Beware the Wicked Heir

by Mara McQueen

  His bedroom was lit only by a few candles, most of them on the tall nightstands next to the bed. They had been burning for some time, a pool of quickly solidifying wax in their holders.

  Kieran had gone through the trouble of making the space feel nice and welcoming, like a little piece of black silk heaven, just for the two of them. A comforting warmth spread from Olivia's chest to her temples.

  She regretted making him wait. Oh well, she’d just have to make up for it. She had a few tricks Kieran would just love.

  The balmy glow softened the hard masculine lines of his furniture, and Olivia loathed disturbing the stillness. A book lay on his nightstand, marked “History of Bolton Manor”. Olivia didn’t know if Kieran had forgotten it there or brought it out for her enjoyment. She didn’t care.

  She turned on the light, took off her shoes, jumped onto the bed like she'd done it a million times before and dragged the hefty book on her lap. And she was lost. Lost in the myriad of old writing, drawings, and archaic jokes—what exactly were bang-a-bonk or a slitherum?

  Olivia would’ve given up her spotless dorm for books like this back in college. Countless drawings filled the pages, detailing the renovations of the house before someone had stuffed it with wood. Olivia ached when she saw how spacious the inside had been before Kieran’s weird ancestors had decided to screw it all up.

  “Sad, isn’t it?”

  Olivia jumped. Kieran loomed above her, a soft smile on his lips.

  “How such beauty was annihilated by my family’s foolishness,” he continued, cocking his head to the side as he gazed down at the page.

  “It’s still there. You just have to uncover it,” she said, believing every word. Had she been the owner, the manor would’ve never—never—been sold.

  “Perhaps.” As soon as it appeared, the soft, pensive look on his face disappeared. “You know, we never celebrated you getting the contract.”

  Olivia sat up. “I’m guessing your desk begs to differ.”

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Kieran shrugged and opened the small liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. The bottles all stood open, and some of them only had a glass or two of liquid left in them. He poured himself a drink and plopped too many ice cubes in it. “Isn’t it expected to celebrate with alcohol? I haven’t been gone from the real world that long, have I?”

  “Inebriation’s still the way to go.” But she could think of at least five other more exciting ways to celebrate. Damn him.

  “Hmm.” He trailed one of his fingers along the rim of the glass; he hadn’t taken a sip yet. “Perhaps we can upgrade that tradition a bit.”

  Olivia tilted her head to the side, heart fluttering. “Anything particular in mind?”

  “So many devious plans, so few hours in the night,” he said, voice deepening. He dipped one of his fingers in the glass, and then brought it to his lips, licking it clean. If he had been close enough, Olivia would’ve volunteered to do that for him in a heartbeat. “But I’ve always wanted to try one thing. I hope you’ll be open to my suggestion.”

  Finally.

  Olivia didn’t think she would be able to play the polite and patient act any longer. She already pictured unbuttoning his shirt and peppering kisses all down his chest. “I’ll need more details. And even if I’m not game for your suggestion, I’m one hell of a negotiator.”

  “Of course you are.” Kieran laughed. “I’m better, though.”

  “I'll believe it when I hear it.” Olivia’s nerve endings already tingled and Kieran hadn’t even touched her. She loved a good challenge, and Kieran was one.

  “From where I’m standing,” he began, prowling to the opposite side of the bed. He placed his glass on the nightstand, moving some of the candles out of the way. “I’ve proven I trust you. I can only wonder if,” he said and his hand disappeared underneath one of the large crimson pillows, “you’d be willing to trust me, too.”

  He pulled out a long green scarf, wrapping it around his fist. Olivia’s breath quickened at the sight of the silky piece of fabric. Dear God, what was he planning on doing with that, and why did she really, really want to play along?

  Many reasons to say no. Only one to say yes.

  “Tell me, Olivia.” He grasped the other end of the silk, coiling it around his fingers, and pulled the fabric taught. Olivia inhaled sharply. “Do you trust me?”

  So Impatient

  Olivia couldn’t take her eyes off Kieran’s hands, like a sunflower following the sun.

  He twisted and turned the silk in his hands, tempting her with a game she hesitated to play. She shivered when Kieran trailed the silky fabric on her arm, from her fingers to her bare shoulder. He didn’t make any other move, waiting for her to speak up.

  He didn’t need to say anything for Olivia to know that she was in control of this night. All he could do was offer, and it was up to her whether she accepted or not.

  She'd never experimented with having her hands tried. She was oh-so-tempted, but...she didn't know when she'd get to touch Kieran again. She wanted to experience every touch, every feeling, every tremor coursing through his body, and remember them when she ached to see him again.

  “I think…” Olivia licked her lips; Kieran’s pupils grew so much, his eyes looked molten black. “I’d like to feel all of you tonight, but we’ll keep that little game in mind for another night.”

  “As tempting as the scenario you’re painting is, I had something else in mind for tonight. It’s only a matter of...” He continued caressing Olivia with the fabric, bringing it up her neck, her face, and resting it on her eyes. He circled the scarf around her head, not pressing enough to block her vision. “...allowing me to drive you wild with every touch.”

  Olivia licked her lips, hesitantly clasping her hands around the makeshift blindfold.

  This—this was new. This was enticing. This, she couldn't refuse.

  “Yes, I want to do it,” she said without faltering.

  He chuckled, stepping closer to her. His damn cologne surrounded her again, clouding her mind even more. “We won’t do absolutely anything that you might not enjoy. I promise.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Do you want me to tell you everything or keep it a surprise?” he said and rolled up his sleeves. Olivia saw the hint of his tattoo and made a mental note to properly study his arm when her insides weren’t in the middle of a sensory earthquake.

  “Because I can give you every detail," he went on, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. If he kept talking like that, she'd melt. "Every touch I'll worship your body with, every shudder that'll leave you breathless, every—"

  "No," Olivia said, her throat constricting from the sheer force of her need. "Next time, we'll try that next time. Surprise me."

  His lazy smile turned feral. "If you won’t like something—which I very, very much doubt—say stop, okay?”

  “Alright,” she said finally, and Kieran’s shoulders relaxed as if he had been fearing her rejection. How could he doubt her attraction, when he was perfection personified? When visible shivers of anticipation coursed through her body?

  His delicious plan did strike her as odd, though. Last time, Kieran had insisted she look at him the entire time. What would he do without that little fixation of his?

  “Lie down,” he whispered and started unbuttoning his shirt, eyes roaming over her body. Olivia’s chest constricted with want as if gripped by a force stronger than gravity, stronger than her own being. All he’d done was show a sliver of skin, for heaven’s sake.

  She followed his instruction, thrilled beyond words, thought, or logic. All he had to do was whisper and she turned to mush.

  He discarded his shirt, showing off his smooth torso. It wasn’t fair, really—Kieran had been blessed with good looks, humor, intelligence. If he wasn’t petulant and arrogant from time to time, Olivia would’ve asked the universe uncomfortable questions.

  “On your back
, Miss Abbate.”

  If he kept talking like that, she’d implode before he even touched her. She reclined back, tying the scarf around her eyes. Not too tight—she wanted to give up one of her senses for a few hours, not get a migraine. Though orgasms were the greatest pain reliever.

  The silky fabric, when folded into a makeshift blindfold, became as opaque as if Olivia had leather on her eyelids, but it felt heavenly.

  The lack of vision amplified everything—from the sound of the pouring rain, to Kieran’s footsteps as he circled the soft bed, to the candles’ musky scent.

  The mattress engulfed her in a smooth embrace. She rested her hands at her sides and inhaled deeply, trying to stop fidgeting. But a blaze sparked inside her, making her restless and ravenous.

  The bed dipped on one side. Olivia tensed, her back rising slightly off the bed.

  “Relax,” Kieran said and hovered above her.

  Oh, how she wanted to, but she was so wound up, she could not stand still. She wanted to see herself through his eyes, all exposed and waiting for him to make a move.

  Next time, she’d be the one in charge. It was only fair, after all.

  Kieran straddled her waist slowly. The temptation to take a peek was unbearable. Kieran on top of her, commanding, controlling, but not touching.

  He was driving her wild and they hadn’t even started.

  He grasped the top of her shirt and tugged so hard and fast, it ripped clean in two. Olivia yelped and raised herself on her elbows, her collarbone stinging from where the fabric had pulled at her skin.

  “Hey!”

  “I’ll buy you another one,” he said gruffly and helped her free her arms from the sleeves.

  “I can buy it myself.” Olivia scoffed and rested her head on the pillow. “Besides, it’s Addie’s.”

  “Then,” he said and hiked her skirt down her legs in one go. “I think thanks are in order.”

  As she had expected—and craved—Kieran wasted no time in fully exposing her to his hungry eyes. He peppered small, unassuming kisses wherever his hands roamed greedily. Once her underwear lay forgotten somewhere, her legs crossed of their own accord; her insecurities didn’t disappear just because a fantastic man wanted her.

  But Kieran managed to quiet her doubts once again, gently ghosting his fingers on the inside of her knees and calves. He took his time with every inch of skin, feeling every curve, every dimple, until her mind forgot all about imperfections and focused on a single coherent thought—Kieran.

  Olivia was glad she couldn’t see. The blindfold made it possible for her to disconnect from her own person, solely focusing on the sounds, touches, smells, and, hopefully very soon, taste. If she had seen him looking at her as greedily as his shallow breathing indicated, she would have crumbled into a million pieces.

  With every passing second, Olivia grew even more restless—and bolder.

  She gently stroked his thigh, trailing upwards. She didn’t make it very far. Kieran’s hot breath danced against her lips and she raised her chin—in return, he raised his head further away. Olivia huffed in annoyance.

  “So impatient,” he whispered, and the next thing Olivia knew, he reached for his glass, the ice clinks breaking the spell.

  “Please tell me you didn’t just stop to have a drink.” Because they would be having a very serious conversation if he had.

  “Always so quick to jump to conclusions. Open your mouth,” he whispered.

  Olivia swallowed thickly. Maybe he had been thinking the same thing as her—she could hardly wait to lick the liquor from his fingers and delight in his soft moans. She was dealing with a very vocal man, after all. She parted her lips slowly, her tongue darting out to wet them.

  But it wasn’t his fingers ghosting across her bottom lip—it was an ice cube. A powerful shiver coursed through Olivia, from her toes, all the way to where the cool ice melted on her lips.

  “Wider,” Kieran said, pushing the ice cube gently until Olivia encased it in her mouth. It tasted a bit sour from the liquor, but she didn’t care. She sucked it, pushing it around with her tongue so that the tip was barely visible past her lips. A silent invitation.

  Kieran didn’t need further encouragement.

  He attacked her mouth, their tongues fighting against each other as they passed the ice cube between them.

  Olivia threaded her fingers in his soft hair, and he growled. An actual growl. It excited her beyond description or comprehension. Only when the ice melted did he straighten up, leaving her breathless.

  Damn him. Damn him and the excitement he brought into her life and the constant throwing her off her guard and—

  Kieran trailed another ice cube down her neck, past her collarbone, and into the valley of her breasts. The man wanted her to burst from all the sensations.

  “Tease,” she breathed out and arched her back.

  The ice cube continued its path, curving over her left breast, circling her nipple, before leaving a cold trail on the other one.

  Olivia wondered how it didn’t melt immediately—the warmth coursing through her veins was becoming impossible to bear. His mouth captured her other nipple, enclosing it in the hot depths.

  Amazing. Absolutely amazing. How had Olivia lived all these years without experiencing this? This perfect combination between searing and frozen, between free and controlled, between uncertainty and assurance.

  He licked away the drops of water from her skin. “Do you like that?”

  Olivia nodded, tugging at the bed sheet; she didn’t trust her voice.

  “You’ll like the next part even more,” he said, circling her belly button, first with the ice and then with his tongue.

  Olivia promised herself to tease him mercilessly the first chance she got and was slightly more coherent. Right now, she couldn’t command a goldfish if she wanted to.

  Kieran’s attention trailed lower still, and Olivia uncrossed her legs in anticipation. She could only imagine how it would feel for him to torture her center. Her screams might frighten the neighbors if she wasn’t careful.

  “Before we continue,” he said. “I have to ask you something. How well do you tolerate pain?”

  He was going to drive her insane. “Good. I mean well, very well.”

  Pain? Really? As if an ice cube and his mouth would ever be painful. She widened her legs, as he leaned to the side. Did he want to use two ice cubes? If Olivia’s eyes had been free of their silken prison, they would’ve rolled to the back of her head at the mere idea. A light scratching noise came from her right, and she whipped her head toward it.

  “Relax,” he said soothingly once he was above her naked body again.

  Olivia clenched her jaw—the last thing she could do at the moment was fucking relax. She waited, her heart pounding loudly.

  The first drop landed on her shoulder, and Olivia yelped. Hot, hot, hot, so hot. Hot freaking wax.

  “What the—Kieran,” she yelled as he rubbed an ice cube on the burning spot. Her sounds of surprise turned into a loud moan.

  Kieran laughed low in his throat. “You didn’t think I laid out the candles only to set the mood, now did you?”

  She had, but fuck her if she would ever admit it. Who saw a lit candle and immediately thought ‘hey, that’s a great sex toy right there’?

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, going completely still. Olivia might’ve been imagining things, but his voice wavered a bit.

  “N-no,” she stuttered, drawing in a large breath. “Don’t stop.”

  The next drop of hot wax landed on her collarbone, the scorching heat immediately soothed by the ice cube Kieran rolled lazily onto her skin. The feeling was indescribable. It made every cell in Olivia’s body ignite.

  A wave of renewed lust hit her, and her world started spinning. Too much. Beyond words. Paradise.

  By the time he reached her breasts, Olivia’s hips started rising and falling rhythmically, all logic gone. She needed something to ease the ache. Needed to breathe.

&
nbsp; Needed him.

  The way he caressed her skin, a slight tremble in his previously steady hands, his soft moans every time Olivia arched her back, screamed the same thing—he was just as ready as her.

  “Kieran,” she moaned unabashedly, rolling her head and clutching the sheets for dear life. “Please.”

  “Please what, Olivia?” he asked, circling her nipple with his cold wet fingers, as another drop of wax dripped onto her hip. “Tell me what you want.”

  Olivia bit her lower lip to keep from screaming. “You.”

  He stilled, even as the tension in the air turned unbearable. Before Olivia could voice her concern, the rustle of hastily discarded clothing and the ripping of the condom foil filled the room.

  His touches turned more urgent—tugging, gripping, and demanding. His hands roamed over her chest, caressing off the bits of wax that stubbornly clung to her skin. He parted her legs, resting his body on top of hers. He trembled as much as her.

  All finesse gone, he thrust into her. Olivia’s muscles tightened around him, pulling him deeper, impossibly deeper inside her.

  She moaned, wrapping her legs around him. She never wanted to let go.

  Kieran ripped her blindfold, and Olivia gulped at the sight before her. He looked ferocious. His hair hung loosely around his face, his lips drawn back, his jaw clenched.

  He gripped the back of her neck, his fingers tugging the strands tight, while his other hand snaked across her hips, grounding her under him.

  He thrust again, more forcefully, and Olivia wanted to melt beneath him. “Yes. God, yes.”

  His pace quickened, all gentle touches forgotten. Their bodies moved in tandem, rocking against each other at a maddening pace. All Olivia could do to keep from losing her mind was focus on him, on his hard eyes, his shallow breath, the rumble in his chest, his intoxicating smell.

  He grasped her hands in his, and pinned them over her head, twining their fingers together. Olivia didn’t know where he ended and she began.

  “Look at me,” he ground out, his voice deeper and raspier than Olivia had ever heard it. “I want to see you come undone under me.”