The Heir - Part 1 (The Kings & Queens of St Augustus Book 3)

by Gemma Weir

  After what feels like a lifetime I move toward her again. “Time’s up Priss, if you’re staying then turn around, bend over, and hold on to the arm of the couch.”

  I expect her to bolt for the door, it’s one thing to have the bravado to stay put when I’ve practically taunted her with the orgasms I gave her, but it’s another to cede control to me again, to do as I say when there’s no reason for this, other than want and need.

  She wavers on the spot, her arms falling to her sides, then she slowly turns, moving the few steps to the couch, and bends.

  I feel my eyes widen as the hem of her skirt lifts with her movement, not revealing her panties, but giving me the perfect view of the creamy skin on the back of her thighs. Her hands rest on the arm of the couch and she gasps, the sound barely audible, like she’s surprised herself.

  “Perfect,” I whisper.

  For a minute I just stare at her, thinking about all the things I want to do to her, with her. Stepping forward I reach her in two strides and slide my palm across her exposed skin. “I never appreciated this uniform until now. Seeing you bent over like this is making me see it in a whole new light. I’m enjoying the naughty little schoolgirl idea. I think you’ve been bad, don’t you Priss?” I taunt, stepping between her legs and forcing her to shuffle her feet further apart.

  “Carson,” she snaps, impatiently.

  “I asked you a question Priss. Do you think you’ve been bad?”

  “No,” she spits, glaring up at me as she looks over her shoulder, her gaze imperious even in her submissive, vulnerable position.

  Flipping her skirt up, I expose her pale pink satin panties, caressing them with my fingers before I step forward and grind my hard dick against her ass. “I think you’ve been a bitch Priss. I think since the moment you ran from me with nothing but a fuck you, you’ve been a bad girl. You’ve ignored me, you’ve ignored your sister and I’d lay money on the fact that you’ve been a bitch to everyone who’s spoken to you today.”

  “Are you going to touch me, or is all this so you can tell me off?” she hisses angrily, but I can hear the lust in her voice even as she tries to hide it.

  “Is that what you want? Do you want me to rip these panties off and then fuck you rough and hard? Do you want me to take you, like I hate you?” Bending my knees I grind against her again, feeling her push back into my dick.

  “Are you wet for me?” I growl.

  “Yes,” she rasps, the word sounding like it was torn from her throat.

  Sliding my hand between us, I push her panties to the side and thrust one finger deep into her hot, wet cunt. “So fucking tight,” I growl, as I pump my finger in and out of her, adding a second finger and stretching her as she pushes back against me, riding my hand.

  “Oh god,” she sighs, breathlessly.

  “I want you to come on my fingers Priss, ride my hand and make yourself come,” I demand, pushing in deeper each time and adding a third finger so her cunt is full and her arousal is coating my hand.

  Sliding my other palm around her stomach I find her clit, rubbing and circling as she bounces against my hand. “That’s it Priss, come for me.”

  Her gasps and mewls have me hardening until my dick feels like an iron rod beneath my slacks and then she comes and a gush of liquid rushes down my hand, dripping to her panties and the floor beneath us, making my stomach clench with lust.

  Her cunt is still clenching around my fingers when I pull them out of her, dragging her panties off her ass and down her legs and shoving them into my pocket once she’s lifted her legs free of them.

  “I want to fuck you Priss,” I say, leaning over her and biting the back of her neck.

  “Yes, god yes, Carson please,” she begs, her hips still grinding, her pussy empty but desperate to be filled.

  “Bend right over the arm, ass in the air,” I order, unbuttoning my pants while she eagerly complies. Grabbing her hips in my hands I slam my dick all the way inside her on one long thrust, loving the sharp gasp of surprise she makes.

  I lose myself in her, rolling my hips, filling her deep with every thrust as I fuck her hard from behind, while she moans and gasps and clamps down on my dick like she thinks I’m going stop. As if I could stop. She’s taking me just as much as I’m taking her and I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to. I’m a slave to her in this moment, she might think I’m in control, but there’s nothing further from the truth, this is her show and I’m just here for the ride.

  Unable to reach her clit from this position, I slap her ass hard, loving the sharp hiss of breath she takes. “Play with your clit Priss, I’m close, but you need to come first. Make yourself come,” I demand, slamming into her, using my grip on her hips to pull her on and off my dick.

  Her arm moves and I watch as she rubs at her clit. Her breaths become more ragged, her movement stalling when I hit that spot inside of her that makes little bursts of, “Oh my god,” fall from her lips.

  “Fuck, your cunt takes my dick so well Priss, so tight, so fucking perfect. I wish we were filming this too so you could see what I can. So you could watch my cock filling you up, stretching you.” As I speak her pussy clamps down on me, until she’s crying out, her muscles fluttering, milking my dick making it impossible for me not to follow her. I come with a grunt, slamming into her hard enough to push her forward over the couch, her feet coming off the floor. Once, twice, three times I slam into her with abandon, without finesse and then I still, both of us spent, both breathing hard.

  After a minute where neither of us speaks, I pull my dick free, watching as my cum drips from her slit. A fucked up sense of pride fills me as I stare at her well used cunt covered in my release.

  Jesus I’m a sick bastard. If she were mine, then maybe it’d be okay to want to fill her cunt with my cum, but she’s not mine and this was nothing more than a hot fuck.

  Clenching my jaw, I push my dick back into my boxers and rebutton my slacks as I step backwards, giving her enough room to move, even though I really want her to stay there just as she is, spread wide and waiting for round two.

  My cell ringing shatters the tension that I can feel thickening with every moment that passes. “You need some help?” I ask, quietly ignoring the call, unable to tear my eyes from her.

  “No,” she says, her voice small as she pushes upright, her legs trembling a little. Her gaze drops to the floor and she scans it, searching for something. “Do you see my panties?”

  “They’re in my pocket,” I say, smirking.

  Spinning around she holds her hand out expectantly. “Can I have them?”

  “No.”

  “What? Give me my panties.”

  “No,” I say, my smile wide now.

  “Carson, give them to me.”

  “No, I’m keeping them,” I tell her, pulling them from my pocket and lifting them to my nose, inhaling deeply. “I can smell you on them, fucking delicious,” I say, taunting her.

  “I can’t spend the rest of the day with no panties on, I’m wearing a skirt,” she cries, a hint of bitchiness in her voice.

  Closing the distance between us again I snap my hand out and catch her chin between my fingers tightly. “Call it punishment for ignoring me and being a bitch to your sister.”

  “So us having sex was you punishing me?” she asks incredulously.

  “Did it feel like I was punishing you?” I drawl, stroking my thumb over her skin.

  “N- no,” she stutters.

  “You letting me take you again, was you apologizing for leaving the way you did and being a bitch. Your punishment is spending the rest of the day bare, with my cum drying on your cunt, smelling like sex, and remembering that I bent you over and fucked you while you played with yourself.

  Her gasp is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard and I wait for her to say something, but her eyes stay wide, her lips barely parted with no words breaking free.

  “Then when you get back to your hotel later, you can either make a video of you playing with yourself, a
nd send it to me, or you can send me your room number and the address of the hotel you’re staying at and I’ll come over and finger fuck you till you scream out my name,” I whisper, lifting her chin a little, my thumb pulling her bottom lip gently until she parts her lips further, complying with even my unspoken commands, as I push my thumb into her mouth and she sucks.

  Her lips pop when I pull my thumb free and release my hold on her. Turning away, I unlock the door and pull the key free, checking the corridor is empty, I push the door open and gesture for her to go through, then I close and lock the door behind us, sliding the key back into my pocket.

  Her back is to me and she’s cautiously walking away when I call out. “Stop.”

  Pausing she doesn’t turn and I can’t help but smile. She might be compliant but she’s not meek or weak. When she allows me to be in charge of her and her body, she’s giving me that privilege, not just letting me take it.

  Moving behind her I press my body into hers, not wrapping my arm around her waist even though I want to. “Talk to you later Priss,” I say, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against the nape of her neck.

  14

  Carrigan

  My feet are moving, but I’m not sure that I’m the reason they’re doing it. The last fifteen minutes definitely happened, I can feel it in the shaking of my legs and the warmth that’s still flowing through me after the two orgasms he gave me.

  I just had sex with Carson Windsor, again, in a room at our school, over the arm of an old couch. I let him touch me, take me, talk dirty to me, and it was unbelievable. As sense starts to come back to me, I realize that what just happened was so stupid. I need to distance myself from Carson, my sister, and their friends, so why do I seem unable to ignore him?

  Everything about him is becoming a compulsion, and even though I know he’s bad for me, I can’t tell him no. Right now, his cold but exciting commands are the only kind of connection I feel capable of. My sister is there offering me a relationship, but I don’t want it, I don’t deserve it, but I can’t seem to walk away from him as easily as I can her.

  Darting into the closest bathroom, I lock myself in a cubicle and clean up as best as I can without a shower. A part of me feels used, but the rest of me feels like I’m using him just as much and I’m not sure if that makes me pathetic, or a worse person than I thought I was.

  After flushing the toilet, I wash my hands then leave the bathroom, stepping into the empty corridor. I used to love coming to St Augustus, this school was my platform, a place where I was adored, even if it was only because they wanted to use me. Now I’m a pariah, the formerly almost super rich, it’s not exactly the most impressive title.

  As I walk down the corridor, no one looks at me, I don’t get more than a cursory wink from a guy who I wouldn’t have even glanced at a week ago. I’m not important or interesting anymore, no one envies me, no one wants me, or wants to use me, they just don’t care, and as the realization dawns on me, tears fill my eyes.

  I want my mom, only she doesn’t care now either, because I ruined all of our lives and I have no one else to blame but me. I walk faster, then I’m running down the hallway, through the school and out the front door. I can’t be here, I can’t be this nobody, I just can’t.

  Rushing across the lawns I dart for the road, pulling up the Uber app on my cell and almost collapsing with relief when there’s a driver only four minutes away from me. My bag is still in my locker, all I have is my cell phone and my credit card that my parents could have cancelled by now, but I can’t go back. I can’t face my classmate’s ambivalence.

  When the car pulls to the curb I climb in, wiping the tears from my eyes as I slide into the back seat. The driver glances at me in the rear-view mirror, her hair a mass of black, tightly wound curls that almost touch the roof, and her eyes soften when she sees my tears.

  “You okay sweetie?”

  I nod, not speaking, and after a moment of awkward silence she pulls away from the curb and blends into the lunchtime traffic. Pulling my cell from my blazer pocket I wonder if maybe Carson will have text me again, but the screen is empty and silent.

  When the hotel comes into view, my seatbelt is unclipped and I’m opening the door before we even come to a full stop. “Thanks,” I say offhandedly, as I jump free from the car and rush into the hotel lobby. Reaching the elevator I stab the call button, realizing too late that my room key is in my bag, in my locker at school.

  Sighing wearily, I turn and pad across the lobby to the reception desk, inhaling sharply and trying to keep the tears that are leaking from my eyes at bay.

  “Good afternoon, how may I help you?” the chipper male receptionist asks me, his smile wide, flashing his gleaming white perfectly straight teeth.

  “I’ve lost my key card, could I have a replacement please?” I ask, my voice a little shaky as I try valiantly to keep my emotional meltdown under wraps.

  “Of course, what’s your room number?”

  “1065.”

  His fingers tap away at the computer in front of him for a second, before he looks up and smiles at me. “Your name please?”

  “Carrigan Archibald.”

  “And do you have the payment card you provided us with?”

  Handing over my credit card, I pull in shallow breaths trying to stay calm as misery consumes me.

  “Okay, here is your key, we have you due to check out tomorrow, do you need a wakeup call or any breakfast orders placing?” he asks, his smile never slipping an inch.

  “No, I need to extend my stay for a week please,” I say, turning to leave, my new key card gripped tightly in my hand.

  “Miss Archibald, I apologize, but I’m afraid your room isn’t available after tomorrow.”

  “Okay, just book me into a different suite,” I say.

  “I’m afraid all of the suites are booked for the next five days, we have a large group of guests that have reserved all of the suites, as well as both penthouse apartments. We do have standard rooms available,” he says, his infuriating smile still firmly fixed in place.

  “Oh my god, are you serious,” I shriek, the tears I’ve been fighting to hold back finally breaking free.

  “Please accept my apologies Miss Archibald, I can check at our sister hotel in Brooklyn.”

  “No,” I snap, waving my hand at him. “Fine, just give me the key to my new room and I’ll move now, there’s no point waiting until the morning,” I cry, looking away, not wanting him to see my composure slip even further.

  “Of course,” he says, clicking at the keys on the keyboard for a second. “Here is your new key, your room is 459. Call down to reception once you’re ready and I can send Henry up to assist you with your luggage if you need, and please feel free to order anything you’d like on room service as an apology for your inconvenience. Can I book you a wakeup call or breakfast?”

  “No,” I snap, grabbing the key from him and walking away before he has a chance to say another word.

  It only takes me a few minutes to collect my handful of possessions from my suite and move them to my new standard room. By the time I’m lying on my bed, staring at the tiny room around me, my tears refuse to stay in anymore and I collapse in a heap of loud uncontrollable sobs.

  I’m not sure if I’m crying for the loss of my old life, the money, or the prestige, or if I’m just crying because I’ve never felt more alone in my life. Whatever the reason I sob until my eyes are gritty and swollen and the pillow beneath my head is wet.

  Grabbing my cell, I do what I’ve been doing for the last four years, I dial my mom’s number, knowing that she will tell me what to do. Only instead of the mother who has spent every day for the last few years shaping both me and my life into what she wants, I’m met with a recorded robotic message advising that this number has been disconnected.

  I dial my father’s number next and receive the same message. My fingers are trembling as I dial the house number and I sag with relief when someone answers.

  “Archiba
ld residence.”

  “Hi could I speak to Vanessa please,” I say.

  “Who’s calling please?”

  “It’s Carrigan, her daughter.”

  “Oh,” the unfamiliar female voice says. “I’m afraid your parents aren’t here, they’re out of the country.”

  “Who are you? Where’s Mrs. Humphries?” I demand.

  “I’m the new housekeeper, Geraldine. Your parents advised me that they have no immediate plans to return to the house this year,” she says, sounding unsure.

  “Right, of course,” I say, forcing my voice to become polite and calm. “Just to make you aware, I’ll be sending a moving firm around in the next few days to collect my belongings.”

  “Err, I’m afraid, Mr. & Mrs. Archibald have given me strict instructions not to allow anyone access to the house.”

  Closing my eyes I suck in a slow breath, scoffing lightly. “Of course. That’s fine, thank you,” I say slowly, then end the call. My parents have gone, they’ve disconnected their cells and banned me from the house. I can’t even go and get my clothes. This is their way of punishing me, because there’s nothing they can do about the money, it’s gone, but they can do this. They can take my home, my things, I’d lay money on the fact that they’ve stopped my credit card and that my cell will be disconnected soon too.

  I took the future they wanted from them, so now they’re taking from me, in the only way they can. I’m not sure why I’m even surprised, I know what they’re capable of, because I’ve been their weapon of choice for years.

  Dropping my cell to the comforter beneath me, I squeeze my eyes shut and just lay there, heartbroken, stupid and alone. Eventually I force my lids to open, to sit up and act. I call the lawyers who deal with my trust fund first, and have them arrange for a new credit card to be overnighted to me, then I contact the cell phone company and change my cell onto a new plan in my name. Thirty minutes later, I at least have access to money and a cell phone my parents can’t disconnect, even if I only have a handful of clothes and I’m living in a hotel.