Hansel 1-4: The Complete Series (7 page)

I try to think past the lust that’s lighting up my veins and run my hand over her hair. I inhale deeply, focused on the pain I know is coming, and the pleasure. She lifts her mouth off me
again
, leaving my hard cock cold and damp.

My jaw drops and I actually laugh. “Are you even a submissive?”

“I’m not sure.” She sits up just a little straighter—her hand is still around my sac—and her mouth draws up, as if it’s really troubling.

“Not
sure
?” I groan a little as she leans back down and traces a line around my cockhead with her tongue. “Why…the fuck…are you here, then?”

She takes her mouth off me and pumps me with her hand. “I wanted to try this,” she confesses, looking up into my eyes, “but I can’t just do what someone else says. I’m too scared to.”

Her hand is shaking as she confesses this. It makes me irrationally angry. “Did someone hurt you?” I demand.

She averts her eyes down to the mattress as her hand strokes up and down me. “I’m just…not good at trusting.”

My hand threads through her hair, tugging a little near her shoulder. “Start by squeezing me. I can take it.
Trust
me.”

She shakes her head. “It will hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I sigh. “You ever think that maybe I want you to?”

“Do you?” she asks, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” I growl.

She squeezes, not as hard as I like, and sucks my cock into her throat. Then she tightens her mouth around me, just hard enough to cause a little bit of pain. I inhale the scent of watermelon and spurt into her throat.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lucas
 

When she’s finished swallowing, she eases me out of her mouth and presses her palm against my chest. I’m so surprised, I let her urge me down onto my back. Maybe it’s not just surprise. This one, more than any of the ones before her, reminds me powerfully of Leah.

Before I can open my mouth to scold her, she lies down beside me and twines her fingers through mine.

Oh, fuck.

I tug back a breath, but it doesn’t fill my lungs the way it should.

My eyes move over her, from her blonde hair to her pert, round ass. My mouth opens, and I almost ask her first name.

Leah. Please be Leah.

I clench my jaw and wonder if I’ve finally lost my mind.

Her hand grips mine gently, and I have the ridiculous urge to pull my glove off. I don’t, of course, because it hides my scar—but I find that I want to. I want to feel this girl’s bare fingers on mine.

“Do you have to have the pain?” she whispers, stroking my wrist just above the glove. Her eyes find mine, and they’re so Leah blue. “If I want to feel you…inside me,” she says, breathless, “do I have to hurt you for you to enjoy it? If so,” she adds, angling her body so her eyes meet mine, “what would I need to do?”

I shift onto my side, still holding her hand for some damn reason, propping my head up on my other hand so I can see her easily. Try to get a read on her. I regard her for a moment, trying to decide what her game is. Is she really so clueless she would come to me and act defiant? I’m not sure why I haven’t sent her packing already. She definitely won’t work as a submissive.

“There are lots of things you could do to give me pain,” I answer, finally. I’ve lost my mind. A conversation with a sub! What am I turning into?

“Scratch your back with my nails?” she whispers.

I’ve been careful to keep my back angled away from her, so she doesn’t know yet what she’s actually suggesting.

Using one gloved hand, I position her fingertips on my forearm so I can feel her nails. “Probably not sharp enough.”

Her mouth opens. “How big are you?” She presses her lips together, and even through the mask, I think she looks a little shy. “How…um, long?”

I smirk a little. “Nine and a half inches.”

Her mouth pulls into a little “o,” and her gaze drops down to where my cock is already saluting her again.

“Can you have sex with…smaller girls?” she whispers.

She shouldn’t be asking me questions at all, especially ones like these, but for some fucking reason, I find myself answering her, anyway. “Sometimes I can’t get inside. Just depends on how small.”

A smile twists her lips, and she sits up. “I have an idea. I think we should try it.”

She tugs my arm and guides my hand between her legs.

*

Leah

“You’re a virgin.”

His finger inside me writhes. His face, inches in front of mine, is taught. Well…rapt, really. Then his eyes darken, and he slides his finger out of me. “Someone hurt you,” he says tightly.

For a second, I’m not sure how to react. I want to rip the mask off and tell him everything, but ever since he asked me to hurt him, I’m afraid if I do, I’ll lose him. He wouldn’t want to be honest with me if he knew who I was—that, I’m pretty sure I know. He’d never agree to use me like he’s doing now. The Hansel I knew wanted only to protect me. I don’t think this man here with me now would ever let me close.

“I wasn’t hurt,” I whisper softly.

He eases me back against his pillows and licks his finger. Then he slides it slowly back inside, sinking it in inch by inch, until the pleasure pulses through my legs and belly.

I suck air in.

“Do you like this?”

With his finger still buried in me, he kneels in front of me, spreads my legs a little wider, and begins to lick me. I’m trembling and panting in one heartbeat. Clutching at his shoulders.
Hansel
. “Oh God.”
Hansel—yes!

What’s his name he uses now? My head spins. All I can think is ‘Hansel.’ His stage name reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe.

He starts to add a second finger to his onslaught, and I cry, “Raven!”

His fingers still, and I’m surprised to hear his smoky laughter as he raises his head. “You think my name is Raven, do you?”

I peek my eyes open. Oh
no
. “I’m sorry. I forgot…I guess.”

He slides his fingers in and out of me, teasing, even as he looks at me in wonder and confusion. “Why did you try out to be my sub if you don’t even know my name?”

“I was…curious.”

His eyes are still wide. “How have you never been fucked?”

“I’ve been fucked,” I whisper. “But it’s been a while. A long while,” I admit.

He seems to accept that answer, leaning back down and licking me up and down, pumping his fingers into me, stretching as his tongue strokes my core. He runs his tongue up my wet, swollen slit and laps around my clit.

“It was a good idea you had, for pain,” he says against the inside of my thigh. “You’re so tight that it would probably hurt you, too.”

“I don’t mind,” I pant as he teases his tongue against my core. “A-at least I…don’t think so.”

He kisses the inside of my thigh, looking up at me with assessing hazel eyes, and I’m tossed back.

*

Ten Years Ago

The marvelous seconds that I first beheld the boy I love are gone too soon. He’s on his knees, his head hanging, his hands held out. Blood drips down them, staining my green rug. His eyes rise up to mine, and those I know. I’ve seen this look before, after he returns from those times he leaves his room. I’ve seen his eyes look blank before, but never quite like this.

I hesitate only a moment before flying across the room. I don’t care what happened, or whose blood it is. I just know I need to hold him.

Hansel.

My Hansel.

I sink down in front of him and wrap him in my arms. My hand goes to his nape, but I don’t have to press. He drops his face onto my shoulder instantly, giving me all his weight.

It feels so good to touch him. At first, I’m too overwhelmed to speak as we cling to each other. Then I lean my head back just a little, trying to look down at him.

“Hansel—are you hurt? The blood…”

He shakes his head, then lifts it off me so he can look into my face. “It’s…not mine,” he rasps.

He dips his head toward me, as if he needs the physical contact desperately, but he doesn’t want to touch me with his bloody hands. I lean my head toward his as well, but before we can touch again, he’s getting up, shuffling away from me.

His eyes are wide, his face blanched white. He’s still holding his hands out. They’re shaking. So is his voice. “I killed her, Leah. I killed Mother.”

“You killed her?” I cry.

“Yeah.” His voice is deep, but the word is half sob. He turns around and sticks his hands in my little porcelain sink. He pumps some soap and washes, gets more soap, then washes his hands and arms again. He moves faster and faster as I stare at him, stunned, until I snap out of it and rush over, grab his arms, and turn the sink off.

“Hansel. Oh, God. Come with me.” It’s so surreal to lead him to my bed. I’m ashamed by how dirty it is, but my need to hold him easily outweighs that. I’ve dreamed of this a million times.

He goes down easily, his arms around me, pulling me to him, his eyes clinging to mine.

I wrap my arms around his neck, still reeling at the reality of being able to touch him. But my glee at that is tarnished by the blank look on his face. “Talk to me, baby. Are you okay? Tell me what happened.”

“I am now that I can hold you,” he says thickly. He wraps his arms around me, locking me against his chest.

“Hansel. Oh, God, baby.” I stroke his soft, dark hair, and his hands stroke up and down my back.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a year,” he rasps. “I need you, Leah.”

Then he lifts my face to his and presses his lips down over mine. The kiss is hard and urgent. I inhale his breath and brush his cheek with my cheek as I hold onto his head.

I’m so hungry for him. How can I explain? It’s been more than a
year
. I pull him down with me, and in a heartbeat, we are tangled in each other. Our mouths devour, tongues tangling as he starts panting and tears gleam in my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” he groans. His breaths are short bursts between hard kisses. “Shouldn’t have come. With blood. Didn’t know. What to do.” He tugs his breaths in, struggling. He moves his mouth off mine and puts a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I just…wanted you.”

I stroke his arm, his hair, and then I pull him back to me. “It’s okay, Hansel. You’re okay. I’ve got you now. I won’t let go.”

His arms are locked around me.

“Sing,” he whispers.

I open my mouth, and his slams down over it.

CHAPTER NINE

Lucas
 

I want to fuck her.

Now.

I need to fuck her—need it bad. Because I know the pain would be exquisite.

Because she looks like, moves like, talks like, breathes like Leah. Because if I fuck her, I will know she’s not my girl, and all this awful want will dissipate.

“Think about it. Think hard,” I say, rubbing my hard cock against her wetness. “Be sure you want to do it my way. Once I start, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop.”

*

Leah

He likes pain. Okay. I wish to God my Hansel didn’t need that, but he does. For now, I’ll try to work with it.

I have this idea to pull my hips away when he’s close and see how he reacts. Then let him push back in and see if he explodes. I want to be in charge of him. To make him happy. Fix him. Because he’s mine. Because he’s broken. I can’t stand it.

So of course I nod, even though I’m sure I’m in over my head. Even though I know, somewhere very deep and quiet inside, that he will hurt me. He can’t help it. I can tell.

“Lie down on your back,” he tells me roughly.

I comply without a word.

His hands stroke up and down my thighs, hold onto my knees. His fingers play in me until I’m arching up against him, gasping loudly.

He’s up on his knees, his dick jutting out and up. Suddenly, he leans forward a little more and presses the head of himself against my entrance. His eyes flicker up to mine, and I scream: Please! Just know it’s me! But his eyes don’t change at all, and so I nod.

With a steady, driving thrust, he pushes in.

I groan, because it hurts. He may murmur, “You okay?” but I don’t answer because I can’t tell. Blood roars in my ears like a hurricane. He buries himself deeper, moving inch by hard, wide inch.

I moan—filled. Oh, fuck. So perfect. Hansel!

I force my eyes open and find his face is slack. Blissful.

I watch him as he starts to thrust—his lip caught in his teeth, his huge chest rising, falling, faster. I groan again, because he feels incredible. He grabs my hands and holds them as his pace increases.

“Yes,” I cry.

He cups my cheek as long glides turn to harder thrusts. His finger toys with the side of my mask, making my heart race.

Pull it off, I want to scream. See me—please.

He’s getting close. I can tell because his brow draws tight, his mouth bares flat. His lips part just a little bit, because he’s breathing hard. Hansel—
my Hansel
. I’m panting, too, lifting my hips to meet him thrust for thrust. I’m full—so very full and stuffed—so close myself.

I feel him expand inside me, and I almost scream. I thrust against him, seeking sweet release.

Then I remember. What I wanted to do. What I wanted to try. He plunges hard into me, and I twist my body quickly away.

His eyes pop open, wide,
livid
.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper.

He shuts his eyes. Clenches his jaw. His hand hovers over his cock, which stands straight up, swollen hard and gleaming from our pleasure. “It
hurts
.” His eyes peek open, roving over me. He looks dangerous. Needy.

I scramble over to him, stroking one hand gently under his taut sac, making him groan and bite my shoulder.

Then I run both hands down his amazing length, stroking with my fingertips. Hoping that the pain and pleasure swirl together in a way that makes him want to do this with me all the time.

In a breath, I’m on my back, and he’s atop me. He shoves himself back in with one hard thrust, and as I scream, he pins my shoulders down. He drops his face into my neck.

His cock shudders, spurting deep inside me, and I pulse and clench around him.