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

by J. A. Wynters

  They croon and bend over thinking they are the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen. Five years ago, they might have been; these days, I’ve seen so much ass I’m just not that easily impressed.

  I wink at one anyway, just for shits and giggles. Her gaggle of friends all shriek and they fall into a huddle. That was too easy. I could take my pick of any of them, or if I really wanted to, fuck them all one at a time tonight. I shoot one of the other girls a little smile, she pushes her tits up and licks her lips. All too easy.

  A skinny man pushes his way to the front of the line. He’s draped in ridiculous gold chains and his jeans hang dangerously low—his shoes are too white, like they just came out of a box, and I’m pretty sure he’s got a diamond stuck on a tooth. Idiot.

  He comes forward with a crew of eight or so friends who all surround him. They stand with their chests puffed out all geared up in suits that look expensive but smell cheap. The entourage. They look as ridiculous as he does.

  “Corbin Smith Junior.” He looks at me like I’m snot on his shoes and crosses his arms.

  I arch an eyebrow and remain seated.

  “I’m on the list.”

  I glare at the guy letting my eyes track him from top to bottom then shake my head. He squares his shoulders like he’s a big man. I grab the list and check the names.

  “You’re not on the list.” I put the clipboard aside and remain seated.

  “Check again.”

  “No.” I say calm and casual and watch his nostrils flare.

  His crew of friends step a little closer and I inhale, already exhausted from this show.

  “I said check again. The name’s Corbin Smith Junior.” His friends cheer him and hoot like he’s some kind of tough guy, and I already know whoever he thinks he is, he will never amount to anything.

  “Even if you were on the list, which you are not, you can’t come in dressed like that.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I dress,” he seems visibly offended.

  “You can’t wear a hat inside, and your pants have to cover your entire buttock area. We can’t let in any sexual predators that might assault the guests.”

  “Seriously man?” His mouth falls open and he recovers. “Do you know who I am? I don’t need to assault anyone. These girls...” he waves at the long line, “they assault me, and I let ‘em—if you know what I’m sayin'?” He gets a few high fives and leery looks and nods from his friends.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Now put down the rope old man, and let me in.” The humour is gone from his face.

  “You’re not on the list.” I make a mental note to fuck around with Henri a little on his next shift, to make him pay for this.

  “Check again, you lazy piece of shit. I’m a celebrity around here, I shouldn’t even have to ask.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment then stand to my full height, the group takes a collective step back as I take a step forward, while a few of the spectating ladies throw their own remarks about my size and my shoes. I ignore them.

  “Sir, I’m not aware of your celebrity status, nor do I care. Your name is not on the list, so I suggest you clear a path for the guests that are, or we will be forced to remove you.”

  He looks me up and down with cold, angry eyes, humiliation soaking through his big boy underwear.

  He takes a small step towards me and signals with his hand that I come closer and bend towards him. I don’t move, so he closes the gap as much as I let him, and he pushes up on his tiptoes, “Come on man, how much is it going to take?” He flashes me a bunch of fifties, I eye them for a second then stare ahead.

  “Not interested.”

  His face drops and his face furrows, “Come on man, you’re embarrassing me in front of my girl.”

  I wish I gave a fuck about his problems, but I don’t. Not when I have enough of my own.

  “Can’t help you, you’re not on the list.” I step back from him and turn away; this conversation was boring when it started.

  “Fine, fuck you. This place is lame anyway, so old news, we’ll take our business and our money elsewhere.”

  Like I give a shit. I plaster on my best fakest grin and wave at him, “Have a good night sir.”

  He stares daggers at me before he turns to leave.

  I remain standing till they put enough distance between them and the club. I’m about to sit down when a wave of purple hair catches my attention.

  No.

  She’s standing with that guy from the gallery, Caleb, and I can’t tear my fucking eyes off her. She can’t fit in even when she tries, which is why she’s so fucking unique—because she never really tries. Her long, purple hair cascades over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a very tight, very short black skirt and a black shiny singlet that rises just above her midriff every time she moves her hand even a centimetre. Those straps are so thin, I know I could rip them with my teeth.

  I shake my head batting the thought away. She finished the look with her black Doc Martens boots. They are worn and loved, but they’re a part of her.

  Fuck.

  They step forward, and when Dylan reaches for the clip board, I snatch it from his hands. He knows better than to argue with his boss, so he sits down and shuts the fuck up.

  I will wipe the smirk on his face later when he’s trying to pick up, and I’ll throw out a loud comment about his STI test results.

  “Hi,” she smiles at me and my entire body catches fire. She’s fucking gorgeous with the simple, natural make up she has on and fuck me red lips that I want wrapped around my cock.

  “What are you doing here?” I grind my teeth trying to stay in my own skin.

  “Celebrating.”

  “Celebrating what?”

  “That she’s amazing,” her friend chirps in, and I pay him no attention.

  “Celebrating what?’

  “Today marks four months since I started working, and I just sold my second biggest commission.” The two of them squeal like it means something.

  “Go celebrate somewhere else.”

  She cocks her head at me and grins, “We’re on the list.”

  Her friend wraps his hand around her arm and squeezes. Red remains cool as fuck as she stared into my face.

  “Doubt it.” I shrug not even checking.

  Red’s face twists with annoyance and she juts out her hip in that way she does. Her singlet pulls up revealing nuances of her hip bones that curve beautifully from her smooth belly.

  The moisture from my mouth vanishes and I try to swallow to no avail.

  “Check your precious list. Hunter put my name down.”

  I grab the list and flap through the pages. I scan the names and clench my fists around the fucking board when I find hers and two others. The board snaps under the force of my hand.

  I can’t believe Hunter. I’m going to kill him and bury him in a grave so deep they will never find his body.

  She must see something in my eyes because her face relaxes and breaks into an exquisite smile. “See?”

  I don’t even argue, there’s no point

  “Where’s the third?” I don’t even try to hide the hostility in my voice.

  Her mouth twists a little, “Ethan had to cancel.”

  A combination of hot sticky joy and irritation spreads through my body, and I nod to Dylan who’s been watching with his mouth shut the entire time. He drops the rope letting them in.

  “Thanks,” Red says as she sashays inside.

  Dylan’s gaze remains dangerously on Red’s ass as she walks away. I step into his field of vision and he straightens up, “Fuck me, did you see the a—”

  “—she’s off limits.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you guys—’

  “—we’re not, that’s Hunter’s little sister.”

  His face visibly falls, and I know the kind of blow he’s just experienced, I’ve felt it too, “Got it boss.”

  I run a hand through my hair, my entire body feels restless, there’s no
fucking way I can keep sitting on this fucking stool out here while she’s inside. Every muscle in my body is suddenly tense.

  “You got it here for a sec? I’m going to see how far away Hunter is.”

  “Sure.”

  I throw the clipboard at him; he eyes the cracked wood but says nothing.

  I’m breaking protocol here. This is not the way we do things. I’m being stupid and emotional when I should be practical, but Red is inside and I’m not—and that just doesn’t work for me.

  Hunter picks up on the second ring, “Everything alright?”

  “What’s your ETA?”

  “Twenty minutes at most, I’ll text you like I always do. You good?”

  “Yeah, yeah, just forgot how much I hate the stool.”

  He chuckles into the phone, “I won’t be long.’

  “Right.”

  I hang up and return to my place by the door where Dylan does his best to look at anyone but me.

  Time stretches like an elastic and winds me up so tight, that by the time twenty minutes have passed, I’m about ready to break everything in my path. Hunter said twenty minutes, and even though I’m pretending not to look at my watch every thirty seconds, I’m painfully aware that it’s been over forty and that Red has been inside—unprotected.

  I can’t find an excuse to change position with any of the boys, and I don’t want to be a dick and abuse my position as their boss. We’re still a team, so I suffer.

  When my phone finally rings, I’m a jittery fucking mess and I’m pissed off at myself, at my inability to get my shit together.

  I text Frank who will greet Hunter and Rob at the back entrance. When Rob comes to take my place, I push right past him without a word. I’m sure Dylan will have his own version of what he thinks is happening. I don’t give a fuck, I just want eyes on Red.

  My eyes.

  Only.

  29

  Wolf

  I walk inside trying not to run. A big guy like me scares people when I head in their direction at a speed other than a snail’s pace.

  I meet Hunter, who’s led the client to the VIP area and introduced me. Again. The fucker doesn’t even remember my name, and I’m not a forgettable kind of guy. Our celebrity offers us a drink which we both decline. He proceeds to ignore us and talk to his guests.

  Hunter runs me down on the schedule, then goes and checks in with all the guys before he takes his position on the other end of the VIP room.

  I scan the dim club and find her almost immediately. She’s leaning against the bar talking to Caleb, they’re giggling as they look around and sip their drinks. I wonder how many she’s had. A new song starts and Caleb shrieks while Red smiles. She’s radiating energy and happiness; in fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy, so relaxed. Maybe it’s because she thinks I’m still outside. I ignore the thought even as it makes my stomach coil.

  They weave their way through the throng of people toward the dance floor.

  Music blares everywhere and the dance floor is full, bodies moving like a singular wave, clashing against one another in churning swells. Limbs and torsos twisting and flailing.

  Caleb points to the middle of the floor but Red seems content to stay on the fringes, the edges, like she always does—and then she starts dancing. She’s a mesmerising fucking distraction. She shuts her eyes and lets her body move, her hips roll with the music as she moves around, a total oddity in a sea of sameness, and I notice and then I notice everyone else notice. And they are all fascinated, like me, by this new, rare thing that doesn’t fit in. She’s still a cog, and without her, the machine would fail. But somehow, she doesn’t fit anywhere.

  I don’t like the other eyes on her and grind my teeth, my jaw already aching. I swivel around when a hand tries to reach up to my shoulder, and I find my new client leering at Red.

  “She’s something, isn’t she big guy?”

  I fucking hate it when people call me that. “Sure thing, sir.”

  “Go get her for me.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Just march yourself up to her and ask her to come join me here.”

  “Sorry sir, that’s not part of my job description.”

  He glares at me like I’m stupid, and I don’t know who pays for my next meal, “It is tonight.”

  “Sorry sir, I can’t leave you unguarded.”

  He pouts and taps my hand like it’s okay.

  Of course, it’s fucking okay. It takes all my energy not to punch him in his smirky little face.

  “Right, well good job…?”

  “Wolf, sir.”

  “You howl at the moon, Wolf?”

  I don’t reply and a minute later he’s back with one of his guests, “Can he go and get her?”

  “If you want him to, sir.”

  “I do.” He gives me a sly grin, and I want to break every last one of his perfect white teeth.

  The friend leaves and stops Red mid dance. It pisses me off that he interrupts her, but I have to stand like a moron and watch as he shouts in her ear and points to the VIP room. Her eyes land on me first and her smile falters for a second, before they swing over to the rest of the VIP area. Her face lights up, and she nods.

  The guy puts his hand on her shoulder, and I make a mental note to break it later. It slides down her back and he guides her towards me and the roped VIP area. I’ll break every one of his little fingers, making it slow and painful. The thought brings me an ounce of relief. As they approach, Red turns to the man again, he nods and disappears into the dance floor. I’m guessing she doesn’t leave her friends behind and sent a search party.

  “I’ve been invited into this area,” she smirks at me.

  “So I’ve been told,” I say dryly, irritation saturating my body.

  “So, let me in.”

  “I can’t let you in without searching you first.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning.

  “Fuck off, Wolf.’

  “It’s protocol.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” His smarmy voice pierces my nerves, and I inhale through clenched teeth.

  “Your lady friend needs to be searched if she wants to join your party.”

  “Look at her, unless she has something stuffed in a hole somewhere, there’s no way she’s carrying anything.”

  “It’s my job sir.”

  Red’s eyes narrow as she pierces me with a death glare.

  “It’s ok,” he pats my arm again and my fists clench, “I’ll pat her down myself.”

  “Sir—”

  “—let her in. Now.”

  My jaw is iron clad as I reach for the velvet rope releasing it. Red walks by me and I grab her upper arm, “Are you sure you want to be in there?” My stomach twists with uneasiness.

  “Let go of her, dog,” the client calls behind me, and I let my hand drop. He’ll pay for that later.

  “His name is Wolf.” Red corrects him taking me by surprise. She glares at me like she has more to say, but instead of speaking, she snatches her arm away and walks by me. Her mouth splits into a gorgeous fucking smile as the celebrity douche draws her in for a hug and kisses her cheeks. Hers flush pink and his hand lands on the exposed low of her back as he guides her towards his table surrounded by friends, a second later she has a drink in her hand.

  I almost find myself wishing fuck face would have shown up, that way she’d be away from this prick. He’s a predator. I can tell cause he wears the same scent as me. Except that his intentions reek.

  I know Red isn’t stupid, maybe a touch innocent. She’s celebrating, indulging. It’s not every day a movie star invites you to his shiny side of the rope. I know how bright lights can look when you’ve been on the dim side of the tracks your whole life. They are enticing.

  I want to believe that I know Red. She’s not there for his charm, she wants to make connections, hoping that his status will afford her a step into some gallery, or push start her c
areer; but what she doesn’t realise is that all that glitz and glamour are a thousand bright lights all blinding her to the ugly truth.

  Every time I look up, her drink is topped up. She’s sitting next to him, her eyes all lit up as he tells her about his movies no doubt. He’s shuffled way too close to her. One of his friends is keeping Caleb occupied with his tongue while another keeps topping up Red’s glass.

  I grind my molars. I can see what they’re doing and there’s fucking nothing I can do about it.

  She giggles and the sound carries over the music and straight to my cock, I can’t stand it. I finally understand the meaning of torture, draining away your sanity one second at a time. Under the table I can see his dirty little fingers draw circles on her thigh, and I imagine him screaming in pain as I break each of them in turn. My lips twitch at the prospect.

  The music grows louder and the crowd rowdier. It’s the way most nights go. The ebb and flow. It’s when the drugs and the alcohol reach their peak, and the testosterone and pheromones in the air start to mingle when trouble will start—sex always leads to fucking trouble.

  I grunt pulling my thoughts away from my issues, and watch the stupid rich fucker as he strokes Red’s cheek. She flicks me a look and licks her lower lip, and I have to fight every fibre and savage need in my body not to rip the fucking rope in half and wrap it around his neck. A low growl vibrates from somewhere inside me and I breathe, sucking in alcohol doused air and dry, cherry flavour smoke. What is she playing at? She’s not being herself, she’s been fed too much alcohol. Where the fuck is Hunter?

  They laugh and he swipes his thumb over the soft pads of her lips, and all I can hear is buzzing. He leans towards her and their foreheads touch, her lips are curled into a shy smile and her cheeks are flushed by alcohol. My chest tightens as a hot flicker of hatred pumps through my veins. I glare at them, their lips an impulse away. Breathing is almost impossible. I don’t want to look but I can’t tear my eyes away.