6. Ren
6
REN
“ D on’t do this, Ren,” River demands. I knew he wasn’t going to like this, but I just have to know. “What if she told her father? What if they have men waiting for you in the tunnels?”
“She didn’t tell anyone.” I keep my voice low. I might be the only one out here in the middle of the woods, with nothing but the wind and the trees to eavesdrop. But I know better than anyone how obsessed Xander Rossi is with keeping his family safe. There is still a possibility of him planting men around this area.
“You can’t know that for sure.”
He’s right. I can’t. Yet I’m certain enough to take the risk.
“I’ll call you back when I’m on my way home.” I hang up before he can try to convince me not to go through with this.
Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I kneel and swipe the dirt and dried leaves from the flat metal surface below. It takes me a few moments to find the latch in the dark. When I finally do, I turn it and lift the heavy metal door.
An automated light comes on, illuminating the ladder down the small tunnel below. From here, it looks endless, like it’s going through the center of the earth, but I know from experience it only seems that way.
Carefully, I climb down, closing the hatch behind me as I go.
A few minutes later, my boots land on the concrete ground of the mile-long escape tunnel.
Everyone knows that Xander Rossi has escape tunnels running below his compound, but only Xander, his wife, and his children know about these very specific tunnels leading straight to their private quarters.
Scarlet shouldn’t have told me about them, but lucky for me, she did.
As I close the distance between us, the excitement of being able to touch her again has my heart racing in my chest. I’m used to keeping my distance and only watching her from afar. But the past few weeks have been different because this time, I didn’t contact her at all. No texts, no calls.
I left her completely in the dark, and as a consequence, I’m left in the dark on how she feels about me now.
Does she hate me? Will she let me touch her?
Did she tell her family that I know about these tunnels?
The seed of doubt River planted in my mind takes root. Fuck.
My legs stop moving on their own, and my feet plant themselves on the concrete floor, only a few yards away from the tunnel leading up and into the Rossi mansion.
“I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”
The memory of Scarlet’s sweet voice rings in my head, calling me to her like a siren. I force my feet to keep moving, pushing forward until I make it to the tunnel going up. I climb the ladder to the door leading into the house.
Using my fingertips, I softly run them down the right edge of the door, feeling for the hidden pin pad. I give it a gentle push, and it flips open, revealing the number pad. I type in the ten-digit code before letting my thumb hover over the enter button.
Here goes nothing.
My pulse doubles, and all oxygen evaporates from my lungs. It only takes half a second for the small blinking light on the side of the door to turn green, but it feels like an eternity.
The door unlocks with a click, and I sigh in relief. They didn’t change the code. That’s a good sign, but I can never let my guard down. There is still a chance of armed guards waiting for me inside the house.
As quietly as I can, I push the door open and climb into the hallway. Just as carefully, I close the hidden pathway and turn in the direction of Scarlet’s room. The hallway is as silent as it is dark, but I have walked these halls since I was a little boy and know every loose floorboard and cracked tile in this house, making it a breeze to be stealthy in here.
I creep my way up to her door, wrap my hand around the brass knob, and turn it slowly. The first thing I notice when I step into her room is the familiar unique scent filling the space.
Lilac and fresh linen. Home.
Basking in that scent, I suck in a deep breath and close the door behind me. Before I step deeper into the room, I turn the lock on the doorknob, locking us in.
I navigate the room silently, like a shadow, until I’m standing at the edge of the bed. Her silky blond hair fans out on the pillow like a golden halo. Her eyes are closed, her lashes fluttering slightly as her eyes move under her eyelids.
She must be dreaming. Her partly covered chest rises and falls evenly. With every breath she takes, the blanket slides off the swell of her breasts a little more.
Unable to help myself, I reach for the blanket. Digging my fingers into the soft fabric, I tug it down a few inches more.
I drink her in. She’s wearing a nightgown, but the thin lace has slid down her shoulder, her rosy nipple peeking out from under the deep v-cut.
My mouth waters. I want to feel her tits in my mouth and suck on her hard nipple until she comes apart under my touch.
I want her to scream my name. I want it all… but that’s not what I’m here for. I promised her another first, and it’s going to be the last one I can give her for a while. With one harsh tug, I pull the rest of the blanket off her flawless body.
My dick stiffens against my zipper as I take her in like I’m a starving man, and she is my only solace. She stirs, but her eyes remain closed.
Her hands slide over the mattress beside her, probably trying to find her comforter. Before she realizes the blanket is out of reach, I climb onto the bed, covering her slender half-naked body with mine.
Her eyes fly open at the same moment my hand presses over her mouth. Body stiff, her hands sink deep into my shirt, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric.
Shock, fear, and confusion all pool in the depths of her pale blue eyes. Yet her body remains still under mine. She doesn’t fight or try to push me off because underneath her shock lies recognition. In an instant, she knows who I am, and she knows I would never hurt her. Not physically, at least.
Her stiff body softens, and I lower myself farther, pressing her into the mattress with my weight. Those blue eyes of hers stay wide open, staring at me as if she’s scared to blink.
“You didn’t tell anyone?” I don’t have to explain what I’m talking about. She knows I mean the tunnels. Giving me a shake of her head, she confirms what I thought. “Good girl. Now let me give you your birthday present.”
I lift my hand from her mouth, and she immediately bombards me with questions. “Where were you, and what the hell happened? Why haven’t you—” I place my hand over her mouth, stopping her from whisper-yelling at me.
“No talking,” I order, which earns me an angry glare. “Quiet, or I’ll tie you up and gag you.” At my threat, Scarlet’s eye sparkle with excitement.
A grin tugs at my lips. My little angel likes my dark side. I shouldn’t be surprised. She is a Rossi, after all.
The power of this. Holding her life in my hands like I do with her warm, willing body at my command. It’s almost dizzying, though that could be the result of all the blood leaving my brain in favor of my swelling dick.
My own dark needs refuse to stay silent, announcing their presence in the most emphatic way as I twitch and strain under a zipper that just might break by the time this is over.
I remind myself that tonight is about her. I didn’t risk sneaking in here to take her in some clumsy, frenzied rush. That’s not how this is going to be.
It’s not what she deserves.
She deserves to dissolve in sheer pleasure and be carried away from conscious thought in favor of sensation. I’m going to be the man who introduces her to what she’s only dreamed about before now.
She wants this. She knows what I did. What I tried to do. She must. Yet she’s made no attempt at bucking me off her. In fact, her stiffened body has relaxed, melting against mine.
My angel. My all.
I hold a finger to my lips before pressing them to hers. If the scent of her bedroom is home, the taste of her lips is the warmth, comfort, and nourishment promised within.
Fuck, I had no idea how much I longed to kiss her. To share breath with her. I do what I can to savor the moment, to commit to memory every soft sigh and strained whimper.
She’s like a small, flickering flame leaping to life all at once. All it took was a simple kiss to get her blazing. Her plump lips part with no encouragement, her tongue brushing mine, stirring a needy groan from both of us.
She arches off the bed, and I shudder at the pressing of her tight nipples against my chest. So willing and eager for me.
Her hands, once wedged against my chest, now slide up and over my shoulders before meeting at the back of my head. Fingers twist in my hair, sending sparks of electricity across my scalp and down my spine, where they pool below my waist and leave my balls aching for release.
This is about her. It’s too easy to lose sight of the goal when she insists on reminding me of the other fun we could have.
The simple truth, one which I’d share with her if we had the time, is this: I don’t deserve to claim her fully. I always planned to when the time came, once she was old enough, but too much has transpired between the night I first saw her through new eyes and this night.
I don’t want her to regret it. She means too much to me, her happiness more important than any desire I could ever have.
That doesn’t mean I won’t allow myself to indulge in her kiss another moment longer before pulling away, removing her hands from the back of my head in favor of pinning them against her pillow.
“It’s your birthday, and everyone knows the most important part of birthdays,” I whisper, savoring the hazy desire in her eyes as they stare into mine. “Presents.” I grin. “But you have to promise me you’ll be a good, quiet girl.”
“Promise,” she breathes.
I admire the heaving of her chest, her hot breath hitting my face in quick bursts. She’s gone stiff again, fear and anticipation battling it out to see who’ll gain control. It’s no contest. Once I work my way down her body, placing light kisses over her covered breasts before moving farther south, she’s too wrapped up in desire to remember why she was ever afraid.
Too busy wanting more, her hunger revealing itself in the way she’s already begun to writhe, the lacy nightgown sliding over her flesh as she does.
By the time I’ve reached the apex of her thighs, the thin garment has worked its way up to her hips. The moonlight streaming through the window on us allows me a teasing glimpse of the heaven promised just beneath the hem.
Fuck, if only I’d lift it a little higher…
Her hips lift when I do, like she’s presenting herself to me. Begging without words to be tasted. I can hardly hold a conscious thought in my head as I lower it, my nose brushing against the pale pink satin of her panties.
Fuck . I take a mental picture of her to keep deep in the crevices of my mind for later. I can’t hold back the feral growl of sheer desire unleashed at the scent of her arousal. Musky and sweet. It envelops me, almost robs me of the will to restrain myself for her sake.
In my mind’s eye, I see myself tearing the satin to shreds an instant before burying my cock balls deep in what I know will be heavenly silk.
Instead, I bury my nose against her mound, the dampness already soaking into the fabric, leaving moisture on my lips. I lick it off, shuddering, before turning my tongue toward the outline of her seam, satin plastered against her swollen lips.
“Oh, my—” I turn my gaze upward in time to see her jam a fist against her open mouth, desperate to contain her intense reaction to the sweeping of my tongue. It’s a delight, undoing her like this, almost as sweet as the taste of her juices. The flavor explodes across my tongue and twists my consciousness, leaving me panting and grunting like an animal. Sheer instinct leaves me needing to remove the barrier between my mouth and the treasure waiting to be plundered.
I’m barely restraining myself, the need to take from her a knot that continues to grow deep inside me.
A soft gasp cuts through the air the instant I hook my fingers inside the waistband. Glancing up, I find her watching me, holding her breath. A single kiss against her mound—soft, almost reverent—relaxes her, allowing me to remove her panties and spread her legs wide.
I could kneel here and stare down at her pussy all night. I could make a career of it. I’m salivating, licking my lips to stop myself from drooling as I revel in the masterpiece before me. Pink pussy lips shaved smooth, almost pearlescent, thanks to the juices coating them and leaking onto the mattress.
Her tiny, pink clit peeks out, and I swear it pulses as I watch.
“If I didn’t know better,” I whisper as I lower my head again. “I’d think you made sure to shave for me tonight.”
She bites her bottom lip, cheeks going deep red, and I know I’m right. The knowledge stirs something deeper than desire in my chest. Something closer to pride. She was hoping I’d come tonight.
She remembers my promise.
That’s the last thought to go through my mind before I inch forward and lap at her seam again, this time coming into contact with bare skin.
The arching of her back is sudden, almost violent.
She’s already so close, her inexperienced body careening toward the finish line at the slightest touch. I pause, waiting for her to settle down before taking another lick. Then another. Teasing us both.
As much as I know it would be best to get out of here as quickly as possible, I need this to be good for her. I need her to look back on this without regret or disappointment.
Slowly, I slide my tongue deeper, delving between her lips. Her scent explodes around me, urging me to drive deeper, to thrust into her tightness and dig out every last drop.
I’m greedy for her, I’ve always been greedy, but this is a whole other level.
Instead of breaching the barrier of her virgin pussy, I allow my tongue to sweep along her entrance before I move on, parting her folds and finally sliding over the bundle of nerves that, by now, is the entirety of her existence.
Her high-pitched squeal is barely stifled by her fist, jammed tight against her mouth while her body undulates like waves on a stormy sea. All I can do is hold her hips down with an arm flung across them—or else I might end up with a broken nose. To call her eager would be a pitiful understatement.
I work her slowly, gently, knowing it will only take the slightest friction to achieve the desired effect. Her fists twist the sheet under her now, pulling, nails scraping the fabric. She’s the image of abandon, head rolling from side to side, mouth open, chest heaving, and her legs spread wide.
And it’s all because of me. If there wasn’t already a wet spot growing on the front of my jeans, there would be now.
I can still give her this. My Scarlet.
Her breathing picks up speed with the increased pressure from my tongue. My mouth and chin are coated with her juices now, every sweep against her sending nectar from her in a flood.
I coax more out of her, greedy for her orgasm. I want to feel her fall apart under me, thanks to my tongue. I will touch her the way no other man ever will. Nothing will compare to me. That’s my mission.
“Ren…” she half sobs, frantic for release.
The sound goes straight to my dick and makes me groan in discomfort and frustration, but I push through. For her, all for her. She’s so close.
She needs this. So do I. I can’t be selfish with her. I never could be.
All at once, she goes stiff. Her thighs clamp around my head, squeezing until I can’t hear anything beyond the rush of blood in my ears.
Then the tension breaks.
A high-pitched yelp escapes her parted lips before a fresh burst of wetness pours out of her. I continue sweeping my tongue over her twitching clit, drawing it out, refusing to stop even when she bats ineffectively at my shoulders.
Oh no, I’m not stopping.
Not until she’s ready to pass out. My pride won’t allow it.
Her hips jerk spasmodically, and I ride it out, holding on tight, lips clamped around her clit, sucking until she arches her back again, shaking violently from head to toe. My heart almost forgets to beat as I wait at that moment between torment and release.
She drops to the mattress when she reaches the finish line, her body limp and immobile. Pride rushes through me. Pride in myself, yes, but pride in her as well. For trusting me, for trusting this. For knowing I would never put her through anything I knew she couldn’t withstand. She’s always been stronger than she knows.
I need her to remember that.
Knowing she’s too sensitive now, I choose instead to caress the insides of her thighs with my lips and tongue, committing her to memory before lifting my head and raising myself onto my knees. She hasn’t moved except to breathe—great, rasping breaths. Her blond halo of hair is a mess, and a deep flush creeps up her face. The bed is in disarray due to her frantic writhing.
Nothing has ever been more beautiful or perfect.
I climb off the bed, careful not to disturb her as she comes down from her high. Once more, I take in the sight of her, indulging myself in her beauty before pulling the blanket over her once again.
“Ren…” she whispers, the sound soft, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
She does, however, offer a lazy smile.
Reaching down, I run a hand over her hair, smoothing it away from her forehead before placing a kiss there. I close my eyes, inhaling her one more time. After this, I’ll have no choice but to keep my distance.
Just one more second.
One more kiss.
One more.
Even though I know nothing will ever be enough.
With a strangled sigh, I force myself to straighten up.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper before backing away.
She doesn’t reply, and even if everything tells me to stay here, the reminder of what must be done presses heavy on my shoulders.
Soon we will be together. I promise.