Read Online 420 by Kenya Wright, Jackie Sheats - Free Book Online
Authors: Kenya Wright, Jackie Sheats
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do. I have funds, skills, and contacts that will take you years to gather.”
“Goodnight, Wolf.” I got ready to turn and he stopped me,
his arms wrapping around my waist,
his huge hands pulling me in,
and his mouth consuming mine.
Damn.
I pushed away,
but not soon enough.
He’d already snared me with that huge jaw.
“No, Red. Don’t go. I’m hungry.” He drew me back in and lathered me in impossible desire, a sensation that I’d never experienced.
He made me lose control.
I embraced him, taking my torture and understanding it for what it was. He was a prowling beast, and I just an innocent who was drawn to wickedness.
That was why Red fell in bed with the dressed-up wolf. She knew it wasn’t grandma, had to have figured it out right before she leaned in closer and became consumed.
Like Little Red Riding Hood’s fate,
Wolf devoured me, and I couldn’t ignore it all,
how soft his lips were,
how his tongue moved elegantly along mine,
how his scent tugged at the feral beast inside of me and made me want to do nasty things,
how his arms felt so strong and right wrapped around my waist,
how I missed that sensation,
the feeling of being truly adored,
the drumming of another’s heart against my chest,
lips against lips,
minds intermingled in a private session of passion that people could only dream of witnessing.
He let me go. “You kissed me back.”
I said nothing. Sometimes silence was a better response than a jumble of lust-stricken words.
Dear God, he had me. It wasn’t fair. All the things he’d done tonight should’ve pushed me away. But I wanted him.
I craved Wolf.
And not just yearned to fuck him. I needed to learn about the man behind the ego, the person behind the paint and the passion to change society.
When he pulled away, I needed more.
“Just let me show you something,” he begged. “The gallery and then I’ll take you to your friends and have a car take you all home if you need it.”
I stood there stunned, still blinking away the lust.
“Red?”
“Don’t kiss me like that again,” I whispered back.
“Can I hold your hand?”
Say no.
But I blurted out, “Yes.”
“Just let me show you my art. I won’t kiss you again.”
And I followed him down the path like a hypnotized princess walking into a tunnel with an evil wizard ready to strip her of everything. My body hummed with pleasure, and not just the space between my thighs. My eyes yearned to see his art, murals I’d only witnessed on websites and newspapers.
His hands shook as he held mine.
Why is he nervous?
He stopped as in the doorway for a second, inhaled, exhaled, and whispered, “Okay. Here we go. This is my work.”
“I’ve seen it before. You know you’re already a legend, right?”
His hands didn’t stop shaking. “I’m not used to being around someone as they see it. I usually just put it up and run off into the night. When I brought my parents in here, I threw up in the corner over there.”
“Wow.”
“Not a very wolfy thing to do, huh?”
“Not really.” I walked forward and tugged at him to come with me.
The space was the size of a warehouse. There was no way this place had been a gallery. Someone must have rented the penthouse under it, cleared it all out, knocked away the walls, and made it into a perfect place to put slabs of brick covered in art.
Like metal to magnet, I couldn’t help myself. I walked in, drawn by the art and the oddness of it all. Here was this white space—cement floor, stark walls, high ceilings, and bright lighting that bathed the area in a bright glow.
“One day, I’m going to have a gallery like this,” I muttered to myself.
He nodded. “Yes, you are. Sooner than you think.”
Hand in hand, we walked around together, my heart pounding in my ears the whole time.
The place looked like a graffiti art museum. There were ten broken away brick walls in the room and mounted against the white walls by huge metal bars. He’d actually had
“Goodnight, Wolf.” I got ready to turn and he stopped me,
his arms wrapping around my waist,
his huge hands pulling me in,
and his mouth consuming mine.
Damn.
I pushed away,
but not soon enough.
He’d already snared me with that huge jaw.
“No, Red. Don’t go. I’m hungry.” He drew me back in and lathered me in impossible desire, a sensation that I’d never experienced.
He made me lose control.
I embraced him, taking my torture and understanding it for what it was. He was a prowling beast, and I just an innocent who was drawn to wickedness.
That was why Red fell in bed with the dressed-up wolf. She knew it wasn’t grandma, had to have figured it out right before she leaned in closer and became consumed.
Like Little Red Riding Hood’s fate,
Wolf devoured me, and I couldn’t ignore it all,
how soft his lips were,
how his tongue moved elegantly along mine,
how his scent tugged at the feral beast inside of me and made me want to do nasty things,
how his arms felt so strong and right wrapped around my waist,
how I missed that sensation,
the feeling of being truly adored,
the drumming of another’s heart against my chest,
lips against lips,
minds intermingled in a private session of passion that people could only dream of witnessing.
He let me go. “You kissed me back.”
I said nothing. Sometimes silence was a better response than a jumble of lust-stricken words.
Dear God, he had me. It wasn’t fair. All the things he’d done tonight should’ve pushed me away. But I wanted him.
I craved Wolf.
And not just yearned to fuck him. I needed to learn about the man behind the ego, the person behind the paint and the passion to change society.
When he pulled away, I needed more.
“Just let me show you something,” he begged. “The gallery and then I’ll take you to your friends and have a car take you all home if you need it.”
I stood there stunned, still blinking away the lust.
“Red?”
“Don’t kiss me like that again,” I whispered back.
“Can I hold your hand?”
Say no.
But I blurted out, “Yes.”
“Just let me show you my art. I won’t kiss you again.”
And I followed him down the path like a hypnotized princess walking into a tunnel with an evil wizard ready to strip her of everything. My body hummed with pleasure, and not just the space between my thighs. My eyes yearned to see his art, murals I’d only witnessed on websites and newspapers.
His hands shook as he held mine.
Why is he nervous?
He stopped as in the doorway for a second, inhaled, exhaled, and whispered, “Okay. Here we go. This is my work.”
“I’ve seen it before. You know you’re already a legend, right?”
His hands didn’t stop shaking. “I’m not used to being around someone as they see it. I usually just put it up and run off into the night. When I brought my parents in here, I threw up in the corner over there.”
“Wow.”
“Not a very wolfy thing to do, huh?”
“Not really.” I walked forward and tugged at him to come with me.
The space was the size of a warehouse. There was no way this place had been a gallery. Someone must have rented the penthouse under it, cleared it all out, knocked away the walls, and made it into a perfect place to put slabs of brick covered in art.
Like metal to magnet, I couldn’t help myself. I walked in, drawn by the art and the oddness of it all. Here was this white space—cement floor, stark walls, high ceilings, and bright lighting that bathed the area in a bright glow.
“One day, I’m going to have a gallery like this,” I muttered to myself.
He nodded. “Yes, you are. Sooner than you think.”
Hand in hand, we walked around together, my heart pounding in my ears the whole time.
The place looked like a graffiti art museum. There were ten broken away brick walls in the room and mounted against the white walls by huge metal bars. He’d actually had
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