Woman Named Red

by Stasia Black

  With the little bit of patience I can manage, I move behind her and lay out my t-shirt on the oak’s bending trunk that cuts in a low V to the ground. Then, not trusting myself with words at this point, I grab Scarlet around the waist and push her back against the trunk where my shirt lays covering the bark. Hopefully it will protect the skin of her back, and if not, she’ll be experiencing too much pleasure to fucking care if she gets a few marks.

  Immediately I drop to my knees in front of her, grab her thighs, and bury my face in her cunt.

  “No!” Her whole body jolts as my tongue makes contact with her clit and she tries to squirm away from me. “I don’t want that.”

  I would stop—no always means no in my book—but even as she says the words, her thighs slip open wider. I’ll lick and suckle for a little longer. If she says no again or pulls my head away, I’ll have to try another tactic.

  But she seems to have lost the will for words. And I keep lapping her up. Goddamn, she tastes good too—which isn’t always a given. Yeah, it’s PC to say that all vag tastes awesome, like honey or some crap, but that’s a load of shit. You get a girl who loves eating McDonald's or who’s on a Paleo kick, and that pussy is gonna taste rancid.

  But Scarlet’s tastes like…I tongue inside her as I try to put my finger on what exactly it is I’m tasting. A really expensive wine, juicy, maybe with a little hint of raisin and the tiniest bit sweet.

  And the way she’s reacting to me, fuck. Her thighs clamp around my head and her hands dig into my hair. I grab her ass and start massaging, rubbing the scruff of my five o’clock shadow against her inner thighs. Then I elongate my tongue as much as I can and plunge it inside her a few more times before latching back onto her clit.

  Tastes. So. Fucking. Good.

  I reach one hand down, yank off the condom and start pulling on my dick, jacking myself quick. Fuck, the taste of her. She’s trembling again. She’s getting closer and I want to come with her.

  She yanks on my hair. Hard.

  My heart sinks. Did I go too far? Does she not want this after all?

  I release her clit and start to lift my head but then she uses her grip in my hair and shoves me back into her cunt. A rush of pleasure rips through me and I start licking even more furiously. I nip and use my teeth. She shudders even harder.

  “Aw fuck, that’s right,” I whisper between licks. “Come apart right here. Naked in the middle of the goddamned city. With me eating you out where anyone could see.” Then I stop talking and focus all my energy on eating her out and jacking myself off.

  One of her legs drops away, but only to stiffen.

  I look up her gorgeous fucking body while I keep at it, latching onto her clit like it’s a nipple and suckling without mercy. Her breasts jiggle as the pleasure rips through her, her face mottled in that expression that looks like pain but I know is really pleasure. I keep sucking her through the climax. When she’s still heaving from aftershocks, I rise up over her. Jacking my cock hard, I growl through my teeth and cum all over her gorgeous fucking tits and down her stomach.

  Then, while she watches, still gasping to get her breath and eyes wide with shock, I wipe my seed all over her breasts, massaging it in like it’s lotion.

  Fucking marking her as mine.

  I hold her eyes the whole time I do this, pinching her nipples every time I pass by her breasts. My cum dries on her body with the breeze and warm air. Only then do I hold out a hand to help her up off the slanted trunk of the tree. As soon as she gets to standing, though, it’s like whatever spellbinding us is broken.

  She turns her back to me and leans over to gather her discarded clothes from the grass. Without looking at me, she tosses me the shirt I laid out on the tree trunk. I catch it midair. Not that she sees.

  She has her underwear and leggings on by the time I’ve tucked myself back in my shorts and have my t-shirt on.

  “Scarlet,” I say as she pulls her sports bra over her head. I don’t miss the way she flinches at my use of her name. What the hell?

  She goes for breezy when she answers, tugging her shirt on and running her fingers through her hair since it got so mussed when we were fucking.

  The way she’s acting now, it’s like my cock wasn’t buried inside her ten minutes ago. Followed by my mouth sucking the fuck out of her cunt to what looked like a world-shaking orgasm.

  “We should talk about what just happened.”

  She ties her hair back as she starts walking back toward the trail.

  “We scratched an itch.” She still doesn’t look at me.

  I catch up with her right as she slides between the two oaks and steps back onto the path.

  “Don’t try to pretend like what happened back there—”

  “What?” She finally swings around to look at me. “Pretend like it didn’t mean something?” she scoffs. “Look, you’re a good lay… Okay, a great lay.” She rolls her eyes as she concedes the point. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’m sure you’ve got a big enough ego, Mr. Fancy Pants Expensive Shoes.”

  She smiles up at me and it’s full of wicked mischief. “After you told me how much you spend on your boxers, I just had to look up those fancy shoes you wear. Ferrigimos?”

  I wince at how she butchers the name. And her Italian. “Ferragamo.”

  “Right.” Half her mouth tilts in a bemused smile. “We’re from different walks of life. But I have always fantasized about getting fucked in the park.” A slight cloud passes over her eyes. “My way, my say so.”

  My blood starts boiling again, this time for entirely different reasons. Was Scarlet hassled by other homeless people? Did they try to hurt her?

  I take a step forward. I don’t know what I was planning on doing, I just feel this need to protect and shield her from everything—even her memory. But she backs away from me.

  “Catch me if you can.” She winks at me and then turns and hauls ass down the trail.

  I sprint after her. As my feet pound dirt, I wonder if this is how it will forever be between us. Her always just out of reach, and me unable to stop the chase.

  Chapter 6

  The next day around three, Scarlet knocks before poking her head into my office. Immediately, I push away from my computer and stand up. “Yes?”

  She was silent the entire jog back yesterday and then she disappeared to shower. When dinner was ready, she just knocked on my door and called out that it was on the dining room table. By the time I got to the door and threw it open, she was gone. I imagine that dinner was as delicious as always, but I could barely taste it.

  All I could think about was Scarlet’s flavor on my tongue. The spicy gnocchi she made for the main course had nothing on her sweet cunt.

  And after what she’d given me in the park, she thought she could just avoid me? I even went so far as to go up to her room and knock on her door this morning but there was no answer.

  So seeing her now is like a drink of water after a long walk in the desert. I’ve been total shit at focusing today. Stella’s been a nuisance, calling me every half-hour to pester me about this or that, telling me I emailed the wrong people or haven’t done something she told me to do an hour ago. Seriously, you’d think sometimes she thinks she’s the boss, not the other way around.

  But none of that matters now. Scarlet’s here.

  “What’s up?” My voice comes out slightly higher-pitched than it should for a man my age.

  Scarlet looks around at the papers scattered haphazardly around my desk—far from the usual order I keep things in. It’s a fairly accurate representation of what’s going on in my fucking head these days. Chaotic. Undisciplined. Not my usual, ordered, take-charge-and-get-shit-done self.

  Her eyes come back to me. “Two things. I need to get more groceries so I need some money for that.” She looks down at her fidgeting hands. She flexes her hands and then balls one into a fist and holds it still with the other. “And I was also wondering if you have a Kindle or some other kind of e-reader I could borrow. I
’ll pay you back for whatever books I order.”

  She must be a fast reader. I’ve noticed my Jack Reacher novels disappearing and reappearing on my shelf, almost one a day.

  “I’ll have one here within the hour,” I say decisively. Finally a problem I actually feel like solving. “And let me just finish up this email and I’ll be ready to go to the store with you.”

  She looks alarmed. “Oh no, no. You can’t be running off to the store every time I need something. If you just give me some cash—” She cuts off mid-sentence and her face flares completely red. “I mean, of course I’ll give you all the receipts. I’m not trying to swindle you out of anything. I’ll account for every penny. I’m not that kind of—”

  “Stop.” I put up a hand, shaking my head. “I know you’re not like that. Christ.” I feel my features scrunch in disbelief. The things she assumes I think of her. But she must have reason—these are the reactions she’s gotten from ‘regular’ people for however long she’s been…out there. They assume she’s either a prostitute or a thief. Fury burns through my blood even thinking about it but I tamp it down as I try to explain myself to Scarlet.

  “I just really liked…” I look at the floor as I search for the words, “…shopping with you.” Why does that sound so stupid when I say it out loud?

  Scarlet must think so too because she rolls her eyes.

  “Says the man who got delivery for every meal before I showed up. Don’t start being gentlemanly on my account. I’m just the help.”

  “That’s not how I—”

  She laughs out loud. “Oh my God, if you could see the look on your face right now.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, seeing nothing amusing. She laughs even harder.

  “I heard about you, you know,” she says, still giggling. “Some kind of famous rags to riches story, right? Well I’m the opposite, riches to rags—well, middle class to rags, anyway.” She smiles wryly. “And it’s okay. I don’t judge you for it. Life happens. Shit happens. But like I was saying yesterday at the park, we’re living different realities.”

  I shake my head, about to tell her just how wrong she is, when she continues.

  “Look, I’m not saying that it makes you bad or me especially virtuous. It just is. Different walks of life, remember?” She takes a step back toward the door. “So you stay here and do your work and I’ll go do mine, getting the groceries and doing the cooking.”

  I want to argue, but I’m not sure what I could say. In my gut, I know she’s wrong. But there are some things I never talk about. Ever. So I take out my wallet and hand her some bills for shopping. “The Kindle will be here within the hour.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I won’t have an account set up until my first paycheck so I’d appreciate it if you’d order it for me. Regular shipping.” She stares at me a moment. “I hope I made it clear the first time, but I’ll say it again. Don’t you dare think what happened in the woods yesterday equates any kind of special privileges. I’ve still got the kitchen knife and am fully prepared to separate your balls from your body if you even think about trying that shit with me. What happened in the park was totally separate. Just something that I wanted. Nothing to do with this job.”

  I just nod my head, eyebrows probably up to my hairline, and hand over the grocery money. After eyeing me another moment, she nods, then smiles tightly and leaves the room.

  And I’m left behind getting a goddamned stiffy at the memory of her glaring at me and threatening me while looking like God’s own avenging angel.

  * * *

  “You’ve known this girl how long?” Stella asks. “And now she’s living with you, has you holing up all week, fucking off on half of your responsibilities, and she’s cooking for you?” Stella sounds far more incredulous about the latter than the former. Then again she’s known me long enough to be familiar with some of my idiosyncrasies and peculiarities. “Who the hell is this girl? Where did you meet her and how do you know she’s not trying to scam you?”

  I jump up and close the door to my office. Scarlet brought in lunch about the same time Stella showed up unannounced. I don’t know if Scarlet’s still cleaning up in the kitchen or if she went off to her bedroom, but Stella’s brassy voice fucking carries.

  “Quiet down,” I warn. “You’re being ridiculous.” I want to immediately stand up for Scarlet but at the same time don’t want to share secrets that aren’t mine to tell.

  Stella steps closer and finally, thank Christ, drops her voice. “After everything that went down in the tabloids with you and Heather, this beautiful chef just happens to what? Offer herself up as your live-in maid/fuck-toy? I know they do this sort of thing in Europe all the time, but if the press ever got wind of this—”

  “Christ!” I all but shout. “It’s nothing like that. And if you keep talking about Scarlet that way, you’re the one who’s welcome to leave!” I swing my hand in the direction of my office door.

  We just stand there a moment, both equally as shocked by my outburst if each for different reasons.

  “Just tell me where you met her,” Stella says, half-bewildered, half-pleading. It’s a strange look on my usually kick-ass partner’s face. “We don’t keep secrets from each other. You know I’ve always had your back. From the beginning.”

  Damn her. She’s going to pull our history card on me?

  I shake my head at her, loosening my jaw. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I decide to give her something, “but I met her at the soup kitchen.”

  Stella pauses and brightens slightly. “She volunteers there? As a chef?”

  Sure. She can think that. Stella loves civic-minded people.

  “We hit it off and she was between places so I told her she could crash here till she figures it out. She doesn’t like the idea of staying for free so she’s cooking for me. It’s as simple as that.”

  Wow. I was even able to mainly stick to the truth.

  Stella doesn’t look completely convinced. “I’d feel better if she weren’t so pretty. You and pretty aren’t a good mix.”

  This startles a chuckle out of me and I grab Stella for a pretend noogie.

  “Ack.” She punches me in the ribs hard enough to make me gasp and let her go.

  “Christ, you never play fair,” I wheeze, holding my side.

  Stella just grins and pulls down her blazer, straightening it. “All right, champ. Here’s the prepaid card for your new chef.” She hands me a credit card along with another piece of paper. “And the info to recharge it whenever you want. Now, more importantly, it’s time to get your ass out of this apartment and back to work.”

  “Jackson Vale agreed to meet tonight at Chandelier. Ten o’clock. Get your fucking head back in the game.” She stares me down. “If you can hook him, then that’s three of the four investors that you need to make The Sutler deal a go. Work your charming schoolboy magic or whatever the fuck it is that makes people always say yes to you.”

  I nod. Vale’s a good man and one I’d really like to be in business with.

  “I guess we’re done for now.” Stella heads toward the door but turns back at the last second. “One last thing, what’d you say Scarlet’s last name was?” Her eyebrows are raised, face a mask of innocence

  “I didn’t. Goodbye, Stella.” I say, standing and giving her a gentle shove out the door.

  She pauses one last time. “Kennedy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t fuck it up with Vale tonight. This is important.”

  “Aye aye, captain.” I give her a salute.

  She gives me the finger.

  Aw, now doesn’t that just bring on the warm fuzzies? As she leaves, though, I’m thinking about the two reasons I didn’t give her Scarlet’s last name. One, I don’t want my PA-slash-partner running a background check on the woman I’m interested in, no matter how curious I might be about the results. And two, I’m not entirely sure Scarlet gave me her real last name.

  Whenever I prod about her past, she gets cagey
and uncomfortable. Then again, I’ve only known her a week and a half. Trust is something you have to earn. Whatever there is to know about Scarlet Brown, if that is her real name, I want to learn it when she trusts me enough to tell her secrets.

  Not that there’s much chance for that with Scarlet avoiding me. It’s Friday now and she’s been keeping it up ever since getting it on in the woods on Wednesday afternoon. We’ve only spoken during that brief exchange yesterday and today so I could explain the advance on her paycheck I gave her as well as the Kindle that arrived. I told her I have a membership with free same-day shipping—which is true, just not with the particular service I ordered her device from. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  But it might hurt me, because ever since she got the damn thing, she’s been holed up in her room. Reading I guess, though I wouldn’t fucking know because I haven’t seen her. She cooks, of course, but she’s strict about her no-one’s-allowed-in-the-kitchen-while-she-cooks rule. Then she disappears back to her room right after the food’s on the table.

  The meals continue to be fucking amazing. Out of this world. Lighter fare for lunch, then heartier meals for dinner. I’ve taken to working out for an hour in the morning in addition to my early evening jogs. Fuck knows how I’d rather work off this restless energy. I can’t remember the last time I spent so many days in a row pent up in my apartment, especially knowing there’s a gorgeous woman three rooms down from mine. I about die every time I hear the guest shower turn on, imagining her pale body turn blush pink when the hot water hits her skin…

  Yeah. I’ve been taking more showers than usual myself. And I don’t do cold showers. Our rendezvous in the woods gave me plenty of spank bank material to relive as I take myself in hand, so to speak. But each time is less satisfying than the last. Knowing what it’s like to touch Scarlet’s sweet body, to have tasted and been enveloped by the hottest cunt on Earth…and then go back to being relegated to my goddamned hand is a fucking cruel form of torture.