Page 46 of Little Red Riding Hood
“I lied.”
A gasp of shock left Red’s lips.
“You’re this gorgeous, young little thing, and I didn’t want to give myself any temptations.”
Gorgeous?!Had Wim hit his head on the run through the forest?
“I’m not—”
Wim silenced him by pressing the pad of his thumb to Red’s lips. “Youareyoung. And I know I shouldn’t. But lord help me…”
Red parted his lips, and Wim’s thumb slipped inside his mouth. Wim groaned as if Red’s tongue was pressed against a much more sensitive part of him.
“I can’t pretend I haven’t dreamed of sucking your sweet cock for the last three nights.”
In the reflection of Wim’s large eyes, Red saw his own shocked face. “You… have?”
“Will you let me?” It was as if he were begging for water, not Red’s cock. “Please?”
“Yes,” Red said, because there was zero chance he was saying no. Though Red had often found himself on his knees, he’d never been on the receiving end of such a favour. The thought of Wim’s mouth being the first to touch him there made his aching prick leak a little in excitement.
Wim started to fall to the ground.
“Wait!” Red said, and Wim stopped, eyes widening. “Kiss me first.” The desperate words tumbled out before Red could stop them, and he immediately wished he could swallow them back down.
Kiss me first so I can pretend this is more than what it is. Let me live in a fleeting fantasy, where we’re real lovers,not just two broken souls seeking comfort in the wild.
Wim flashed him a wolfish grin. “With pleasure, sweetheart.”
Red’s heart raced as Wim leaned in, his calloused fingers tenderly cupping Red’s face. Time slowed each breath, stretching into eternity as their eyes locked. In Wim’s gaze, a whirlwind of emotions—longing, vulnerability, a raw hunger—were unashamedly on display.
When their lips finally met, Red’s heart stuttered in his chest, because nothing in his life had prepared him for how tender a wolf’s kiss could be.
Red hadn’t had many kisses. The few he’d had involved whichever partner gripping his chin with some force and shoving their tongue in his mouth with violent lashes.
It had never been like this—like Wim was savouring the taste of him. His lips moved with urgency yet profound gentleness, as ifRed were something precious to be cherished. And so, Red happily melted into the embrace, his fingers tangling in Wim’s thick mane.
Wim nudged Red’s mouth open with his tongue, and slipped its wet warmth inside, sliding it against Red’s own in a soft tango.
Red prepared himself to taste the blood of the men Wim had killed within his mouth.
But there wasn’t a single hint of death.
Instead, he tasted the wildness of the forest on Wim’s hot tongue—the earthy musk of damp soil, the crisp tang of pine needles. Yet underlying it all was an essence that was uniquely, unmistakably Wim. Rugged and strong, yet infinitely gentle.
Then Wim kissed him with a ferocity that would have stolen Red’s breath away, if he had any breath left to steal.
As their bodies pressed closer, Red lost himself in the solid warmth of Wim’s powerful frame. The roughness of his calloused palms cradling Red’s face contrasted with the exquisite softness of his kiss, overwhelming Red’s senses to the point his knees began to shake and he had to squeeze them together.
When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Red gazed up at Wim through half-lidded eyes, his swollen lips quirking into a dazed smile.
In that moment, the world around Red faded into insignificance. His royal quest, the whispering trees, the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy, the very air they breathed—all of it paled against the blazing intensity of kissing Wim. Red’s universe had contracted to this single point, centered on the man before him. Thewolfbefore him.
Wim’s thumb traced the line of Red’s kiss-swollen bottom lip with a tenderness that made his heart clench. “Little Red…” he rumbled, his deep voice made husky with emotion.
This intimacy was the thing he’d been starving for his entire life without ever realizing it—and now that he’d tasted it, he feared he might never get enough.
Gathering his courage, Red surged up onto his toes to reclaim Wim’s lips one last time. His fingers traced the line of Wim’s jaw, revelling in the rough rasp of his stubble. If Red never had another kiss in his life, at least he’d had this one.
