Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (38 page)

“Easy,” he urged, kissing her softly, his
tongue exploring as he pressed her thighs open further with his
own. She cried out against his mouth when he entered her, a brief,
searing moment of pain paralyzing her in his arms. He kissed her
cheek, her throat, whispering her name over and over, not moving
inside of her.

“Was that it?” she whispered, turning her
face up to his, unable to really believe that she’d done it, she
had given herself to him.

“That was the worst part.” He kissed her
forehead. “Now comes the best part.”

Mae shivered as he began to move inside of
her, his hips circling gently. The sensation was strange at
first—she felt full to bursting with him—but the more they rocked
together, the easier it became to open up and accept him. His cock
throbbed between her legs, his breath coming in hard, hot pants
against her ear, and she clung to him with all her might.

“Mae,” he whispered, his voice catching. “Oh
god sweetheart, you feel so good. I can’t hold back.”

“Yes,” she urged, closing her eyes and
lifting her hips to meet his, grinding her pelvis, feeling him move
deep inside her. “Yes! Yes!”

He groaned and gave into it, shoving himself
in deep and shuddering with pleasure on top of her. She held him
close, cradling his head against her breasts as he cried out and
buried his face there, his whole body tense with his climax.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured,
collapsing onto her. She took his weight with a happy sigh,
wrapping herself around him. She knew she should have felt ashamed
at giving him her virtue, remorseful, even contrite, but she
wasn’t. In fact, she didn’t remember ever being happier. “Are you
all right?”

“I’m perfect.” She smiled and brushed his
hair tenderly out of his eyes.

“Stay with me.” He sighed and closed his
eyes, nestled between her breasts. “Don’t leave me, Mae.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She lifted his
palm and kissed it, giggling. “You know, when you got down on your
knees in my living room, I thought…” She laughed again, shaking her
head.

“What?” He lifted his head to look at her.
“What did you think?”

She flushed, admitting, “I thought you were
going to propose.”

“And what if I had?”

She couldn’t tell if he was serious, but she
shrugged and smiled. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“It’s Griffon.” He pressed his cheek to her
breast again. “My first name is George.”

“Mrs. Mae Griffon,” she murmured.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said,
“It has a ring to it.”

Mae felt a little thrill up her spine at his
words, closing her eyes and stroking his damp hair. “Yes, it does,”
she whispered, but he was already asleep.

* * * *

He liked watching her. Like most country
girls who found themselves in city confines, she didn’t quite
understand the new terrain. She lived as if she was still back
home, surrounded by miles of farmland, the nearest house a fifteen
minute drive away. He enjoyed her freedom, and with the help of a
very fine and quite expensive pair of binoculars, because Mae never
pulled down her shades.

And she was a beauty. A little unrefined for
his tastes, although her grandmother had clearly been trying to
shine her up a bit. Of course, without her clothes who could tell?
He was stunned by her freshness, the creamy white flesh of her
belly exposed as she pulled her full slip off over her head,
leaving just panties and one of those newfangled bras to cover her
exquisite flesh. She didn’t wear a corset, and god knows she didn’t
need to. Her figure was the perfect hourglass, ripe and full and so
lush he swore he could feel the heat of her from a street away.

She often stayed this way a long time,
sitting at a little vanity, brushing her short, dark hair, removing
her make-up, but eventually she would stand and unhook her bra,
letting her breasts free, the nipples dark coins against her pale
skin. He would focus his binoculars in as close as he could get to
see how the flesh puckered in response to the sudden shift in
temperature.

And then came the panties. It didn’t matter
which direction she was she was facing, both were delicious. If she
bent over, he could see the generous swell of her behind, so full
it made him feral with lust. If she slipped them off while she was
facing the window, he got to view the vast dark triangle of her
pubic hair, an arrow pointing to heaven. His cock throbbed in his
hand as he stroked it, watching her disrobe herself bare, wanting
nothing more than to go over there and take her. And of course, he
could do that.

But there were other considerations. The
trap had to be set, and hurrying things would just chase the rabbit
away from the snare. For now he could be patient. Besides, too much
of a good thing was still too much. And waiting was a pleasure. The
anticipation built to a dizzying frenzy. Like his cock, the head
purple from the pressure of his fist, aching for release but denied
over and over, waiting for just the right moment.

Usually that moment came when she squirted a
white cream onto her hands and began to rub it all over her skin,
spreading the stuff over her breasts, her belly, sliding down into
the crevices between her thighs. Then he couldn’t hold it anymore,
letting loose his own stream of white cream, imagining it splashing
all over her breasts, or better yet, coating those ripe, full lips
of hers, red even after she’d removed all traces of her
lipstick.

He sat, panting, watching, until she turned
out the light, biding his time. He wanted her, but if that was all
it was, he could easily have her. It was far more than that. He was
going to make her completely his. He was going to own her. He just
needed to be patient. Soon she would fall willingly into his arms
and be his wife, and he would have everything he’d ever wanted. He
just had to wait.

* * * *

“Your granny sure is a funny old bird,”
Lionel murmured in Mae’s ear as he watched the old woman go over
the paperwork.

“She’s stubborn.” Mae pulled her coat on,
collecting her things into her basket. Although she had it back
now, things had still felt so different on her way to her
grandmother’s this afternoon when she’d stopped by Griff’s apple
cart. Seeing him always brightened her day, but after the other
night, it was like standing directly next to the sun.

They did the things they usually did, eating
lunch sitting in folding wooden chairs, talking and joking, but the
whole thing felt like cardboard compared to how they had been
together in her apartment. She knew she should regret it, should be
ashamed and horrified by her own behavior, and maybe part of her
was, but a larger part shamelessly longed for more.

“I just don’t understand,” her grandmother
said, shaking her head. “They’re offering me
more
than I’m
asking?”

“That’s right, Mrs. Verges,” Lionel agreed.
“The penthouse of the Century is a very desirable property, you
know.”

“Of course it is.” She sniffed. “But why
would they offer me
more?”

“Because they want to make sure you accept
their offer,” he soothed. “It’s just a show of good faith. They
want you to know they’re serious and want the property very
much.”

“Well I guess I can’t argue with that.” The
old woman glanced up at her granddaughter, frowning. “Mae, are you
going so soon?”

“I’m not feeling well,” she lied. The truth
was she’d planned on eating dinner with her grandmother, but
finding Lionel there when she’d arrived had spoiled her appetite.
“Maybe we can do it tomorrow?”

“All right, dear.” She signed the final
paper, folding the stack and handing it over the Lionel. “Would you
make sure she gets home for me?”

He nodded, sliding the papers into his suit
coat pocket. “Of course.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Mae
protested. “I can walk home by myself.”

“I have my car,” Lionel offered.

“Perfect!” Her grandmother beamed and Mae
relented with a sigh.

She kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

Lionel’s auto wasn’t as nice as she thought
it would be, but he helped her into the passenger’s side and she
rode quietly beside him through the city streets.

“Why don’t you like me?” His question jolted
her.

“I do like you, Lionel,” she countered. “You
remind me of home.”

“I liked you then too.” He gave her a little
smile, glancing sideways at her as he drove. “I know you miss your
parents and you feel all alone in the world.”

Not anymore
, she thought, but she
didn’t say anything. She did miss them, it was true, but for the
first time since their accident, she felt alive, really alive. Even
her grandmother had noticed, although she seemed to think it had
something to do with Lionel.

He went on. “But you can’t spend all your
time looking backward. At some point, you have to start living your
own life.”

“I know,” she agreed softly, thinking of
Griff. She frowned as Lionel turned right down a street she didn’t
know. The buildings stopped and the street opened up into the a
clearing, and she understood that this was the other side of
Central Park. “Where are we?”

“Hooverville.” Lionel smiled grimly.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Why are we stopping?” She stared at the
garden of tin and garbage piled in front of her. Lean-tos had been
constructed out of sheet metal and scrap wood every ten feet or so,
the structures crowded together, as if for warmth.

Lionel surveyed the scene. “I don’t want to
ever live here.”

“I don’t blame you,” she murmured, seeing a
man in a ragged blue coat shuffling toward one of the shacks.

“I want more in life than this.” He turned
to her, reaching for her hand, and she let him take it without
thinking. “Mae, I want you.”

“What?” she asked faintly, too surprised to
withdraw.

He smiled, lifting her hand to his lips,
kissing the back softly. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw
you sitting in your father’s chair in your overalls.”

“Lionel…” Her protest got stuck in her
throat.

“We’re the same, you and I,” he insisted,
sliding closer across the seat. “And I know I can make you
happy.”

She shrank toward the door, feeling the heat
of him. “This is all really fast…”

“I asked you once before...” he reminded
her, leaning in even closer. She could smell some sort of
aftershave, thick and cloying, remembering the last time he had
made this bid. It was just a moment, really, a fumbling in the dark
after he’d been invited by her father to dinner at their home. She
recalled her embarrassed refusal, his sudden flare-up of anger. It
had been just a few weeks before the accident and her memory of
that time was hazy.

“Lionel, I can’t…” She tried to refuse him
but his mouth captured hers, his tongue shoving its way in past
lips and teeth, his hands already moving over her body, impatient
with her thick, red wool coat. She tried to twist away but he
palmed her breast through the fabric and pressed deeper, his tongue
making her gag.

“Stop!” she cried, turning her head to the
side and breaking their kiss with a breathless gasp, trying in vain
to push him off her.

“Think about it,” he panted, his hungry gaze
moving over her as he complied with her request, sliding slowly
across to sit behind the wheel again. “At least tell me you’ll
think about it.”

“Okay, I will,” she lied, afraid of that
look in his eyes. “But you need to take me home now.”

Lionel turned and squeezed the wheel for a
moment, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. Then
he did as she asked and drove her home. They made the trip in
silence and Mae tried to keep the tremble from her hands as she
picked her basket up off the floor.

“Can I come up?” he asked hopefully as she
opened the passenger side door, almost before he’d even come to a
complete stop.

“Thank you for the ride,” she said politely,
shutting the door and practically running up the stairs.

Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Griff
waiting by her apartment door. He smiled when he saw her, standing
to greet her, but as she drew closer, his mouth turned down in a
frown.

“Are you all right?” he asked as she fumbled
with her key in the lock.

She didn’t want to tell him about Lionel. An
explanation would just make her cry and that would spoil
everything. Instead, she dropped her basket to the floor and threw
her arms around his neck, her mouth slanting across his.

“Easy,” he laughed, nudging her basket into
the apartment with his foot and shutting the door behind them.
“Keep doing that, and you’re going to get us arrested.”

“They can’t arrest us in here.” Mae sank to
her knees in front of him, giggling at the shocked look on his face
as she unzipped his trousers and slid her hand in. She marveled at
how different he was when he was soft, but with just a little
manipulation, he started to grow hard in her fist.

“Jesus, Mae,” he whispered, knocking her
stylish little hat to the floor and sliding a hand through her hair
as she stroked him.

“Can I kiss it?” She did anyway, her lips
caressing the head, her tongue sneaking out to lick around the
spongy tip. Griff moaned softly, thrusting his hips forward when
she covered the whole of him with her mouth, making him wet with
her tongue as she went. She could only swallow half of him before
gagging and pulling back, her eyes watering.

“Such a good, eager girl.” Griff smiled.
“You’re getting your knees dirty.”

She stood, backing away from him while
unbuttoning the front of her dress. Griff watched, wrapping his
hand around his cock, as she slipped it off her shoulders and
stepped out of it. Then she turned and headed for the bedroom,
undressing as she went, so she was down to nothing by the time she
made it to the bed.