Page 13

CHAPTER 13

WOLF

Redley Little is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, but with that ring on her finger, she is beyond exquisite. She might not deserve a gift after shooting at me and cracking a kerosene lamp over me, but that doesn’t change my timeline. I wasn’t lying. This is her last chance to come to terms with the inevitable.

I think she’s made the right choice, finally, as she slides the ring onto her finger. Green eyes widen with pretty interest as she stares. My heart speeds up. I’ve finally won, but she grunts to herself as she pulls it off. One more longing look before she puts the ring back in the box, and my fists tighten in anger. She’ll get there eventually, but I’m not known for my patience.

I’ve been waiting too damn long for what’s mine. Everything that’s mine.

My shoulder burns, little slices from the glass cover my skin, as well as a light burn that’s just deep enough to sting like a bitch. My shirt hangs off my body in tatters and it doesn’t escape my notice that we’ll have matching scars now. So I suppose she got a small taste of the revenge she wants so desperately, a little skin out of the game, but it doesn’t hurt too much. I’ve had much worse. She’ll get far more time to needle me when she’s mine.

Blood still coats my hands from the oldest Murphy. He went creeping along in places he shouldn’t have been, and those things he saw cost him his life. He should have stayed away and could have lived a long time, but that’s not what fate had in store for him. It’s not my fault he wandered too far from home and got caught in a wolf’s den. All animals have to pay the price for their missteps and humans are no exception. I’ve been killing for too long to be precious about it. I like what I do, and my own time will eventually come.

My cock aches with the excitement of ending his life, especially so close to my muffin. The picture of her in that ring too, how much is a man supposed to take? I was showing off, practically screaming for the pretty girl to look at me. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, I thrive off her attention. She’s going to be horrified repeatedly. That’s just what life is like with a monster. That’s what she calls me, so that’s who I am, right? Whatever she needs me to be.

Redley is my wife and has been since the day I killed her granny. There's not a damn thing anyone can do about it, especially her. She’s a tiny thing at five foot three, and her dark hair sweeps down her back like a waterfall of night. The greenest eyes, fair skin, and lips like spilling blood, her curves are sin, and the fact she wants to watch me die? For a monster like me who loves to kill? I couldn’t think of something more delicious than a curvy little killer ready to make me bleed.

“Pretty little Muffin,” I coo into the darkness, and smile as she looks over her shoulder, not sure if she heard something or not.

She places the box on her little table before she turns to undress, talking to herself as she often does. I don’t know if it helps her think or she’s insane, but either way, I love the view into her thoughts. The idea that she's so lonely doesn’t sit right with me though, another reason my timeline can’t be avoided.

“Damn that Wolf, who the hell does he think he is?” She asks no one, but I could tell her if she really wanted to know. The problem is that her and the truth have never kept close company. She keeps cursing to herself about the injustices of the world and how good people keep dying. They weren’t all that good or that innocent, not that it matters much. I like her shiny, selective view of the world.

If she had any clue just how unjust things actually are, my little huntress would never sleep again, and I couldn’t bear to see her suffer that way. She doesn’t need to worry, though. Even though she turned me down once, I still plan to keep her from the worst of things and protect her from the truth as she deserves.

She turns back to face me, flashing me her full tits as she does, and I tell myself it’s intentional. She wants me to see them. Muffin knows how hard she makes my cock. That killing the flocking sheep living on this mountain makes me so horny I’m practically insane, and I only need her. She’s getting naked for me to take the edge off, and I appreciate her efforts too much not to take advantage of them.

My cock throbs behind my zipper. Tight jeans are a crime against big cocks, and I’m forced to open them just to relieve some of the pressure. That’s all I’m doing. The night air kisses my erection, cold enough to take the edge off but not enough to calm me down. She picks both her tits up and squeezes them.

“Jesus, they’re sore. My cycle is coming,” she says to herself.

I’ve never been afraid of a little blood, and the idea of holding her extra-large tits while I fuck her has me rubbing my cock with my hands still coated in blood. This is what she wants, why she’s getting naked for me and feeling her tits like she’s putting on a show. Who am I to deny my muffin what she wants?

My fist squeezes around myself as I work the length nice and slow, watching as she dresses her soft curves, bending to change into her pajama bottoms and flashing me the sweet cut of her cunt. My cock is so large I’ll have trouble putting it all inside her when the time comes. That’s not going to stop me from trying. I’ll break her in half if that’s what it means for her to take me all the way.

I’m running out of patience when it comes to being inside her. She ran from me four years ago, and I suppose that was smart because that’s the only reason she’s not mine already. She was hard to find for those few years, but not for a lack of trying. And since she’s been back? Well, she doesn’t put the guns down often.

She dips down even further, showing me another inch of pussy, and my cock throbs as my balls draw up. I play my favorite fantasy in my mind as I watch and stroke myself. I’ve just killed her granny, but the Red in my mind is the adult woman. When I ask her to come with me, she says yes instead of attacking me. Then we fuck right there in the blood I spilled. She loves me for protecting her. She knows what I did was for the best. She’s grateful.

I imagine how she would squeeze me and how stunning she would look coated in blood as she came, and that’s really all I need. It doesn’t take much more to bring me over the edge. I haven’t been with anyone since that night four years ago when I realized she was mine, and my desperation is reaching a fever pitch. My orgasm grabs me deep, pulling my balls up tight as I spill, shooting cum in thick streams across the ground. The farthest reaches of it splash up against her cabin.

That’s okay. I’m just an animal marking my territory. I’ll do the same to her first chance I get. She may tell herself she wants to kill me, but somewhere deep inside, I think she knows what she is. That she’s my property, and anyone who harms her forfeits their life to me.

How can she hate me when I’m the only one who’s ever really loved her?