Page 23 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Red stared at the almighty cock in front of him, his mouth going dry at the sight of it filling his vision.

It was beautiful in its own way—thick and proud, rising from a nest of dark, wild curls that trailed up Wim’s stomach like a shadowy path through a forest. The sheer size of it made Red’s previous experiences seem laughably inadequate .

Red took a steadying breath, squaring his shoulders.

After what Wim had just done for him—after making him feel more pleasure than he’d ever known possible—Red was determined to return even a fraction of that bliss.

He might not have much experience with anything this…

impressive, but by god, he was going to try his very best.

He tentatively took the cock in hand, its rigidity startling against his fingers. It pulsed in his grasp, a living beast yearning for release. Red’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard as he leaned forward, lips parting in trepidation.

The tip of Wim’s cock pressed against Red’s mouth, its girth stretching his lips to their limits.

He paused at the initial contact, feeling the weight of it against his tongue.

Summoning all his courage, Red attempted to accommodate the monstrous instrument, bringing it into his throat—but he only managed what felt like an inch before he met insurmountable resistance.

Gagging, he quickly pulled away, a hint of shame warming his cheeks.

His thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm.

What was he going to do? He’d been fairly proud of his previous efforts in this domain—the stable master certainly had no complaints about Red’s skill.

But this was a whole other challenge. Impossible, even.

A familiar, self-deprecating voice whispered through the chaos…

Of course you can’t please him, Red, you pathetic, worthless fool.

A sigh escaped Red’s mouth as he gazed up at Wim, a pleading look in his eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammered, internally bracing himself for the derision that was sure to follow.

Wim’s eyes softened, a frown playing at the corners of his lips. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The endearment only worsened Red’s pain, the dagger in his heart twisting.

“I can’t…” Red flapped his hand wildly around Wim’s cock. “It’s too big!” he snapped angrily. “Why the fuck is it so big?!”

Wim laughed so loudly, a flock of birds burst into flight. “Never had anyone complain about that before. ”

Red scowled, his cheeks now burning hotter than hell. Clearly, Wim’s previous lovers must possess stupidly large mouths to go with their stupid faces.

“Ah, don’t worry yourself, sweetheart,” Wim said, gently cupping Red’s face. His calloused thumb traced Red’s furrowed brow. “Whatever you can offer, it’s more than enough for me.” His words resonated with sincerity.

Red huffed, trying to suppress his frustration. He allowed himself to take a deep breath, leaning into Wim’s touch as he worked to regain his composure.

“Just relax,” Wim whispered, soothing Red’s racing thoughts. “Even the sight of your pretty little mouth an inch away from my cock has it twitching, eager to spend itself all over your face.”

Red choked in shock. What words!

Red’s gaze locked onto Wim’s eyes, now twinkling with mischief, and his resolve slowly returned. With a renewed sense of determination, Red leaned in once more, his lips parting…

The taste of salt and musk hit Red’s tongue as he wrapped his lips around the wolf’s cockhead and sucked hard. Wim let out a low moan and a surge of satisfaction bubbled up within Red. He paused to savour the moment. He was doing that, bringing pleasure to this wild wolf.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart!” Wim growled, his hands gently kneading Red’s shoulders. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Perfect.

Tears prickled Red’s eyes. Wim wouldn’t know, of course, but that word meant everything to him.

Red returned to his task with renewed fervour, and quickly lost himself. He danced his tongue around the head of Wim’s cock, drenching it in saliva. His hands joined the frenzy, and slid up and down the now slick length, spreading the wetness.

Oh, yes. Red was doing a very good job indeed, if Wim’s grunts were anything to go by.

Then Wim abruptly threw his head back, and let out a guttural howl that echoed through the forest. The vibrations rippled through Red, and fuelled him onward.

Raw groans and guttural growls filled the forest. Red relished every single one—affirmation that he was doing something right… something perfect in fact.

With slow, tender movements, Wim’s hand stroked Red’s cheek, mapping the shape of it where it bulged with his cock.

Heart stuttering, Red tentatively placed his hand over Wim’s.

He gathered his courage, then guided Wim’s hand towards his hair, giving it the smallest experimental tug, hoping Wim would understand without him having to voice his desire.

When their eyes met, Wim’s lips curved into a knowing smile that made Red’s pulse race.

Wim’s large hand tangled in Red’s curls, grip tightening with delicious slowness until Red thought he might combust from anticipation.

The sudden pull that followed walked the perfect line between pleasure and pain, forcing a broken moan from Red’s throat as his head tilted back, exposing his throat to the wolf above him.

“You like this?” Wim asked, low and husky.

Red could only softly moan his affirmation, nodding as best he could.

It was what the stable master had done to him, the few times he’d fucked Red. Though their rough couplings had been performed with cold detachment—emotionless fumbles in the dark, with Red pressed up against the wooden wall of the stable, splinters of wood biting into his hands.

But this, with Wim, was different. Here, in this wild refuge of the forest, Red found himself stripped bare of more than just his clothes.

Every touch, every growl, every heated glance made Red feel like he mattered—like he wasn’t just some imperfect thing to be hidden away in the shadows of the palace.

Every moment stripped Red of the shame he’d carried since childhood.

Wim tugged on Red’s hair once more, forcing Red to moan around Wim’s prick. His body shivered with pleasure, his own length twitching although it had just spent. Red’s thoughts swirled as he found himself drowning in the sheer intensity of the moment.

Wim’s growl deepened, vibrating through Red’s core, as he warned, “Sweetheart, I’m close.”

Red wrapped his lips tight around him, then with a final thrust, Wim released inside Red’s mouth. The warm torrent of seed was more than he anticipated. He tried his best to swallow it all, but some spilled out, dribbling down his chin.

Red gasped for breath, the taste of Wim lingering on his tongue as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes fluttered upwards, meeting Wim’s heated gaze with a mixture of defiance and newfound vulnerability.

Once Wim was fully spent, he collapsed onto the forest floor, pulling Red onto his lap in one fluid motion.

The wolf’s chest heaved against Red’s back, his breaths coming in hot pants against Red’s ear.

With an almost tender ferocity, Wim nuzzled into the crook of Red’s neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorise his scent.

Then his tongue—rough and hot—dragged slowly up the column of Red’s throat, cleaning away the remnants of their passion that had spilled there.

The gesture was pure animal instinct, primal and possessive, yet somehow intensely intimate.

His heart raced as Wim continued his meticulous attention, each lap of his tongue causing small gasps to escape Red’s lips.

Red melted against Wim’s broad chest, tilting his head to give the wolf better access.

Red felt claimed, marked, cherished in a way that made his chest ache with an emotion he could not name.

The heat of Wim’s body enveloped him completely, as if the wolf was trying to shield him from the world itself.

In that moment, Red felt invincible, like he could conquer the world if he wanted to.

Wim, seemingly finally satisfied that Red was thoroughly covered in his saliva, stopped. Red leaned into his embrace, and as he rested his head against Wim’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, he couldn’t help but fear. Was he falling in love with this wild wolf?

The notion was terrifying. Not only were they merely temporary allies sharing a journey, but Wim was still keeping his secrets from Red… still thought Red’s quest was stupid, even if he wouldn’t say it to his face.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of pine and earth through the air, and Red nestled closer to Wim, savouring the warmth and security his body offered.

Red would not spoil this magical moment with such thoughts.

“Like having your hair pulled, do you?” Wim ran his large hand through Red’s hair, which must’ve resembled a bird’s nest by now. “What else do you like?”

What did Red like? He was pretty sure Wim could do almost anything to him and he’d like it very much. But he forced himself to think back to what else the stable master had done to him. “I’ve been slapped before.”

Wim’s fingers stilled. “But did you like it?”

Had Red liked it? His encounters with the stable master had always been about the other man’s pleasure—Red had never stopped to consider his own.

“I think so? I think I especially would if you were the one slapping me.”

Wim made a thoughtful, disgruntled sound, but his fingers thankfully resumed their blissful strokes. Red fought very hard not to purr like a kitten.

Wim pressed a kiss to the top of Red’s head. “I loved carrying you on my back earlier. I’ll carry you for some of the journey from now on. It’ll be quicker.”

Quicker? Though he’d adored riding Wim, Red wanted to protest. He’d rather slow the journey down, spend more time together before they inevitably parted ways.

The memory of the evil, calculating look in the Queen’s Shadow’s eyes resurfaced. How long until the geist popped back up to check on Red? What would happen if he saw his furry travelling companion?

Alas, it did seem like the sooner they reached the Dark Forest, the better.

As Wim continued to cradle him in his arms, Red remembered the wolf hadn’t answered his question from so many hours ago now—about how exactly the Dark Forest was going to help him find his cure—but there was no way Red was going to ask it again.

Not when they only had a handful of days left together.

Not when Wim made him feel so good.

So needed.

So perfect .

No, Red wanted to stay trapped in the bubble they’d formed for themselves for as long as possible. He’d treasure every single second until reality shattered their fragile dream.