Wicked Steps (16 page)

“You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do this. I’m sorry for everything,” I pleaded.

I watched her walk to the bathroom. My mind and body reeled in shock when I realized I’d never seen her backside. Tiny scars marred her lower back and buttocks. There were too many to count. I had ventured into the BDSM scene a few times. The marks you left while “playing” always faded away after a few hours. They were never meant to be permanent or damaging. However, these were administered to cause actual torture, breaking the skin, leaving scars as a reminder of who held the power—even after death.

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Guilt. Sadness. Anger. Desire. Need. My emotions had turned into a mixed bag. Every part of my being (except my dick) was screaming at me for being such a reprehensible, inconsiderate cocksucker, and this, right now, with her was wrong.

Let her walk away with the pride she has left. Give her the money and the gallery and fly home. Tonight. Erase her from your memory and pray she does the same. Pretend these last few weeks never happened and let it go.
My mother would want me to walk away, and she would understand everything, even if I couldn’t comprehend the emotions I had churning through my body.

“We’re not fucking? I thought it’s what you wanted.” Her voice cut the silence in the room like a blade.

“Sit down next to me,” I said, patting the bed with my freed hand.

“I don’t want to sit unless it’s on top of you. I came here to fuck, and now that I’ve unloaded my garbage, it’s obvious you don’t want me.”

“You’re kidding, right? Jesus, Ellery, I’ve wanted to be inside you since the first night. I can’t even get off without… Never mind. I don’t want to degrade you. I’ve done enough of that already. I don’t want you, not like this.”

“Put the condom on.” It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. She was so wet her sex glittered as if decorated with diamonds.

I groaned as I fumbled to sheathe my dick without tearing the condom. Everything in my brain was admonishing me, but my body wanted her. If I had both hands, I’d be tempted to remove the rings and take her bare. She never bothered to secure my loosened wrist, and I was able to guide myself in as she positioned herself above me. As she moved to sit, I thrust to meet her. The sensation was overwhelming. As slick as she was, it was still a tight fit. I could hardly breathe, which kept me from moving inside her. I’d never known awareness with another woman like this.

Her eyes closed as she began rocking into me. Heat pulsed all around us as my piercings began to cause friction. Her body responded to the fullness of the rings as they nipped her clit. She cried out as I greedily ground into her. With my free hand, I reached up and pulled her into me. I wanted the kiss to be tender, but my hunger was past the breaking point. I devoured her mouth as my tongue delved inside, then quickly retreated, outlining the seam of her lips.

Ellery stared at me in confusion as she flung her head back. Every nerve ending was on fire. She bucked her pelvis as I returned the motion. I let her grind into me, then slide up and down. Her body bowed into mine as her sex tightened around my cock. There was no way I could prolong this, even though I never wanted this to end. She might as well bind both hands to the bed permanently, because I was forever her prisoner.

I had always been the one; I owned the sex I had. Women meant nothing to me. Until her. The first night I saw her, I wanted her. I told myself this was all about vengeance, but it was more about jealousy. Having Ellery bound to me emotionally would allow both her and my father to pay for their sins. It never mattered that she hadn’t caused my pain, that she wasn’t responsible. It had been enough that she had sold herself to be my father’s wife.

But she had turned the tables on me. Because as much as I wanted her, the truth was, I
needed
her. She was my path to freedom and redemption. These emotions felt foreign to me. Everything we’d gone through in the last several weeks would hinder any plans I had going forward. She would never forgive me, and why should she?

“I can’t hold on any longer,” I groaned, struggling to last.

She whimpered as her fingernails scored my one bicep. I bit back a curse as my cock began to pulse with imminent release. I pulled her face down, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes connected with mine as my seed filled the condom. I could feel the heat of our release as a guttural cry gave way to her orgasm. My body shook as she suddenly slid off me, the condom caked with our combined juices. With my free hand, I carefully removed it. My breathing was still erratic as I lay my head back down on the pillow, wondering what her next move was.

“Was it everything you hoped for? Did fucking your stepmother give you the thrill you expected?”

I winced at her words, watching as she got off the bed. I deserved every second of her disdain. I earned it and more. Even though what she said made me blanch, I could tell the dynamic between us had changed. Her tone portrayed indifference, but her body responded to me. There had been passion while I was inside her.

“I think we both know that meant more than sex,” I said, clearing my voice, still attempting to catch my breath. “Can you remove the other cuff now?”

I heard the metal click as she leaned across me, her naked breasts dangling, tempting me to taste them.

“Are we done now, Kieran? Has our business concluded?”

I sat up as I reached for her arm, forcing her to sit on the bed. We were still naked, and my mind was obsessed with all the ways I wanted to take her. I hated the fact that my body agreed, because right now, being with her wasn’t about satisfaction; it was about absolution. I needed to make her see the line we crossed meant so much more than fucking.

“I… I don’t know where to begin. Nothing I can ever say to you will undo everything I said or did. You affect me, Ellery. You’ve reached into my very soul and every part of you is now my lifeline. For the first time in my life, I feel anchored. I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe if you don’t forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

I swept my hair back from my face as I inhaled. “This was never about you. You were right when you called me a bastard and a prick. I merit those names and much more. I only wanted you because you had belonged to my father. I thought fucking what was once his would pacify me. And it would have been enough if I hadn’t wanted you. But it’s no longer just want… I
need
you. Being with you takes me to a place I never thought I’d know. You allow me to be content. You make me forget all the reasons I’ve been such a bitter and angry man.

“I hate how I acted. I’m asking for a reprieve. You don’t owe me anything. I know you should detest me, and it’s well deserved, but I’m hoping whatever this is, you feel it, too.”

I couldn’t interpret her reaction. Her expression showed nothing. I watched as she walked to the bathroom and closed the door. A few minutes later, I heard the toilet flush and the faucet go on. She came back out wearing one of my dirty shirts I’d tossed in the hamper.

I started to get up. “Let me get you a clean one.”

She waved me back. “I’m too tired right now. I just want to close my eyes. Is that okay? Can we just sleep?”

I fell back onto my pillow and scooted over, making room for her to lie next to me. I’d never slept with another person the entire night. Having her in my bed and hearing her breathing was more intimate than I ever imagined. My senses went into overload as I watched her fall asleep. I’d never anticipated this. I’d never imagined this would ever happen.

Would I be mentally equipped to handle this rash of new feelings? I knew I needed her, but could I be the man she wanted? The one she would be willing to forgive?

I yawned at the array of questions pelting my brain. I pulled her close to me as I blanketed her with my arm. I was suddenly worried I’d wake up and find her gone. I definitely wouldn’t be prepared if that happened. We needed to talk, an actual conversation. I needed a chance to set things right with her.

With her in my bed, I slept and dreamed for the first time in seven years.

Ellery

I woke up sweating. Jesus, I was burning up. I tried to kick off the blankets, when I found the source of the fire. Kieran. Both of us were tangled in each other’s arms as though we’d been lovers for years. He had his arm across my boobs, locking me in as a prisoner. Maybe I should have kept him cuffed. There was no chance of moving without waking him, and after last night, it was too soon to face him.

How I had treated him. And my language. I wanted so badly to have amnesia right now, but I could remember every single detail with clarity.
Ugh.
I silently groaned. Regardless of how he’d deserved my wrath, I went too far. I had proven I was just as wicked. I had shackled him to his fucking bed. Jesus. Who the hell had I been channeling last night? Because that certainly wasn’t me.

I let my hand drift beneath the shirt and down to my pussy. I dragged my fingers along the still damp seam. Last night had been delicious. I’d never come like that. Even with a condom, I felt the graze of his jewelry as he pumped into me over and over again. I licked my lips as I closed my eyes. I could get myself off with him sleeping beside me, or I could straddle him and make him my bitch again.

I chuckled.

“Something funny? You do realize it would be more amusing if it were my fingers fondling your pussy right now… and far more rewarding.”

My fingers snapped back as if I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. His eyes met mine with a smoldering look as he grabbed my hand and placed it on his steely erection. I became instantly drenched as my fingers caressed him. He released a quiet moan as I played with the ring at the base of his sack.

“Let me have you again,” he cooed into my ear. Warm breath sent shivers down my back.

I pulled off the shirt and turned on my side, giving him access from behind. I couldn’t look at him. Not yet. Last night had been embarrassing, but I still wanted him again. I prayed the position I was offering wouldn’t be a green light for anything but regular sex. He had seen all of me last night but was now close up.

“I want us to talk about this.” He spoke softly as he kissed one of the scars on my lower back. “But not now. Later, after I’ve buried myself deep inside you.”

I heard the rustling of foil followed by the feeling of his condom-shrouded cock thrusting into me. It didn’t feel as tight as it was last night. It had been many years since I’d used that part of my body. Hartman had a preference, and it wasn’t for pussy. He loved blowjobs and anal.

Kieran’s arm wrapped around my waist as he drove deeper. Nothing in my life had ever felt as good as this. This wasn’t fucking. This wasn’t sex. I gulped a quiet sob because I was in trouble. Coco had foreseen this.

His fingers rolled one of my nipples as I arched back into him. His teeth grazed my shoulder as I reached behind me and dug my nails into his ass cheek. My pussy was throbbing, heat coiling deep inside me. He inserted one finger next to his cock, stretching me to capacity while strumming my clit. The pressure was too much. I ached for release. He removed his fingers just as I convulsed and my muscles contracted around his cock. A shriek tore from my lips as my climax ripped through me, leaving my body quivering from my toes to my neck. I trembled from the sensation of complete and utter satisfaction as his rhythm slowed, then stopped.

He nipped the back of my neck, lingering on the spot for a moment. When he pulled out, I wanted to cry at the loss. Us. Being joined felt natural. I never realized how much I missed this kind of connection until this moment. Because last night was definitely fucking; this—right now—was something else. I didn’t want to define it. Because that would make it a reality, and for a moment, I wanted to bask in pretense.

“Let’s take a shower. Then I’ll make us pancakes.”

I laughed. “Pancakes. My turn to ask. You cook?”

“I said pancakes. That’s not cooking. That’s Bisquick, water, and one egg. Food for the culinary challenged.” He returned my previous laugh with a chuckle.

“How’d you smuggle Bisquick into France?” I asked.

“World Wide Web. You can have it shipped for a hefty fee. I lived on biscuits and pancakes for years,” he answered as he got rid of the condom.

I suddenly realized this was too much. We were having conversation as though we’d always been together. And while it felt normal, it was wrong. This… was wrong. What the hell was I doing? Less than twenty-four hours ago, we were at war. I couldn’t just ignore the past few weeks. There wasn’t a chance in hell I could trust him just because we had sex. Twice.

Ugh!
I wondered now if this was a strategic play on his part. What did this say about the kind of woman I was that I’d not only allowed him in, but I disclosed a part of my life I suppressed for years? That I revealed a part of my body I’d never even showed my best friend. I hated myself because when I was in his presence, I was weak.

“I think I’ll go to my room and take a bath,” I stated as I grabbed the sheet and tucked it around me. Disappointment framed his face.

“Want company?” he asked, almost sounding timid in his request.

I shook my head as I picked up my dress from the floor. “I think it’s better—for both of us—if we think about last night. We might also want to contemplate what’s happening today.”

I sucked in a breath as he swung his legs out of the bed, standing to his full height, tattooed, pierced, and close enough to reach out and touch. I sighed as he raked his hand through his hair, making it messy. How stunning he was and how perfect his body was. A painting by Jean Baptiste Isabel flashed through my mind. I’d seen it in an exhibition right out of college. I’d wondered if any man would ever live up to that rendition. The answer stood before me. I wished I had the skill to create works of art, because painting him would be my greatest masterpiece.

“I’ll take a quick shower and meet you for breakfast in about thirty minutes. I promise, just pancakes. Nothing menacing. I’ll even take a bite of yours first,” he quipped, pulling on his pants.

I nodded as I closed his door behind me. I dropped the sheet when I got to my room. I was more inclined to fall in my bed to sleep than take a bath. Waiting for the tub to fill required more time and effort than I had. I felt exhausted, physically and emotionally. Once it had filled to its capacity and I had more than enough bubbles, I sat.

God, it felt good. I leaned my head against my bath pillow as I let my foot toy with the faucet. I wanted to suppress last night’s memories, but I couldn’t. I could still feel him inside me. I could smell our combined scent all around me. I could still taste him on my mouth and throat. How had Coco known? Was I so obvious in my intentions that I hadn’t even recognized what would happen?

We had drawn battle lines weeks ago. He detested me. I loathed him. He was an immature prick with a nasty mouth. I drugged him last night out of retaliation for what he’d done to me. I’d handcuffed him and violated him.

My groans of shame echoed off the walls. I had acted like Hartman. I used the anger I felt toward him and my life and taken vengeance by defiling his son. I was no different from Kieran. We allowed the pain of our pasts to control the present. I had forced myself on him. I was older and, by all accounts, his stepmother. What had I done?

We jointly agreed to have sex. But I was sure that agreement didn’t include cuffs and drugs. I could blame him. He started it. Oh my God, that even sounded juvenile to me. But the truth was, since he first touched me, I suppose it was mutual desire. What occurred last night would have eventually happened. We were just perpetuating the inevitable. Now that we had consummated our deal, our business was finished.

I was such an idiot. Something happened between us, and it wasn’t just about the sex. He had begged forgiveness. He said this wasn’t lust; what he felt for me was need. Sex was one thing, but trust… When he was inside me, he had the ability to make me forget everything he’d done to me prior. His hands tenderly touched and comforted me replacing all the pain I’d suffered at the hands of his father. I couldn’t be so naive as to believe any of this was real.

He was right about one thing. His father’s blood coursed through his veins. They were of the same stock. I had to remember I trusted Hartman in the beginning. I had feelings for him and let down my guard. Maybe Kieran shared that trait with him. And maybe it was only a matter of time.

There was no way I would allow myself to live through those kinds of indignities again. I couldn’t survive a second round, especially because this time it was more than just caring. I had let him capture a piece of my heart.

This situation was twisted. It wouldn’t ruin him; no one knew who he was. He’d go back to Paris well compensated because he’d accomplished his goal. My life would be over. Salacity would become just another dilapidated building that used to show popular works of art. My reputation would be in shambles. I’d have to run and start over. Next year, my mid-thirties would be a thing of the past and I’d be heading toward the big 4-0. What I did last night had long-term ramifications.

I didn’t know what to do. I felt confused as well as angry. I should have known better. Last night and this morning, that was a fling. We could both satisfy our appetites and go our separate ways. Coco and I would have a prominent gallery, and he could go back to be being Wicked, both in art and actions.

I tossed the bar of soap at the wall. It hit with a thud as I stood up.

I deserve both.
There. I hadn’t verbalized it, but I was thinking it. I had lived through hell for five years. I was used to standing close to the flame.

I toweled off my body and stood in front of my full-length mirror. I wished I had kept the piercing. It might have ended up being the only souvenir I had when this merry-go-round stopped.