by Ella James
I push my bangs over the top of my head, where they tend to stay, whipped back in the wind. Race’s lips twitch again, and I glare. “What?”
Why the hell am I feeling so warm and fuzzy? I’m like a high school freshman creaming my panties over the senior quarterback. I shouldn’t be so damn attracted to him—so I am. Of course I am. This is the way things go for me.
And then he tilts his head my way, gives me a full smile, and says, “You wanna steer?”
Total swoon land. Which is sad. So very, very pitiful.
I take a long, slow breath. “Are you being condescending?”
He shakes his head. Angles his body toward mine. In a low, scratchy voice that may just be the wind and my imagination, he murmurs, “Truth? I want to put my hands on you.”
Heat sings through me. “Did you really just say that?”
He grins, and I say, “You should keep your hands to yourself. I don’t need or want them.”
LIAR!
“If this is some kind of ploy,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “it won’t work. I’m not even attracted to you.”
If at all possible, his grin widens, making him look wolfish. His eyes flit down the front of me, and before I can prepare myself, he reaches out and flicks my nipple gently. “Not attracted?”
Pleasure shoots in a direct line down to my pussy—so fierce I go all limp and almost lose my footing. I clamp an arm over my chest and laugh, because seriously, I cannot believe this asshole did that. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Believe it, baby.” Again, that smug smirk. “I don’t think you minded. In fact,” he says slowly, leaning so close his lips brush me near my ear, “I think you liked it.”
Before I can deny this, his arms are going around my waist, moving me in front of him, turning me toward the boat’s nose. I wait, lightheaded, for him to press my ass against his huge erection, and am dizzily disappointed when he simply places my hands on the wheel and wraps his hands around them.
He moves my sweaty fingers to a position that looks like nine and three. “Hold it here,” he purrs into my ear. He holds up one finger and disappears, moving toward the back of the boat.
I look into a little rear view mirror and see him pushing a button on the side of one of the motors. A few seconds later, their overpowering roar quiets a few notches. I look over my shoulder; the wind whips my hair across my face.
“What did you do?” I ask as he returns to stand beside me.
“Shifted the motors to a different setting. Kind of like shifting down a gear.”
Now the loudest thing in my ears is the whipping wind. He stands so close to me we’re practically hip to hip, and then he wraps an arm around my back.
“Are you cold?” he asks. “You’re shivering a little.”
Omigod, I’m not shivering. I’m trembling. With lust.
I swallow. Shake my head. I try to step away from him, I swear I do, but my legs are frozen. He’s got me entranced.
“Quit acting like you care if I’m cold.”
I tighten my hands around the wheel, and for a second I swear I can feel his hardness against my butt. The sensation is gone as quickly as I notice it, but I’m so fired up now I can barely remember my own name, feeling sweaty and shaky and flushed.
His hand comes down beside mine on the wheel, tugging it slightly to the right. “Hold it there for a few minutes,” he says. The boat veers a foot or two in the direction of the setting sun, and the current ripples around us.
For the next few minutes, the only sound is the purr of the motors, the splash of water under us, and the wind. The sailboat never quite goes fast enough to completely level off, so the nose of the boat, where we’re standing, rides slightly higher than the back.
Ocean spray dampens my cheeks. It feels good, because I’m over-hot. His arm is still around my back. I wonder why I don’t ask him to move it. We pass a barge, flat and slow-moving, hauling big, rusted-looking pipes. Overhead, the sky darkens, threatening to spill.
We pass a group of three tiny, tree-covered islands on our left, and I hold my breath, wondering if one of them is Gertrude’s. Race doesn’t move, though, so I shift my eyes ahead, where I see a dark fuzz on the horizon line. Another half mile or so, and I can see it clearly: a long island, covered with tall pines and mossy oaks.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
“Perhaps it could be yours,” he says with a funny little half-smile. “I can see if it’s for sale.”
“No thanks.” I shrug his hand off, still hot and shaky, but working to remember who this is. “If I need one, I’ll take yours.”
We sail over the ocean’s surface, rushing the gray sky that seems to hang lower over the water. Race’s arm brushes mine, and I can feel us lose a little momentum.
He tilts the wheel to the left, we move around the curve of the island, and I see it: the widest island so far, covered with so many trees, it looks like someone took a swatch of luscious southern forest and plunked it down in the middle of the ocean. I frown at all the trees beyond the rocky shore: pines, oaks, cypresses.
Birds sail in the sky above it.
Rocks pepper the sandy shore.
Waves crash into it, dying in a spray of white.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
And then he rocks against my ass. I feel the hardness of his cock. I hang onto the wheel as my knees tremble.
Wolfe
I press my dick against her.
Reckless.
Instinctive.
Necessary.
I can almost scent her wet cunt. I’ve been with enough women to recognize the glazed eyes, unsteady feet, flushed cheeks, hard nipples. She wants me. She may not like me, but she fucking wants me just like I want her. She confirms this with a wiggle of her ass against my swollen, aching cock. My balls fist up.
I grit my teeth to avoid moaning. I wrap one arm over her shoulder, folding her against my chest because my cock needs to feel that round ass.
We near the shore; I flip a switch to pull the motors up.
As the wind dies down I hear her panting.
“Oh my God, you’re such a fucking asshole.”
I rock against her and groan my words: “Bad first impression, baby.”
She rubs her ass against my dick. “I’m not…your baby.”
I reach around and unfasten her jeans button, yank the zipper down and reach inside. I flatten my palm over her mound. I’m so jacked up I can barely see straight but I have to take this slow. Can’t just dip inside.
“I want you.”
“This is crazy,” she says.
I clasp her hip with my left hand and curl the pointer finger of my right hand, dragging over her soft, hot, panty-covered flesh.
The waves knock the boat into gentle rocking as we creep toward the shore. My finger slides down toward her slit. She gasps.
I can feel her wetness through cotton.
“I want to slip inside you. Not my dick. My finger.”
I hear her blow her breath out and I lift the elastic of her panties. I work my hand inside—palm rough against her moist skin. My finger strokes over her puffy flesh, glides into the silky moisture of her slit. She sags against me.
“Hate you…”
I glide my fingertip through her wetness, stroking down toward her core. She rocks against me, gasps. I rub my thumb over her clit, urging my middle finger down, inside.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Fuck,” she echoes.
I curl my finger, push it deeper, until I feel her G-spot. She leans against the steering console, and I bite her neck. I stroke her clit. “I want to taste you. I would love to taste you.”
“I’d…hate that!”
“I want to see you hate it. Turn around. Like this.” I drag my hand out of her, guide her hips so she’s facing me. Her mouth hangs slightly open as I work her jeans and panties to her knees.
I’m thrilled to find her just as brilliant red as I had hoped.
“
So beautiful.”
I run my finger over her tight curls. I part her lips with reverence, inhaling deeply her sweet scent. I touch my mouth down on her as my finger works its way inside. She grabs onto my shoulders, sinks down onto me. I balance her on my arm and guide her to the boat’s floor, damp with sea spray.
I pump my finger in and out. With the tip of my tongue, I trace her up and down.
“Oh fuck! Oh God!”
“Come for me. Take your time, but you will come for me.”
I slide a second finger in and am rewarded by a ragged gasp. She’s clutching my elbow, gritting her teeth, clenching her spread legs against my sides.
She tastes sweet, and I devour her like island fruit.
“Oh God… Oh no… Yes. Oh…fuck… Oh yes.”
Her hips rock up to meet my mouth. My tongue rolls gently, softly over her.
“That feels so good.”
I push my fingers in as far as they will go.
“So full…” she gasps.
I’m not surprised at all when she jerks her hips up off the floor and comes with a guttural shriek.
But I’m shocked that I come with her.
Chapter Four
Red
I fall back to earth in pieces, with the rain. Cold, hard rain. Stinging rain. He pulls my pants and underwear up and lifts me underneath my ass and back, putting me over his shoulder like one might a child. I open my bleary eyes and realize that we’re touching sand. The boat sits sideways on the shore, knocked here by the tide.
He grabs my bag. My purse. I cannot move. Can only stare. The trees are tall and mossy. Thick. Untouched.
I don’t know if I think the dark, overgrown forest just beyond the beach is beautiful or frightening. But I’m here.
I’m here, and the rain is falling harder every second.
Keep reading for RED AND WOLFE Part Two!
Red & Wolfe
Part Two
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 s
cared 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.
