Wickedly Ever After

by Evans, Anna J.

  “Everyone makes mistakes. But I don’t really care about your mistakes, one way or the other. I’d just like to make you come.”

  “Come?” He might have laughed at how wide her eyes grew, if she hadn’t simultaneously dropped an unconscious hand down to hover over her mound. She was hot, all right, hot and primed for him. He was willing to bet half his annual pension that her pussy would be wet if he slid his hand down the front of her shorts.

  “I didn’t do those things she said I did,” she suddenly blurted out.

  “What?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe me. No one believes me. That’s why she’s sleeping in the castle and I’m down here whipping people with a riding crop.”

  “You made a choice to do this work, Edna, no one put a gun to your head.” Not the conversation he’d assumed they’d be having, but he wasn’t the type to support playing the victim. You were only a victim if you allowed yourself to be one, and Edna was too strong to let her mind be clouded with that kind of crap.

  She rolled her eyes. “Try finding decent employment when the new queen says you used to beat her and lock her in the basement for weeks at a time.”

  “You’re saying you didn’t?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why would she lie?”

  “I don’t know.” Edna shrugged. “Because she hated that her father loved me? Because she hated me for living after her father died? It was fairly normal stepparent-stepchild stuff. She was a teenager and she hated me for everything and nothing at all. I had no idea she’d take things as far as she did.”

  Frank didn’t know what to say to that. She looked so forlorn, so completely hopeless. Hers wasn’t the face of a woman who was trying to spin lies for her own purposes—it was the face of a woman who had told the truth and had the truth fail her. And now she was trying to get by on small deceptions, like pretending she was a Domme when she was the furthest thing from it.

  Or pretending she wasn’t aching for someone to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

  He had to fight with everything in him to keep from going to her and giving her the arms she needed. No matter how much he wanted to be there for this stranger, he had a prior commitment to the very woman who she claimed had wronged her. Edna read his decision on his face and made a small attempt at a smile.

  “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to give me a chance. But will you please leave now? And take your friends with you. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  Her knees buckled as she sat down hard on the red couch in the center of the room, deflated.

  “Edna—”

  “Please, just go.” She dropped her head into her hands and her long, honey-brown hair spilled over her shoulders, all the way to the floor, looking as soft as it felt.

  Frank’s cock began to throb as he remembered the satin of her hair against his chest when he’d held her close. He wanted to hold her again more than he wanted to take his next breath. Even more, he wanted to watch her hair swirl around her shoulders as she rode his cock, wanted to watch her skin flush with pleasure, hear her moan as her pussy gripped him in its slick sheath. He wanted to fist his hand in that silky mane of hers and bring her close for a kiss, then roll her over and get to work showing her how swiftly he could make her come again, this time with him on top.

  “I believe you.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying.

  Did he believe her? Maybe, maybe not. But he needed to get her to accept his help, he knew that without a doubt. He wanted her too much to leave her alone with a madman on the way, no matter what she thought she could handle.

  “You do?” She lifted a shocked face to his. Frank watched as a single tear slid down her cheek.

  “Now don’t start that again.” The words were hard, but he knew the way he was looking at her was anything but. His own throat was tight, and he couldn’t stop his feet from moving toward her. They had time left and he was going to use it to take away her pain, at least for a little while.

  He stopped when he stood directly in front of her, his breath quickening as she tilted her head back and looked him in the eye, revealing the graceful column of her neck and the decadent expanse of her cleavage. Slowly, he knelt in front of her until their bodies were only inches apart and cupped her face in his hands. Her lips parted and a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan escaped as he wiped away the black streaks left by her tears.

  “You really believe me?” she asked softly. “No one’s ever believed me.”

  “I believe you. I have a ten-year-old. He’s a good kid, but we’ve had our rough spots. People who think children are all sweetness and light usually don’t have any,” he said with a smile, feeling a strange tug somewhere in the vicinity of his heart when she smiled back.

  God, she was stunning when she smiled.

  It made him wish that the words he’d just said were completely sincere. It was true that kids could lie and cheat and steal as much as any adult, but he couldn’t honestly say that he believed Edna was telling the truth. He’d known the queen for two years, and while sometimes impulsive and flighty, he’d never witnessed any deception on her part. He’d met Edna less than twenty minutes ago and the first words out of her mouth had been a lie, when she’d promised him complete domination at her hands.

  Maybe not a lie, but a promise she had failed to keep.

  But how could he complain when he hadn’t wanted her to keep the damn promise in the first place?

  “You don’t look old enough to have a ten-year-old,” she said. “Are you married?”

  “I’m thirty-five. My wife passed away when Christian was four.”

  “I’m so sorry.” The empathy in her eyes was real and touched him more than he wanted to admit. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at him with such compassion.

  “It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He moved his hands to the tops of her thighs, letting his fingers play back and forth between her knees and the bottom of her shorts, watching her chest rise and fall as she began to breathe faster.

  “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?” she asked. “I’m sure you know I lost my husband. We’d been married two years, but no kids of our own. Cindy lived with us though, so I got to be a full-time stepmother.”

  “You don’t look old enough to have a teenaged stepdaughter,” he said, sliding his hands beneath her knees and gently pulling her legs farther apart.

  She trembled and her dark eyes grew even darker, but she kept talking. Just like a woman.

  If they were better acquainted, he’d order her to be quiet until she came—at least twice.

  “I’m twenty-eight. My husband was twenty years older. That’s part of the reason I didn’t want Cindy dating the prince.” Her breath was coming so fast now that the creamy swells of her breasts threatened to spill out of her top. Frank massaged the sensitive skin behind her knees, hoping her tits would follow through on their threat.

  “I knew how hard it was to be with an older man,” Edna said, words coming faster. “My experience was that they died on you, leaving you alone with a stepchild who wants to murder you in your sleep.”

  “Murder you?”

  “Okay, maybe not murder, but sometimes this life feels like a kind of death,” she said, her eyes suspiciously shiny, though her fingers were smoothing up the sides of his arms. “Almost everyone I meet thinks I’m a child-abusing monster. It can be hard to stomach after a while.”

  Her soft touch made his muscles bunch as she wrapped her hands around his neck and scooted closer to the edge of the couch. Only a breath or two separated them now, and it was quickly becoming impossible to resist closing the distance between them. He was dying to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked, and what those elegant fingers would feel like digging into his shoulders while he attended to her pebbled nipples.

  “I’m sorry.” And he was sorry—sorry that he couldn’t do more for her, a
nd that these few moments might be all they would ever have.

  Even if her words were true, he was in no position to clear her name. He was in service to the queen. He fed and clothed his son with that work, and couldn’t afford to jeopardize his position, even for a woman who made him ache in a way he hadn’t in a damn long time.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” she whispered. “Unless you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

  “What? Kiss you?” His hands tightened on her knees, tugging her even closer, until he could feel the heat between her spread legs pulsing inches away from his own throbbing groin.

  “I was hoping for more than a kiss,” she said, breath hitching.

  “How about I fuck your pussy with my tongue until you come on my mouth?”

  That seemed to take away the last of her uncertainty. She met his lips with a moan, and Frank let his arms tighten, smashing every inch of her softness against him. As he pushed past her lips and met the eager sweep of her tongue, he forced himself to remember that this was a shared moment of pleasure, nothing more.

  She was the wrong woman, no matter how right she felt in his arms.

  Chapter Three

  Edna pressed impossibly closer to the man who had managed to make her forget she had any reservations about fucking a client.

  But then he wasn’t a client, was he? He was here to help her, to deal with whoever had been writing those horrible letters.

  “Frank, what about—”

  “Quiet. I don’t want to hear you say another word until you’re coming on my mouth.” He followed the words with a sharp tug at the bottom of her corset. Her breasts sprang free, nipples sliding against the leather with a rough friction that made her moan.

  His eyes drank her in with a single-minded intensity that took her breath away, and his large hands moved to cup her full, swollen breasts. He tested the weight and feel of her softly, almost reverently, before he swept the pads of his thumbs over her tightened tips. A bolt of pure arousal zinged from her nipples down to burn hotly between her legs. Her clit was already aching for stimulation, and her pussy was past the point of mere readiness. She couldn’t wait for him to touch her.

  But god, what would he think when he felt how wet she was? Would he find her slick folds a pathetic testimony to how easily she was seduced?

  “Frank, I—” Her breath hissed in through her parted lips as he pinched her nipples, hard, between his fingers and thumbs.

  “I said no talking.” He tightened his grip on her aroused flesh until she moaned. Moaned and arched into his hands, her body wickedly craving more. She raked her fingernails down his exposed back, digging her hands into his muscled ass and pulling him even closer. Hungrily, she ground up and down his rock-hard length, her clit humming with excitement as it was granted the much-needed friction; her pussy clenched and shuddered.

  “Is that a gun in your diaper or are you happy to see me?” she breathed, unable to believe even Frank was truly that large. His cock felt at least ten inches long, maybe eleven, and bigger around than her own wrist.

  “You don’t listen very well, do you?” He followed the words with a swift smack on her bare thigh. The unexpected sting made her gasp and wiggle her hips into closer contact with his cock. She’d never had any fantasies about being spanked, but she was having plenty of them now. She wanted her bare bottom turned over his knees, her slick pussy completely exposed to him as he used the flat of his large palm to redden her ass.

  “Kind of like someone else I know,” she said as she flicked her tongue across the seam of his lips, dying for another taste of him.

  “True, but I think we both know by now that I enjoy taking the lead. Can you let me do that, Edna? Can you trust me to give you pleasure?” His strong hands were cupping her ass, helping her find a gentle, rocking rhythm against his cock that had things low in her body tightening, already climbing toward release.

  “Yes.” She mumbled the words against his neck, inhaling the purely male scent of him. Even his smell made her hotter, wetter, and she knew it wouldn’t take much to send her spiraling over the edge.

  “So for the next ten minutes this pussy is mine?”

  “I wish we had more than ten minutes.”

  “Me too,” he said with a heated smile before his features grew serious once more. “I want to hear you say it, Edna. Tell me this is my pussy.”

  “It’s your pussy,” she whispered, the words almost enough to bring her the rest of the way. They would have been if he hadn’t picked that second to pull away from her clit and urge her back onto the couch.

  “Good. I want to see my pussy. Take your shorts off, but leave the corset.”

  Edna forced herself to obey without hesitation, despite the hint of nervousness that swept through her as soon as she was denied access to the drugging contact of his body. She trusted him, she did, despite the fact she’d been half convinced he was a psycho killer a few minutes ago. Whether it was crazy or not, trusting him wasn’t the problem.

  She was the problem. Would she know how to please him? Would she be able to give up control, to let him direct the course of this encounter? The last thing she’d expected was to take a turn on the submissive side of the scene tonight, or any night, and she was suddenly feeling tremendously unprepared.

  Her fingers fumbled with the leather ties at the side of her shorts, and her hands begin to shake.

  “Hurry, I’m ready to see what’s mine.” The way he said the words made her nipples harden to the point of pain and her plump, engorged clit practically scream for release.

  She shimmied her leather hot pants and black thong panties down her legs and flicked them off one six-inch heel before she could think twice about it. There was no point asking questions, wondering if she was ready for a man like Frank. There was no longer any choice to be made. Her body had decided for her. It would do anything this man asked as long as he would fulfill the promise shining in those blue eyes.

  Absolutely anything.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said as she sat back on her elbows and spread her legs wide, obediently showing him every last inch of her. Her pussy let forth another rush of heat as his eyes explored her, taking in her most intimate of places. Thank goodness, he didn’t seem to find her state of readiness repulsive in the least.

  “Frank, please…”

  “You were supposed to be quiet, Edna,” he said with a small smile as he spread her legs impossibly wider and then moved gentle hands to spread the petals of her sex open, exposing her. It became hard to breathe, hard to move, hard not to move, she wanted him to touch her so desperately.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she watched him lower his face between her legs, bringing his mouth close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her mound, but no closer.

  “It’s okay. You can make it up to me,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers without moving his mouth.

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to watch me. Never take your eyes off me while I eat my pussy.” He followed the words with one long, smooth swipe of his tongue up her sex, from her weeping slit to the throbbing bundle of nerves at the top. Edna made an animal sound of arousal that sounded foreign to her own ears, but then quickly bit down on her lip, determined to show him that she wanted to please.

  “Good girl,” he said, satisfied with whatever he saw in her eyes. Or she supposed he was satisfied, because he rewarded her with another slow swipe of his tongue.

  Edna trembled and fought to maintain the terrible intimacy of eye contact as he started to circle her clit with a slow, sensuous rhythm. Just enough to ratchet up the tension within her to the next level, but not enough to take her over the edge.

  “Touch your nipples, pinch them for me,” Frank rumbled against her sex, his strong hands digging into her thighs as he spread her wider and intensified his efforts between her legs. He lapped and suckled and plunged his tongue into her welcoming body, while Edna obediently brought her hands to
her own breasts. She tugged at the already sensitive flesh, pinching her nipples until they ached, and the need between her thighs built to the breaking point.

  “Come for me, Edna. I want to taste my pussy when it comes.” Frank opened his mouth and covered her entire sex in his heat, his tongue jabbing into her pussy even as he suckled her clit with sharp, commanding tugs.

  Edna shattered with a ferocity that destroyed what was left of her thinking mind. She bucked into his mouth, twisted her fists into the fabric of the couch and held on for dear life as her orgasm rocketed through her body. He continued to lap at her core, soft, smooth sweeps of his tongue that seemed to rebuild the erotic tension in her body even before she’d come down from her first release.

  “You closed your eyes,” he muttered against her sex as he brought one large finger to glide in and out of where her pussy still pulsed hungrily.

  Edna’s eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling. Shit, she had closed her eyes, she hadn’t even realized. But surely he would forgive her. It had been too overwhelming, too intense, too—

  “What are you doing, Frank?” Edna looked down between her legs where Frank was still slowly finger-fucking her with one hand, while his other had begun to explore—

  “I’m touching my pussy. And my ass. Is this my ass, Edna?” He teased the tight, puckered hole with one slick finger, drawing a gasp from her lips.

  She’d never had anyone touch her there. But then she’d never let a complete stranger order her to undress and spread for his mouth either. She’d also never come like that, and never felt so close to coming again just from the slightest manipulation of a man’s hands.

  “Yes, Frank, that’s your ass,” she whispered, a shiver running through her at the look in his eyes. She’d never dreamed a man, even her husband, would look at her like that—like some priceless, beautiful creature who he felt honored to have in his care.

  Care, that was the word. She felt cared for, treasured, protected. She felt safe for the first time in well over a year, which was ridiculous considering the man who had been terrorizing her might be on his way here right now, and this man was a complete stranger.