Ren and Della: Boxed Set (Ribbon Duet Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  Weird strange.

  Weird ‘holy crap I don’t know how I’m going to be able to control myself.’

  It took her an eternity to roll the slippery thing down my length, and when she’d finally finished, my vision was half-cross-eyed, and I panted as if I’d run to the paddocks and back.

  I reached out to touch the casing around me, but she swatted away my hand and placed both of hers on my shoulders. Climbing up my body, she kneeled over me as I spread my legs out in front and ceased breathing as the scent of her arousal and the illicitness of what I was about to do almost sent me into cardiac arrest.

  “Ready?” she breathed, leaning down to kiss me.

  I’d passed the point of conversation and half-gasped, half-grunted as she slowly sat on me.

  My mouth went slack beneath hers.

  The sensation of her tight heat blew my mind.

  The tremble of her thighs as she eased down and the small hitches in her breath as she threw her head back and let me fill her, activated the same trigger as before.

  I was no longer Ren, the considerate teen thrust into fatherhood and homeless runaway. I was Ren the nineteen-year-old who’d been hungry for something for years and had finally found it.

  She sank the final distance, her body clenching around mine, and I grabbed a fistful of her hair. Cradling her, I shot upright, spun her so she was on the blankets and slid her down until she was on her back.

  And then I did what stallions and bulls and every male animal did when he was given access to a female.

  I fucked her.

  No other words.

  I fucked her.

  I thrust as fast and as hard as I could.

  I turned animal as I bit her neck, raged upward, held her down, and punished her for making me unravel so completely.

  And when that tickling, tingling warning came and my balls tightened and my cock swelled, I locked my mouth on hers and rode her harder.

  And I came.

  I officially entered adulthood.

  I was a boy no longer.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  REN

  * * * * * *

  2010

  TWENTY and TEN.

  This shared birthday was one of the more important ones because Della reached double figures, and I reached the milestone of any kid.

  I was no longer a teenager.

  I was a man.

  A man who’d had sex—quite regularly, in fact—a man who still felt like a kid most of the time but was also no longer at the mercy of laws of minors or the judgment and pity of adults.

  I was my own person, but it didn’t mean our life changed.

  It didn’t matter the wanderlust in my veins switched from suggestion to downright obsession. It didn’t matter, as I sat in an echo-plagued school hall and watched Della play the role of a Sandy in a younger, less suggestive version of Grease Lightning, that I suffered both pride and bittersweet sacrifice. And it didn’t matter that as I grew older, the more I burned for something I hadn’t found yet. Something I didn’t know but wanted more than I could stand.

  Even though my heart begged me on a daily basis to run into the forest and never look back, I knew I could never be that selfish.

  The Wilsons had been nothing but good to us.

  They’d given me the ability to grant Della the best foundation I could with her education and personal development. The fact that she had a surrogate brother and sister in Liam and Cassie meant the world because no way should she grow up with only me as her companion.

  Not only had the Wilsons ensured that the hours I put into running their farm, increasing their bottom line, and turning a hobby crop where Patricia had to work part-time at a local accountancy firm and John picked up odd jobs here and there into a thriving income where they could retire, but they also taught me the basics in life.

  Things like regular doctor and dentist visits.

  The first time I’d taken Della and myself to the dentist, I didn’t know who hated it more. Luckily, I’d ensured she kept up with regular brushing, and I was a bit obsessive when it came to cleanliness, even while living rough, so we didn’t have too much wrong. A filling or two and we were done for another year.

  Another year older.

  Another year wiser.

  And another year where I fought my lone-wolf tendencies and forced myself to stay for her.

  For my Little Ribbon.

  And it was the right decision because as the spotlight shone on her glossy blonde hair and her cherub cheeks glowed and her blue eyes twinkled like stars, she wasn’t just Sandy from Grease Lightning, singing a song about a boy and summer.

  She was Della Wild, and she was perfect.

  * * * * *

  Two things happened a month later that proved to me just how far apart our worlds had become.

  The first, Patricia and John believed it was time that our two pushed together single beds should be split back apart, now that Della was getting older.

  I’d swallowed back the denial that always followed when someone remarked how tall she’d become, how willowy and pretty and strong. I’d also gulped back the sudden terror that I’d never be able to sleep again unless I could reach out in the night and touch her—to appease my fear that she might be hurt in the darkness just like those kids at Mclary’s barn.

  The day when the bed we’d slept on for years was suddenly broken back into two singles and shoved to opposite sides of the room, the dynamic between Della and I switched again.

  We’d been so used to our routine.

  We didn’t think anything of it or stopped to think that it might be strange for others to see a ‘brother and sister’ sleep side by side.

  Even though I’d raised Della, I never truly thought of her as my sister. Somehow, even all this time later, when I looked at her, I saw her as a Mclary…not mine.

  She looked nothing like her mother or father—which was a blessing—but she also looked nothing like me.

  I was dark and angles and broody desire to be left alone.

  She was light and curves and infectious kindness toward everyone.

  Ten years separated me and my slavery at the Mclary’s, yet it had carved something deep inside me, covering me with wariness, cloaking me with suspicion, and never letting me relax in company no matter how old I became.

  I never stopped to think that sleeping next to her would be seen as inappropriate and never viewed our relationship from an outsider’s point of view.

  Della would kiss me often. Smacking my lips with a strawberry-lip-glossed mouth before running off to class or to play with Liam or help Patricia in her garden or ride with Cassie.

  Her quick-fire affection always melted my gruff heart, and she was the only one who could touch something inside me—slipping past my walls, infiltrating my fortresses to remind me that I might not like many humans but I loved one more than I could stand.

  Needless to say, both Della and I didn’t sleep that night, or the next, or the next. Our hands somehow found their way from their covers to dangle over the edge and reach for each other, never quite touching no matter how much we wished.

  Her ribbon would wrap and drip over her fingers, kissing the dusty floor and reminding me all over again that she wasn’t a baby anymore, but she still had childhood ties.

  Eventually, we got used to sleeping apart, and neither of us ever said how much we preferred sleeping in one large bed. I kept my mouth shut as I didn’t want to overstep important boundaries, and I guessed she didn’t feel the same way because after that first week, she went shopping with Cassie and purchased a bedspread covered with leaping horses frolicking in ocean spray, leaving my drab black sheets looking like a black hole in the corner.

  The second thing to show the growing distance between us was a mid-summer evening where John opened his paddocks to the public to purchase hay bales directly off the meadow the moment we’d finished baling.

  With over two thousand bales to sell and already a barn full of supplies
for our own livestock in winter, John put me in charge of choreographing the countless arriving Utes, trucks, and trailer-pulling cars, directing them to appropriate fields and keeping tally of how many bales they took so I could grab the cash as they left.

  I’d had a minor panic attack when he waltzed back to the house to do whatever he needed to do. That minor attack turned full blown when the first customer finished loading ten bales and drove toward me manning the exit gate.

  The guy with his sunburned nose and stalks of hay on his t-shirt asked, “What do I owe you?” He cocked his head at the back with his loaded hay. “Ten bales at what price?”

  I looked at the farmhouse, cursing John and wishing someone, anyone, would come out and help, but no one did. I sucked up my disgrace that all this time I’d never let John know the extent of my illiteracy. I’d never counted in front of him, never read anything. I’d always gotten around doing the books and tabulations because Patricia was an accountant by trade and enjoyed crunching numbers.

  “Hey? You hear me? How much?” the guy pushed.

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I muttered, “It’s eight dollars a bale so…” I did my best to force a brain that had never been taught arithmetic to perform a miracle.

  “Eighty bucks.” The guy grabbed some cash from his pocket and peeled off four twenties. “Here you go.”

  Our hands met as he shoved the bills into my palm and gave me a quick nod. He drove away before I could hope to work out if I’d just been ripped off or if that was the correct amount.

  A red car started in the distance with a trailer piled high with hay.

  I gulped as it turned toward me and the gate.

  Shit.

  Wedging the cash into my back pocket, my eyes trailed back to the farmhouse, begging for rescue.

  And that was when I saw her.

  Della.

  She leapt out of Cassie’s Corolla, laughing at something Cassie said as they made their way toward the kitchen door. At the last second, Della looked up as if she sensed me staring at her.

  Our eyes locked across meadows and driveways, and she waved once.

  I waved back, adding a come here motion at the end.

  I held my breath. She could go with Cassie. After all, it was school holidays, and she’d been spending a lot of time riding and going to the mall as well as playing with friends her own age.

  I still didn’t trust Cassie’s loose morals wouldn’t rub off on her, but I’d been fierce with her on our second or third time sleeping together. I’d flat out warned her if she ever let Della kiss, fondle, or fuck a boy while she was with her, I’d murder her with my bare hands.

  She’d laughed.

  I hadn’t.

  The subject hadn’t been broached since.

  Instead of continuing into the house like Liam would’ve done, Della said something quick to Cassie then tore toward me.

  Her bony knees flashed beneath her yellow skirt, the matching yellow and white daisy top flopping on her shoulders while her hair gleamed as bright as the sun above.

  Sweat glistened on her forehead as she finally careened to a stop beside me, squinting in the brightness. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I smiled as she threw herself into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Sometimes, I was taken aback to find her head reached my ribcage when only yesterday her face was the very inconvenient height of my groin. “Have a good day in town?”

  “Meh, it was okay. Just hung at the mall. I’m getting bored of doing that. Would much rather be here with you.”

  “I’d rather you be here, too.” I kissed her hair as she pulled away, looking at the unusual traffic on the paddock.

  Her nose wrinkled as two incompetent city folk struggled to lift a bale and place it into their shiny new Ute. “What’s happening?”

  “Free for all.”

  “Uncle John is giving his hay away for free?” Her mouth fell open. “Whoa.”

  “Not free, free.” I moved position and rested my elbows on the moss-covered gate. “I have to charge them as they leave.”

  She eyed me carefully. “Having fun?”

  I snorted. “Does it sound like something I’d do for fun?”

  “Nope.” Her giggle made me so grateful that I had at least one person I could be honest with. Who knew me. The real me. Not the Ren Cassie flirted with, or the Ren John and Patricia nurtured. Ren, the runaway who’d never learned how to read and write.

  She climbed the gate, her white sneakers blinding compared to my dirt-covered steel caps. “I can help…if you want?”

  I ordered myself not to nod like a demented dog. Instead, I cocked my head and looked at her critically. “Think you can handle adding up hay bales and then multiplying by eight dollars?”

  She frowned. “I think so? I dunno…”

  “Well, how about you try one?” I suggested. “If someone had ten bales, how much would they owe?” I had to look away, hating that I was using her to double check I hadn’t been screwed over. A kid helping an adult do his job. What sort of asshole was I?

  Della looked at the sky, her little lips moving before she announced with a flourish, “Eighty dollars.”

  Great, he didn’t screw me.

  I gave her a high five. “Awesome work. Your brain is a flawless machine.”

  She beamed. “So…can I help?”

  “I’d love your help.” The urbanites and their new Ute rolled toward us, their windows down and the wife fanning herself with her hat. “In fact, here’s your first client.”

  Thank God, I had Della beside me because my heart itched with panic as my eyes flew over the stack of bales they’d chosen.

  No way could I count and add that many.

  The driver with his thin beard said, “We have twenty. What’s the damage?”

  I should be able to snap out a figure. I wanted to. But unlike when it came to building something or surviving in the elements or seed management and crop rotation, my mind shut down and went numb.

  Della’s soft, pretty voice piped up beside me, “That will be one hundred and sixty dollars, please.” She flashed me a look as the guy fisted out the bills and passed them to me.

  I grunted a thanks and shoved it into my pocket with the rest.

  As the car accelerated, giving room for a new customer to trundle across the paddock, I inched closer to Della and squeezed her shoulder.

  She gave me a sad pout. “I forgot. I’m so mean.”

  “Forgot what?” I whispered under my breath.

  She kicked the gate, her spine rolling. “That you can’t calculate.”

  I stiffened. “It’s not something I need to know in order to live my life.” Forcing a grin, I added, “That’s why I have you.”

  She gave me a weak smile, moving away from my touch and toward the customers pulling to a stop in their black SUV.

  The elderly man beamed at her. “We have three bales.”

  She looked at the sky, counted, then said, “That is twenty-four dollars, please.”

  The guy passed over three tens and Della turned to me. “Do you have change?”

  Aside from yanking out all the bills in my pocket and checking what I’d stuffed in there, I didn’t know. Instead of embarrassing myself, I shook my head. “Sorry. We did specify correct change only.”

  Della stood frozen. “What do I do?”

  The driver assured her, “Keep the change, honey. Buy yourself something nice for the holidays.”

  He took off before I could punch him for calling her honey.

  For the rest of the day, Della was my calculator, business manager, and boss.

  And each time she gave a customer a figure, I battled with the knowledge that I would never be her equal again as she was utterly brilliant, and I would forever remain adequately passable.

  * * * * *

  That night, I lay staring at the ceiling, doing my best to figure out how people took one number and multiplied it by another to form a different one.

  I did what the TV show had
mentioned, but try as I might, steps were missing that I didn’t have.

  As much as I loved working with my hands and running the farm, I really should teach myself basic things like math and English.

  Somehow.

  Della’s voice threaded through the darkness from her single bed across the room. “Ren…?”

  My head turned on the pillow to face her. The slightly less dark of her bedspread and lightness of her hair were the only things I could make out. “Yeah?”

  “These school holidays…can I? Um, do you want me to…. I can show you what I learned if you want?” Her voice dwindled before coming back sharp with determination. “What I learned at school. I’ll show you. I mean, only if you want.”

  My heart fisted hard.

  I didn’t answer, not because she’d unmanned me or made me feel like an idiot, but because her offer was so perfectly her. So kind. So sweet.

  When silence became oppressive, and I still hadn’t said yes because I was so in awe of her generous offer, she murmured, “Tomorrow, I’ll show you a couple of things. You can decide after if you want to know more.” She rolled over, giving me her back.

  And I lay in the darkness, thanking her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  DELLA

  * * * * * *

  Present Day

  A WHILE AGO, I mentioned I’d committed all seven deadly sins starting with wrath when I hated Cassie at first sight.

  I was hoping I could skip over the others as I don’t really want to reveal just how awful a person I became, but I don’t think I have a choice. Not because I’m actually rather normal and felt nothing that someone else hasn’t before me, but because I committed the rest of them all in a three-year period.

  Clever, huh?

  I went from innocent child to terrible human being all in the space of a few short years.

  The first one I’ll mention is pride.

  And that one was Ren’s fault.

  I was taught at school that it was okay to be proud of achieving high marks if you’d studied hard and deserved it. It was okay to be proud of a drawing or accomplishment because that was the reward for striving to be better and succeeding. As long as you didn’t brag or boast, a bit of self-praise was encouraged.