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Sixteen.

Penulis: Boluwatife
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-12-10 03:11:01

Red

Okay, this is not a horrible way to wake up—strong arms, warm, comfortable. I nudged closer, seeking more heat. My hand wandered until it brushed against something hard.

“I don’t think you should do that, love.”

My eyes snapped open. I came face-to-face with hard, warm muscle. I blinked rapidly.

“Do you want to keep holding my cock?”

I almost choked on my saliva and sat up hurriedly, snatching my hand away from whatever I was holding.

He chuckled, resting on his arm as he lay on his side, staring at me. He looks too good, even in the morning—hair messy, jaw sharp, eyes half-lidded. I just wanted to run my fingers through his hair.

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?” he asked, wearing that knowing grin like he could see exactly where my eyes were wandering. My face grew hot as I turned away from him with a pout.

Cocky bastard.

“Come, love. Don’t be shy. You can look as much as you want. I’m all yours.”

I glared at him and smacked his shoulder. He laughed, clearly enjoying my
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  • LITTLE MISS RED    Twenty one .

    Red .“And that’s all for today, class.”I packed my books and laptop, offering a polite smile before leaving the lecture hall. The whispers weren’t gone entirely, but they were no longer loud or shameless. Just fragments now. Glances. Half-looks. A few of my colleagues still avoided me, but I had decided those ones were insignificant.Something else occupied my thoughts anyway.Michael.He had been on edge lately. Ever since our trip to Italy—one I hadn’t even had the chance to enjoy before we were abruptly flown back—it felt like something was coming. Like he was bracing for impact. Preparing.It worried me.I wanted to help him, to ease whatever burden he was carrying, but he refused to tell me anything. So I decided that after work, I’d go to his place, cook him a proper homemade meal, open a bottle of wine. We’d sit together, talk, relax. Maybe it would take the edge off, even just a little.When I reached my office, the door was slightly ajar.That was strange. I always locked i

  • LITTLE MISS RED    Twenty

    David.I stared at the photographs spread across the table.So my bastard son had finally learned how to pluck something beautiful.A rose like this—bright, untouched—didn’t belong in his hands.I wanted her.And if I couldn’t have her, I would destroy her.I exhaled smoke slowly into the air. It curled above the pictures like a warning.It was time to visit my son.“David… you’re going to protect me, right?”Hands slid over my chest, clinging. I looked down at the perfectly manicured fingers.Disgusting.“Of course, dearest Elizabeth.”I turned to her, lifting her chin just enough to make her look at me.She used to be sharp. Useful. Now she was pathetic—hovering, begging. I preferred women when they still had resistance in them. When they belonged to the chase, not the reward.The only reason she was still breathing was simple:She was the only spy near Michael that he hadn’t eliminated yet.“You promise?” she whispered.“You’ll be safe,” I said with a smile.She squeezed my hand. “

  • LITTLE MISS RED    Nineteen.

    Michael.I could feel the tightness in my muscles, the familiar recoiling pain as I exerted energy, punching the bag again and again, trying to purge the negative energy burning inside me. Red was upstairs, in my room. I didn’t want to taint her with this darkness. She was too pure, too perfect—so fucking perfect.I already felt guilty that I had to cut our date short and fly us back here. I didn’t even take her back to the school or the mansion. I brought her to my personal house instead. I had to keep her safe. If anything happened to her—Just the thought made me increase my tempo, my fists slamming harder into the bag until it finally tore apart.I stepped back and watched the sand pour out of it. Useless now.I reached up and began removing the bandages around my hands.“That’s the fifth bag this morning.”“Maybe if you agreed to spar with me, I wouldn’t be destroying sandbags.”I turned to see Ilya standing there.“I still haven’t said anything about how my father found out abou

  • LITTLE MISS RED    Eighteen.

    I stood inside the hangar, staring at the jet-black jet, my mouth wide open with surprise and shock.“Hello, love.”Michael stood beside the staircase, a simple white shirt and cream-coloured pants on him. One of his hands was stuffed into his pocket, the other stretched out toward me.“Come, love.”I held my dress and took his hand. He led me into the jet. It felt like stepping into his world — cool leather, dimmed golden light, and soft music.“You like?” he asked with a soft smile on his lips.“Like?” I laughed, hugging him. “Are you kidding? I love it. It’s perfect.”He chuckled. “I’m glad. Come.”He guided me to sit. “We will take off now.”“Okay,” I nodded and scooted closer to him.He held my hand, tracing my fingers one by one, his eyes brimming with softness.“This is a lot. I’m really happy.”He kissed my knuckles. “You have never been on a plane.”A plane…I looked out the window, staring at the clouds. I smiled sadly. A plane was an extreme luxury for me. My ex-husband, ev

  • LITTLE MISS RED    Seventeen.

    Red.**I sat inside my car, my phone propped in front of me as I practiced deep breaths.“You will be fine, love. Tell me immediately if anyone says something stupid to you,” Michael reassures.We’re on FaceTime. I’ve been in the parking lot for almost two hours, trying to gather the courage to step into the school. I decided it’s time to go back to work—whatever has happened has happened. I can’t let it defeat me. I’m a survivor. I can survive this. I can.“Why aren’t you here? You promised to do this with me,” I complain, pouting.He grins. “I may not be there physically, but I’m here, aren’t I?”I scoff. “It’s not the same.”“I really wish I could be there physically, love, you know that. But I have to be in New York personally.”I still don’t understand what Michael is doing in New York. I’ve asked him several times, and all he says is that it’s Ilya’s business, he’s only there for support. I once FaceTimed him and heard gunshots—he told me it wasn’t gunshots. But I know what I he

  • LITTLE MISS RED    Sixteen.

    RedOkay, this is not a horrible way to wake up—strong arms, warm, comfortable. I nudged closer, seeking more heat. My hand wandered until it brushed against something hard.“I don’t think you should do that, love.”My eyes snapped open. I came face-to-face with hard, warm muscle. I blinked rapidly.“Do you want to keep holding my cock?”I almost choked on my saliva and sat up hurriedly, snatching my hand away from whatever I was holding.He chuckled, resting on his arm as he lay on his side, staring at me. He looks too good, even in the morning—hair messy, jaw sharp, eyes half-lidded. I just wanted to run my fingers through his hair.“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?” he asked, wearing that knowing grin like he could see exactly where my eyes were wandering. My face grew hot as I turned away from him with a pout.Cocky bastard.“Come, love. Don’t be shy. You can look as much as you want. I’m all yours.”I glared at him and smacked his shoulder. He laughed, clearly enjoying my

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