Wicked Steps (23 page)

Ellery

I never believed for one second I would end up here, with Kieran. He hadn’t lied when he vowed to fuck me everywhere in the house. The dining room. The sofa. The floor. The wine cellar. The gym.

After the exercise room, we were both starving for actual food. I made cold cut sandwiches as he got two bags of chips from the pantry. We ate seated on the kitchen island.

I laughed as I watched him eye the condiments sensually. “Don’t even think about it unless we hit your shower immediately afterward.” I handed him a sandwich, then began to nibble on mine. “Can’t you be normal and buy edible sex gel like everybody else?”

His brows shot up. “Is it too late to have those delivered?” I laughed as I threw a chip at him. He caught it in his mouth. “I have skills.”

I nodded in agreement because, holy hell, could that man fuck. I was surprised he stopped long enough to eat, but in his mind, I was sure it was sustenance so he could continue.

It had been a long day emotionally. My stamina was beginning to dwindle, and as I ate, I became more tired. I watched him as he popped the last of his snack in his mouth.

I’d made him put his jeans back on before we ate. I’d pulled his shirt back on. I explained it was too inviting to consume any meal while he stood naked less than two feet from me. Once we finished our feast, he immediately removed his pants.

“Seriously?” I asked as I stared into smoldering green eyes.

“Oh yeah,” he replied while taking off my shirt. He went to his knees and began kissing my thighs. “Spread your legs a little, baby.”

My traitorous legs obeyed without any hesitation. My sex began to drum as one finger dipped into my wetness. “Oh God.” My body was ready to combust from his single touch.

“I told you the first time. Think lower and much hotter. I know you still think I’m the devil.”

I could feel his breath as he pressed his tongue to my cleft. My clit felt hard and extended as he gently rubbed it. I slipped off the island and positioned myself so I would have the dishwasher to support me. I felt as though my legs might give out if he explored any farther. I cried out as he nipped the sensitive nub. I pulled his hair tightly as a warning. His tongue was warm as he slipped it in and out. My body tightened like a bow as I gave in to my climax. As I opened my legs farther, I began to tremble uncontrollably. My eyes pleaded with him, but he continued gliding his tongue inside me. I balled one hand into a fist as I tugged on his hair with purpose. I cried out as my body convulsed in pleasure.

“No more. I’m begging you,” I cried out. “Please.”

He stood, all six feet three inches towering over me, naked, tattooed, and with sex hair. He gave me a wicked smile as he licked his upper lip, his chin wet with my release.

“I hadn’t finished eating. My favorite meal is dessert, and baby, you taste sweet, better than any crème pastry.”

“I’ll remember the donuts next time,” I mused. “Can I convince you we should take a shower? I’m exhausted, Kieran. I believe I’m all fucked out.”

He laughed as his arms reached around me, my cheek against his chest. “You are acquainted with water sports?”

I gazed up at him as he quickly pecked me on the lips. “Oh dear Lord, you do realize I’m old, right?”

He might not be Satan, but he had devilish attributes. His tongue, fingers, and cock should be biblically documented as deadly sins. Hell, maybe his entire body.

“You’re extremely flexible for being so
old.
If this is you over the hill, I can’t wait for forty.” I elbowed him as he rotated my body to face his room door. “By all means, Grandma, let’s go shower.” He laughed

I frowned as he walked me from behind. He saw us like this when I was forty, in five years? Or was that just him talking bullshit? My heart yearned to believe everything he said, but the logic kept me from trusting him. I had hesitations because we went from enemies to lovers; there had been no in between for us. We hadn’t taken any time to know each other. Sure, we knew the basics, but it would never be a strong enough foundation to handle what might come.

He turned on the shower, then got towels. I ransacked his vanity until I found pins to clip up my hair. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a bar of soap. After eight-plus orgasms, I felt downright grungy. We both stepped under the steamy water. I’d put up my hair for a reason. He didn’t seem to care as he pulled me into him. He was wet, slippery, and breathtaking. I felt my body respond to every touch. My pussy began to pulsate as he soaped up a sponge with bath gel. He began at my neck, then worked his way down.

“I think it’s my pussy that needs attention,” I said as my face warmed. I had never been that explicit with another man.

He dropped the sponge as he tipped up my chin. His expression was seductive. His eyes appraised me slowly, stopping at the junction of my thighs. I knew what he planned, and as much as I enjoyed being able to bring him to his knees, it was my turn. I bent slowly as the water rushed over my hair and body. I no longer cared about anything but gratifying this man before me. He had embedded himself in my body and my heart, and being close to him heated my blood.

I took his semi-hard cock into my mouth and felt it swell immediately. He groaned as he pressed his body against the glass stall. His hand gently caressed my hair as I circled the rim of his crown with my tongue. As I continued licking, I skimmed his length with one hand and fondled his balls. They felt heavy and full.

“If you keep exploring, I’ll come,” he gurgled under the shower.

I bobbed my head as I began pumping his cock. I heard him gasp as the grip on my hair grew tighter. I could feel him thicken as I lapped my tongue all around him. I sucked as I kept feeding him into my mouth. I could feel his cock skimming the roof of my mouth as I slipped my hand under his sack and squeezed it gently.

“Son of a bitch, mother fuck.”

As I heard his words, his seed filled my mouth. I tilted my head back to swallow. He quickly pulled out and turned me around, placing my hands above my head, pinning my body against the glass. His cock quickly slipped into me as we rocked against each other. He reached around me and began kneading my clit as his dick continued to pummel me.

“Come, baby. Come for me,” he panted as he slammed into me with fury. “You’re mine.”

I shivered under the hot water as I heard him vow those two words. Hartman had said the same thing numerous times as he assaulted me. But Kieran wasn’t him. I had to believe that.

My pulse spiked as my muscles tightened around his hard length, giving way to an explosive orgasm. As he kissed the back of my neck, his rhythm slowed.

“You are a naughty minx, aren’t you?” His cock was still inside me as he spoke.

“I wasn’t… until we met. You, Wicked, are a bad influence.” I moved forward, allowing his shaft to fall from me.

I spun around and reached for the sponge. I put soap on it and began washing his chest. His inked arms were vibrant because his body was wet. He had tattooed much of his pain and anger on his skin. The only representation of beauty was of his mother. Her portrait along with loving words was the only depiction of grace that decorated him. My heart ached. The only real affection he’d ever known was Darcea’s love. I was sure he deluded himself by thinking other people cared, but in reality, everyone wanted something. If being with Hartman had taught me anything, it was everything you really wanted desperately cost something. And the person you owed decided what the cost would be and how you paid.

“You look lost in thought, babe.”

I tossed down the sponge and pressed my body into his. I was so confused in regards to this man. And all this sex didn’t help.

Five minutes later, he turned off the shower and handed me a towel. I wiped off the steamy mirror to see myself. I looked like a drowned rat, and he looked like Poseidon, god of the sea. Mother Nature was a cruel bitch.

Kieran

Even though I’d never admit it, I was bone tired. My legs felt like I’d run fifty miles and my body ached. That last blowjob wound me up so tight I had to finish it by fucking her. That was it. I was baked. Put a fork in me because I was done. I couldn’t even count the number of times I came, but I was positive the sperm bank was now depleted. It might take me a day or two to build momentum back up. Of course, I would never tell her, because regardless of her age, she kept up with me. I had no idea how she managed, but she was still breathing.

I smiled as I got in bed and lay beside her. I lazily drifted my fingers up and down her bare arm. She looked as exhausted as I felt.

“You tired, babe?” I asked as I pulled up a blanket to cover us.

“Are you kidding? Jesus, Kieran, you rode me like I was a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby.”

I choked on a laugh. “Good analogy, but you’d probably have to explain more about Kentucky since I’ve lived abroad for ten years.”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’m sure Paris has the internet and American newspapers available. You just don’t like being compared to a petite jockey.”

“There’s nothing small about me. I’m large in
all
aspects.”

“Well, yeah, you are tall in stature. There’s that.”

I began tickling her after that last comment. I hoped she didn’t want me to prove—again—how big my cock was, because I wasn’t sure I could muster up the energy.

This probably wasn’t the time to have this conversation, but we needed to talk. In the back of my mind, I was optimistic that because she was exhausted, she might be more malleable to my idea.

“I want you to go to Berlin with me next week,” I blurted out.

Her body stiffened under my touch, and she shifted into a sitting position. “Berlin. You’re going to Germany?”

I combed my fingers through my hair as I shoved the pillow behind my back to sit. “Berlin has been planned for months. My agent decided when my father died I should, quote unquote, ‘come out.’ In his opinion, showing my new work and revealing who I really am will generate huge publicity and create more fans. He feels, overall, my career could benefit from the exposure, and maybe it will. Sometimes it’s a bitch keeping who I really am a secret. I only became
him
because of my father, and since he’s gone, there’s no reason to keep my identity disguised. Kieran Wick can now surface. But honestly, I don’t think people will care who I really am as long as I still produce great art. The work is all I ever cared about.”

“How was I unaware of this? You’re revealing your identity as Kieran Wick and Wicked. Are you prepared for this? Because that’s not only a major deal in the art arena, but in the real world as well. Are you ready for the ramifications? There will be inquiries. People will want to know why you disappeared. They’ll bring up your mother. Your entire past will be put under a microscope.”

“Even though the art show had been in the works for months, the press release regarding my identity reveal was only yesterday, and it’s vague. It mentions an unveiling of sorts. I didn’t bring it up because, frankly, you had enough on your plate. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me disclosing who I really am or the fact that I’m leaving next week. That’s why I’m asking you to come with me. I want you by my side.”

She looked nervous and uneasy. “Are you insane? I could never go with you. Have you forgotten how we ended up here? It’s bad enough the press will interrogate you, but if they find out about us… My life would be over. Don’t you get it? Those people will never understand—”

I stopped her abruptly, swearing under my breath. “Your life would be ruined because of me?”

“Do you want me to lie? Yes, everything I’ve worked for will have been for nothing. All the years I endured marriage to your father. All of it, every sordid detail would be exposed. The truth is I can’t be a part of your reveal. Us being seen together in Germany—I might as well ring a dinner bell, because every ravenous reporter will want the story. They will probe and analyze, leaving no stone unturned. Your career will survive. My reputation will be destroyed.”

I swung my legs out of the bed and sat on the edge with my back to her. “Bullshit. It wouldn’t have mattered, because let’s face it, Elle; I’m going to become nothing but your dirty little secret.” I could sense her flinch. “You’re more concerned about what the social circles think about you than us. I don’t understand why their opinions mean shit. You don’t even know them,” I grumbled as my fist clenched next to my side.

“The same could be said of you. I don’t know you either, not really. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. I’m your deceased father’s wife and you’re his estranged son. How do I explain it? The story wouldn’t just be about you and me, but Hartman and most likely Darcea. Do you want your mother’s name dragged through this affair?” Her voice shook as she spoke.

“I don’t care what rock they turn over about my father. Let the entire fucking world know what a despicable cocksucker he was. As far as my mother, I’ll cross that bridge on my own. And I beg to differ. Jesus, Elle, you know me well enough to let me fuck you—many times. You’ve gotten close enough to suck my dick. Don’t do this. You can’t have it both ways. You don’t get to have the shiny new toy and play with him when it suits you, and I certainly will not let you hide me in a box. Either you want me or you don’t. I need to know you are all in.”

I jumped out of bed as she stood.

“You’re not being fair. You and I, it’s not that simple. It’s complicated. Those people, the ones I don’t know, could get past the age difference, but you’re Hartman’s son. I’ll be crucified.”

“Do you love me?” The question slipped out. In reality, I didn’t want to know because I was terrified she would say no. Now I’d just spit out the question without thinking about the consequences.

I could tell I’d caught her off guard. She looked stunned, then lowered her eyes to the floor. “Answering that question would be irrelevant. It would change nothing,” she replied as I watched her walk into her bathroom.

She hadn’t denied it. But she hadn’t said yes. Was she leaving her options open?

I hated the fact that she’d chosen to live in fear because of the scrutiny she would receive. We didn’t have to stay here. We both had equal wealth. She could open a gallery in Florence, Berlin, or Rome. Hell, she could solely show my art. I’d even buy her a gallery in Paris. No one would ever have to know about her past. Wicked’s image was already corrupted and morally questionable, but she would be under the radar. We could live a life of art appreciation, solitude, and sexual exploration.

She wasn’t coming back. I sat back on the bed and waited thirty minutes. It became clear to me she wanted to be alone. So be it. I left and went back to my room. I lay on my bed for hours, trying to listen for her footsteps above me.
I should just pack up and return to my suite.
Anxiety slammed into my chest as I thought about walking away. I’d asked her that question, but I never asked myself.

Did I really love her?

There wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind or heart. It physically hurt to be away from her.

How did this happen? I hated her before we even met, and I sure as hell fucked women younger and hotter. But none of them had interior beauty. They were all shallow and pretty on the outside, like I was. Like I used to be before I met her and she fucked up my entire plan.

Goddamn Preston. I’d always had suspicions of why he wanted us to be friends. Well, now I had my answer. He’d known what was missing from my life. Elle. She filled the void.

Sure, I could give her the life my father promised her, but I was afraid that would never be enough. She was too afraid. I would love her and honor her, but if she didn’t feel the same, or even want it, the point was irrelevant. I certainly couldn’t drag her to Europe, although the thought had crossed my mind.

I tossed and turned until I heard her leave. The sun had barely been up for an hour. There was a knot in my stomach as I dragged myself to the kitchen to get coffee. She left me a note saying she was going to the gym, then to work. The words written expressed a hidden meaning—for me not to wait up. It would be a long night. The note was cold and impersonal. We’d survived a hellish month, and now she wanted to throw it all away because she was a coward.

I took my coffee as I walked into my studio. And because I ended up spilling my coffee on some sketches in progress, I got pissed and started throwing easels and art supplies. Then I began ripping up finished work. I took out my phone and sent her a text indicating we needed to finish our talk.

Elle:
There’s nothing left to say.

I ended up smashing my phone against the wall. What the fuck did she mean? She walked away from an unfinished conversation. Yesterday and last night was perfect until I brought up the coming out. This was supposed to be our weekend. I had hoped for seventy-two hours of ecstasy, and what I got was only ten hours of nonstop fucking. I wasn’t complaining, because she meant more to me than sex. I couldn’t force her to be with me, but I refused to be an invisible entity in her life.

Once my identity as Kieran Wick went public, all hell would break loose, especially regarding my father. As much as my agent saw this as a golden opportunity, I had some reservations.

I enjoyed living behind the identity of Wicked. That person could do whatever he wanted without repercussions. I, on the other hand, as the estranged son of Hartman Wick—the media would have a field day. I had to get out of this room before I destroyed every project I’d done in the last month.

I carefully rolled the remaining charcoal drawings and placed them in tubes. I boxed up the art supplies that were still viable and trashed the ones I’d ruined during my tirade. I stared at her face. I saw how carefully I’d outlined every delicate feature. I was able to finally capture her essence. This proved I could do more than just sketch cock and cunt. I should have torn it to shreds and left it for her to find, but that was the immature part of my thinking. My heart ached, and I wanted to get even. That was the old me. The one that no longer existed because I promised her she could trust me to become a better man.

I called my agent and told him to get me the next first-class flight to Berlin. Going back to the hotel was no longer an option. I needed to be inaccessible to her and the media. I suppose this was an opportunity to find out if she truly cared for me. I hoped to look over during my exhibition in Germany and see her. But I knew deep down that the same fear that kept her tied to my father for years had forced her to remain frozen in time. If it were just him, I could probably fight it. But the faceless wealthy elite also kept her paralyzed. Because of who her husband had been, they were continuing to dominate her. She was too afraid to walk away. Nothing I could do or say would alter that unless she wanted to break free of this invisible hold, the chains that bound her emotionally.

I dreamed of a future with her. I wanted her to choose me. But deep down, I’d always fear I’d never be good enough.