Killer Queen

by Serene Franklin

  Beautiful. Jaysus fuck. “Oh.”

  “You haven’t noticed it?” she pressed.

  I thought about her words only for a moment. If I let myself, I’d easily get lost in my head, over-analyzing every interaction with Mac. Doing so would end up with me overcomplicating our uncomplicated arrangement, which was not what I wanted. “Mac has treated me the same since day one.”

  Daisy raised a critical brow at me and sipped her gin.

  “Okay, not exactly the same. Things have obviously changed some.” I downed the rest of my gin to distract myself from shifting uncomfortably. Talking about sex didn’t bother me—even if it was with the granny of the guy I was fucking. Talking about Mac and me meant thinking more what this whole thing meant to me, and that was dangerous. Mac was a great guy and far too easy to get along with. He was kind, giving, so devastatingly handsome that it hurt, and—stop. Just stop.

  I cracked my neck then met Daisy’s stare. “I care for him, but it’s not what you think it is.” It can’t be.

  She nodded, her critical expression unyielding—she didn’t believe me. “I won’t pry any further, dear. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable.”

  The corners of her lips lifted. “Be careful with him. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

  I nodded, flashing her a grave smile. I didn’t want that either.

  The shift from hell was nearing its end. I’d spent the entire afternoon fucking up one task after another, causing even more work for myself. Right before my lunch break I knocked over a display of canned soup and had to sort through them, taking out the dented ones, before setting it back up. A salad dressing sample station was my next victim, followed by a twenty-four-pack of Coke. Three cans had broken. After I mopped up the mess, my manager had pulled me aside and chided me. I hated being talked to like an incompetent eejit, but I was sure acting like one.

  My latest fuck-up happened after my manager had left. I’d knocked over all of the cereal boxes on the pallet in front of me and half of the ones on the shelf while I’d been scrambling. All of those missteps because I couldn’t focus on my fuckin’ job. I couldn’t focus on anything other than Mac.

  Why had his granny said those things? As much as I tried, I couldn’t push thoughts of him aside. Just this morning he’d had breakfast laid out on the counter waiting for me; nothing fancy, just Froot Loops poured into a bowl with a spoon already in it and a glass of orange juice in the fridge. The warm smile he’d greeted me with, followed by the gentle yet demanding kiss he’d stolen when I sat down was everything. Seeing the boxes of Froot Loops on the shelf had sucked me back into that memory. I’d leaned against the stacked pallet, toppling over its boxes and knocking over the ones on the shelves as I fell.

  Get a fuckin’ grip, Dubhlainn. I tidied up the mess, saying a prayer that all of the boxes were salvageable. It’d started spittin’ down on my last break, and I wasn’t looking forward to getting soaked to the bone while I waited for the bus. I could leg it. I’d get wet either way, though my army boots weren’t great for running.

  Fifteen minutes before my shift ended, my phone vibrated in my pocket. With no one else around, I pulled it out, unlocking the screen with my fingerprint. A text from Mac had my brows climbing high. He didn’t ever text me when he knew I was at work.

  M: I’m here to pick you up, kiddo.

  M: You’re off soon, right?

  M: Oh no. Dude, is this the day when you work super late???

  I stifled a laugh, shaking my head.

  D: I’m off at seven. I’ll be out in ten.

  M: Thank God.

  Ten minutes later, I was running out toward Mac’s death trap—never happier to see the thing. He’d come to pick me up. I still had trouble wrapping my head around it. I’d never asked before, nor had he offered. So why now?

  “Thank you for picking me up,” I said quietly, closing the door behind me.

  “Of course. I’d just finished up with Bryan at the gym and noticed it was pouring. We wouldn’t want you getting swept away in the rain.” He winked at me, his lips lifting into a smirk.

  I wanted to roll my eyes or shake my head—brush him off as I usually did—but I couldn’t. I sat there, just staring at him, warring with myself over how to proceed. Mac’s amused expression turned serious, and he captured my chin between his finger and thumb.

  “Are you okay, Dove?”

  I managed a nod then shrugged. “I had a long day.”

  Mac flashed me a sympathetic smile while he slid his hand around my head to play with my hair. It felt so good that I let my eyes flutter closed. They shot open again when his soft lips pressed against mine in a short, sweet kiss.

  “Sorry you had a shitty day. Bryan baked us a cake. I can pick up some pizza or something for supper if you don’t feel like cooking.” His fingers continued stroking and twirling around my hair.

  Was this normal? Very little about Mac was. I knew he was an affectionate person, but this felt so much more intimate than what we’d previously shared. Perhaps I was reading too much into things, searching for validation in Daisy’s words. “That sounds brilliant.”

  He smiled and kissed me again, nipping my bottom lip before pulling back. “I can think of a few other things I can try to cheer you up with when we get home.” He kissed my jaw and down my neck. His soft lips and tongue perfectly contrasted his coarse stubble on my sensitive skin. I melted under his touch. I wanted everything he’d give me, whether my mind told me it was smart or not.

  A few days later, I was met with another invitation from Mac: this time for a family dinner on Thursday evening. I’d said yes without hesitation when he’d cast that nervous expression on me again. He could have asked for anything when he made that face.

  “You’re going to like it,” he said, leaning over me at the counter, his hands firmly on my waist and arse, drawing me into him. His lips were inches from mine, getting closer. A knock at the door interrupted, and he pulled back with a groan of frustration. “This had better be important,” he muttered, stomping over to the door.

  I grabbed my phone off the counter, wincing when I saw a missed call from my sister last night. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks and had been pretty shite at replying to her texts in a timely fashion. I was about to call her when Mac’s surprised gasp caught my attention.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked with clear happiness in his voice. He stepped aside, and a beautiful Asian girl around my age strolled inside. Her eyes instantly settled on my near-naked form, making me cross my arms self-consciously. This is what I get for listening to Mac and waltzing around in my kex.

  “I was in the area visiting Blake—”

  “You would still visit my ex.”

  “Shut up. She’s cooler than you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Mac closed the door then turned his attention on me. “I’m being rude as hell. Dubhlainn, this is my kid sister, Miho. Miho, this is Dubhlainn—my new roomie.”

  She strode up to me with a big smile and held her hand out. “I haven’t heard enough about you. My dear brother failed to mention that you were a total babe.”

  Jaysus, they’re just alike. I snorted a laugh and shook her hand. “You flatter me.”

  Miho gasped. “You’re Irish? Like, actually Irish? That’s so cool.”

  Mac appeared behind her, picking her up in a bear hug, and walked her several feet from me before setting her down by the couch. “Down, girl.”

  “Why are you so extra?” she snapped at him.

  “Why are you so thirsty?”

  They bickered back and forth like a couple of children while I looked on with a grin. They might not look alike, but the two siblings were very much the same.

  “Why do you constantly have to cock-block me?”

  “It’s not gonna happen, sis.”

  “Oh, don’t ‘sis’ me.”

  “Sure thing, kiddo,” Mac replied dryly.


  “Oh, you—” Miho jumped on her brother, smacking him and protesting that she was not a kid. Fuck. I probably looked just like that when I protested.

  “Give it up. You can’t win. Besides, it’s not gonna happen with him,” Mac repeated.

  She cast a narrowed gaze on Mac before realization crept into her features. Interesting. Miho pulled out her phone, fingers typing away. Seconds later, Mac’s phone beeped from the couch where he’d left it. He ignored it, only going to retrieve it at Miho’s insistence. I leaned back against the counter, watching the two madly text and make accusing eyes at each other. I let them go on for a full minute before dropping my arms and groaning.

  “You two can speak openly. I’m not a fuckin’ eejit.”

  Their fingers stopped at that. Miho looked up and pointed at Mac, then me. “You guys are totally fucking.”

  Mac cringed. I remained silent, curious to see how he’d handle this. “Dammit, Miho.”

  She shrugged. “He said to speak openly.”

  Mac looked to me, a silent question in his eyes. I nodded once. “Yes, we’re fucking,” he said to Miho.

  “Is it serious?” She bounded over to her brother, voice rising with clear excitement.

  “It’s not like that. We’re—” Mac looked to me, his eyes pleading for me to interject. I shrugged, tipping my head toward him to continue. “We’re casual.”

  “Casual as in taking things slow or…”

  “We aren’t dating,” I said, pushing off of the counter. I headed toward the table by the bay windows, where Mac had stripped me of my T-shirt. I whipped it over my head, relaxing a bit at being covered. I still didn’t have any fuckin’ pants on, but I’d left those in my room.

  “What he said.” Mac motioned toward me with his thumb.

  Miho pranced over to me and took hold of my wrists. “I have a million questions for you. Did Mac make the first move or—”

  “Chill, sis. It’s early, and we were kind of busy. Now skedaddle, and you can play twenty questions over supper on Thursday.” Mac pried her hands off of me. I bit back a grin, finding the events of this morning both amusing and strange.

  “So, you’ve invited your not-boyfriend—whom you’re sleeping with—to our family barbecue, and you expect me to ‘chill’? That’s not going to happen, brother.” Miho’s hands went to her slim hips, one finger tapping.

  “I invited my friend and roommate to supper, which is totally fine. Now leave.”

  “Make me,” she teased.

  I’m surrounded by children.

  “Fine. Stay as long as you like.” Mac’s hands skimming my waist and arse startled me. My attention quickly turned to Miho, watching us with wide eyes. “If you insist on being here while we continue what you interrupted, you’re going to get quite an eyeful.” In an instant, Mac’s lips were on my neck, and his body was firmly pressed against mine, my back to his front. He tore at my clothes and touched me like we were alone. I had to bite my cheek to keep from moaning.

  “Fuck, okay, okay. I’m going.” Miho’s heels clicked as her long strides took her to the door. She opened it, then turned back. “Nice meeting you, Dubhlainn—see you at supper.”

  I didn’t get a chance to respond before the door closed and she was gone.

  Thirteen

  Mac

  I couldn’t tell you why I was so nervous to have Dove meet my parents, but I was. I’d brought friends over for supper before, and it was no big deal. Bringing home someone I was sleeping with—even if we weren’t dating—felt like a huge deal. I hadn’t done it since Blake. She and I weren’t serious and were under no illusions that we had anything close to love. My poor parents had been hopeful it would turn into more. I learned my lesson after we stopped sleeping together and my family still wanted to see and hear from her. It was fine in that case since we remained great friends, though I wasn’t confident that would always be the case.

  My situation with Dove wasn’t exactly the same. He and I sleeping together was—kind of—a secret, and we’d agreed that it’s just sex. We weren’t going out on dates and being each other’s plus-one to events like Blake and I had done. Things with Dove were even more casual, yet somehow so much more. It could have been our decision to ditch condoms, or maybe just that I liked hanging out with him as much as I liked fucking him—well, almost as much. He was my friend; above anything else, I was happy to say that we were friends now.

  So why was I so nervous?

  “This is a beautiful house,” Dove said, glancing around the spacious entryway of my parents’ home.

  “I’ll pass that on to Mom and Dad.”

  “They’re not here?”

  I sniffed the air, catching a whiff of Dad’s secret barbecue sauce marinade. “Nah. The car wasn’t in the driveway, and knowing Dad, he forgot something for supper. Mom would have gone with him to make sure he didn’t forget again.” A thought sprouted in my mind for how we could pass the time. “Do you want a tour? We can start with my bedroom.”

  He rolled his blue eyes at me, his lips lifting in a grin. “Smooth.”

  “Yeah, but I know you want to see it.” I didn’t give Dove a chance to be snarky or obstinate. Taking his wrist in hand, I led him up the stairs, and around the bannister, to my bedroom door. “Brace yourself. I wasn’t always as cool as I am now.”

  “You? Cool? I must have missed that memo.”

  I flicked his ear then opened the door and led him inside. Motioning around my old room, I said, “Behold the wonders of my youth.”

  “It was so long ago, I’m genuinely surprised you remember.”

  “I’m going to spank you if you keep acting like a brat,” I said with a grin.

  “Does that mean I should start calling you Daddy now?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “Sure thing, sport.”

  Dove’s face twisted, and he shook his head. “Wow. Never call me ‘sport’ again. That’s got to be the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard.”

  I hopped onto my bed, bracing my arms behind me for support. “I’m vanilla as fuck, dude. Have you forgotten? And I don’t think daddy kink is for me. I’ll try it if you want to, but I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.” I’d called him sport for fuck’s sake—I doubted daddy kink was in my future.

  A smile pulled at Dove’s lips, and he shook his head. “That’s quite all right. Vanilla is my favorite flavor, anyway.” He turned from me, taking in my trophies and posters.

  “Close the door,” I instructed.

  He did so without question, whistling when he caught sight of the massive Jean Grey poster on the back of the door. “Jaysus—you’re a closet nerd.”

  “Um, have you seen her? She’s gorgeous. Smart, powerful, hot as hell—Jean Grey is the complete package.”

  Dove was quiet for a moment, looking over the poster from top to bottom. “What came first—your love for her or your interest in coppertops?”

  I stood up and walked over to Dove, wrapping my arms around his waist and drawing him against me. “She was first. I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t why I like redheads so much.” His hair was tied back, allowing me easy access to his neck. I kissed his exposed skin, slowly grinding my hips against his ass. I tried to slip a hand under his shirt, but he stopped me. I ceased my advances, dropping my hands to my sides. “What’s wrong?”

  Dove chewed his bottom lip, staring off toward the posters above my bed. I said his name, catching his attention. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “About what?”

  I didn’t get his answer. My mom’s voice called out my name, and Dove’s mouth snapped closed. He was quick to spin around and open the door, leaving me alone in my room. Weird. My dad’s voice hollered for me next, asking if I was here. Best not to keep them waiting.

  Whatever happened with Dove in my room was forgotten when we got downstairs. I introduced him to my parents, who were very excited to meet my new roommate. Miho walked in after them, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth when she laid e
yes on Dove. She hugged him then hauled him off to the living room to chat. I helped my parents in the kitchen, periodically checking to make sure Miho wasn’t asking Dove anything inappropriate. To my amusement, they seemed to be getting along a bit too well. I stopped popping in on them after I overheard Miho telling Dove about how sexy the guys in Prague were.

  “Why don’t you go sit with your sister and…” Mom started.

  “Dubhlainn.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I huffed, taking a seat on a kitchen stool at the counter. “Are you trying to get rid of me? I promise I won’t try to steal any food.”

  “You don’t cook, son,” Dad added with a smile.

  “I can still sit here and watch. Miho and Dubhlainn are getting along. I want to leave them alone for a bit longer.” For whatever reason, it was important to me that they liked each other. My parents glanced at each other, doing that nonverbal communication thing longtime couples were so good at.

  “Okay, dear. You can stay in here for now. But please don’t touch anything.” Mom patted my hand before scurrying off to the fridge.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m a disaster in the kitchen—I get it.”

  “You can’t be perfect at everything,” Dad quipped. We shared a laugh, and he asked me about work, and I did the same. My father was considering retiring soon, but he didn’t want to leave his company behind yet. I broke his heart a little by not following in his footsteps and becoming an architect, though he respected the career I chose because it made me happy.

  Supper was a huge success in every respect. Dad’s ribs and Mom’s potato and egg salad were fucking amazing, and everyone liked Dove. He was a bit nervous initially, but that quickly melted away. My parents weren’t uptight, intimidating people, and treated him like family.