by Selena Kitt
“Okay,” she called. “Okay, I’ll be here!”
“Good girl.” He gave her a thumbs up.
“What’s your name?” she asked over the sound of the motor.
“Hook. James Hook.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “And who might you be?”
“Wendy Dahling.”
“Well, ta ta for now, Wendy Dahling!” With that, he was gone, disappearing into the swamp with just a shaky, hazy light to lead him.
Wendy returned to the party where Peter was still gathered with The Lost Boys, presumably talking to the agent. He had to be the one in the suit. Only Tink seemed to have noticed that she had gone missing, coming up to her with a deep frown, taking in her wet, muddy, bare feet, her shoes still dangling in her hand.
“Where were you?”
Wendy didn’t answer. Instead, she asked the question that had been burning on her lips. “Does Peter know anyone named James Hook?”
Tink’s mouth flattened into a thin line, her red lipstick all but disappearing. “Who told you?”
“Told me?” Wendy blinked in surprise. “No one told me. I’m asking you.”
“Wendy!” It was Peter, coming for her, and in spite of Hook’s warning, her heart soared at the sound of his voice. “Can you forgive me for leaving you?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
He linked his arm with hers, grinning. “And are you ready to open all your glorious presents?”
“Ask Peter,” Tink hissed, narrowing her eyes and walking quickly away.
But there was no time for that. First it was opening piles of gifts—clothes from jeans to shirts to dresses in just her size, plus a brand new iPhone (that’s from The Lost Boys, Peter told her) and gift cards galore. Plus all those things you buy for a girl you don’t know—bath salts and lotions and pretty bags and scarves. She thanked everyone for her gifts, and they all applauded her, but of course, she knew it was mostly for Peter, who stood grinning beside her, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
Then there was cake, and all sorts of other little dessert that Tink had painstakingly created, and more music and dancing. Wendy found herself in Peter’s arms on the makeshift dance floor most of the time, the world around them shimmering like a dream.
The night faded away after that, people saying their goodbyes, some diehards setting up with booze and music and dancing in the living room. It began to feel a little like the night she’d first come to Peter’s as people draped themselves across couches and chairs, limbs twined and lips locked.
“Come with me,” Peter whispered into her ear, already pulling her away. Up the stairs they went, down the hall to the largest room in the house—Peter’s room. She’d seen it once, just from the doorway, but she wouldn’t have recognized it when he opened the door. The place had been transformed, twinkling lights strung up, criss-crossing the ceiling, gauze draped over the bed, the floor covered, simply covered in rose petals of all colors—red, yellow, white. They stuck to her bare feet as Peter led her into the room.
“Tink did this,” Peter said, pushing the gauze aside and sitting on the bed. He patted the place beside him but Wendy couldn’t stop looking around at the magic.
“She did it for you.” Wendy smiled, taking his offered hand and stepping closer.
“No, she did it for you,” he protested, slipping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair.
“And you did it for me.”
He looked at her, his gaze soft, loving. “Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I really, really like you, Wendy-girl.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’ve never met someone so in need of a happy ending in my life.”
“With all the people living in this house, how can you say that?”
He chuckled. “You see, I’m the voice of experience.”
His kiss broke her heart into a million pieces and put it back together, whole and beating and thick with blood, in an instant. She had never known anything like this, had never known anyone like Peter.
“It really is beautiful,” she whispered as they parted, his hands in her hair.
“And so are you.”
She flushed. “Stop.”
“I’m just getting started.”
He kissed her, softly at first, and then deeper, his tongue finding hers, sending electric shocks along her skin. There was no doubt about what they were going to do, and Wendy found herself welcoming him completely. He touched her gently, but he wasn’t tentative. His motions were firm, sure—he knew just what he wanted as he pulled her onto the mattress, the gauze around the bed wrapping them in a hazy cocoon.
“Oh Wendy-girl, the truth is—I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, pushing her dress up to her hips, pressing his lips against her navel.
She thrilled at his words and returned them without question, without thought. “I love you, too.” It was impossible, but it was undeniable. “I want you. Please.”
He lifted his head, where he was leaving kisses all over her flat, trembling belly. “Do you?”
“Yes.” The word was breathless, full of longing.
Smiling mischievously, he cocked his head, eyes bright. “What if I decide to tease you for a while first?”
She whimpered as he traced his fingertips lightly over her skin, bringing her body alive with his touch. He explored her slowly and with relish, pulling the silk of her dress over her head and staring in wonder at her breasts as she stretched out on her back on the bed, her hands thrown over her head. She found herself giving in to whatever he wanted, letting him fondle and touch wherever he liked. He played her like an instrument, the notes rising higher, growing louder.
“Peter,” she begged, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. They were both in their underwear, Wendy wearing a pair of powder blue silk panties and Peter just in a boxers. “Please, please, please.”
“Please what?” He captured her nipple—it was wet with saliva, having enjoyed a long sucking just a few moments before. His eyes met hers and he grinned, his tongue making circles around her pink areola.
“I want you,” she insisted, reaching down to find him. He was hard and she rubbed him, not inexperienced, and his eyes widened in surprise. Her hand slipped under the elastic of his boxers and she wrapped her hand around the base of him, tugging gently.
“Oh Wendy.” He groaned, beginning to thrust in her hand. “That’s so good.”
“Is it?” She rubbed her thumb over the head. “Do you like that?”
“Oh god.” He bit his lip as she stroked him, wiggling under him, wondering if she could just wish the rest of their clothes away. “You’re a naughty girl, Wendy.”
“I’m going to get naughtier.” She was true to her word, sliding his boxers down his hips and seeking the heat of his cock with her mouth. Peter gasped, letting her roll him to his back and take him between her lips, sucking him slow and deep, moaning around his length.
“Oh girl,” he whispered, his hand moving through her hair, his hips beginning to rock with her motion. “Oh god, girl, that’s better than Disney World.”
She giggled, licking the tip, tasting him. “Better than ice cream?”
“Uh-huh.” He bit his lip, his eyes closing as she went down on him again, trying to swallow his whole length. “Better than sex… oh, wait.”
She giggled again, nuzzling his belly, rubbing the wet head of his cock over her pert breasts. Her nipples were hard and rosy from all his attention.
“I want to go for a ride,” she said, slipping off her panties and straddling him.
Peter looked up at her with bright eyes. “At Disney World?”
“It’s better,” she whispered, reaching down to grasp and tug at him, looking down to see him rising him against the flat of her belly.
“Oh yeah,” he groaned as she slipped him inside of her for the first time. “Definitely better. Much, much better.”
“Mmm hmm.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him, wig
gling into the saddle of his hips, letting him fill her completely. They didn’t move, just held onto each other, tongues and limbs mingling, their bodies finding a way to settle in, joining even more deeply.
“Wendy-girl.” Peter swallowed, looking up, her hair falling around them like corn silk. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asked, smiling at him, bemused.
“I’m going to have to fuck you.” He rolled her to her back in one movement, his cock shoved in deep, so very deep.
“Oh god.” She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Don’t ever apologize for that.”
“No, I mean really…” Peter began to move, his eyes fluttering closed. “Really…”
“Oh!” Wendy cried out as his cock bottomed out inside of her.
“Really…” Peter drove in again, rolling his hips and pulling back.
“Ohhh!” She clung to him as he gave her more, more, rocking on top of her, the bed moving with the motion.
“Really fuck you,” he panted in her ear.
“Yes!” She welcomed his weight, the buck and thrust of his hips, and begged him for more. “Don’t stop! Oh Peter, yes! Fuck me!”
He groaned and dipped his head down to suckle at her breast, first one nipple and then the other, then knelt up between her thighs, spreading them so he could fuck her hard from that angle too.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looked down at her in wonder. “Fuck. Oh fuck. Ohhhh!”
She cried out in surprise as he withdrew, still thrusting, a rising stream of cum shooting over her belly. Grasping him in her hand—she couldn’t help herself—she milked his throbbing cock as his climax shook his body. Peter moaned and thrust into her hand, showering her with cum, making her tummy and breasts sticky with it.
“Oh my,” she whispered, rubbing the wetness into her body.
“Your turn.” Peter grinned happily, shoving her legs back and burying his face between them. She twisted and writhed at his sudden attention, his tongue working magic against her clit. There was no escape. His hands grabbed her hips, mouth tight against her pussy, nose brushing the light, curly blond hair there, and when he slid his fingers inside of her, replacing the emptiness, she knew she was lost.
“Oh yes!” She rocked her hips up to meet him, her belly and ass clenched tight, giving him her orgasm with every thrust. “Yes, yes, yes!”
She was still shaking when he kissed his way up her body, leaving a wet trail. She tasted herself in his mouth when he kissed her, sticky and sweet.
“We need a shower.” She traced the line of her jaw with her finger.
He shifted his hips, surprising her. “Not yet.” He was hard against her thigh.
“More?” She raised her eyebrows and her hips, meeting him.
“Lots more.” He rolled her to her belly, not letting her up to her knees as he spread her legs with his, his cock riding the valley between them, parting her flesh with his. Then he was inside of her, sliding in deep and hard and fast.
“Oh god!” she cried, grabbing into the covers in her fists as they rocked the bed. “Oh yes!”
“Touch yourself,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. “Do it, Wendy.”
She did, wiggling on the bed until she could get her hand between her thighs, finding that sensitive bit of clit and rubbing it. He encouraged her with every thrust, whispering in her ear, his breath short, panting.
“Faster,” he urged, his cock like steel, impaling her, making her moan and arch against him. “Do it faster. Come on, girl!”
“Oh Peter,” she cried, her flushed cheek against his as they fucked. “Oh you fuck me so good. Please!”
“That’s it.” He kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth, their bodies slick with sweat. “Come for me. Come all over my cock.”
She moaned and spread and gave him what he asked for, unable to hold it back for a moment longer. Her pussy fluttered and clenched at him as she came, her cries so loud she knew everyone must have heard them, but she didn’t care. He growled and grabbed her, rolling and thrusting up, driving her toward the ceiling, and she had to hold on for dear life so she didn’t topple right off.
“Oh god!” Peter groaned and grabbed her hips and ass, rocking with his own climax. “You’re so fucking good!”
Wendy cried out, feeling him coming, the swell and surge of his cock bursting inside of her like fireworks. She glanced back to see his lips pursed with pleasure, his gaze rising to meet hers as he emptied himself completely inside of her.
“That was far better than any ride at Disney World.” She laughed as she climbed off him and turned around to snuggle in his arms. “There’s no way John and Michael are having as much fun as I am.”
Peter grinned. “That was no Epcot Center tour, that’s for sure.”
“More like Splash Mountain.” Wendy ran a hand over her belly, holding it up to show him the sheen. They were soaked with sweat.
Peter smiled, his fingers walking down past her navel, through the wiry nest of her pubic hair. “Definitely going to need to take another trip to the Magic Kingdom tonight.”
“You’re insatiable.” She giggled.
“You have no idea.” He took her hand and she gasped in surprised to find him growing hard yet again.
She lost track of the time—of the times and positions and rides and orgasms. She lost herself and found Peter and he found her, too, again and again. In the end, the gauze had been ripped from the bedposts, and they were covered in rose petals from head to toe. The shower washed most of them off but they giggled as they wiped them off their feet before snuggling back in bed together.
She’d almost forgotten her chance meeting and the man in the boat until Peter fell asleep, his breathing deep and even, but she was still awake, staring up at the cast of moonlight on the ceiling. It was in that moment she remembered and looked at a clock, finding that it was already a little after three in the morning. They’d been having sex for hours and hours.
She thought about staying, curled against Peter’s sleeping back, but the call of the swamp and her own curiosity got the better of her. She only had her dress to wear—all her new clothes were still downstairs in their boxes—so she slipped it over her head and eased the bedroom door open.
The house was sleeping and dark. A few doors were cracked down the hallway, but only the sounds of snoring met her as she made her way, barefoot, down the stairs. Downstairs, the place was a mess, cups and plates and food littering every available surface. Obviously Tink had decided to clean up in the morning.
Wendy took a deep breath and slipped out the patio doors into the night.
The crickets greeted her with a rising hum as she made her way toward the water. She found him just where he said he would be, waiting in his boat, the motor silent.
“Hello there, Wendy Dahling.”
“Hi.” She stopped, hesitating, glancing back toward the house. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Just a little past three.” Hook glanced at his phone, a beam in the darkness. “I take it you had a good night, then?”
“Fine.” She blushed, thinking of Peter, sleeping in his bed. “So… you said you’d tell me about Peter.”
“And so I will.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come on, let’s go for a ride.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She took a step back, glancing toward the house, and saw the flash of someone coming down the path. Her heart dropped, worried that it might be Peter, that he might be angry. Of course he would be. What had she been thinking?
“Can’t talk here.” Hook nodded toward the figure hurrying down the walkway. “See? Too many interruptions.” He used the pole to push the boat toward the shore and held out his hand for her. “Besides, I want to show you something.”
“What?” Wendy stretched a trembling hand toward his, hearing a familiar voice calling.
“Wait!” Tink shouted, her voice dropping at least an octave. “Wendy! Wait!”
“Come with me and find out
,” Hook insisted, leaning in to catch hold of her hand. She gasped at the strength of his grip. “Trust me, it will be worth it.”
“And you’ll tell me more about Peter?” she asked, hearing Tink yelling for her, panting, out of breath, running now.
“I promise!” Hook agreed, yanking her toward the boat. “Now hurry!”
She took a step up and he pulled her in, starting the motor in the next instant, leaving Tink standing on the shoreline, calling after them, her voice fading as they traveled through the swamp.
The last thing Wendy heard was Tink’s cry, “You’re making a big mistake!” and as she turned to face James Hook steering the boat through the darkness, she hoped that Peter’s spiteful, cross-dressing friend wasn’t right this time.
* * * *
“Thirsty.” Water was all she could think of. It was all around her, the sounds of frogs jumping and splashing in it at her bare feet. Her tongue felt thick and dry. “Please. So thirsty.”
“You look quite horrible, you know.” James Hook smirked from his perch on the end of the boat. There’d been nowhere to go when he’d lunged for her, knocking her head against the side of the outboard motor, and as if that wasn’t enough already to knock her out, covering her mouth and nose with a nasty tasting chloroform.
She’d awakened like this, tied to a post in the middle of the swamp on a tiny little island. More of a muddy hill really. He must have created it just for this purpose. She could see the lights of a cabin on the shore, the thing dilapidated, falling apart. She could see that much, even in the moonlight. She didn’t know where they were, how far they’d come. Tink had been right after all. She’d made a terrible mistake.
“Please,” she begged, trying to swallow.
“Oh save the theatrics for when your boyfriend arrives.” Hook waved her cries away, using a very large knife to wedge the mud out of the treads on his boot. “That’s when the drama will be useful.”
“What do you want?” Wendy croaked.
“I want what’s mine.”
What did that mean? She didn’t know. “I didn’t do anything to you. I don’t even know you.”
“That’s incidental.” Hook slid the knife against the side of the boat, scraping mud off. “Peter will come for you. That’s all that matters.”
