Wicked Steps

by CORY CYR

  “Who… who are you?” I barely managed to croak out as I began to turn around.”

  I felt his hand on my arm. “Don’t. Stay facing forward. You already know who I am. You already know what you want. And make no mistake. I definitely know what I want. Tell me you’re wet for me and your pussy throbs for me. Say you want me to make you come. Beg me to take you right here in front of this huge cock.” He panted the words into my ear.

  I could hardly breathe. The hairs on my neck stood at full attention while goose bumps traveled down my spine. This wasn’t real. No one did this—especially me. But there was no denying I did want him. I deserved this. Hell, after all I went through, this was my consolation prize. The universe had given me a gift, and I was taking it.

  The front of his body pressed gently into my back. I could feel the hard lines and contours of his flesh. His arm reached around me and his hand lingered at my throat. It seemed large, and for a moment, I wondered if the rest of him was just as endowed. It was as if he read my mind and he ground his erection into the back of my dress. My physical response to his actions was apparent as my no-longer-damp panties became drenched.

  His hand drifted down to the neckline of my dress. I could feel my breathing go erratic as his fingers began to toy with the edge of my bra.

  It was as if I suddenly realized we were in a public space. I wanted to move us to my office. Someplace private, somewhere away from prying eyes. “Wait. Stop. We can’t do this, not here,” I panted.

  I held my breath as his hand dipped into my bra and he began palming my right breast.

  “Oh God,” I moaned.

  “Trust me. I’m far from God. Think lower—and much hotter.”

  His fingers rolled my nipple between them as it hardened into a pearl. My body was no longer my own. I could feel myself losing control, not caring about public scrutiny as I pushed back into his cock. I heard a growl come deep from his throat as his hand left my breast.

  “Jesus, I could fuck you right now. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to persuade you. It would be so easy,” he murmured with hot breath that licked at the shell of my ear. His voice paralyzed me, and I couldn’t do anything but listen. “All I would have to do is push up the back of your dress and tuck myself behind you. Unzip and slide into those waiting, clenching, and dripping lips. I’ll bet you’re so wet right now I’d drown. And as much as I’m an exhibitionist, I don’t wish to be interrupted, not with you. But I’m dying to know, so let me ask. When’s the last time a man made you come? I mean really popped your cork? Sucked on your tits, nibbled on your tongue, licked your cunt, and fucked you every way possible, leaving you homebound for days?”

  I choked back a quiet sob. Did I appear needy? Did he sense a man hadn’t pleasured me in years? Did I come off as old and desperate?

  His words suddenly snapped me back into reality. I straightened my spine and pulled away from him.

  He caught me by the waist and pulled me back.

  “Let me have you. Allow me to really touch you and make you come.” His lips gently pressed to the back of my neck.

  That one action weakened me. I could feel my pussy pulsing with a want I’d never known. His hands gathered the back of my dress, pulling it up, leaving me exposed to the cool air, embarrassed, and excited. For a moment, it crossed my mind that he might fuck me right there. Just the idea made my pussy drum with uncensored need. He was licking and nipping at the back of my neck as he slipped his hand into the back of my panties. I stiffened with fear as his hand brushed against my ass cheeks on the way to their destination. I felt his fingers as they breached the crotch of my panties. They ghosted past the material and languidly swept across my drenched core. I held my breath as he pushed in one finger.

  “Oh, God, fuck,” I moaned softly.

  “I wish I could. My cock is aching for you right now. It’s been years since I came in my pants, but you have the ability to do that to me right now.” His lips sealed themselves to the back of my neck as he added another digit. Both began to scissor my clit as he rotated the hard nub. We struggled with our positions as I leaned back and he thrust forward.

  “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? The way your pussy tightens around my fingers. I’m so going to enjoy fucking you.”

  There was going to be fucking? When? How? Was I going to see him again? Now who was being delusional?

  Currently, I was trapped between shame and ecstasy. His fingers drove in and out of me with fury. I could hear low grunts from him as he continued his rapid assault. The deeper he submerged his fingers, the closer his body got to mine. He felt so hard against me. All I wanted to do was turn around and have him plunge into me deeply. Without mercy.

  “If your pussy continues suggesting my fingers aren’t enough, I won’t care who strolls in. I’ll fuck you here and now. Trust me. Your screams of pleasure will echo throughout this gallery. Now come. I want to be able to smell and savor your sweet juices long after I’ve gone.”

  I bit my bottom lip until I tasted blood. My body started to tremble as impending release began to rise. It was so strong it threatened to cause my legs to buckle. My body began to slip as he snaked his arm around me to hold me in place. I wanted to scream, but the thought of being exposed kept me silent. The sensations coursing through me gave way to an orgasm. A release so intense it made my entire body hum.

  “Fuck, baby.” He moaned as he withdrew his fingers and traced a wet path up and down the lips of my pussy.

  He suddenly spun me around to face him. A feeling of faintness overcame me as my lips slightly parted when I felt the impact of hot breath as his mouth crushed onto mine. The kiss was cold and punishing, as though he were disciplining me for some infraction. There was nothing gentle or passionate about it. His tongue brutally pushed its way into my mouth as his hand gripped my throat. He sucked on my tongue for a few moments, then retreated.

  I looked up into iridescent green eyes. For a moment, I recognized a cruel spark in them. His hand moved from my neck as he forced a finger into my mouth. I flashed back to the last time I’d ever had sex. It was a moment of perversion and pain I never wanted to repeat. The roughness of his mouth on mine reminded me how savage some men could be.

  “That’s all you, baby. I could wear that scent on me for days.”

  He let me go as I struggled for release. I could taste myself on my lips. I suddenly had a sense of unease. What began as a hot moment with a stranger now was causing me anxiety. I was too old to be playing this game, and there was no doubt this man was much too young. I tugged down the back of my dress as heat flooded my face.

  What did I just do?

  My morals had just flown out the window. I didn’t even know his name, but I allowed him to fondle me and make me come. I almost laughed because Coco would never believe it.

  I cleared my throat as I looked up to meet his face. Damn, but he was exquisite. From a distance, he had been attractive. But this close, his looks were breathtaking. His eyes burned into me as he tucked his shirt back into his pants.

  “Umm… I’m not sure what the protocol is,” I said with humor. “I’ve never done this before.”

  He stared at me and arched a perfect brow. “I would have never guessed. You seemed quite proficient.”

  His tone made me flinch. Exactly what was he implying? I was a slut? Okay, well, in truth, my conduct was “whorish.” But in reality, that would make him a manwhore. Besides, he started it.

  God, I mentally chastised myself. What was I? In grade school? He was pissing me off.

  “I will take your callous attitude to conclude we will not be exchanging names or numbers, then?” I asked coolly.

  “I told you before I know who you are, and I will wager very soon, you’ll know who I am. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  The sound in his voice made my skin prickle with fear. Did I know him? Had I been with him before and just not remembered? Wait, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d slept with him. He was too young
. True, in my college days, Coco and I were quite amorous. Our party nights out always began with large amounts of booze and ended up with sexual conquests. We basically screwed our way through our early twenties. I relied on Coco to remember the men I’d slept with. Liquor had a way of causing me to forget things.

  As I became older, that lifestyle no longer appealed to me. I’d left my promiscuous ways behind long ago, but evidently, some of those attributes had resurfaced tonight, and I was being called out.

  “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work,” I said as I brushed my hands over the front of the dress, attempting to smooth some of the wrinkles. My panties were soaked and felt twisted. I had to go to bathroom quickly and take care of myself. I certainly couldn’t entertain like this.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” he muttered. The sound of his voice wasn’t friendly. It implied a threat.

  “You act as though I should know who you are. Why all the cloak and dagger? Just tell me your name,” I prompted in a hushed voice.

  He cupped my elbow and leaned into me. “Sad to say, I am most likely your worst nightmare. It really is a shame, because I do find you rather riveting.”

  “Please stop playing these games and just tell me.”

  His lips brushed my cheek as they got closer to my ear. I tensed from his touch. “And take the fun out it? Really, I do want to tell you, but for now, how about I just give you a clue?”

  My cheeks went warm as I flushed. I hated the fact that this man, someone I didn’t even know, had the ability to arouse me, even in a threatening way.

  “When I walked in, you appeared enamored by that cock. Don’t conceal it. Study it. Scrutinize it. Analyze it. My hint to you—look at the signature,” he hissed. “Everything about me is far superior in person.”

  I heard him humming as he strolled away. I stood there, unable to move, barely breathing.

  What had he just said? What had I done?

  I moved toward the portrait and viewed the signature in the lower right corner.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  There was no way that man was Wicked.

  Wait. Shut up, Elle. You just let some hot stranger finger you six ways to Sunday. And now you’re going to deny who he claims to be?

  No, it’s not true. He is not Wicked. He’s too young.

  God, I wanted to kick my own ass because no one knew shit about the secretive artist. The man could be a hundred or fifteen. Never mind I’d just gotten sexually amorous with a guest. But if he were Wicked, that could ruin me. What would people think if that arrogant asshat went public with the fact he’d gotten physical with the proprietor, the gallery owner that was handling his first U.S. showing?

  Ugh! I am so stupid. I let my pussy run the show instead of my common sense.

  Well, I had mentally questioned if Mr. Perfect Stranger’s cock matched the size of his hand. If he were Wicked, that question had definitely been answered.

  My emotions ricocheted between being overly stimulated and never wanting to tell a soul. But how could I not confide in Coco? I needed to share this predicament with someone. Maybe I could take the emphasis off the sex and just bring up the other things.

  What other things, idiot?

  I allowed the famous artist Wicked to have his way with me, in front of his work. I groaned, loudly. And what if someone had seen us while he had his hand down my underwear? He’d claimed he knew who I was, but that wasn’t a surprise, not really. My photograph had been in many magazines and newspapers, not only as Hartman’s wife, but as the gallery owner. Maybe that was a tactic he used to seduce women or keep them placated so he wouldn’t have to see them again. Pompous. Player. Prick.

  The best thing I could do was go mingle with my guests.

  What if he hadn’t left yet and was waiting for me to make an entrance? I supposed if he were still in the gallery, I could try avoiding him, but his body and face were like a compass, and my lust was pointing south.

  Dammit, he got to me. No, I was just sexually deprived. I took the first thing offered to me. A six-foot-plus stranger with a pierced eyebrow and possibly a pierced cock, who had fingers that strummed me like a flamenco guitarist? Frick! And young.

  That man was dangerous. That man was treacherous. That man was fire. And I, unfortunately, was kindling.

  Four

  Kieran

  Did I just finger fuck my stepmother? I asked myself as I unbuttoned the stiff-collared white shirt. Fucking strangulation device. I tossed it on the floor as I sat on the bed in my suite.

  I couldn’t help myself. Her scent invaded my nostrils as I brought two fingers to my mouth. Among her sensual taste, I could smell a subtle hint of lavender, probably body wash. Jesus, she tasted like French ice cream. My cock was so hard it begged to be free of my pants. I should have fucked her. The fact was I had flirted with the idea. Once she came on my fingers, I wanted to impale her with my cock and make her come tenfold. Even now, just my thoughts were causing my dick to leak. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to punish her. I wanted payback.

  From what I’d read before attending the gallery showing, she was in her mid-thirties. When I saw her, I was sure it had been a typo. She looked much younger.

  Ellery Wick was seduction on legs. I now realized how she snared my father. Although, knowing his history, all it had taken was a pretty face paired with an eager pussy. I guess she enjoyed older men, since according to my calculation, ten years ago, she’d been quite young. But I assumed power and wealth had been quite an incentive for her. Apparently, the age difference was of no concern to either of them, because he was more than willing to pay for beauty and sex.

  I sucked one of my fingers and deeply inhaled. I’d been intoxicated the moment I recognized her. Her photographs didn’t come close to capturing her beauty. If this were another scenario, I would paint her. Nude. Glistening. Ardent.

  I doubted I could even find a color combination to match her long, wavy locks. The shade reminded me of rich caramel melded with different hues of burnished copper. Her skin was pale from the winter months, but her eyes were a crisp, startling blue, reminding me of London sapphires. She had small hands with long, tapered fingers that appeared delicate. She carried herself like an aristocrat, but underneath that expensive dress and coiffed New York hairstyle, she was still nothing but a home-wrecking whore.

  My father had lured her with his money, and she had seduced him with sex. Even the thought of my father fucking her filled me with sudden rage. I was having a hard time defusing my emotions. I felt like a ticking time bomb.

  I had only been fourteen when my father had the affair. I’d never seen the other woman—only heard about her. He really was a perverted bastard. My mind became inundated with images of the vile, filthy things my old man had done to her. Things I wanted to do. Things I planned to do to her. She killed my mother. She took everything from me. Now I intended to return the favor. I wanted nothing more but to crush her entire life and make her suffer, as my mother had so many years ago. I’d waited years to even the score. My patience had been fruitful. I was now able to deliver the justice I yearned for by stripping her bare of her livelihood.

  Preston had promised to help me years ago. She wouldn’t even see it coming. I looked forward to watching the expression on her face when she found out who I was. She, without a doubt, clearly knew now I was Wicked. However, she had no concept how that name truly suited me.

  Arriving back in New York, I’d been prepared to deliver swift retribution. But after seeing her and making her come, she aroused me. It had been a long time since a woman was foremost on my mind. To me, a beautiful female was nothing more than a receptacle for release. And really, who needed them for even that? My own hand could suffice if necessary. I didn’t trust them or desire any of them. They were there for my enjoyment, to be used and tossed aside. But Ellery, I wanted to own her ass. Maybe it was because she’d belonged to my father. She would become my possession, someone to
play with. She would pay.

  Heat coiled in my belly as I removed my pants and strolled to the shower. I stepped in and let the water rush over me. Even though it was cold, it would never diminish this erection. Beads of precum amassed at the crown. I traced my thumb over the top, through the metal ring, and under the rim. I grabbed some body oil and began the familiar fisting of my cock, sliding my hand, up and down. I could envision her face and still taste the remnants of her sweet pussy. It had started slowly, but now there was a furious annoyance building up inside me.

  Fucking cunt. All I wanted to do was destroy her. Fucking bitch. The angry visuals that plagued my mind aided in my orgasm as semen encrusted the wet wall. I felt unsatisfied. My climax hadn’t changed my need or want. I could go through the motions, but regardless, there would be no genuine release until I’d taken her and used her body in every way possible.

  Five

  Ellery

  I never mentioned to Coco the fact that the artist known as Wicked had his fingers inside me. I really wanted to share that information—I honestly did—but the shock would have made her choke on her bagel. As it were, currently I was having a hard time swallowing my coffee.

  We always had breakfast at her loft in Soho whenever we worked late at the gallery. Luckily for me, she had met some random hottie at the event, which prevented our usual Saturday breakfast together. I didn’t mind. I was trying to recover mentally and physically from my own activities.

  My lips were puffy and I had razor burn from just one kiss. I think he’d even left marks on the back of my neck, too. Luckily, my hair covered it. Along with sensing some bruising and swelling, my vagina felt as though it were viciously assaulted. I didn’t remember him being so rough, but then I hadn’t seen any sexual action by someone else in that area for years.

  When Coco and I got together for breakfast on Sunday, I kept the conversation light. We mainly chatted about the event and the man she’d gone home with. I hadn’t heard yet from accounting. But I knew we sold quite a few pieces, and from the amount of sales we accomplished in one night, the numbers should be excellent.