Illicit Inheritance: The Complete Collection (Taboo Erotica)

by Anya Merchant

  Olivia wrapped her other leg up and around John, and she grabbed onto his shoulders with her hands. John hadn’t realized just how light the maid was. It was easy for him to reach down and grab her by the buttocks, bouncing her on his cock like some type of human sexual plaything.

  The maid began to tense up a little, and John heard an intense, pleasured moan escape her lips. He pushed her back up against the wall and buried his face in her bosom before intensifying his assault, pushing his cock into her as deep as it would go and making the closet shake from the movement.

  Lewd slapping noises were hot on the air, the sound of the type of animalistic sex that just happens to people, rather than being an intentional act. John was pounding her pussy as hard as he could, and he felt himself reaching his limit. He hugged Olivia close as his cock began to blast out its load, his hot, sticky seed shooting deep into her cunt.

  The pleasure was indescribable. John felt a strange emotion welling up inside his heart, but much like he’d seen Olivia do before, he buried it away, keeping it from rising to the surface. He enjoyed the afterglow of his orgasm for a moment, still pushed up against Olivia in the closet, and then began to awkwardly look for his clothes in the dark as she did the same.

  He listened at the door for a moment, trying to discern whether or not the coast was clear, and then he opened it. John was sure that Olivia was going to say something to him, chastise him for taking such a stupid risk, or tell him that he should have used a condom. Instead, the maid just smiled politely at him, her face a little more flushed, and her hair wild and unruly.

  “Is there anything else you’ll be needing right now, sir?” Olivia’s voice was professional and neutral, and somehow, it cut John deeper than any of her words and accusations had before.

  “… No,” he said, after a moment. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

  “Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Your mother has requested that the two of you eat together, tonight.”

  “Thank you.” John watched as the maid turned to walk away, feeling a strange remorse budding in his chest. “Olivia.”

  Olivia stopped dead in her tracks. She turned back towards John, and waited for him to continue. John knew what he wanted to say, but it felt as though it was hard to get the words out, as though he could tell that they would be deflected by the shell that she had put up.

  “I am sorry.” He let the words hang on the air for a moment, and then continued. “You’re right. I never knew my grandfather. But I have to follow after him and be the Count now. I’m going to do the best that I can and be true to his memory.”

  Olivia didn’t reply, but John could see a slight tremor spread through her shoulders and down to the tips of her fingers. She turned her head slightly back towards him for a moment, and then continued out of the lobby.

  John sighed. He was tired.

  CHAPTER 19

  John thought about heading up to his bedchamber or heading into the game room for a bit, but neither option appealed to him all that much. He felt emotionally wound up, as though the roller coaster of events he had been on for the past few days had left him with psychic baggage that was near to impossible to discard.

  John walked through the lobby, headed for the stairs. When he reached them, his gaze lingered for a moment on a tiny door against the wall that he hadn’t really noticed before. Olivia had told him that it led to the wine cellar. In his short time at the mansion, John still hadn’t gotten a chance to actually go down there.

  He walked over to the door slowly. There was something unassuming about it that pulled him in. He wondered for a moment if it was just his mind’s subtle, roundabout way of telling him that he should go grab a bottle of wine, and then opened the door and headed through it.

  It was dark inside, and John fumbled for a moment until he found a light switch against the wall. He flicked it up, and then set his gaze towards the bottom of a long series of stairs. Like everything in the mansion, the basement was clean and nicely maintained. Even the steps leading downward felt and looked as though they were made of expensive wood, none of them so much as creaking underneath John’s feet as he went.

  The wine cellar looked normal and unremarkable. John walked into the center of it and glanced around, seeing shelves and crates full of wine bottles. Most of them were covered with a thin layer of dust, and all of them were old, expensive vintages.

  There was one thing about the basement that caught his attention and felt out of place. One of the walls in the back corner was clear of any shelves or furniture, which stood out to John, given how crowded the rest of the room was.

  He began weaving through all of the storage shelves towards it, accidentally knocking one bottle of wine down that thankfully, had the grace to not crack or shatter. As he got closer, he saw something else that made him feel as though there was definitely more to the basement than met the eye.

  The empty wall was covered with dust, save for a single spot on a brick on the right side of it. The spot looked almost as though it was in the shape of a handprint, or many handprints, left over many touches. John reached his palm out and set it against the wall, right on top of the spot.

  Nothing happened. He laughed, at himself and at his over active imagination, and then wiped his hand off on his pants. John knew that it was ridiculous and that he was looking for a mystery where there was no need for one.

  It was more than that, though. John felt as though if he were the type of person that his grandfather was, and if he had been in the old man’s shoes in the days leading up to his death, he would have left something for the new heir. It could be a note, a letter, or anything, but it had to be around somewhere.

  The two of them had never met, and it felt strange to John that the old man would trust him that much, to not leave any instructions, or give him any advice from the afterlife. It felt strange enough to him to make him do strange things of his own, like searching for hidden secrets in wine cellars.

  John suddenly felt very frustrated and unleashed it in a swift kick to one of the bottom bricks of the wall. Surprisingly, his foot bounced back almost as though the collision had never happened, leaving his toes feeling little more than a glancing blow from the impact.

  He dropped to the ground and felt the brick that he had just kicked. It felt normal, at first, but as he pushed his hand harder against it, the material gave way as though it was made of some type of rubber or plastic material. It wasn’t as cold as real brick, either, but at a glance there was no discerning it from the rest of the wall.

  Running his fingers over the wall carefully, as though reading gigantic braille letters, John managed to find the outline of something in the wall. His heart began to race, and in a state of near disbelief, he put his hand back on the spot that was clear of dust and pushed.

  A sound came from behind the wall, similar to a train switching tracks. The segment that he had identified moved back, and then slowly slid over to the side, leaving a neat entranceway in the shape of a sharp-edged jigsaw piece in the wall.

  John stepped forward into a tiny room. A motion activated light flicked on, revealing what looked like a room in a bachelor pad. There was a desk in the center of the room with a computer and a monitor on it. The floor was covered in a green carpet with a couple of stains and bits of paper scattered across it.

  In the corner was a small mini fridge with an ornate wooden keepsake box on top of it. The fridge was empty, but the box had, to John’s surprise, rolling papers and a green baggy full of what he could only assume to be marijuana. He made a mental note of it and then turned towards the rest of the space.

  There was a small bookshelf along the other wall. It looked almost like the shared collection of a horny 15 year old and a wizened scholar, with volumes of literary classics tucked in with erotica and men’s magazines.

  One of the shelves was empty, save for a single photo album. John opened it and felt his jaw drop. The photos in it were of a woman in various stages of undress. She looked
exactly like his mom, but she was older in some of the photos than his mom was now.

  “My… grandmother?” whispered John. He blushed as he turned the page and stumbled onto a photo of her wearing an old fashioned set of lingerie, complete with long stockings. The cleavage of her fairly nicely sized breasts was pushing out against her bra, and John couldn’t help but admire it.

  With a strange mixture of hesitation and arousal, John flipped to the next page. It was filled with more pictures of his beautiful grandmother, at a young age, and completely, utterly, naked. She was gorgeous and as much as it made John feel like a pervert and a voyeur, he couldn’t help but gawk at her elegant curves, perfect boobs, and the seductive smile that her mouth curled up into.

  “This is so wrong…” John’s cock was rock hard, but through the sheer force of his will, he managed to shut the photo album. There was an evil voice in the back of his head that told him that he would look at it again when he had more time on his hands, and enjoy the photos properly. John knew that it was true, as confused as it made him feel.

  He tried to clear his mind and walked over to the laptop, sitting down in the well-worn chair in front of it. He booted it up and was surprised by the speed it shot through the startup screens. There was no password, and within seconds John was staring at the desktop of one of his grandfather’s personal computers, the only one that he’d found so far.

  There was only a single file that he could see, all of the other icons having been apparently removed. When John read the file’s name, he understood why, instantly.

  “FOR JOHN. WATCH IN PRIVATE.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the door behind him. It was still open, and even though it made him feel a little claustrophobic, John took a second to slide it shut, leaving him hidden in the tiny, secret room. Then, he sat back down and double clicked on it.

  “Hello, John. My name is Marcus van Ludling.” An older man’s face, wrinkled and clean shaven, with only tufts of white and gray hair left on his head, filled the screen. John had never heard the voice before, but somehow, it was familiar to him.

  “If you are watching this, I have passed on. I never knew you, and now I never will, but there are some things that you should know.”

  John leaned forward in his chair, getting as close to the laptop as he could. He waited for the man to continue, anticipating every word as his mind raced to process the message from beyond the grave.

  “For starters, you need to listen to your mother.” The old man smiled. “I’m sure that’s not what you’d expect me to say. I have no idea what she’s told you, but we did have a bit of a falling out. However, she is my daughter. She was intuitively brilliant as a teenager and understood people in a way that made my own interactions look clumsy, by comparison.”

  The old man paused, glancing to his side for a moment, and then looked back at the screen.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t just name her my heir, then.”

  John nodded, as though he was having an actual conversation with his grandfather.

  “It’s quite simple, really. I want her to be able to live a life free of the responsibility, and free of the… pressure… that being Count or Countess entails.”

  He smiled remorsefully.

  “Yes, that’s why I named you my heir, and I do apologize for it, John. But in your case, it will be a little easier for you to traverse the terrain, due to your age, the fact that you have your mother to advise and help you in any way you can, and one other thing. Listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you.”

  John fumbled for the volume control on the laptop, turning it up as high as it would go.

  “You must keep Erik van Katho from marrying your mother, at any cost.”

  John blinked in surprise. That had not been what he was expecting to hear.

  “I cannot explain everything to you, for I fear that it would create a burden of its own, too heavy for you to carry or handle by yourself. Instead, you just need to know that he is the greatest threat to your existence, the only person on the island who will plot to gain what you have, with the means to see it through. That’s why you have to marry his youngest daughter.”

  John reached for the touchpad to skip the video back a few paces, sure that his ears had just failed him. Before he could, his grandfather continued on.

  “I repeat. John, you must marry Kari van Katho. As soon as possible. Her father will let you and if you have even half the charm that I could manage when I was your age, she will also be willing and eager. You must marry her, and then remain cautious even after.”

  Totally and utterly dumbfounded by what he was hearing, John put a hand on his head and leaned back in the chair.

  “I’m sorry, I wish I had a better solution for you, but short of stooping to his level and operating on threats and plotting, there is no way for you to live a safe life as the Count. I fear that your mother may have made the right decision by leaving the island. If it weren’t for my concern for the people here, for my own selfish desire to know that they’ll be dealt with fairly after my death, I never would have summoned the two of you back.”

  John focused on his breathing, slowly willing his heart back to its resting rate. It was too much for him to take in, too much for him to be caught up in, so suddenly.

  “Also, one more thing.” Marcus van Ludling glanced over his shoulder, and then looked back into the camera with a dirty old man’s grin on his face. “I’m sure if you’re down here in the secret room, you probably found my secret photo stash. Your grandmother looked even better in person, kiddo, and man, the things she could do with her tongue…”

  John blushed and squirmed a little in his seat, though his grandfather’s words only made him even more curious about the photo album.

  “Anyway, that’s all for now… or really, forever, I guess.” The old Count smiled at John, and even though John knew that he wasn’t really there, he smiled back. “Don’t tell your mother about any of this, please. When I recorded this message, you were 18. Hopefully, you’ve grown a bit more in the meantime, but regardless, you’re the man of the mansion now, John. I leave the responsibilities of it to you, in good faith. Take care of Olivia, if she’s still in your employ, and watch out for my daughter. You have my love and respect. Never forget that.”

  The video cut off, and John continued staring into the default background of the media player for a moment longer. If felt as though the message had left him with more questions than answers, along with a sinking feeling of needing to be so much more than he currently was.

  CHAPTER 20

  John stood outside the closed door of his mom’s room. He’d taken a bottle of interesting looking wine up with him from the cellar on his way out of the secret room, and was cradling it under one arm. It made him feel almost like he was picking her up for a date, which made his face blush and heat up from the absurdity. She was his mother, he reminded himself.

  Before he could reach for the knob, the door swung inward. Natalie stood behind it, wearing a long, elegant evening gown, her hair pulled up and twisted into a Chinese braid with little wooden sticks. Her bust was pushed up into the gown’s open upper chest, and a look of surprise quickly spread across her face.

  “John…” She smiled at him and rubbed his elbow. “I was just on my way to look for you.”

  “Well, here I am.” John suddenly felt a little awkward in front of her. She was looking at him with eyes that saw him for who he really was, eyes that understood him and loved him like no other. It made John want to cuddle up against her and feel her body against his, and his lower half responded to the urge in a way that felt inappropriate, as her son.

  “I set a special dinner up for us, tonight,” said Natalie. “Olivia helped slightly with the preparations, but most of the cooking, and the selection of the ingredients, was me.”

  John smiled as his mom sidled up against him, looping her arm through his and leading him towards the staircase.

  “See, she’
s not all bad, mom,” he said. Natalie made a noise at him that sounded half in agreement, and half in disapproval.

  The dining room had also been arranged differently, with the largest of the tables moved off to the side and replaced with a much more intimate, small, two person sized one. The only lights that John could see were the long white candles on the table and as they walked in, his mom shut the door behind him.

  “I want us to have a nice family dinner,” she said softly. “Like we used to.”

  John nodded and remembered. Back in their old place, the two of them would eat at the table together at least once or twice a week. It gave them a chance to talk, to really talk, and do the bonding of an entire domestic unit with just the two of them.

  His mother led him over to the table, and John took a seat across from her, setting his bottle of wine down next to another that she had prepared. There was grilled salmon, mixed vegetables, salad, baked potatoes, and a number of other dishes that John recognized as being some of his mom’s specialties.

  “This looks great, mom,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Natalie stared at him with her motherly loving eyes, only moving to eat her own food after John had begun to dig in.

  “John, I wanted to talk to you about what I said last night,” said Natalie.

  John nodded and felt all of his fears and worries begin to flood back. He did his best to focus on the flavor of the fish as he waited for his mom to continue.

  “I think I may have just been… unwilling to accept what really happened,” said Natalie. “They say that people have trouble coming to terms with death when it seems to just happen, without a reason. My father… well, he was old. Maybe it was just his time.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and then leaned forward over her plate, bringing her face closer to John’s across the small table.