by Evelyn Hill
Rose Beast Wicked Red
A Big Bad Wolf Fairy Tale, Book One
Evelyn Hill
Copyright © 2018 by Evelyn Hill
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Also by Evelyn Hill
So Scheherazade began.
The Arabian Nights
1
Once upon a time, a king fell in love with a beautiful woman. She was not of royal descent, so their love was forbidden. So strong was their desire, that they met nightly in a clearing of wild red roses, making love under the stars. At dawn, the king would search the rose bed for the most crimson blossom and offer it to his beloved. “For my Wicked Red,” he teased her.
The beautiful woman accepted his rose with a kiss on the cheek, replying, “My Dark Wolf.”
Before long, their love was discovered and the king was forced to break Wicked Red's heart or forfeit his throne.
Wicked Red asked to meet the king one last night. He agreed. Upon seeing her, Wicked Red threw off her cloak and revealed that she was a gypsy. She cursed the king. A dark wolf he once was, and a dark wolf he shall forever be...
The fairy tale my aunts used to whisper about behind closed doors is on my mind. Since I’ve lived at the cottage, bits and pieces of the story have been coming back to me. I sigh, dreaming about Wicked Red and the king. The grass is cool against my skin as I lay staring up at that dark canvas of night. The moon hides its face beneath a dust of clouds. The soft light from a dying fire casts shadows like blankets over my body. The sweet scent of roses swim in off the breeze of the lake. I inhale their enchantment.
I inherited the rose garden from my grandmother just three months ago. It had taken awhile to secure the estate, but after settling my affairs I was finally able to move to the darling little cottage surrounded by English roses. The garden was slightly out of hand with a few weeds here and there. Trees needed trimming and weeds needed pulling, but the property held a whimsical magic about that reminded me of my grandmother. I had only met her a handful of times, but the month I had lived here had made me feel like I was close to her, like I belonged.
The garden grew to the edge of a quiet lake. It wasn’t a terribly large lake, but mid-sized. It backed up against an old forest.
The trees were old and rose high into the sky. It was as if they were trying to block something from getting out, or, perhaps, something from getting in.
There are many tales about the forest that I’ve heard whispered from my aunts. Tales of a beast who lived in the deepest, darkest depths. They claimed that the king turned stark raving mad. He ran away from his kingdom in shame and built a dungeon below the oldest tree in the forest. The village folk took to calling him the Rose Beast, and so the title stuck.
I hear my new friends laugh as they splash in the lake, but beyond them, in the woods, I swear I hear branches snapping.
Startled, I sit up and gaze past my friends and into the woods.
It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything, of course, but I felt this curious twinge in my stomach that perhaps something or someone was watching us.
Speaking of which, I sense another presence watching me. I glance to my left and I spot Antonio, coyly glancing at me from the corner of his lovely green eyes. He never put his shirt back on after we got out of the water.
Neither had I.
Not that I am naked. I am wearing a nude colored bikini with soft, velvet flowers. I’d found it on sale at the swim shop at the mall. Not that I am cheap, mind you, but a girl can only afford so much on a part time job at the local bookstore, 1001 Nights.
The store sells books, coffee, notepads and quirky gifts. I found out shortly after working there that most of the product moved through the store was from a little room in the back behind a dark red curtain. Above the curtain was a sign that read 1001 Erotic Nights. The book store carried the largest selection of erotica in the whole state.
Erotica stories were new to me, and after my co-worker talked me into reading one—what can I say? I was hooked. I felt empowered.
After reading naughty stories the past few weeks, I feel brave—up to trying something new. Not the romancy buy-me-chocolates-and-roses-and-I’ll-gallop-off-on-your-white-steed-into-an-eternal-sunset kind of new. Not that it didn’t have its appeal. I am truly an old school romantic, growing up on fairytales and dreaming of a love of a lifetime. But to be truly honest, all my relationships to date have left me with nothing but a broken heart. This has been my testimony to romance. With the new job, new house, new friends… I have entered a new phase in my life and I feel brave enough to try something different in the world of love. The pendulum is swinging the other way now. Mind you, I’m not looking for 50-Shades-of-Spank-Me-‘til-I-Cum-or-Die kind of kink—though the thought gives me a brief shiver and I glance once more toward the forest, wondering what the Rose Beast looks like and what does he do in his dungeon? I pause a moment, thinking about this and Antonio catches my eye again. Beads of water ripple off his heavily muscled chest.
Mmmm…
What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready to try something different.
Different for me.
What, you may ask, is the terribly and erotic different thing I’ve decided to try?
Antonio reaches his hand out to me and I grab it, let him pull me to my feet. He has a curious smile on his lips as he pulls me close to him. I don’t hesitate wrapping my arms around his neck, and I lean into his hot, hard body.
Antonio is what I decided to try. I was brave and invited him to the small lake party. Most of my friends were gone now, a few couples had broken away to be by themselves.
Pressed up against him, I don’t remember when dusk came or know when dawn will come. All I know is that we are hardly clothed, and I feel I can’t breathe as we slow dance on the warm grass.
I close my eyes, press my face into Antonio’s chest. In my mind, I can hear my aunts whispering behind their closed bedroom door. They speak of the Rose Beast deep in the forest. They said he was the most rugged, handsome man alive. He would shapeshift into a great black wolf and stalk maidens that dared to walk the forest alone. Near midnight, if the maiden had wandered close to his dwelling, it is said he would howl a single lovely melody that no woman alive could resist.
The maiden, enchanted by his spell, would follow the wolf into his den where he would shift into a man and carry her into his dungeon…
I imagine Antonio is the Rose Beast. I feel his hard erection against my stomach and I moan. I feel like a heroine in the books I’ve spent the dog days of summer reading, only this isn’t a book.
It’s real fucking life. Fuck. Just that single word turns me on even more than I already am. Oh god, did I just say that out loud?
“What?” Antonio whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms tightly around me, burying his face in my red hair, his hands pressing against the small of my waist, almost to my hips. I knows he loves my red hair. At the bookstore, he would stare at it for a moment as if it reminded him of someone.
I run my hands through his wind-blown hair for the millionth time this evening. I had only ever seen him with his hair slicked back, a pair of slacks with a slightly unbuttoned black shirt. He wore the same thing every time he came into the shop, and when I asked what kind of b
ook he was looking for he’d ask for 1001 Arabian Nights with a twinkle in his green, dreamy eyes. I’d tease and tell him we sold a different kind of 1001 nights, and that is when he’d wink at me and say he was there for a cup of the delicious coffee we sell. Did I mention 1001 Nights sells coffee?
Hot, hot, coffee.
And I know for a fact, Antonio likes sugar. Lots of it. And a bit of cream, fresh cream. It always makes me blush when he asks me for it.
Makes me blush right now to think about it. I’m glad he can’t see my face. I sense a change between us. The sweet bloom of romance is turning to erotic flames. (I had read about this in those erotic stories.)
I’m not a virgin. Of course, I’m not. I’ve been with plenty of guys, had lots of boyfriends. Okay, not a lot, but a few. And you know what? Sex was thirty seconds long after a spilled beer and the sloppy application of a condom. I had to wash coke and popcorn out of my hair afterwards. This has happened twice earlier in the year, before I moved to the rose garden. After I started reading erotica, I regularly took long hot baths on Saturday nights with naughty stories and a dildo.
Stories and dildos were a delicious combo, and they made me realize one thing and one thing only. I wanted more.
Want more.
I sense that Antonio knows that.
He playfully whispers in my ear again. “What did you say, you wicked girl?” His hot breath sends goose pimples down my neck all the way to my breast where my nipples have grown rock hard like marbles.
“I said fuck.” I rub my face against the brim of his thick shoulder, I feel his jaw flex against my ear, almost saying something but not quite. He sighs instead, spanning his fingers over the tied bikini strings on my hips, groping. My breasts ache pushed up against his tight taut skin. There’s fabric between our bodies, but he’s holding me so tight against him, there may as well not be.
We stand like that, barely moving, barely breathing under the dark night sky, the only light from the embers of the dying fire.
I rub my lips against his hot skin, and I find my tongue darting out tasting him. I am surprised to detect cinnamon and cloves.
I know he felt my tongue on his skin, because his throbbing erection that had been pressed against my stomach suddenly bucks against me.
Oh! I shiver all the way down to my toes. And then a naughty thought occurs: I wonder if he’s peeking out of the skintight shorts he is wearing? I wish I were taller, so I can feel that throbbing heat between my thighs.
Perhaps that will come soon. No, not maybe, I am going to make sure that will happen. I had ensured it earlier (unintentionally!) when another guy at the party, Eric, had hit on me.
It wasn’t the first time.
I’d seen Eric around the bookshop; he often visited Connie, my friend who also works at 1001 Nights. When the boss left for the day, Connie would finish filing away papers in her office and if Eric happened to show up, she’d invite him back there with her. She told me Eric was one of her “special” friends.
I understood why, too.
God, I did. One glance at him and a girl could get wet. Let’s just say he worked out, had lots of bad boy tattoos, long beachy hair, blue bedroom eyes and…money. Lots, according to Connie. From bits and pieces of conversation, I pieced together that his dad owned a few vacation resorts and he was in charge of running all five of them. She told me it wasn’t money that attracted her to him, though that helped, it was the things he did to her. She wouldn’t tell me what. Though once after a shared bottle of wine, she told me they’d tried a karma sutra position for two hours once. She’d said they done it in the office while I was helping customers to books and coffee. I’d just about had a heart attack.
I am envious of Connie. She is brave in an area that I am not—scratch that—was not.
Until today.
Eric had hit on me before, flirted rather, when I first moved here, but at the time, I was sold on only a certain kind of romance and a boyfriend, but reading those stories on Saturday nights had opened me up to…other options.
Eric had convinced me that this was the path I wanted earlier today. I will tell you exactly what happened.
I had been sunbathing with the other girls watching Antonio pop a lid off a Budweiser, when Eric approached me and asked me to go swimming with him to the other side of the lake. Immediately, I thought of a place I had swam too is hidden behind long grass and bushes.
I had told him no because the water was cold despite the heat, also I was shy about him seeing me in a wet bathing suit. I told him this while watching Antonio lift the shaft of the bottle to his lips and drink. He’d made eye contact with me and given me that sexy half smile of his.
I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off Antonio all day, none of the girls had, even Connie.
Especially Connie.
Antonio was a built like a dark Fabio romance model: black hair, tanned skin, broad shoulders, massive chest, the body of Viking god. And what he hid in his shorts was every girl’s naughty desire. His package was huge and heavy. In the tight shorts he was wearing, one was liable to bump into it every time you tried to walk past him. Connie’s been bumping into him all day. And every time she did, I’d feel a surge of jealousy. Once she even dropped a bag of chips directly in front of him as she walked past, so she had to bend over to pick it up. I could tell she’d rubbed her backside against him as she leaned down with her long, tanned legs straight, picked up the bag, then rose back up. I wanted to tell her, “Hands off!” But he wasn’t mine. He was her costumer, in fact. But he was my guest. He had looked at her, true, but then he’d glanced at me and made a whirl with his fingers by his ear, so she couldn’t see. The gesture meant crazy. Desperate.
Besides, every time Antonio had looked at me with those hypnotic green eyes, his member would rise like a flagpole in his shorts…impossibly huge, and the girls would nudge me and wink.
Anyways, back to Eric. Eric asked me to go swimming, which I didn’t hear because I was so busy watching Antonio drink. When Eric offered me his hand, I had unthinkingly taken it and let him draw me to my feet. I knew something was up when I saw Antonio frown.
Eric was picking me up, and this caught my attention. His hands were on my thighs, my breasts brimming over his face, as he raised me off the sand and slung me over his tattooed shoulders and he ran to the water with me.
All the girls laughed and cheered, Connie was the loudest. I suspect she put him up to this, perhaps for some alone time with Antonio.
I didn’t care though. I laughed too as I beat on his back and kicked my legs.
Eric carried me out until the water was too deep, and I broke away from him, swimming. He followed me, and I lead him to where the water dipped into the long grass and bushes. Despite this, the water was still deep. My feet couldn’t touch the bottom, so Eric picked me up instead, pressing me against his body.
“You are an absolute beast for picking me up like that!”
He found this funny and laughed. His easy manner was sexy, and so was his boldness.
His dreamy light eyes had locked onto mine and he’d smiled as the water lapped up against us. He whispered, “Have you heard there is a beast in this forest?”
I grabbed for his shoulders and he picked me up and pressed me against him, against his tight taunt muscles. The heat of his body pressed into every curve and crevice of mine while water soaked every inch of our bodies was incredibly erotic in every sense of the word.
Surprised, I said, “How would you know about that?”
He smiled. “Because, I am the beast!” He gently nipped at my neck.
I giggled and threw my head back, relishing the feel of his tongue sliding down my throat.
His voice grew hoarse and he asked, “Would you like to see what a beast’s club feels like?”
It was a cheesy (and funny!) thing to say. I should have said no, Antonio was on the beach. Possibly watching (or making out with irresistible Connie.) But I let Eric take my fingers, slip them inside his shorts and
wrap them around his thick, hard cock.
Yes, I’m using the cock word, because that is exactly what it was.
I felt my lips tremble, desire coursed through me as I glanced up at baby blue bad boy eyes of his, and I couldn’t resist. I gripped him. Hard. And began rubbing my fingers up and down his full length. His jaw tightened. Eric groaned, and he grasped my hips and plucked me up and my legs immediately wrapped around his hips. His stocky head poked out of his shorts, and he moved the fabric of my skimpy bikini aside and thrust his tip inside me.
I closed my eyes and imagined the Rose Beast inside me. His hands on my hips, his tongue urgently licking my skin. When I opened my eyes, I saw Eric, but when I closed them again, I saw the Rose Beast.
His cock was fully swollen and inside me.
I rode him once, twice, three times when a lap of cool water rushed over out hips.
Surprised, I gasped, and when he bit down on my nipple through the fabric, I orgasmed so hard, my body clutching at the head of his cock as tightly as I could.
Eric held me and we rocked and rolled with the soft, lapping waves of the lake. After a while, he set me gently down, and he looked over my shoulder with a surprised look on his face.
For an instant, I feared there was a black wolf behind us, watching.
I whipped around and there was Antonio.
2
Oh fuck, Antonio! How could I possibly have forgotten about him?
I bit my lip, thinking how to handle this. How to explain.
The men eyed each other. Antonio stood with his shoulders straight, looking like he wanted to knock Eric one.
Eric stood with his casual, easy going charm.
Oh, god, what have I done.
I puppy eyed Antonio. Please, don’t hit him!