Hansel, Part One

by Ella James

  I watch her sink her pointer finger partway into her cunt. Her movements are sparse, adept. As her finger pushes in a little deeper, she leans her head back and her lips part just a little.

  And all of a sudden, I have to have those pretty lips around my cock.

  I sit up on my knees. “Get up,” I tell her.

  She eases her finger out of herself and sits before me like a beautiful, obedient bitch.

  “I want you to blow me,” I tell her, stroking my hard cock. “I’ll give you instructions if you need them.”

  She leans over slowly, taking my throbbing head into her mouth, and I assign her extra points for not asking about a condom. She trusts me to be clean. That’s good.

  She opens wide to take me deeper, and I rock my hips a little, forcing her to take in three-fourths of me. She pauses when my head brushes the back of her throat, but then I feel her swallow around me.

  Holy fuck; she’s swallowed all of me. Her eyes rise up to mine, and I nearly spill into her throat right then.

  She sucks her cheeks in around me, and I moan. “Good girl.” I stroke my hand over her head, and, with her cheeks still pressed against me and her lips drawn tight around my base, she moves her head and starts to suck me off.

  After only a few times in and out, I’m aching.

  Usually, I give them orders, but she has such pretty hands; I want to touch them. I grab her free hand from where it rests on my duvet and press her palm against my sac, curling her fingers around the top of it, just underneath my shaft.

  “Squeeze me—hard, right here.”

  Her fingers tighten around me. I thrust my cock into her throat. “Tighter,” I groan.

  She tightens her grip on me almost imperceptibly, and my cockhead throbs with so much force, it’s almost painful.

  Not enough!

  “Harder,” I growl.

  She squeezes my sac a little harder but it isn’t hard enough.

  I bring my hand down over hers and press her fingers into me. “I want you to squeeze,” I tell her. “Pull down and squeeze me like you mean it.”

  Her hand, around my ball sac, loosens, and I want to scream as she eases my cock out of her mouth. “That will hurt,” she whispers.

  “Put my cock back in your mouth. And consider it an order.” I stroke my finger over her chin and then come up to clamp my hand onto her shoulder.

  She squeezes hard enough to make me gasp, gobbling my dick back down her throat.

  “Make it hurt,” I order.

  She eases my cock out of her mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, stroking her hand up and down me. “Why do you want me to?”

  “No questions.”

  “You pay the other girls to hurt you?” She twirls her tongue around my shaft and head.

  “Not paid,” I manage as my palm cups her head, her silky hair sliding against my palm. “Is that why you want to do this?” I frown. “For a fucking check?”

  “You have a foul mouth,” she tells me as she licks me like a lollipop. Below my cock, her hand cups my balls; she rolls my testicles around inside her warm palm.

  It feels good—really fucking good—but without the pain, my chest starts getting tight.

  “For this to work, you’ve got to squeeze,” I order.

  I try to think past the lust that’s lighting up my veins and run my hand through her hair. I inhale deeply, focused on the pain I know is coming, and the pleasure. She lifts her mouth off me, leaving my cock cold and damp.

  My jaw drops open, and I actually laugh. “Are you even a submissive?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her mouth draws up, as if it’s really troubling.

  “Not sure?” I groan a little as she leans back down and traces a line around my cockhead with her tongue. “Why…the fuck…are you here, then?”

  She takes her mouth off me and pumps me with her hand. “I wanted to try this,” she confesses, looking up into my eyes, “but I can’t just do what someone else says. I’m too scared to.”

  Her hand is shaking as she confesses this. It makes me irrationally angry. “Did someone hurt you?” I demand.

  She averts her eyes. “No, that’s not it. I’m just not good at trusting.”

  My hand threads through her hair, tugging a little near her shoulders. “Start by squeezing me. I can take it. Trust me.”

  She shakes her head. “It will hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I sigh. “You ever think that maybe I want you to?”

  “Do you?” she asks, wide-eyed.

  “Yes,” I growl.

  She squeezes, not as hard as I like, and sucks my cock into her throat. Then she tightens her mouth around me, just hard enough to cause a little bit of pain. I inhale the scent of watermelon and spurt into her throat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lucas

  When she’s finished swallowing, she eases me out of her mouth and presses her palm aginst my chest. I’m so surprised, I let her urge me down onto my back. Maybe it’s not just surprise. This one, more than any of the ones before her, reminds me powerfully of Leah.

  Before I can open my mouth to scold her, she lies down beside me and twines her fingers through mine.

  Oh, fuck.

  I tug back a breath, but it doesn’t fill my lungs the way it should.

  My eyes move over her, from her blonde hair to her pert, round ass. My mouth opens, and I almost ask her first name.

  Leah.

  I clench my jaw and wonder if I’ve finally lost my mind.

  Her hand grips mine gently, and I have the ridiculous urge to pull my glove off. I don’t, of course, because it hides my scar—but I find that I want to. I want to feel this girl’s bare fingers on mine.

  “Do you have to have the pain,” she murmurs, stroking my wrist just above the glove. Her eyes find mine, and they’re so blue. “If I want to feel you…inside me,” she says, breathless, “do I have to hurt you for you to enjoy it? If so,” she adds, angling her body so her eyes meet mine, “what would I need to do?”

  I shift onto my side, still holding her hand, propping my head up on my other hand so I can see her easily. Try to get a read on her. I regard her for a moment, trying to decide what her game is. Is she really so clueless she would come to me and act defiant? I’m not sure why I haven’t sent her packing already. She definitely won’t work as a submissive.

  “There are lots of things you could do to give me pain,” I answer, finally.

  “Scratch your back with my nails?” she asks.

  aI’ve been careful to keep my back angled away from her, so she doesn’t know yet what she’s actually suggesting.

  Using one gloved hand, I position her fingertips on my forearm so I can feel her nails. “Probably not sharp enough.”

  Her face lights up. “How big are you?” She presses her lips together, and even through the mask, I think she looks a little shy. “How…um, long?”

  I smirk a little. “Nine and a half inches.”

  Her mouth pulls into a little “o”, and her gaze drops down to where my cock is already saluting her again.

  “Can you have sex with…smaller girls?” she whispers.

  She shouldn’t be asking me questions at all, especially ones like these, but I find myself answering her anyway. “Sometimes I can’t get inside. Just depends on how small.”

  A smile twists her lips, and she sits up. “I have an idea. I think we should try it.”

  She tugs my arm, and guides my hand between her legs.

  *

  Leah

  “You’re a virgin.” His finger inside me writhes, and his face, inches in front of mine, is rapt. It makes my pulse race. Then his eyes darken, and he slides his finger out of me. “Someone hurt you.”

  For a second, I’m not sure how to react. I want to rip the mask off and tell him everything, but ever since he asked me to hurt him, I’m afraid if I do, I’ll lose him. He wouldn’t want to be honest with me if he knew who I was—that, I’m pretty sure I know.
Yeah, it’s been a while, but I remember Hansel. I know to my bones that he always wanted to protect me. He’d never agree to use me like he’s doing now. I don’t think this man would ever let me close.

  “I wasn’t hurt,” I say softly.

  He eases me back against his pillows and licks his finger. Then he slides it slowly back inside, sinking it in inch by inch, until the pleasure pulses through my legs and belly.

  I suck air in.

  “Do you like this?”

  With his finger still buried in me, he kneels in front of me, spreads my legs a little wider, and begins to lick me. I’m trembling and panting in one heartbeat. Clutching at his shoulders. Hansel. “Oh God.” Hansel—yes!

  What’s his name he uses now? My head spins. All I can think is ‘Hansel.’ His stage name reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe.

  He starts to add a second finger to his onslaught, and I cry, “Raven.”

  His fingers still, and I’m surprised to hear his smoky laughter as he raises his head. “You think my name is Raven?”

  I peek my eyes open. Oh no. “I’m sorry. I forgot…I guess.”

  He slides his fingers in and out of me, teasing, even as he looks puzzled. “Why did you try out to be my sub?”

  “I was…curious.”

  His eyes are still wide. “How have you never been fucked?”

  “I’ve been fucked. But it’s been a while. A long while,” I admit.

  He seems to accept that answer, leaning back down and licking me up and down, pumping his fingers into me, stretching as his tongue strokes my core. He runs his tongue up my wet, swollen slit and laps around my clit.

  “It was a good idea you had, for pain,” he says against the inside of my thigh. “You’re so tight that it would probably hurt you, too.”

  “I don’t mind,” I pant as he teases his tongue against my core. “A-at least I…don’t think so,” I gasp.

  He kisses the inside of my thighs, looking up at me with assessing hazel eyes, and I’m tossed back.

  *

  Ten Years Ago

  The marvelous seconds that I first beheld the boy I love are gone too soon. He’s on his knees, his head hanging, his hands held out. Blood drips down them, staining the green rug. His eyes rise up to mine, and those I know. I’ve seen this look before, after he returns from those times he leaves his room. I’ve seen his eyes look blank before, but never quite like this.

  I hesitate only a moment before flying across the room. I don’t care what happened, or whose blood it is. I just know I need to hold him.

  Hansel.

  My Hansel.

  I sink down in front of him and wrap him in my arms. My hand goes to his nape, but I don’t have to press. He drops his face onto my shoulder instantly, giving me all his weight. It feels so good to touch him. At first, I’m too overwhelmed to speak as we cling to each other.

  “Hansel—are you hurt?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s…not mine.”

  His voice is thick. His face presses harder into my neck. Then he’s getting up, moving away from me.

  His eyes are wide, his face blanched white. He’s still holding his hands out. They’re shaking. So is his voice. “I killed her, Leah. I killed Mother.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” His voice is deep, but the word is half sob. He turns around and sticks his hands in my little porcelain sink. He pumps some soap, and washes, gets more soap, then washes his hands and arms again. He moves faster and faster as I stare at him, dumbstruck, until I go over, move his arms, and turn the sink off.

  “Come with me.” It’s so surreal to lead him to my bed. I’m ashamed by how dirty it is, but my need to hold him easily outweighs that. I’ve dreamed of this a million times.

  He goes down easily, his eyes clinging to mine.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  “I am now that I can hold you.” He wraps his arms around me, locking me against his chest.

  “Hansel. Oh, Hansel.” I stroke his hair, and his hands stroke up and down my nape.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for a year,” he rasps.

  Then he lifts my face and presses his mouth on mine.

  I pull him down with me to my bed, so we can be more comfortable. We’re tangled in each other, our hands roving everywhere. Our mouths move hungrily, tongues tangling as he starts to pant and tears gleam in my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. His breaths are short bursts between hard kisses. “Shouldn’t have come. With blood. I didn’t know. What to do.” He tugs his breaths in, struggling. He moves his mouth off mine and puts a hand over his face.

  I stroke his arm, his hair, and then I pull him back to me. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I won’t let go. I could sing?” I offer.

  “Sing,” he orders.

  I open my mouth, and he presses it to his.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lucas

  I want to fuck her.

  Now.

  Because I know the pain would be exquisite.

  Because she looks like Leah.

  “Think about it. Think hard,” I say, rubbing my hard cock against her wetness. “Be sure you want to do it my way. Once I start, I don’t trust my ability to stop.”

  *

  Leah

  He likes pain. Okay. I wish he didn’t, but he does. For now, I’ll work with it.

  I have this idea to pull my hips away when he’s close and see how he reacts. Then let him push back in and see if he explodes. I want to be in charge of him. To make him happy. Fix him. Because he’s mine.

  So of course I nod, even though I’m sure I’m in over my head.

  “Lie down on your back,” he tells me.

  I do.

  His hands stroke up and down my thighs, hold onto my knees. His fingers play in me until I’m arching up against him, close to coming.

  Then, without a word, he presses the head of himself against my entrance. His eyes flicker up to mine, and I nod. With a steady, driving thrust, he enters me.

  I groan, because it hurts. He may murmur, “You okay?” but I don’t answer because I can’t tell. Blood roars in my ears like a hurricane. He buries himself deeper, moving inch by hard, wide inch.

  I moan. I force my eyes open. His face is slack. Blissful.

  I watch him as he starts to thrust—his lip caught in his teeth; his huge chest rising, falling, faster. I groan again, because he feels incredible. He grabs my hands and strokes them as his pace increases. “Oh yes,” I moan. He cups my cheek as long glides turn to harder thrusts. His finger toys with the side of my mask.

  He’s getting close. I can tell because his brow draws tight, his mouth bares flat. His mouth parts just a little because he’s breathing hard. Hansel—my Hansel. I’m panting, lifting my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. I’m full—so very full—so close myself.

  I feel him expand inside me, and I almost scream. I thrust against him, seeking sweet release.

  Then I remember. What I wanted to do. What I wanted to try. He plunges hard into me, and I twist my body quickly away.

  His eyes pop open, wide, livid.

  “Does it hurt?” I whisper.

  He shuts his eyes. Clenches his jaw. His hand hovers over his cock, which stands straight up, swollen hard and gleaming from our pleasure. “You’re right. It hurts.” His eyes peek open, roving over me. He looks dangerous. Needy.

  I watch his huge cock, still tucked up against his belly. It’s not softening.

  His face looks pained.

  I scramble over to him, stroking one hand gently under his taut sac, making him groan and bite my shoulder.

  Then I run both hands down his amazing length, stroking with my fingertips. Hoping that the pain and pleasure swirl together in a way that makes him want to do this with me every day.

  In a breath, I’m on my back, and he’s atop me. He shoves himself back in with one hard thrust, and as I scream, he pins my shoulders down. He drops his face into my neck.


  His cock shudders, spurting deep inside me, and I pulse and clench around him.

  When I open my eyes, he looks tired and drained. I feel so alive.

  *

  Lucas

  I’m satiated. Pleased, in the most literal sense of the word, with my naughty non-submissive.

  I can’t deny it, even though I feel off-balance when it’s over, and I think it’s best to send her packing.

  “If we do this,” I tell her, lying out beside her on the bed, “I’ll be in charge.”

  Her mouth tucks up into a smug grin. Her eyes are bright. Playful. “Unless I want to give you pleasure.”

  “Two doms.” I snort. “It would never work.”

  “I think we’d work well together.”

  “You’re the sub.”

  She nods slowly. “But I want to treat you a certain way,” she says.

  “I’ll say how I’m treated. And all of this is only in the bedroom. That’s all this would be. You understand?”

  She nods.

  I lift her up and carry her to my shower room. I’ve never taken another sub here, but right from the offset, this one is breaking all the rules.

  I start the tub, and while I wait for it to warm, I lead her over to a leather couch and clean her with a towel.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Thank you.”

  I could let her walk to the tub, but because I want to, I carry her. I ease her in and len over the side, so I can bathe her.

  I wonder what it is that makes her seem so different.

  “I’ll have to have your submission.” I look into her eyes as I drag a bath rag over her breasts. “You will have to trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

  I can tell she’s lying about being hurt. Somewhere, sometime, someone hurt her. I’m not sure she wants to submit to me fully—not yet—but I have the sense that even if she did, it would be a struggle for her.

  I watch her mouth and eyes, all I can see around the mask, and find myself wishing I lift it off and wash her hair.