Page 26

CHAPTER 26

REDLEY

For all I’ve heard about sex and how much men enjoy it, I had no idea it could feel like this for women. I look up at him, yellow eyes like molten gold, brown hair glowing in the failing light. My mouth falls open as little shocks of pleasure move through me like liquid gold dripping out of his eyes and flooding through me.

My feelings for him confuse and overwhelm me, leaving me stranded with nothing to hang on to but my own shifting worldview and his shoulders.

He stays inside me for a moment, leaving us connected while we stare at one another and the obvious place where he invades me. His cock twitches, and the rhythmic pulse connects us. He pulls out, and I look down, catching the shine of my blood and my orgasm painted on him.

“Mmm, all mine,” he says as he tucks his cock back into his pants, still bloody.

Then he lowers himself to my pussy and places a series of kisses across it. When he hits that one spot, my eyes roll to the back of my head. I have half a mind to ask him about what it is, but then I remember that I hate him. That he’s not my handsome and gentle sex mentor who forces me to fuck for some benevolent reasons. He’s a murderer, and he wanted to use my body, so he did.

He lifts his head and smiles at me, showing the fresh blood of my lost virginity all over his lips. This is how he looks in my dreams—vicious and feral but also painfully beautiful. He stands a moment later, practically looking like a building as he towers over me. Our eyes meet, like soft and flirting kisses from old lovers, a ball gown sweeping across the dance floor.

He smiles softly for just a second, his split lip stretching from the punch I landed. The mix of our blood on his lips makes him all the more beautiful and terrible before his features turn hard, and he’s just a monster again, a human one, but a monster all the same.

“Your first fuck and your first orgasm are a big deal, and someone should love on you. I would help you with the body and get you home, but you fucking shot me three times.”

I lift my head off the ground. “Only once.”

Blood stains his tattered shirt, but I can tell from the fact it’s already clotted that it was not serious.

“You tried three times, and it’s the effort that counts, Muffin. Anyone ever told you that?”

I almost want to laugh. That’s not really how it works in the Little family. “No,” I tell him. “I was mostly told nothing I ever did would be good enough. But if that’s how you count it, I’ve shot you a lot of times this past year.”

“You owe me,” he agrees. “I’ll be happy to collect.”

His eyes rove over my exposed pussy. There’s nothing more revealing than what he’s already done to me, so while I shiver, I don’t bother to waste my energy covering myself from his inspection.

“Don’t stay out here too long. The weather isn’t that warm yet.”

The concern in his voice undoes me as much as the pleasure, and I wonder if I begged him to stay would he change his mind.

“Or what?” I ask, just being stubborn for the sake of taking back a little control.

“They’re your toes, Muffin. Keep them or don’t.”

He nods to my clothes and boots lying off to the side.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, sounding a touch more disappointed than I’d like to.

“I’ll be seeing you soon,” Wolf promises before turning and jogging off. His broad back shines in the light, and I wonder how he could possibly be so attractive. The trees quickly obscure him, and I have no chance of keeping my eyes on him.

I look up at the clear blue sky. The very edges of the horizon are beginning to turn orange. I’ve been out here, trying and failing to kill him, and then losing my virginity for a very long time. A tear rolls down my cheek as the cold ground starts to sink into me, and I realize I have no choice in anything.

Just like the night before, I listen to Wolf and get off the ground before the bedrock can chill me to my bones. I put my panties and jeans back on and then tie up my boots. I search for my gun and find it a few yards away. My heart aches, and my stomach turns as I give Porter one last look.

His eyes sit open, and I’m not sure if he was like that or if they fell open when I tried to move him earlier. Either way, his death is partially my fault just like Granny’s. I brought him into my fight with Wolf, knowing what would happen, and he paid the price for it.

“I’m so sorry, James. I’ll move you tomorrow,” I tell him, but it feels like I’m lying. “I’ll figure something out.” That feels more true, but he’s too dead to care what promises I can or can’t keep.

More tears fall as I close the tailgate and get back into the truck. It’s not all my emotional turmoil this time, but the physical pain of everything my body’s been through. There’s no way I have the strength to move Porter today. I’ll be lucky if I can get this truck home with my shaking arms.

Rather than leaving him to the elements, I pull the blanket I planned to cover him with out of the flatbed and toss it over him. No need to subject him to any more indignities. I say a quick prayer over top of him, refusing to accept what a grim excuse for a funeral this is.

It’s the best I can do, and that’s all I’ve ever done. All I can keep doing is my best. I just know that sooner rather than later, it won’t be good enough, and this will all fall apart on me very soon. Wolf is not a monster; he’s not the anything, and I gave him my virginity—no, he took it, and I liked it.

“Man, I wish I had power steering,” I say to myself as I climb into the truck. My arms shake as I put the old girl in reverse, and push past the overgrowth. “You’re going to be okay. You’re just fine,” I tell myself again and again, not sure why I’m doing it. I’m not usually like this when talking to myself.

My eyes stay peeled for the Wolf, but I’m not surprised when I don’t see him. He’s been following me for a long time, and he never made himself known until now. Why now? Why lose patience after all this time?

I’m back on the road and ready for the drive to my cabin when I remember another aspect of my sexual education. I know how they breed livestock. Men come inside you, just like the stud bulls. I slide my fingers into my panties, and as far as I can tell, there’s nothing between my legs that didn’t come from me other than his spit.

He didn’t finish. Only me.

Why would he do that? What does he have to gain by making me feel good? Does that mean I won’t get pregnant?

Would he do that more if I was his wife?