Hansel 1-4: The Complete Series (14 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lucas

My pulse is pounding. So is my cock. I look at her and wonder what the fuck she’s thinking.

She urges me down onto my back, and I do it. I’m finding I’ll do almost anything she wants. With one hand on my thigh, as if she has the strength to keep me down, she reaches behind her, and I watch curiously as she pools some of my warming lubricant in her palm.

If she thinks riding me will somehow replace what I asked her to do, she’s wrong, but it would feel fucking good; extending my hard-on’s life will start to hurt progressively worse now that it’s gone on this long, so I’m not complaining there, either. I need to discipline her for disobeying, but I’m too curious to do anything but lie and watch her. I can punish her afterward. Find a way to get her used to hurting me. If I tie her pleasure to it, too, she’ll grow to like it. They all do eventually.

I watch with hooded eyes as she reaches for my cock. It throbs in anticipation of her touch.

Her hand hovers above me, and her eyes hold onto mine.

“Can you trust me, too?” she whispers.

My heart hammers.
What?

She looks down, and I feel her knuckles graze my balls. She rolls them in her palm, and I groan. Fuck; I may come vanilla style if she keeps on kneading them like that.

I jerk as her mouth closes around my cock and she starts to suck me off. My breaths quicken and the pressure building in my cock is making me want to be inside her pussy.

Her finger trails down my taint, and I’m so fucking horny, I grab the back of her head and push myself deeper down her throat. I don’t meet many women who can take all of me, but Leah’s damn near close.

I start to pant…just like a fucking dog.

And then I feel her hand rove over my cock, balls, and down below, leaving a trail of tingly lube in its wake. She teases my ass, and I start to tell her ‘no’; I’m not an assplay guy, not with my ass, anyway. The next heartbeat, she’s trying to push in.

I tense against her, lift my hips a little. “Leah,
no
.”

“Trust me,” she says. “Please.”

I grit my teeth. I can’t do this. Not even for her.

Except she keeps going. She wiggles her small fingertip inside, and a shudder rips through me.

Breathe
, I tell myself.

For a fleeting second, I think I’ll try to keep her out; give the pain of that a try; I sure as fuck never have before. The next breath, and I know I can’t. Sometimes…
before
, I—

I bear down and let her in, fighting to stay sane by telling myself that she has no idea. She doesn’t even know what she’s—

“Fuck.”

She sinks her finger in, and the muscles in my lower belly start to tremble.

“Leah…”

“Hold on,” she whispers. She leans down and takes my cock back in her mouth, but I can’t let her keep it there. I shift my hips, I shove my palm against her forehead; I don’t know how the fuck this happened, but I—

“OH FUCK!
LEAH
. FUCK!” I wrap my hand around her head and sink my fingertips into her scalp as my ass lifts off the bed. “Oh fuck, oh
fuckkkkkkk
!”

Her…finger…

“Shit!”

She sucks my cock deeper into her throat, and I see fucking stars. Her finger straightens out again, and the tip of it—

“FUCK! FUCK! LEAH—fuck me.”

I think I feel her throat shake with laughter, but there’s no way to know for sure. All my senses—all five plus that extra fucking one, the karmic intuition or whatever the fuck—are focused on her little fucking finger.

“What’s it…”
What’s it DOING?

I gasp as she brushes something deep down in my ass that feels…fucking
incredible
.

All I can hear is my own panting as she pushes further into me, and pleasure, so intense it almost feels like pain, makes my dick and balls hard as a fucking rock.

I’m panting, groaning.

“Leah. Oh fuck.
Leah
.” I clutch her head with both my hands. “It…”
feels so good.

“Oh God!

Her finger in my ass—I fucking hate it. But what she’s doing…
Panting
. Whatever the fuck she’s…Jesus… I don’t fucking know but—

She brushes a little harder against it and I swear to God, my body lights up like a fucking star.

“FUCK!”

The fucking pleasure keeps on…
shooting through me
. I grind into the bed. I push against her, unable to believe this feels this way.

I thrust my dick into her throat and…
explode
…in a tidal wave of violent. Fucking. Bliss.

Sometime when my brain turns ‘on’ again, I lift my eyes open. Leah’s perched in front of me, wearing nothing but the teddy, sitting with her hands on her knees. Her mouth tucks up into a little smile.

I smile back at her, and then I feel her settle beside me; a second later, she starts to stroke my arm.

“’S not the rules,” I murmur, curling over on my side.

These are not the rules that govern my lifestyle. I try to convey that to her; I try to ward her off, but her fingers feel so soft…so good. Sleep wraps its arms around me. Or maybe that’s Leah.

CHAPTER NINE

Lucas
Eighteen Years Ago
 

I hold my report card up and smile for the camera. It’s an extra cheesy grin. I try to make it even wider than the regular one that I did for my third grade yearbook picture last week. It’s not too hard. Shelly is standing on stage behind the photographer, making silly faces and playing with a funny plastic chicken.

The man behind the camera takes a bunch of different pictures. I do all my different smiles, mostly the big ones that make me look like I just got a birthday present. Every time before the flash goes off, I hold my report card up beside my face. It’s a little blue card, nothing special, but I want it in the picture because of the big, red “A+” that’s marked across the top.

When moms and dads look at the pictures, and they want a new kid, they will be excited that I make good grades. Shelly told me when I’m bigger, girls will like me because I’m cute, but they will like me even more because I’m smart.

I want to be smart. I give another smile to her, and then the camera man gives me a thumbs up.

“Good job, little guy.” He’s got a weird moustache. “I think I’ve got everything I need.”

I move my chair over to the edge of the school stage while Shelly and him talk about “settling up later.” She says “thank you” like a thousand times and then she walks over to me and rubs her hand around my hair. I make a yuck face even though I kind of like it.

“Good job, kiddo.”

I was the last foster kid to get my picture done, so as the guy packs up, it’s just me and him and Shelly in my school’s auditorium. Elinor, my foster mom, isn’t coming to get me and take me home. Shelly said that she would take me to get some ice cream from McDonald’s.

We sit in the fold-out chairs in front of the stage because Shelly has to lock the door after the moustache man, Mr. Franklin.

She takes a seat on the sixth row back and I sit by her. She talks to me about my class and my teacher, Mrs. Rutherford. She asks all kinds of questions nobody else asks me, like what’s my favorite thing to do in class, and what parts do I like or not like. Then she leans over and smiles and she says, “He’s a little slow.” The walrus moustache, she means.

I nod. “Yep.”

A few seconds tick by. Then I look at her without turning my head. “You think someone will want me?” I ask quickly.

“How could they not? You look so nice today.” She ruffles my hair, and I smile.

I watch Mr. Walrus while I think about tonight. After ice cream, she will take me back to the Coles’ house, where I sleep in a little room that used to be a porch. It’s not so bad. Just kind of cold at nights. And they have this cat named Jenks that likes to sleep by me. I’m allergic to cats, so it makes my eyes all red.

I blow my breath out and turn to look at Shelly. “You could still adopt me, you know. I’m pretty cute, remember?”

She gives me one of those smiles that looks kinda sad. “Not just pretty cute, but really cute.” She bumps her shoulder into mine. Then she looks at me, into my eyes. Her eyes are a little wide, and for sure kinda sad.

“Did you know I still go to school like you? At night. I’m still a kid, like you. I’m not of ‘mom’ age yet.”

With my fingertip, I trace a heart on her back. “I think you would be a good mom, Shelly.”

*

Fifteen Years Ago

I shift against the warm body beside me. I feel tired and sore. I crack my black eye open and see the blue curtain in front of me. I’m lying on my stomach, facing the emergency room curtain. As I come to, my back aches. I realize someone is definitely sitting beside me. I’m twelve now, almost thirteen, and I can tell when it’s someone good or bad. This is someone good. It’s probably Shelly. She’s going to be mad at me, just like at the principal’s office last week.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

The asshole at my house this time likes to hit me, so I kicked him in the nuts. He smacked me with this big can of shit you use to pump up a busted tire, for being a “little fucker.”

“I know you said I don’t need to get in any more trouble, or else no one will ever take me,” I say to the curtain in front of me. “I think I’m being removed from this house, right?”

I cut my eyes at the warm weight sitting sideways on my cot, her backside against my thigh, her legs hanging off the bed. I start to push up on my elbows so I can turn around and see her in the dim light, but I realize pretty fast that I should be careful not to move too much. Now that I bother to remember how I got here, I remember the asshole didn’t stop with that can of tire shit. I’ve got a broken rib and stitches in my back.

After a second of her not answering, and me feeling nervous, I feel her shift her position a little. I feel her hand on my hair. The volume of her voice increases as she leans a little closer to me. “Lucas, do you know what time it is?”

“No.”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning.”

“We should be asleep, I guess.” I’m halfway whispering, because I feel sorry that she had to wake up and come here for me.

There’s another pause, during which I feel crummy. The fight happened pretty late. I could have stayed at asshole’s place and slept it off, but I got scared and ran instead.

I’m expecting a bunch of different stuff, but not the question that she asks. “Who usually comes to get you when it’s not my work hours?”

“The night officer, Mary Jane.” I turn my head back toward her, unsure about this quiz. Sometimes people quiz me and they want me to get the questions wrong. Like asshole, earlier tonight, asking me if I knew what I was good for. “Where is Mary Jane?” I ask.

I hope nothing happened to her. She’s old and smells like perfume and it stings my nose, but she’s pretty nice.

Shelly walks around to the front of my railed bed, in front of some machines pushed into a corner.

“Luke.” She crouches slightly and strokes my cheek. “I’m twenty-seven now. I’m getting old.” She smiles a little, and my heart hammers.

Her smile is not a happy one. She’s about to say something more. I can feel it coming. Is she going to die? Do people die sometimes around thirty? Not unless they’ve got cancer or something.

Shit.

Her mouth is still pulled into that weird smile. Her finger strokes my cheek again, and dread settles deep down in my belly.

“I’m getting old enough to maybe start a family,” she says.

My rib throbs. “Are you going to have a baby?” Shit, I sound like I don’t want her to. I give her a dumb smile and try to act like I’m just fucking with her. “Who’s the baby’s dad? You got a boyfriend, Shelly?”

She smiles a little. Shakes her head. And then she strokes her finger over my forehead, and her eyes fill up with tears. “Luke…I thought maybe you might like to come and live with me.”

My head buzzes as she traces a gentle pattern on my forehead.

“Remember how I told you it was really important that you didn’t get sent to juvie? Stop hanging around with those tough kids in ninth grade?”

I lock my jaw. My throat constricts. If I nod, my eyes will leak like rivers.

“Luke, I’ve been trying to adopt you for a few months now. Pretty soon, the papers will be final—if you want.”

My face is getting really wet. My throat hurts, bad. I blink up at her and almost lose it. Then I look down at the floor. There’s so much niceness on her face, so much niceness in her voice, so much niceness in the room here now, I’m not sure what to do with it. I put my hand over my face, and she steps closer, close enough so she can wrap her arm around my shoulder.

“It’s not final yet,” she says near my ear, “but you can still go home with me tonight. Are your ribs okay? Do you feel like getting up?”

I nod, and she walks around to the side of the bed. I’m still making wet, sniffing sounds as she takes my wrists and slides me to the side of the bed. As soon as my feet touch the floor, I turn around and hug her.