Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection

by Selena Kitt

  But she was going to come. There was no stopping it.

  “Silas,” she warned, barely a gasp, but he heard, he knew, focusing right on her clit, that tiny bit of flesh making her whole body shudder with anticipation. She screamed when he let go of her hips, letting her buck and writhe, so he could slide two fingers deep into her pussy. Her muscles clamped down immediately and she rode his hand, his mouth, mashing her flesh against his face as she came, her orgasm a bright flash of pulsing light through her body in the darkness.

  She didn’t have time to breathe or think or even move. He had her rolled onto the bed in an instant, kissing her pussy like a mouth and then moving up to kiss her mouth, letting her taste herself. She licked at his lips and sucked his tongue and felt him parting her slim thighs with the hard flex of his, forcing them open wider. Reaching, she grabbed hold of his length, aiming and guiding him in the dark.

  “Wait.” He took a deep, steadying breath, holding himself above her, poised and ready. She wanted him so much she was dizzy with it. Sliding her hands up his biceps, over his shoulders, feeling the uneven terrain of his scars, she felt his hesitation, understood it, and didn’t want to give him a chance to think, to second guess this.

  “Fuck me, Silas, please,” she begged, sliding a hand behind his neck and pulling his mouth to hers, drowning in his kiss. She felt his body giving in as she drew his tongue in deeper, wiggling her hips up, attempting to bridge the gap. The tip of his cock teased her clit, sliding up and down her wet slit, but not in.

  “Jolee.” He groaned as she used her hand to grab hold of him, pulling, tugging, rubbing him furiously against the sensitive nub of her clit. “We can’t.”

  She moaned in frustration as he rolled off her onto his back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. The sound of their breath, both of them panting, filled the room. It was so hot it felt like a sauna in spite of the near-zero temperatures outside and the wind blowing tree branches against side of the cabin.

  “I want you.” Silas gulped, reaching over and finding her hand. He squeezed hard. “Don’t think for a minute I don’t.”

  “But…” She rolled onto her side toward him, feeling his body tense.

  “But you’re my brother’s wife.”

  Jolee let out a tight little laugh. “Are you kidding me? Is that all?”

  “I think it’s enough,” he said finally.

  They hadn’t talked about it, but it had been there between them from the beginning. She thought about her husband—this man’s brother—and the idea that Carlos could keep her from one more thing in the world that she wanted filled her with a fierce, heated rage.

  “Carlos hasn’t been my husband for years. Not really, not in any way that counted.” She sat up, hugging her knees. “I was something he could take around and show off. Something he could use, if he felt like it. I wasn’t a person to him. I was a…a…thing. I was something he wanted for a while, but when he didn’t want me anymore, when it got too inconvenient to keep me, I was disposable, like everyone else.”

  He made a small sympathetic noise. “That sounds like my brother.”

  “I never loved Carlos. I never really wanted him.” She felt Silas’s hand trailing down her spine and shivered. She turned to him, letting him pull her in and kiss her, their breath mingling, already feeling him relenting. Part of her had come here tonight knowing she wanted this, had always known from the first time he held her in his arms.

  She reached up to stroke his cheek, feeling the scars there too, and he let her. “Silas, I want you.”

  His silence stretched between them. Then he cupped her face in his hands. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

  “I mean it,” she whispered, and he brought her mouth to his, the kiss fierce and full of everything they’d been feeling and keeping in for months. If she could have devoured him, turned herself inside out to feel him more deeply, she would have, but she didn’t have to.

  Silas gave her everything. There were no more boundaries between them and he took her without restraint. They rolled together on the bed, kissing, Jolee struggling under his weight, but protesting when he eased up, wrapping her legs around his waist, squeezing him between her thighs, rocking the hard length of his cock between them like an iron bar.

  She protested, but not for long, when he rolled her onto her back and slid down between her thighs, his tongue working magic again. But it still wasn’t enough and she whimpered and begged and reached for him until he finally gave in to her pleading, flipping onto his back and letting her crawl over him on the way to his cock, stopping her when her pussy reached the hungry gulp of his mouth and tongue.

  Taking him into her mouth was a joy, feeling the slick silk of his skin moving over the thick length of his cock as she sucked him. His hips moved with her motion but his tongue never wavered, flicking steadily over her clit as his fingers explored her, sliding in deep and then retreating, rubbing the fat, swollen lips of her labia with his fingertips, tugging at the dark, wiry hair there. Jolee gasped and sucked him harder when he slid two fingers in, then three, really stretching her, making her moan and rock against his hand.

  “Oh!” She rolled her hips, feeling him fingering her, deeper, harder. His cock slid out of her mouth as she felt her impending climax begin, rubbing the mushroom tip of him over her outstretched tongue, feeling his delicious pulse against her lips as she closed her eyes and gave into her orgasm. It started between her thighs, where Silas was working so hard to take her there, her pussy clasping his fingers in a fast, fluttering dance, and then spiraled outward from her center, making her grip his cock hard in her fist.

  “Easy!” Silas croaked, gasping for breath beneath her. “Go easy, baby, please.”

  She let her hand relax a little, feeling a thick wave of precum flooding over her fist. He shuddered and moaned as she began to lick it off.

  “Now will you fuck me?” she whispered, kissing the head of his cock, slapping it lightly against her cheek.

  “You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

  She yelped as he grabbed her, not even bothering to turn her around toward the headboard before shoving her legs open with his big thighs. His cock found its way into her swollen wetness without her help and she cried out when he entered her, nails digging into his shoulders as she took him as deeply as she could, almost to the point of pain. She relished the sensation, burying her face against his neck and urging him on.

  “Oh Jolee…” He settled himself between her legs, up on his elbows above her, face lost in the river of her hair. “Oh god you feel too good…”

  “I can’t believe you’re inside of me.” She actually felt tears stinging her eyes, realizing for the first time how much she had wanted this.

  “You’ve been inside me since the beginning.” He nuzzled her and she felt his scars. She cupped his face and he stilled, her fingers moving over his cheeks.

  “I want you.” She kissed his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his chin, the corner of his trembling mouth. “Please.”

  He began to move, his cock a swollen, driving heat between her thighs and a heady friction began to build again almost immediately. His breath was hot against her cheek and she slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper. He curled himself around her as they rocked on the bed, the springs squeaking fast and hard, the headboard banging against the wall behind them, their breath coming in hot, short bursts. There was no one around to hear them and Jolee let herself go, moaning in pleasure.

  “Fuck me,” she panted, heels digging into his thighs. “Oh god, yes! Fuck me!”

  Silas grunted and gave her more, making her scream with every deep thrust, her teeth raking his skin. His cock felt even more swollen somehow, filling her completely, and she felt him tense, the hard, flat expanse of his belly slapping against hers as he gave into his own lust.

  “I’m going to come,” she whispered into his ear, feeling the quiver of her pussy around the pounding heat of his cock. “Oh you make me come so hard
. It’s so close. I can feel it. Right…oh…right there…Silas…”

  He groaned and thrust deep, her imminent pleasure forcing him to give into his own, his thighs spreading her so wide she thought she might break apart like a wishbone and still she wouldn’t have cared. She’d gotten her wish. He cried out and called her name and buried his face against her neck. She felt every glorious pulse of his cock as he filled her with the white hot spurts of his release.

  “Almost there,” she whimpered, rolling her hips, arching up, and he moaned loudly and clasped her to him as her climax came in just behind his own, her pussy milking his still-spasming cock. Jolee threw her head back and let herself go, quivering beneath him, barely able to breathe, taking all of his weight and still wanting more.

  “How did you get in?” Silas asked, still on top of her as they rested. He petted her, stroking her hair.

  She wrapped her arms around him, as if she could get closer. “The door was unlocked.”

  He rolled them up in the covers like a cocoon, pulling her with him, impossibly hard still inside of her, and they stayed that way, joined together, Jolee sleeping on top of him. But it was still dark when she felt him carrying her naked to her own bed before she even knew what was happening. He tucked her in, kissing her forehead.

  “Silas?” she asked sleepily, reaching for him. She kissed his mouth in the darkness, her body instantly remembering, wanting.

  “Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning,”

  And then he was gone and Jolee found herself alone, wishing for his warmth as the door down the hall closed and locked her out again.

  * * * *

  Silas had never really been afraid of anything. When he was young, his father had labeled him “fearless,” and he was. It wasn’t always a good thing. He took risks others wouldn’t, especially when an injustice was involved. Bullies ran the other way when Silas came along. Tyranny or inequity in any form raised his hackles, and often his fists. He’d discovered that fighting fire with fire, and fighting dirty if he had to, was a good strategy, even if it wasn’t the most popular, honest or lawful one.

  He’d faced down everything, from bullies to criminals to black bears. Once, in a bar, he’d taken a bullet that missed his spine by inches. It had been meant for a woman he didn’t even know, but the man who fired the gun had punched her before pulling out his weapon—and that was all the information Silas had needed. He couldn’t count how many times he’d faced death or the possibility of death, and even that didn’t frighten him.

  But he was afraid now. He was afraid of the hundred-and-twenty pound woman in his house, who had taken over his life and the way he lived it, in so many ways. She terrified him, that tiny slip of a girl. He hadn’t thought about another woman since Isabelle, hadn’t even considered the possibility. There was no reason to—Isabelle had been the perfect woman, perfect for him in every way, and you couldn’t improve on perfection.

  But Jolee had been thrown into his life, had found her way into his heart, and he couldn’t deny it anymore. In the midst of protecting her, caring for her, guarding her against the possibility of his brother’s harm—and he had to admit, part of him had been thinking about Isabelle when he was doing those things—he had fallen for her. The ghost of his dead wife had faded in the light of Jolee’s smile, her quick temper, her soft hands and, last night, her lush, full body.

  It wasn’t Isabelle he thought about anymore when he neared home, a little extra speed in his step, carrying his bow over his shoulder. It was Jolee—the woman who had made curtains for the cabin windows and stuffed pillows to sit on for the wooden chairs, the woman who appreciated his subtle sense of humor, who teased him about his slow, fastidious ways, who spent a night with him in the stable when Anna was sick, petting the cow’s head and singing to her in a native language he didn’t speak but spoke straight to his heart.

  He’d left early this morning, trembling at the thought of meeting her in the hallway, going off instead to find things to do outside—milking the cow, gathering eggs, straightening the shed, repairing his trap lines—too afraid to face her, too afraid to face what he might be forced to acknowledge.

  Since Isabelle, he’d wanted to die, and when his survival instincts had gotten him out of the fire and he’d found her gone, he’d been determined to finish the job Carlos had started and join her—or, barring that, at least end his own suffering, although part of him still felt he deserved the pain he lived in for not saving her.

  He’d tried to end it all several times after the fire. If it hadn’t been for Abe, he probably would have. After the fire, the old Indian had found him crawling on his hands and knees in the dirt, calling Isabelle’s name, and had made a litter to drag him back on. The time he’d spent at the Bad River reservation had been healing—and informational. They all knew about Carlos and the mines and the logging camps.

  And, of course, Abe had passed on the information Carlos was telling everyone—that his brother and his wife had died in a fire. That was the darkest time of his life, when he’d realized that Isabelle was gone and he understood he could do more good dead than alive.

  And it was his hatred that kept him going, in spite of Abe’s efforts to sway him. The only reason he’d stayed alive was to thwart his brother’s efforts to rape and pillage the land their father had left behind. And in the spring, he was finally going to get the chance to end it all—his brother’s shady business and his own pain. Jolee had been a complication at first, but he only had to keep her here, safe until spring, he reasoned. Then she would be safe wherever she went.

  Now she was far more than a complication and the plans he had so carefully and meticulously outlined seemed ridiculously simple—and horribly final—in a way they never had before. For the first time, he was questioning his decision, and Jolee was the reason. For the first time since Isabelle had died, life seemed worth living.

  Well, he decided, hanging his mended lines in the shed and heading out, he didn’t have to decide anything today, and he couldn’t hide out here forever. Besides, he was getting hungry. The house was warm from the woodstove and the smell of bacon made his stomach rumble. He could hear her in the kitchen, singing to herself, and he smiled, stopping to listen. The words weren’t in English—her father had been part Chippewa, she’d told him, and had taught her some of the language, many of the traditional songs—but they were lovely.

  “Is that you, Silas?”

  He heard the edge in her voice. Mostly she felt safe, he figured, but there was still a part of her on guard, waiting for Carlos to find her here—and there was always a part of him waiting for that as well.

  “It’s me,” he confirmed, taking off his boots and coat, but leaving on his mask. The damnable thing was too warm inside, but in spite of his lapse the night before—how had he forgotten to lock the door?—he had no intention of taking it off in the light of day. Of course, if he hadn’t forgotten, she wouldn’t have come to his room, and he wouldn’t have had the glorious opportunity to have her. Christ, just the memory of being inside her made his cock jump.

  He stopped when he came around the corner, seeing her standing at the counter, plating up eggs and bacon—mountains for him and little rolling hills for her—wearing nothing but a pair of panties. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her hair a dark waterfall down her back, and smiled, a new, shy smile he’d never seen before that made his heart lurch in his chest.

  “Morning.”

  He’d seen her naked in the beginning, forced to undress her when she was unconscious, but he had tried to block it out, to not pay attention to her in that way. Not that it had worked completely. But in all honesty, he had never imagined she could be so beautiful. His imagination couldn’t have stretched to those limits, even if he had, yes, okay he had fantasized and thought about her. In the darkness she had been all softness and heat. In the light she was long, tawny limbs and supple flesh and he found himself far hungrier for her than he was for bacon and eggs.
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br />   “Morning.” He cleared his throat, trying to keep his eyes focused on hers. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?”

  “Cooking breakfast?” she teased, moving past him to the table. He followed both the scent of the food and the sight of the goddess in her plain white cotton panties bending over to put the plate down in front of him as he sat.

  “Cooking breakfast…” he agreed, swallowing a dry lump in his throat as he now found himself on eye level with the fullness of her breasts, her nipples dark, the areolas lighter, a stunning contrast against her skin. “Naked,” he finished faintly. “Grease has a tendency to splatter…”

  “It does,” she agreed, sliding a sleek thigh across his and settling herself into his lap. Silas kept his hands at his sides, knowing if he touched her, just for a moment, he was lost. “But I thought you could kiss my boo boos and make them all better.”

  His cock throbbed against his zipper, feeling the heat of her through her panties and he looked up into her eyes, seeing the lust there. God, he wanted her, more now than he had last night. Not touching her was killing him. She searched his eyes with hers, the only part of his face, aside from his mouth, that she could see, and he wondered what she was thinking.

  “Do you regret it?” she asked, touching a finger to his lips.

  “No,” he admitted hoarsely. She made him tremble.

  “Good.” She leaned in and kissed him and he felt the rush of her breath through the knit mask, her tongue licking at his lips. When she reached down and grabbed his hands, putting them on her breasts, he groaned at the incredible weight of them, the shape and shift in his hands as she wiggled, making his cock swell. He couldn’t believe they were doing this, that she wanted him, but everything told him that she did. He would never have initiated this, would never have crossed that line—even if he’d wanted to. And yes, he’d wanted to, but that was hardly the point.