Page 49 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

But Wim must still be saying the wrong thing, because Red’s tears weren’t stopping. If anything, they were increasing by the second .

“Why are you still crying?” The words came out as almost a whine.

Red pulled back and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve.

“It’s just… I’ve spent twenty-four winters living in a dingy attic, with only spiders for friends, walking around the palace with my eyes on my feet in case I crossed paths with the Queen…

” Red gave a watery laugh. “And now you’re offering me a real home?

With pillows and fires and—and—” He gestured wildly at Wim. “Everything I’ve ever dreamed about?”

Wim’s chest constricted. He reached for Red, but he scrambled to his feet, pacing beside the shimmering pool.

“And you want to cook for me? And read adventure stories together?” Red asked, in almost a high-pitched squeak. He stopped abruptly, running both hands through his hair. “God, I sound mad.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.”

“I do! Because normal people don’t get this excited about… about…” Red waved his arms again. “About cottages and cooking and—and someone actually wanting them!”

The raw vulnerability in Red’s tone made Wim’s wolf whine. He stood, catching Red’s flailing hands in his own.

“Then we’re both mad.” Wim pressed a kiss to Red’s knuckles. “Because I get excited thinking about cooking for you every day. About showing you our home. About watching you curl up by our fire.”

Red’s lower lip trembled. “Our home,” he whispered, like he was testing how the words felt on his tongue.

Dropping to the mossy ground, Wim rummaged through his pack to find where he’d stowed away his necklace of milk teeth. He still remembered that day he’d threaded them onto the cord, one by one, imagining who he’d give it to.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined it would be a loud, opinionated pipsqueak who was infatuated with a red riding hood, but there they were .

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wim rose, pressing the cord of milk teeth into Red’s palm. “May I?”

Red nodded, the bright glow of the fungi illuminating the smile on his face.

Wim’s fingers found the clasp of Red’s cloak first, releasing it with reverent care. The crimson fabric pooled at Red’s feet like spilled wine. Next came the leather vest, its laces yielding one by one to Wim’s patient touch.

The grotto was as warm as a summer’s day, thanks to the hot spring, yet Red shook head to toe like a leaf under his touch.

“You’re shaking,” Wim murmured, brushing his lips against Red’s collarbone.

“So are you.” Red’s voice wavered as Wim slipped the vest from his shoulders.

The cotton shirt beneath felt impossibly soft against Wim’s calloused hands. Red lifted his arms, allowing Wim to pull the garment over his head.

He savoured each newly revealed inch of pale skin, mapping the smattering of freckles across Red’s shoulders and down his arms. The blue-green light painted shadows across the planes of his chest. Alongside his wildly messy curls, he looked every bit a magical pixie. Beautiful. Perfect.

“You’re so perfect to me,” Wim whispered in Red’s ear, as his trembling hands found Red’s belt, working the leather free with deliberate slowness. Red’s breath hitched as the last pieces of clothing fell away, leaving him bare beneath the star-scattered canopy.

It took moments for Wim to shed his own clothes, grateful for the warmth radiating from the pool.

Then, gathering the necklace from Red’s fisted palm, Wim lifted it high.

The sharp teeth gleamed like pearls in the blue light as he lowered it over Red’s head.

The cord settled against Red’s throat, a perfect fit, as though it had been crafted for this moment alone .

“My Red,” Wim breathed, pressing his forehead to Red’s sternum. The steady thrum of Red’s heart beneath his skin sang of home, of belonging, of forever. “My mate.”

Red’s eyes were impossibly wide as he ran his fingertips over each of the teeth in turn, as if he were cherishing every one. “Thank you. I’ll never take it off.”

Red’s hand travelled through the scruff of Wim’s beard to cup his face, and Wim shut his eyes, leaning into the touch. Every gentle stroke felt like the first warm breeze after a long winter, thawing something deep within him.

Wim ran his hands over Red’s ribs, still slightly protruding despite Wim’s best efforts. When they got back home, Wim would hunt every hour of the day until he found Red enough food to eat.

Most importantly, he was going to love him so hard, it would become impossible for him not to love himself.

His Little Red was far from perfect, but those imperfections were what made him perfect to Wim.

“I knew it in my bones when I first caught your scent—you were meant to be mine .” Wim dropped his tone to a seductive purr. “And now I get to have you.”

Before Red had time to register what was happening, Wim brought the flat of his palm against his left buttock, giving him a very firm slap.

Red let out a yelp of surprise before his lips turned up into a challenging smirk. “Oh, will you now, wolf? You think you can tame me that easily?”

“Tame you?” Wim circled behind Red, trailing his fingers across bare skin. He ran a finger up and down Red’s spine, then lightly squeezed his nape. “ Never . I like you wild.”

Pressed up against him, Red shivered into Wim’s waiting arms. “Good, because—” His words cut off with another yelp as Wim landed another swat to his ass before kneading into the muscles, rubbing deep circles with his thumb .

“Because what, sweetheart?” Wim’s arm pulled Red even closer to him, and he began nuzzling into his neck where the milk teeth rested. The scent of berries and arousal filled his nose, making his wolf growl with satisfaction.

“Because I bite.” Red twisted in his arms, nipping at Wim’s jaw through his beard.

The sharp sting of teeth sent heat coursing through Wim’s body. He caught Red’s wrists, pinning them behind his back with one hand. “Surprise, sweetheart. So do I.”

Red’s pupils dilated, eyes dark with desire. “Prove it,” he said, on a heavy breath.

Wim dipped his head to Red’s throat, grazing his teeth over the silky soft skin. “Last chance to run away, Little Red.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Red pressed closer, defiant even in surrender. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Wim’s heart raced with an intoxicating blend of primal hunger and a tender possessiveness he’d never known before. Red was his—all sharp wit and sweet surrender wrapped in soft, freckled skin that begged to be mapped with Wim’s lips.

Wim ran his thumb over each of Red’s nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. Red’s sharp intake of breath sent a pleased hum through Wim’s chest. Fiery blood flooded south as he savoured the feel of Red’s responsive body.

“Fuck,” Red gasped, arching into the touch. “God almighty!”

Wim chuckled, dropping to his knees like a devotee, drinking in the sight of him in the luminous glow.

He pressed the flat of his tongue against first one taut bud, then the other.

Red whimpered, then groaned as Wim nuzzled his face into the soft hair at the top of his prick, mouthing all the way to his hipbone.

“Please,” Red panted, voice rough with longing.

Wim raised his head, eyes gleaming with desire. “I wish I could take my time with you,” he murmured. “But I’m too impatient for you to be mine. ”

Red’s glorious cock—so slender with its slight curve—was there waiting, fully erect for him without even the slightest of touches.

And as he pressed his lips to Red’s shaft—that first touch deliberate and lingering—Wim’s eyes never left Red’s, two different stars shining in the dimness, making Wim’s world entirely brighter.

With a hand on either side of Red’s hips, he savoured the soft gasp that escaped Red, the way his body buckled ever so slightly. And then, in a single greedy swallow, Wim took Red fully into his mouth, taking him as far back into his throat as he could.

Red’s reaction was instantaneous—a sharp, high cry, his fingers threading through Wim’s hair. The pull against his scalp spurred Wim on, and he worked Red with relentless dedication, the wet suction of his mouth matched by the rhythmic squeeze of his hand around the base of Red’s cock.

Every moan that tore from Red’s throat, every shudder that racked his frame, every helpless jerk of his hips fed Wim’s desire.

But it was when Red stopped pulling his hair, and started stroking it—in gentle, slow, rhythmic motions—that Wim became absolutely undone.

Between Red’s thighs, Wim felt like a conquering hero.

He owned every gasp and whimper, every stuttered curse and broken plea.

Wim would not merely be Red’s protector—he would strive to be his sanctuary, his solace in a world that had given him far too little kindness.

He was determined to show Red just how cherished he truly was, to carve out a space within his own heart where Red would be safe and adored forevermore.

The hands stroking his hair became frantic, the only warning before Red’s entire body went rigid. Red’s cock throbbed against Wim’s tongue before he tumbled headlong into his release with a choked sob, with Wim catching every tremor and wave, drinking him down as if his life depended on it.

How lucky Wim was that Red tasted as delicious as he smelled.

As the tremors subsided, Wim gently released Red from his mouth, planting tender kisses along his inner thighs before meeting his gaze once more.

The sight of Red, disheveled and spent, cheeks flushed with the aftermath of his pleasure, sent a fierce surge of protectiveness coursing through Wim’s veins.

He would go to the ends of the earth to keep this magnificent creature safe.

He would move mountains if it meant keeping that soft, contented look on Red’s face.

Red’s legs appeared to give way, and he half fell into Wim’s lap, throwing his arms around his neck.