excuses he had. Whatever was holding him back, she was certain she could make him forget. Once he returned, that was. Where did he go, anyway? He'd knocked her out so solidly that she hadn’t even felt him get up. She heard nothing in the office, kitchen, and no shower running upstairs.

  After a cursory look around the cabin and finding no signs of him, Ellie pulled a stack of papers out of her bag. In her hurry to get out of D.C. and away from Sean, she hadn’t even waited to say goodbye to her mom. Instead, she’d crammed a suitcase and messenger bag with essentials and random items. Poring over the papers, she found countless brochures for vet schools. There was the thick matte paper from UC Davis, so close to Sacramento. Was she cut out to be a Cali girl? She’d only ever been once, years ago as a child, when her parents had taken Eli, Ryan, and her to Universal Studios. She could barely remember the beaches, the piers, and what she was sure had to be actors walking around like regular people from shop to shop. Still, the promises made by Katy Perry and One Tree Hill were a strong temptation. Could life really be like that? Could changing coasts make all the difference? Driving with the top down, a collie as her passenger with both their hair flowing in the warm breeze without ever having to worry about getting snowbound or cold.

  Eli would have an absolute fit were she to move across the country. Who cares? She had her own life to live and, she was seeing, it was just getting started. Ever since her dad had left when they were kids, Eli had taken on the paternal role in the family—at least toward her. The occasional birthday card or call from their father wasn’t enough, and her mom was way too private to ever bring around any boyfriends. In fact, having a real father was a distant memory, just like Los Angeles. In many ways, Eli was the only father she’d ever really known, and he was much more brotherly than fatherly.

  The UC Davis Quick Application didn’t ask for much, and she already had her final, official GPA. She filled out the application just to see how it felt, and followed it up with a couple more. Doing so made her feel productive. In control. Just like how she felt in some ways with Henry last night. Except with Henry, it kept shifting. There were times she couldn’t tell which one of them was maestro of that symphony. Seriously, where are you, Henry?

  She could smell her sex scent mixed with Henry’s musk all over her body. As much as she wanted to keep it, cradling it close like the best secret, she should probably change. Upstairs, as she stripped naked in her room, the lights fluttered to life. Thank God. Now I can shower with light.

  Fresh from the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel, she pulled ou
t her suitcase and started thumbing through it. Her bikini. Of course. What if, when Henry came back, she put on a little show for him? Nothing too sexy, nothing that would scare him off. Just… a little bikini action? A reminder of what he'd had last night, and the temptation of the hot tub on the deck?

  Ellie pulled on the bikini and adjusted her breasts in the tiny triangle cups, making sure they popped. The string ties on either side of the bottom she purposefully single-knotted, making them easy to unwrap like a gift. Downstairs, a door shut. Perfect timing.

  Draped in an open robe, she waltzed downstairs in that sensual way she sometimes practiced on the stair machine at the gym. The stairway to hell, she called it, but now she was grateful for how it had shaped her legs. Bags rustled in the kitchen.

  “Henry,” she said, slinking into the kitchen. He turned from the stove, an empty pan in his hand. Henry’s eyes widened as the pan crashed to the floor. With her head lowered and gaze lifted toward him, she willed herself to walk purposefully forward. Don’t stop. You can do this.

  Running her hand down his chest, she stuck out her lip. “Do you mind clearing the snow off the hot tub? I want to go for a soak.” She could see him struggling to not look at her chest. She could even feel it.

  Scowling, he halted. It was a standoff. “Please, Henry,” she said, using the same voice that came out of her so naturally last night. She’d never heard herself sound like that before. Now, in the kitchen daylight, she found she could summon it up at will.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Give it thirty minutes to heat up.” With heavy feet, he stomped through the living room and onto the porch.

  “Thank you, Henry,” she purred to him as she leaned over the steaming water to test it. He stood by the doors, arms crossed with a permanent frown on his face.

  “You sure you don’t want to come in with me? For protection?” she asked. “You never know when those big, bad internet terrorists are going to come after me.”