Hansel 1-4: The Complete Series (6 page)

True, I’m limited in experience, but I can do it. I read romance novels sometimes, and besides, my partner will be Hansel. If anyone can make me
feel
, it’s him.

I knock before I have a chance to talk myself out of it, and start to tremble as I stand there at his door. A breathless second later, I hear his low voice say, “Come in.”

I can barely walk without falling down as I step into a room with an enormous king-sized bed, covered with crimson silk. He’s propped up on a mountain of pillows, wearing nothing.

The sight of him makes my body go weak, the way it did once during a panic attack, right before I hyperventilated.

Total overwhelm.

He’s…so beautiful.

Despite the splendor of his magnificent body, my eyes gravitate toward his face: the part of him I know best. Through the little hole in our shared wall, I spent hours—hell, days,
weeks
on end—staring at his cheeks, his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his hair. I’m almost surprised to find how much the same they are. His hair is still dark, coffee-brown—thick and slightly wavy. His skin hasn’t lost that perpetual tan he always had, even after many months inside. His cheekbones are high and well hewn, his lips perfectly kissable. I can’t see the color of his eyes in the dimness of this lamp-lit room, but their shape is just the same. His nose, too. It’s straight and kind of noble-looking. All together, the features make a beautiful man. But unlike the younger one I knew, whose lips were usually curved a little, and whose eyes crinkled just a little at the corners, this man’s face is hard and…almost harsh.

One look into his eyes and I start sucking my breaths back; I’m talking
seriously
losing my shit.

My arms wrap reflexively around myself as the room around me starts to waver.

“Do you have an anxiety problem?” he asks flatly.

Tears spring up in my eyes.
Oh, Hansel
. Somehow, I shake my head.

“Are you sure?” he says.

I nod.

“Why did you come here?” He spreads his long, strong legs a little and wraps his big, familiar hand around his hard shaft.

My voice trembles as I start to speak. But then I remember – I think I was told to whisper. “I wanted…a shot at being…” deep breath, “your submissive.”

His eyes narrow a little, and I wonder at first if he recognizes my voice. He would know it better than most, having interacted with me so much when he couldn’t see my face.

“You’re a trained submissive?” he asks, sitting up a little. Damn, that chest…

I lick my lips. “I-I’m not sure. I guess…well, no. I don’t have a certificate or anything.”

I freeze, my heart throbbing, waiting for him to recognize me. To call me out. To get up off the bed and run to me.

How could he not know me, even in this mask?

He leans back a little on his pillows, and I notice he’s not actually naked. He’s wearing a blue silk robe that matches my clothes.

“Come here,” he tells me as he shifts so he’s sitting with his muscular legs hanging off the bed.

My feet feel numb and stupid, like I’ve had too much to drink, but somehow, I manage to walk over to him. I stand before him with my chin tipped slightly up, shaking even harder now, because I know—just know—that now that we’re so close, he’ll recognize my scent. My brainwaves. The pattern of my breathing. 

My hand hovers in mid-air, aching to touch his knee. It’s flawlessly muscled. Thick and powerful. But most of all, it’s
him
.

He looks down at me, casually, emotionlessly assessing, and tears start to fill my eyes. My lungs forget to breathe.

Snapshot memory: one dark wave, falling over a hazel eye that’s framed by sheetrock.

It seems unreal, the way his hand comes up under my chin, stroking there until a fine shiver zips through my whole body. I suck back a breath and lick my lips.
My
lips!
You know me, Hansel.

“Look at me,” he orders quietly.

His fingers press into the bottom of my chin, tilting my face so our eyes meet.

I start to tremble harder.

I press my lips together because I’m not sure I can keep myself from whispering his name.

How many times did I look into these eyes? I know the yellow flecks in his hazel irises so well; looking at them feels like coming home.

How long have I waited to see him again?

How much have I wanted it?

My mouth opens of its own accord. Words line up on my tongue. They are desperate to fall out, just as my hands—lax, by my side—are desperate to reach up and touch the hardness of his chest. The darkness of his hair.

He drops my chin and frowns slightly.

One word dives off. “Please…”

*

Lucas
 

Looking down on her from my perch on the side of the mattress, I cock one eyebrow in a light challenge. “Please what?”

Her lower lip catches in between her teeth. She quickly lets it go and rubs those moist, pink lips together.

This fifth girl, with her mask covering her face so perfectly and her body clad so nicely in my clothes, is making my dick hard. It throbs against my lower belly, standing straight up for her, begging for her small, smooth hands.

She seems exactly the right size. Right height. She’s got a nice whispered voice that sounds, to my overzealous ears, a lot like Leah’s. I wonder if she can sing before her lips part once more.

She shuts them, to my disappointment. “Nothing,” she whispers, with a little shake of her head.

I stroke down her arm and take her hand. “Come up on the bed with me.”

Her hand in mine feels good. So good. This girl is such a fucking good knockoff. If I squint, I can almost tell myself her mouth is Leah’s mouth. I rub my fingertips over her nails and tell myself these could be Leah’s. She would bite hers, but this Leah here with me is grown-up. Maybe she quit.

It really is Leah, I tell myself, because she’s got so much anxiety. Leah had trouble with it, too. She used to tell me how she’d feel all lightheaded when she would dive down to the bottom of a pool to fetch a toy. Being in that room at Mother’s…

I clench my jaw, so hard I hear a grinding sound.

Rather than wait for her to climb up on the bed, I close my hands around her waist and lift her onto the silky duvet.

She blinks at me, now seated right beside me on the edge of the bed. She’s so close I can feel her body’s heat. Too close, it suddenly seems. This girl feels so much like Leah, now I’m the one who’s starting to lose it. I feel a wave of sweat wash over me and know that I’m pathetic. So ridiculous. I really miss her lately. Sad.
Lucas, you’re a fucking loser
.

I nod at the expanse of mattress behind us.

“Get in the middle of the bed and kneel,” I order.

She hesitates a moment before her small body crawls across the bed. I watch her hands tremble as she kneels and tilts her frame so she’s facing me.

“Very nice,” I tell her. “Now lie down.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, as if she wants to ask me how, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lies on her back with her pretty legs together and her arms by her sides.

Damn, this one is almost perfect. Her arms are lean and lightly muscled, the skin of them soft and lightly tanned. Something about the shape reminds me of Leah’s, even though I only saw my Leah’s body once.

My dick throbs.

I move over so I’m right in front of her, and look into her eyes. So blue. Like Leah’s eyes. I feel my lips twitch a little with a brief desire to smile. I don’t, of course. Instead, I spread her knees apart and move between her legs.

The trembling I saw before is rampant now as I bring my hungry mouth down on her cunt.

I slide my tongue between her lips, flicking hard from her core up to her clit. A little gasp escapes her mouth. Her hips buck off the bed.

“That’s right.” I press a chuckle against her plump pussy and stretch my tongue out, delving inside, parting her gently. I point the tip of my tongue and tease her up and down, stopping sometimes at her core, where I plug her sweet entrance, then drag my tongue back up, so I can skate around her clit.

Her hands reach up and grab my shoulders; one of her fingers catches a sore spot, and I have to swallow back a moan. I didn’t tell her she could touch me. She should be punished.

I flick my tongue over her clit, and she moans, jumping so high, her entire body comes off the bed.

I roll my tongue around her swollen clit, then down, then up. She’s panting hard. I smirk. “How does this feel?”

I lick my finger, then position it at her center. I inch it in, and when I’m buried up to my palm, she moans loudly.

“Good,” she whispers. “Really good.”

Fuck—she even
sounds
like Leah.

Perfect.

I slide my finger out and look into her pretty Leah eyes. “Put yours in. Finger yourself while I decide what to do with you.”

I watch her sink her pointer finger partway into her cunt. Her movements are sparse, adept—like maybe she’s nervous. As her finger pushes in up to the knuckle, she leans her head back and her lips part just a little.

And all of a sudden, I have to have those pretty lips around my cock.

I sit up on my knees. “Get up,” I tell her.

She eases her finger out of herself and sits before me like a beautiful, obedient bitch.

“I want you to blow me,” I tell her, stroking my stiff cock. “I’ll give you instructions if you need them.”

Her eyes hold mine for just a moment before she leans over slowly, taking my throbbing head into her mouth, and I assign her extra points for not asking about a condom. She trusts me to be clean. That’s good.

She opens wide to take me deeper, and I rock my hips a little, forcing her to take in three-fourths of me. She pauses when my head brushes the back of her throat, but then I feel her swallow around me.

Holy fuck; she’s swallowed all of me. Her eyes rise up to mine, and I nearly spill into her throat right then.

She sucks her cheeks around me, and I can’t hold back a moan. “Good girl.” I stroke my hand over her head, and, with her cheeks still sucked against me and her lips drawn tight around my base, she moves her head and starts to suck me off.

After only a few times in and out, I’m aching.

Usually, I give them orders, but she has such pretty Leah hands; I want to touch them. I grab her free hand from where it rests on my duvet and press her palm against my sac, curling her fingers around the top of it, just underneath my shaft.

“Squeeze me—hard, right here.”

Her fingers tighten around me. I thrust my cock into her throat. “Tighter,” I groan.

She tightens her grip on me by a fraction, and my cockhead throbs with so much force, it’s almost painful.

Not enough!

“Harder,” I growl.

She squeezes my sac a little harder but
it isn’t hard enough
.

I bring my hand down over hers and press her fingers into me. “I want you to squeeze,” I tell her. “Pull down and squeeze me like you mean it.”

Her hand around me loosens, and I want to scream as she eases my cock out of her mouth.

What the fuck is wrong with you?
I suck a breath back as my raging mind flies through my list of punishments.

“That will hurt,” she whispers.

My jaw clenches. “Put my cock back in your mouth. And consider it an order.” I stroke my finger over her chin and then come up to clamp my hand onto her shoulder.

She squeezes hard enough to make me gasp, and gobbles my dick back down her throat.

“Make it hurt,” I snap.

She fucking stuns me, easing my cock back out of her mouth. The impertinent bitch!

Soft blue eyes hold mine. They look apologetic.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, stroking up and down me. Wide blue eyes. So much like Leah’s. I can feel a knot forming low down in my stomach. “Why do you want me to?” she whispers.

“No questions.”

She twirls her tongue around my shaft and head, and I release the breath I’ve been holding. Then she looks back up at me with Leah eyes.
Too much like Leah
. “You pay the other girls to hurt you?” she whispers.

“Not paid,” I manage as my palm cups her head, her silky hair sliding against my palm. “Is that why you want to do this?” I frown. “For a fucking check?”

“You have a dirty mouth,” she whispers. Then she leans back down and licks me like a lollipop. Below my cock, her hand cups my heavy balls; she rolls my testicles around inside her warm palm—and okay: It feels good.
Really
fucking good—but without the pain, my chest starts getting tight.

“For this to work, you’ve got to squeeze,” I rasp.