Wolf (A Little Red Riding Hood Retelling) (Brother's best friend romance)

by J. A. Wynters

  Wolf

  The Fractured Fairytales Series

  J. A. Wynters

  Wolf: Copyright © 2020 by J. A Wynters

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof my NOT be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form or by any means whatsoever, including photocopying, recording or other mechanical methods, without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non- commercial uses permitted by cop-right law.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Editing by: Dear Jane Editing

  Cover design: Jennifer Demeter; The Dust Jacket Designs

  Interior Formatting: Dawn Lucous, Yours Truly Book Services

  To Wolf

  I would follow you blindly into the woods.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by J. A. Wynters

  1

  Present Day

  Wolf

  The music drills into my skull. My head falls back, and I stare at a black spot in the ceiling that’s not covered with lights. The club is as full as ever, everyone is out for a good time. The air is drenched with the scent of alcohol and pheromones, and some tight ass blonde has been giving me fuck me eyes for the last two hours.

  I’m on edge tonight. I feel like a marionette whose strings are pulled too tightly and I just can’t shake it off. Everything feels too stiff, too rigid, sitting just out of place.

  The blonde walks past me again and the tip of her tongue slips out gliding along her bottom lip. My cock twitches and now, there’s another part of me that’s tight and sore.

  Fuck it.

  I throw her my trademark smile and bring the two-way radio to my lips, “Rob, could you come to my position? I have a possible code twenty-two.” I step off my podium.

  A few smirks spread around the room. I ignore them. I’ve been in this game long enough to know none of the guys would talk, especially not if they want to keep working for me.

  I thought I would enjoy filling a shift, re-live the old days, but I hate it. It takes me back to the beginning when we were just setting up, getting fucked around and beaten on. Hunter and I started our security business five years ago. We started small. Securing local clubs, staring at doors and asses for years. Over time we hired and trained bodies, now we own one of the largest and most formidable security firms in London.

  Three years ago, we decided to make the shift to private protection. Celebrities and wannabies who need bodyguards to babysit them. It’s easier on the body and the pay cheques are higher. Still, the security business is thriving, so we won’t stop the club security. So when we’re short, Hunter and I still have to fill in the gaps, which means, for tonight, I ‘m stuck here.

  Guess I’m going to have to find a way to pass the time.

  I jut my chin and walk towards the back entrance, knowing blondie is following me. I hope she had a good time cause after I’m done with her, she won’t be allowed to stay much longer. I’ll get one of the guys to remove her for being intoxicated. I never double dip and I don’t need a broken-hearted chick skulking around me all night giving me hate stares. I’ve learned from my first few mistakes. We all have. Now we protect ourselves.

  The boys will look out for me. They always do. In a world of uncertainty, of this one thing I can always be sure.

  I spot Bella, the manager. Her gaze boomerangs from the blonde trailing behind me, to my face. I wink, nod, and keep walking. She’s been shooting me desperate looks all night. Last time I worked this club, I had her bent over her desk with my cock pumping inside her and the cops knocking on the door demanding CCTV footage of a fight from the night before. I’ve been staying out of her way and hope by the end of the night she’ll finally get the idea.

  I lead blondie to the back door where Dean keeps a straight face and lets us out. She’s already clawing at me and I grab her wrist to keep her from touching my cock. I can’t let the cameras catch me doing this, despite everything, I have a reputation to uphold— squeaky clean and always doing the right thing— it’s how we’ve managed to climb the ladder so quickly. And how Hunter and I can now work out of an office while the guys have to do the grunt work.

  Getting a few blow jobs during a shift is one thing, getting caught is another. I won’t let any girl jeopardise what I’ve worked so hard for.

  I yank her out of the club. Fresh air hits my lungs, the bite of crisp air coats my skin and cools me down. I pull her into the dead camera zone and wait for the door to close, muting the music as it does.

  The alley glistens. The rain’s washed away the sour smell of piss and a few puddles lay scattered among the cobblestones like dark mirrors, beckoning me to look into them and see the monster I am.

  I grab the blonde and slam her back into the brick wall, she lets out a gentle giggle and her eyes grow bigger as they rake over me.

  “You’re pretty,” I say dipping my head just a little. She’s not, but that’s the kind of shit girls want to hear.

  She grabs my chin and pulls my head up so that I can look into her eyes, “My name is Jenny.”

  I nod like it matters, letting the name slip away like all the Samanthas and Karens and Mias that came before her. I smile like I give a shit and pin her body to the wall with mine.

  “Are you sober?” I kiss her cheek as I ask.

  “Sober enough to know what I want.”

  “What do you want, baby?” I whisper against her ear.

  “You.” Desperation clings to her breathy words.

  I smirk. Tension cramps in my neck. Maybe it’s the full moon making me edgy. But then she pushes up on her tiptoes and sucks on my lips. The kiss is sloppy, and greedy, and will later fade into a bank of unmemorable moments. But right now, all I need is a warm body and a tight hole.

  I rip away from her mouth and my hands find her breasts, she moans a little as I curl my hands around them and squeeze throu
gh all the fabric of her dress and bra. Under normal circumstances, I would give them more attention but tonight I’m on a clock and she has an expiration date.

  I grip her dress and tug it upwards exposing a black lacy thong that’s more string than fabric.

  Perfect.

  Her lips brush my neck and she looks up at me, “You’re not taking me home?”

  “Here’s better baby, plus I have to go back to work. Maybe after…” I won’t, but she doesn’t know that. The lie gives them hope and butters them up. I never take anyone home, it’s the one rule I never compromise on.

  I sink down to her neck and let my teeth graze the skin, her disappointed moan turns into a needy one. She tastes like salty sweat and leaves a lingering flavour of bitter perfume on my tongue.

  It feels all wrong.

  Everything about her, about this. I’m too many shades of sober for this. I’m about to pull away when her hands rip at my zip and wrap around my cock. She lets out a small gasp and gives it a gentle tug. Any thoughts of leaving vanish.

  Fuck it, I might as well try to get rid of some of the tension.

  I fish a condom from my back pocket and lower my pants just enough to expose my ass and cock, shrug her hands off and sheath myself. She looks at me like a hungry girl with a very big appetite and I almost regret not just asking her to suck me off instead.

  I pull at her dress, grab her ass and with as much grace as a giraffe on skates, she leaps up and wraps herself around my waist. I grab her lacy number, yank it to one side, then slam into her in a violent harsh movement.

  She sucks in a sharp breath like she wasn’t expecting me, then buries her head in my neck and holds on.

  I drive into her and she moans against my skin, “Jesus, you feel so good.”

  “So do you, baby.” I breathe out as I quicken my pace, I want to finish and get back to work.

  “Say my name, Jenny.”

  I don’t think about it, I’m halfway there, “Jenny,” I growl as her fingers dig into my shoulders and I piston into her. Her body grinds against the bricks, and even though I’m trying to hold her away from it I know it’s tearing at her back and shoulders.

  I quicken my pace feeling the familiar sensation in my ball sack, the tightness in my back and the edge of relief, she moans like an alley cat and scratches my skin.

  She pushes against me, her body slapping against mine till she mewls and cries out and her pussy squeezes so intensely I come hard and fast leaning us both against the wall as my knees wobble. I suck in a few deep breaths and let the tension seep from my body just as I knew it would.

  I slip her off me, and she slumps dreamily against the building, she gives me a dopey smile and tries to pull in for a kiss, I turn my head and her lips land on my cheeks.

  “That was amazing,” she coos in a wistful voice and I shudder, knowing what she wants.

  “Yeah, it was great thanks, baby.”

  “Jenny.” She looks at me and smiles serenely as she fixes her dress.

  “Yeah, Jenny.” I’m already tucking my shirt back into my dress pants and step away from her. I know I can get to the door in a few strides, and her constant obsession with me using her name is starting to give me a creepy vibe.

  “When do you finish your shift?” She reaches for my hand and tries to lace her fingers through mine. I pull away.

  I sigh, she obviously didn’t get the memo that this was a one-time deal, but she will in a sec. “Not till closing time.”

  “Should I wait for you?”

  “Nah, I’ll have to do paperwork and I’m carpooling with one of the guys. This was really… nice though, thanks.”

  She steps closer, her face twitches for a second then corrects, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, work you know…” I run a hand through my hair and step back unease sinking into me.

  “Oh, okay,” she closes the distance between us again, “Let me give you my number.”

  “Sure,” I hand her my phone knowing I’ll delete it as soon as I’m inside. She leans against me as she inserts her number, and I swear she’s trying to smell me.

  What the hell?

  She hands it back, “I’ve put it under Jenny.”

  “Jenny, got it,” I wink and pocket my phone. Her crazy is starting to slither to the surface and I need to get away from her.

  “Call me when your shift is done?” She looks at me with big, hopeful doe eyes.

  “Are you staying in the city tonight?”

  “Just moved here a few weeks ago,” she says in her thick Brummie accent.

  Damn.

  “Great, maybe I can drop by later…” I won’t.

  Her face breaks into a chilling smile, “I’ll see you inside then.”

  “Sure.” She won’t.

  I don’t wait for more conversation ‘cause I know where it’s going, I’ve had plenty of these and they all end the same.

  I pound on the door and Dean cracks it open. I slip inside then he slams it shut behind me. She’ll come in through the front door and hang around giving me looks for the next twenty minutes. After that, I’ll get one of the guys to remove her for being too drunk.

  When I step back up on the podium to finish my shift, I don’t feel a tiny bit guilty. But I do feel the tension creep back around me, bringing with it a familiar, angry emptiness that’s been festering for almost ten years.

  Bella glares at me again, and for a second, I think she might be worth another round—till a cute brunette passes by me and gives me her best fuck me eyes.

  I draw in a long breath and reach for my radio, “Hey Rob, I’m going to need you to come back and cover me again, I have a possible code twenty-two.”

  2

  Red

  There is an endless list of events in my life that should have left me bitter and jaded. But if I had to choose my top three, they would go something like this:

  Losing almost everyone I love.

  Anything to do with Shaw Bennett, AKA–Wolf.

  Being twenty-five, broke, and going through another breakup.

  So, what do all these things have to do with one another?

  They mean I have to grovel.

  Again.

  To the only person who might be willing to help. My annoying older brother who is going to preach all the ‘I told you so’s’ I don’t want to hear.

  Now, I’ll have to endure the fact that Hunter will talk down to me in his condescending big brother voice and try to parent me. It’s laughable given how fucked up his life choices are, but right now, in this moment, I have no other options.

  Not now when I’m standing on the street with my suitcase, my phone, and a tear-streaked face.

  I’m such an idiot.

  How I didn’t see this one coming is beyond me. Dave is an asshole. Another one in a long list that I seem to attract. It’s like I’m a magnet for them—they can’t keep away, and I keep letting them in just to get hurt again and again.

  Then there’s Hunter, who always picks up the pieces. I cringe as the phone rings and my heart sinks.

  This isn’t going to be pretty.

  “Red?” His groggy voice strains through the phone, and I realise I must have woken him. Shit, I forgot about the time difference. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me at … four in the morning?”

  “You were right,” I croak, barely holding myself together.

  “I’m going to need some more information here sis,” he already sounds pissed.

  “Dave is an asshole.”

  He hisses and sucks in a deep breath and I expect a hiding, instead he clears his throat and mumbles something before he asks, “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Just … you know … sad.” I swallow a whimper that tries to escape and wipe my face for the hundredth time.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Well, I’m in a foreign country, homeless, broke, and jobless … so not great.”

  He exhales. It’s harsh and sharp and followed by a too-long silence.

&n
bsp; “Hunter?”

  “Hang on.” His blanket muffles and there’s a static buzz with a few gentle thuds in the background, a door opens and closes.

  His voice is clearer than before, “Right, now we can talk.”

  “Because before?”

  “Now, I have more privacy.”

  “You have company?” My stomach churns a little thinking about it, and I push that thought far, far into the depths of my mind where it perishes.

  I feel his smirk across the ocean, then he starts, “We’re talking about your life choices, not mine. I told you not to go with him.”

  “Yes, you did. You were right, I was wrong and all that jazz. Can we just skip to the part where you bail me out and we can both move on?” I bristle because I’m not in the mood. I’ve just discovered the man I travelled halfway across the world with is fucking married. With children. I may never be in the mood again.

  I visualise Hunter shaking his head or rubbing a hand over his face. Knowing my older brother, he’s doing both.

  “I’m not sending you money again Red.”

  “But—”

  “No! If you want help, you’re just going to have to come live with us for a while.”

  Us.

  “No.”