Killer Queen

by Serene Franklin

  After another minute or two, he broke. “What is it you’re after?”

  My composure broke, and I sank down onto the bench next to his bag. “Ugh. I thought you’d never ask. I need your help with some shopping today.”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even ask what kind.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I leaned in closer, lowering my voice when I asked, “What if I told you it involves what I saw back in college? You know, that fateful day I ran out of milk and came over.”

  Maxim narrowed his eyes at me, as if trying to make sense of my words—then it struck him. His eyes widened with realization, and his jaw clenched. “You promised me, Macalister.”

  “And I intend to keep that promise. I’m not trying to blackmail you or anything.” I stood up and stepped closer. “I’m out of my depth, and I need some help, dude.”

  He was silent for long enough that I thought he wouldn’t reply before he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is this about Dubhlainn?”

  “Wh—no. What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t lie. You were never any good at it,” he replied dryly.

  “Okay, fine. Yes, it’s about him.” I went on to explain what Dove had said, and how soul-crushing it was to hear. Maxim scoffed and told me to go easy on the hyperbole, but he agreed to accompany me on a very brief shopping trip.

  I stopped myself from jumping for joy to avoid drawing attention to us and instead held out my arms wide. “Yaas. Bring it in, big guy.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Maaaxy—”

  “I’ll hug you if you promise not to call me that again.”

  I hauled him into my embrace, patting his shoulder. “Atta boy. I know you’re just a big softie, even if you play tough and stoic.” I released him and ruffled his brown hair, making him blush. His head whipped around us, probably making sure no one saw. “It’s okay. No one is looking.”

  He nodded, taking a step back from me and slinging his bag over his shoulder. How someone as handsome and cool as Maxim had confidence issues, I’d never understand. He had a small scar on his upper lip that he was insecure about, but people found that sexy. It was very Joaquin Phoenix and only added to his rugged good looks.

  I told him I’d go tell the guys we wouldn’t be joining them, which he thanked me for. The guy was an introverted teddy bear under his hulking exterior. He’d put up a fuss over the hug because we were in public, but I knew Maxim liked being tactile with those close to him, even if he liked to pretend he didn’t. Seeing him try to keep his collected composure in a sex shop was going to be fun.

  “Do you have any more crisps?”

  “Any more what?” I replied.

  Dove sighed in frustration. “Chips.” He said it with so much damn sass that I couldn’t help but laugh as I handed him another bag. “Thank you. These aren’t chips, and they never will be.”

  “Whatever you say.” I fluffed the pillow behind me then leaned back into it, cushioning my back from the headboard of my bed. When Dove got home I’d invited him for some Netflix and chill in my room. I hadn’t literally meant it, but he looked so happy at the prospect, and I couldn’t put a damper on that. So, there we sat, leaning against the headboard of my bed, watching Space Jam, and eating junk food in our underwear. It was kind of perfect.

  I had a few surprises for him under my pillow from my earlier outing with Maxim, as well as mail from the clinic where we were tested. I waited until the movie ended to make my move, pulling Dove into my lap, facing me. I nipped the tip of his nose, and grinned at him, unable to contain my excitement for what was coming.

  “Stop actin’ the maggot—you look ridiculous right now.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I’m not going to stop being happy.”

  One corner of Dove’s mouth quirked up. “What are you up to?”

  I reached behind me, grabbing the envelopes, and presented them to the fiery sprite in my lap. A small gasp fell from his lips, and his eyes shot to mine. “Are those the results?”

  “Mm-hmm. Want to open them? If you’d prefer privacy, I can close my eyes.”

  He snatched the envelope addressed to him, then punched me half-heartedly in the chest. “Arsehole.” He tore into the letter, and I did the same. “Negative.”

  I turned my results around, showing a clean bill of health.

  “I have another surprise.” I snatched up the papers, tossing them on the floor, then flipped us over. With Dove on his back looking up at me with a playful smirk, I reached under the pillow and pulled out some padded black leather cuffs.

  “Thoughts on being tied up? I’ll make it worth your while?”

  Dove raked his teeth over his bottom lip, causing it to flush with color. He studied the cuffs in my hand before turning his attention to me and nodding. Heat pooled in the pit of my stomach as a wide smile stretched my lips. I’ll show you who’s vanilla.

  I kissed each of Dove’s wrists before fastening his hands in each padded cuff. Once his hands were bound, I felt under the pillow for the thin chain I’d hooked to the metal frame under the bed earlier. Once I felt the other end, I pushed Dove’s hands over his head, and hooked them to the chain behind the pillow. He tested his restraints with a few good tugs, one corner of his mouth quirked in a devious smile.

  “What do ya plan on doin’ to me?”

  Hearing his accent come out thicker had my cock twitching with need. I went a little crazy at the store and had so much planned. “I’m gonna make you sweat,” I said with a wink, reaching for my phone on the nightstand.

  “Tell me you’re not quoting that awful song you listen to.”

  Oh, but I was. I hit play on the Spotify playlist I’d prepared, and the room flooded with the opening saxophone riff of “Careless Whisper.”

  Dove’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Change the mus—”

  I pressed my finger to his lips, silencing him. “Shush.” I leaned down and kissed him, tweaking his nipple with one hand and retrieving another surprise with the other. I stroked my thumb against the soft feather in my hand. I’d seen it earlier and just about died at the thought of using a feather to tickle and tease Dove. Maxim had sighed and shook his head, but I thought it was the best damn thing.

  I kissed Dove’s neck, enjoying the feel of his body writhing at my mercy and the soft moans he was making. Deciding he was ready for more, I angled the feather toward Dove, stroking him from his armpit, down the side of his ribs. He instantly flinched, pulling away from me as much as his restraints would allow.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Stop moving.” I drew the feather down the middle of his chest, gently tickling his skin. Dove started protesting again, and I pressed my lips to his, quieting him. “Shh, just let it happen.” I twisted the feather over his nipple, which turned out to be an awful idea.

  “Mac, get the fuck off me right now.”

  Uh-oh. I unfastened his wrists then sat back on my haunches with a nervous grin. Dove scowled at me as he pulled the sheet up to his neck. Well, shit. This isn’t how I imagined this going.

  “What the fuck was that?” he repeated.

  “Um, a feather.” I held up the offending plume.

  Dove’s scowl deepened. “I know it’s a fuckin’ feather. Why did you think that was a good idea?”

  I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t boring and vanilla. I guess that was an epic fail, huh?”

  The anger bled out of his features, replaced by what almost looked like sympathy. “I said you were vanilla, not boring.” He punched me in the chest then flicked the tip of my nose. “And I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that. Dumbarse.”

  I cringed, wanting to bury my head under the pillows. “Can we just forget that this happened?”

  Dove snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Ya haven’t got a snowball’s chan
ce in hell of that happenin’.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “I could have forgiven George Michael, but that feather was too much. The cuffs were fuckin’ class. We can use those again—without the other shite. Come ’ere.”

  I crawled up his body until my face hovered a few inches from his. Dropping my head into the crook of his neck, I exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t get all twisted up.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips then winked at me. “Do you want to watch another flick? I don’t have a TV in my room, and this is rather grand.”

  I flopped onto my back, and handed him the controller to my Xbox. “You pick one. I’ll go get more chips.” I rolled out of bed, heading for the door but was stopped by Dove’s voice.

  “If ya stop moping about I’ll give you an Aussie kiss when you get back.”

  Well, that put a smile on my face.

  Twelve

  Dubhlainn

  I woke late for a Saturday morning. A colleague had asked me to switch shifts, resulting in me working a double until midnight last night. Mac was bumping around in the kitchen, his cheesy, endearing music thumping through the flat. I used the jacks, washed my face, then strolled out to the kitchen.

  I sucked in a breath at the sight of his round, bare arse swaying side to side in tune to the music. The only stitch of clothing on him was a charcoal-gray apron; the ties were knotted low on his back, the ends dangling over the globes of his glorious arse. He flashed me a smile brighter than the sun when he noticed my presence.

  “Good morning,” he said cheerfully—too cheerfully for how knackered I felt.

  “Mornin’.” I rubbed my eyes then did a double take at Mac. “Wait, are you cooking? Something other than bacon?”

  He shrugged. “I can make pancakes. My grandpa taught me his famous recipe when I was a kid.” He made a show of jerking the nonstick pan, flipping the pancake.

  I snorted a laugh, shaking my head at his antics. “Why are you making pancakes?”

  “That’s a stupid question, but you’re sexy as fuck, so I’ll allow it.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. “First, pancakes are the shit, dude. That, and Bryan brought over a fuck-ton of blueberries from the bakery last night. One of the new employees accidentally doubled the order. Second, I feel a little guilty over last night, and this is me trying to appease you.” His smile turned shy, almost boyish.

  Heat rushed to my cheeks and neck at the fresh memory. I’d been dead on my feet when I got home, exhausted after working a double shift. Mac had rushed out of his room, literally scooping me up in the dark. He took me back to his room, stripped me bare, and fucked me into the mattress—hard. He’d held me in a bruising grip, and had bit and slapped my ass hard enough to leave marks. It was one of the hottest things ever done to me. I faintly remember him kissing me and carrying me to my room afterward.

  “If you think you did anything that deserves an apology, you’re gravely mistaken.”

  “Have you looked at your ass in a mirror yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then please don’t do so until I’m out of punching range.”

  Giggling—I hated that he made me giggle—I took a seat at the island, watching him cook and dance. He took a seat next to me once he’d made enough pancakes for two generous stacks. He asked me about my plans for the day, nodding silently when I answered that I had none. The quiet stretched on between us, feeling oddly uncomfortable. I was about to ask him what he was thinking about when he spoke up.

  “Do you think you might want to come with me to visit Grams today?”

  My eyebrows scrunched together at his awkward delivery. Was Mac nervous asking me? One look at him told me he was. He was unsettled, scratching at the corner of his plate with one hand and tracing his fingers over the blond hair on his thigh with the other. Okay, so he was nervous. Why was he inviting me at all? Whatever the reason, with the way he anxiously looked at me, there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to decline. “I absolutely would. Your granny sounds fierce.”

  The relieved smile that overtook his features had me leaning over, pulling him by the apron straps into a searing kiss. A distant voice inside my head warned me to not get too comfortable with Mac. He was my flatmate and my fuck buddy. He was affectionate by nature, but me kissing him—even having the urge to do so—outside of sex was dangerous. Mac was the kind of addictive that could get me in trouble if I wasn’t careful. He was the kind of man who could destroy me if I let him.

  “You brought a friend with you.” Mac’s granny turned from him to me, extending her hand. “And what a handsome young man you are.”

  I smiled and took hold of her hand, bringing her fingers to my lips for a kiss. “You flatter me. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dubhlainn Ó Donnghaile.”

  “Wow, so proper and fancy,” Mac teased.

  “Fuck off, will ya.” I froze, eyes darting to Mac’s granny. “I’m sorry for my language. My granny would have my head if she heard me effin’ and blindin’ in front of a proper lady.”

  Her eyebrow cocked, and her lips curled into a grin—the same one as her grandson. “That’s quite all right, Dubhlainn. If one of these proper ladies you speak of appears, I’ll be sure to send her out on her proper ass. I’m Mac’s grandmother. Please call me Daisy.”

  I stared at her for too long. Mrs. Buchanan was a beautiful woman oozing an air of confidence. Her silver hair was fashioned in a neat bun, and she was dressed in a coral fitted lace-overlay dress and cardigan, with nude block-heel pumps. “Jaysus, are those Manolo Blahniks?”

  Mac leaned into her, whispering, “Didn’t I tell you he was the cutest thing?”

  They shared a laugh at my expense. I was scarlet, though I managed a smile. “All right, let’s move this along farther into the apartment before we make a scene, and I get hauled away to taste test five different types of cookies. You know, on second thought.” Mac made for the doorway, stopping when his granny reached up and grabbed his ear. “For God’s sake, Grams, I was kidding.”

  She pulled him back then pushed him farther into the apartment, cutting her eyes at him. She flashed a kind smile at me and invited me inside, apologizing for her “foolish” grandson’s antics. Over the next hour, we became better acquainted over easy conversation and cribbage. Daisy wasn’t at all like my granny, but being around her, and seeing how much Mac loved her, filled me with a bittersweet feeling. On one hand, I was grateful to have been included in this cherished family time, yet it reminded me of how much I missed my granny. My granny was a sweet woman who always made sure you were warm and fed. If I fell and hurt myself, it would be her to pick me up and tell me I was stronger for surviving. She spoiled me with love, much like I could tell Daisy did with Mac. She seemed to have a blunt, teasing relationship with him, but the immense love was clearly there.

  Throughout the game, Mac updated Daisy on his week, often looking to me and asking questions to include me. He conveniently left out all the sex we’d been having, for which I was thankful. Daisy asked me about my degree and growing up in Ireland before she told us of the few times she’d been lucky enough to visit Ireland and Scotland. By the time she and I finished our stories, Mac vowed to never travel to either place due to the local cuisine. Ireland’s version of black pudding and Scotland’s haggis had made his face contort in a particularly amusing way.

  A knock at the door had Mac darting away from the culinary discussion faster than I’d seen him move for anything else—except maybe sex. He greeted a woman he addressed as Mrs. Ashburn, who apologized for intruding. She told him that her oven’s light bulb had burnt out, and asked him if he could change it for her before he went home today. Without missing a beat, he agreed to help and hollered back to Daisy and me that he’d be back shortly. As soon as the door closed, she smiled, turning her full attention on me.

  “How old are you, Dubhlainn?”

  “Nineteen.”

  She stood, making her way over to a mahog
any cabinet in the corner. “Would you like a drink? You’d be old enough at home, and that’s all I need to keep my conscience clear.” She turned back to me expectantly.

  “Yes, please. Whatever you’re having will be great.”

  She grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. “Good boy.” She pulled down two tumblers, filling them halfway with clear liquid before returning to the table. “I take it Mac drove you two over today. I figured you and I could indulge a bit.”

  I took the glass she held out for me, suppressing the memory of riding in Mac’s death trap he’d called a car, then clinked mine to hers. “Sláinte,” we said in unison. I lifted the glass to my lips, nearly gagging when the herbal taste of gin hit my tongue.

  “Not a gin man?”

  “I wasn’t expecting it. I haven’t had much gin.” I took another sip, handling it much better.

  Daisy hummed in amusement, tapping the side of her glass. “He likes you.”

  I reasoned she had to be talking about Mac. “I like him too. He’s a decent flatmate.”

  She cocked her head at me, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and I know you’re not that thick. Mac told me about the two of you.” Her tone was neutral, cordial even, as she eyed me knowingly.

  I lifted my chin, refusing to squirm in my chair under her intense gaze—the same one Mac used on me. “He did say you two were close. What makes you think Mac—”

  “No, dear. I don’t think he likes you—I know he does.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think he does. That’s not what our rela—arrangement is about.”

  “How long have you lived with him?”

  “Around two and a half months.”

  “I’ve known Macalister for his entire life. I held him in my arms minutes after he was born. I know him better than he knows himself, Dubhlainn. When I listen to him speak of you, and today when I’ve seen how he’s looked at you, it’s clear to me that he cares deeply for you. His voice is filled with so much adoration when he tells me about you. He told me he thought you were beautiful.”