This is part of my Taboo Holiday Collection, so make sure to check out the other chapters. They can be read in any order.
This story is copyrighted by Mia Eris and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author.
All characters in this story are 18+ years of age and all sex is 100% consensual.
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2.
Lucky Charm
Keely sat in the hotel bar, sipping on a cocktail and ignoring the men trying to catch her eye. Wearing a skin-tight dress and heels with her makeup perfectly applied and hair meticulously styled, she appeared just as old as her fake ID claimed she was.
The moment Patrick Murphy entered the bar, he predictably strolled right up to her. He had a weakness for escorts. Already approaching fifty, his light brown hair was liberally streaked with silver, but it made him look distinguished. His light blue eyes sparkled like the diamonds on his cufflinks and watch. His expensive suit and accessories drew glances, but under his polished veneer was a cold, slithering snake.
“I haven’t seen you in here before,” he said, giving her his version of a charming smile.
It was just as sleazy as he was, but Keely smiled back. She pretended to be captivated by his wealth because that’s how escorts acted. All they cared about was landing a rich client.
“First night,” she said.
His interest doubled, and he lowered to the seat right beside her.
“You don’t say? I suppose that makes me quite the lucky man, then,” he said with a snicker of smug amusement as if sharing a private joke with himself.
“Oh, because of the…?” Keely gestured to the St. Patrick’s Day decorations lightly sprinkled around the room, as if she didn’t know what he was really referring to.
“Sure, sweetheart,” he said. “What are you drinking?”
It wasn’t much longer after they finished their drinks that he agreed to her terms, and they headed to the elevator. Keely didn’t stop him from moving right in. She ran her hands over him, making approving sounds about his body while allowing him to kiss all over her neck and paw at her breasts. She skillfully checked his outer pockets, finding only the usual items.
Inside the hotel suite, Patrick continued groping and kissing her while guiding her right into the bedroom. He flipped the switch on the wall, but only the bedside lamps turned on, casting the room in more shadows than not. Keely gave a fake laugh when they fell to the bed, her hands roaming over him more aggressively as if she were really hot for him. She unfastened his suit jacket and started shoving it away from his chest, anxious to get it off. It allowed her to squeeze the inner pocket to get a feel for its contents.
Her palm all but wrapped around the outline of a small coin case, but before she could steal it, Patrick choked out a startled breath and went perfectly still. Keely whipped her attention to the left, following his gaze, and froze.
Killian Flynn.
Shit! What is he doing here?
His chiseled features were emboldened by a lush mouth that appeared just as cruel as it was kissable. Expressive brows, which were darker gold than his perfectly styled hair, sat passive over aquamarine eyes. They were the perfect combination of blue and green, just like the sea.
He stood with his back against the dresser across from the end of the bed, holding his forearm with one gloved hand. The other dangled before him, fingers curled around the handle of a Glock with a silencer already attached. Everything he wore, from his bespoke suit to his leather Oxfords, made Patrick Murphy look cheap.
“Don’t stop on my account. I was just getting into it,” Killian mused.
Ireland gave his voice a musical lilt, though it was mild from years in the states. It had an unexpected ache blooming in Keely’s chest. A longing she’d thought was as dead and buried as her Irish-born mother.
“Killian,” Patrick growled. He turned a heated glare on Keely. “I suppose she’s one of yours?”
“It’s possible,” he replied. “I have a lot of employees. Did you find anything, darling?”
She merely stared at him with the idea of playing dumb, but he saw right through her. The corner of his mouth curved into a sexy smirk.
“I do love it when they play hard to get,” he commented. “If I have to aim my gun, álainn, I’ll pull the trigger.”
Keely started reaching inside the breast pocket of Patrick’s suit jacket, but he grabbed her wrist.
“Killian, you don’t understand,” he seethed. “They have my wife!”
“Yeah, I see you’re broken up about it, too,” Killian replied. “Had to run to the first set of tits to cry on.”
When Keely tried to free her wrist by pulling on it, Patrick tightened his grip while keeping his eyes on Killian–as if he stood a chance of arguing with the man. Keely dropped her knee right into Patrick’s crotch with most of her body weight, and he let out an enraged howl. Releasing her wrist, he shoved her knee away to cup his wounded balls.
Keely quickly dug the case out of his pocket and backed away from the bed before he could retaliate.
“You fucking cunt!” he seethed, spit flying from his mouth through his clenched teeth.
Killian chuckled. “Make those spectacular tits,” he remarked.
Ignoring them both, Keely opened the case to make sure it wasn’t empty. When she saw the four-leaf clover perfectly preserved in a medallion of clear resin, a sense of wonder and magic washed over her. It was encircled by a gold band engraved with Irish Gaelic. She’d never believed in luck or the supernatural, but Killian Flynn’s shamrock was legendary. It was rumored to be the very key to all of his success. The mystical explanation for how a Dublin street rat could end up as one of the most powerful Irish Mob bosses in the states.
Patrick Murphy wasn’t the first man who’d set his sights on stealing the lucky charm from Killian, but he would be the first who’d succeeded. Even if not for very long.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Killian asked.
Brought back to her disappointing reality, Keely closed the case and handed it to him because her only other choice was a bullet in the head.
“I’m getting a drink,” she stated.
Killian gave his attention back to his traitorous attorney.
“Your services are no longer required, Mr. Murphy,” he said.
Keely grabbed her handbag on the way out of the bedroom and didn’t even flinch when she heard the silenced shot. She’d barely made it to the minibar when Killian’s presence entered the room behind her.
“I’ll take one,” he said.
“All they have is Jack,” she said, grabbing a single-shot bottle and downing it before tossing the empty container into her purse.
“Don’t be picky now, Mr. Murphy’s flipping the bill,” he mused.
She grabbed two more bottles and turned just in time to find him stepping into her personal space. He backed her into the sideboard, bracing his hands on it to cage her in.
“I’ve been following your career, Miss Walsh–or whatever your real name is,” he said, his eyes slowly drinking in her cleavage before lifting to her face. “Though my men can’t swear to an exact date when you showed up in their ranks, you’ve made quite the impression: stealthy, fast, capable… unflinching. I decided I needed to see you in action for myself. I hope you don’t mind.”
Keely smiled, knowing it didn’t reach her eyes. She was too busy blocking all of the potently arousing effects of his proximity, delicious smell, and the sexy timbre of his voice with its heart-wrenching kiss or Ireland. She preferred the nineteen years of bitter anger boiling just below the surface to all that nonsense.
“Let’s be honest, Mr. Flynn. You came here to make sure I didn’t take your medallion for myself,” she countered.
“Would you have?” he asked.
“And end up like Mr. Murphy? Pass,” Keely answered honestly. “Besides, I don’t believe in luck.”
He studied her intensely for a moment before straightening and finally accepting the small bottle from her. He downed it, then pocketed the evidence, never once taking his eyes off of her.
“I usually don’t either,” he said. “I might have to make an exception tonight.”
Before Keely could respond, there was a patterned knock on the door. Killian eyed the last bottle in her hand before turning to answer it.
“Drink up. The cleaners are here.”
As soon as he turned away, she downed her whiskey. It didn’t help. She was still too bothered by his powerful and demanding presence. Two men she recognized but had never learned the names of entered the hotel room and immediately got to work. Meanwhile, Keely dug into her handbag and pulled out a flowing dress she slipped over her head to cover the form-fitting one underneath. Then, she twisted her hair into a French roll and secured it with a clip. Next, she removed all of her cheap jewelry and replaced them with slightly more expensive choices.
For the final touch, she slipped on a pair of fake reading glasses with clear lenses.
“Are you trying for extra points?” Killian asked, watching her.
She merely glanced at him while stuffing her cheap jewelry away. When he held his gloved hand out, though, Keely knew better than to ignore it. He left the cleaners to do their job and led her down the stairs. They exited out a back entrance of the hotel, where an armored SUV waited for them in the alley. She climbed into the back with him, and the truck started moving right away.
Her fate was now in Killian Flynn’s hands. It wasn’t exactly the way she’d wanted her night to end. Keely had intended to recover his missing good luck charm, so she could use it as leverage for the answers she wanted about her father. As his possible killer, Killian was the only one who had them. He wasn’t supposed to show up before she’d finished the job to collect the prize for himself. Now, she had no leverage and no idea what he planned on doing with her.
“If you were trying to blend in, you failed,” he informed her, rather than beating around the bush. Keely admired that, which sucked. “Not only because you’re a young woman in a predominantly man’s world, but you’re too focused, in a single-minded way. It makes you stand out.”
“How do you know that wasn’t why I did it?” she countered, giving him a pointed look. “Maybe I wanted your attention, Mr. Flynn.”
Again, he studied her intensely. His gaze probed hers as the muscles worked in the back of his jaw. She was a wild card, and he didn’t like that. Keely could tell he was intrigued, but he hated being taken by surprise just as any man in his position would.
“You have it,” he said. “The least you can do is tell me who I’ve really given it to.”
She’d known the moment would come when she’d have to reveal her true identity to him. There was no way to get answers otherwise. For the past five years, Keely had been going by the name Emily Walsh within his organization, though she had plenty of other aliases for all the jobs she’d done for him.
“Keely Fletcher.”
His brow lifted when she didn’t elaborate. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”
“My father was Donovan Fletcher,” she explained. “The man you called your best friend, then murdered in cold blood before fleeing Dublin.”
Killian’s expression turned stony, shutters falling over his eyes. Rather than responding to her, he lowered the tinted window between seats and addressed the driver.
“Take us to the clinic,” he ordered.
So, he would demand proof? Keely wasn’t surprised, though she wondered how he planned to get it when her father had been dead and buried for the past twenty years.
“You know, it’s a shame you came here just to kill me,” he said after several minutes. “I’d planned on offering you a better position in my organization.”
“Who said I wanted to kill you?” she countered.
Killian made an amused sound, giving her a dubious look. “You’re here to thank me, then?”
“I just want answers,” she said.
“No, darling. You want closure. That’s not the same thing,” he said soberly, his eyes tracing over her features again. “I should’ve seen it, the resemblance. But it’s wee, isn’t it? Where is Biddy?”
“That’s none of your concern,” she replied flatly, a fist closing around her heart at the mention of her mom. “Just do what you need to do.”
The driver took them to a private medical clinic in a brick building outside of the downtown area, away from any kind of public cameras. There was only one other car parked along the curb, which Keely assumed belonged to the doctor on Killian’s payroll.
When she attempted to climb out, Killian grabbed her handbag and held it firmly to the seat.
“I’ll take this,” he said. “You go with him.”
She glanced at the driver standing by, waiting. Keely had no choice but to listen. Though it didn’t leave her completely unarmed, it still sucked knowing he was going to go through her bag and confiscate anything he wanted. Her gun, at least. Possibly her fake ID and credit cards on top of it. Not that she didn’t have more of everything, but that wasn’t the point.
After she climbed out, the driver escorted her to the clinic’s entrance, where the doctor, himself, let them inside. Brown eyes swept over her from head to toe.
“This is the emergency?” the older man asked. “What’s the condition?”
“Mr. Flynn will consult with you in a moment. She needs a room,” the driver responded.
“This way.”
They followed the doctor down the hall from the waiting room. He stopped and gestured for them to enter one of the examination rooms but didn’t join them before closing the door.
“Have a seat,” the driver told Keely, nodding to the exam table.
She fought the chill it brought her and climbed up to sit on the crinkly paper. Approximately ten minutes passed before the door opened again, and Killian followed the doctor into the room.
“Wait in the hall,” he ordered the driver, who left without a word.
Killian closed the door and met Keely’s eyes as the doctor gloved up. He removed a clear plastic tube from his white coat pocket and broke the seal, pulling a long cotton swab from inside.
“How is this going to work?” she asked Killian, not the doctor.
“Let me worry about that,” he returned. “Open up and say ‘ah.'”
Keely opened her mouth and watched his gaze zero in on the doctor swiping the inside of her cheek with the swab. Her blood warmed when she spotted the desire flashing through Killian’s eyes before his expression darkened again, and the muscles started ticking more noticeably in the back of his jaw.
When the doctor placed the swab back into the tube, Killian escorted him out of the room and sent his driver back in. It had to be at least an hour of waiting. Keely knew better than to talk to the driver, he wouldn’t divulge any information, and she doubted he had much, at any rate. Killian wasn’t even allowing him to witness their purpose for being there.
At long last, the door opened again, and this time it was only Killian. He held his hand out for Keely to take. Without his gloves, the contact sent hot tremors through her body to all of her naughty bits, even though she tried to ignore it. He held his other hand out toward the driver.
“Wait for the cleaners,” he ordered.
The driver nodded and handed him the keys.
Keely’s chest tightened. Killian had killed the doctor. Did that mean he’d gotten the proof that she was telling the truth? Why would he need to cover that up, though? Her father’s murder had happened two decades ago in Ireland. Killian had never been officially arrested for the crime. The only reason he’d been a suspect was because of his sudden disappearance. As the head of the local Irish Mob, she knew he wasn’t afraid of being extradited and convicted for that crime. So, what in the hell was he trying to keep secret?
Back at the SUV, he opened the passenger door and guided Keely into the seat before closing it and rounding the hood. The urge to retrieve her dagger before he could open the door was strong and instinctual, but she wanted answers not escape. She’d been waiting her whole life for this night, and even if it killed her, she would finally hear the reason why.
Climbing behind the wheel, Killian stuck the key in the ignition, then turned and leaned around her unbearably close.
“Put your hands against the outside of your thighs and do not move them,” he ordered.
Her heart thudded heavily as she obeyed. Then, Keely’s breath was trapped in her lungs, her eyes locked on Killian’s as he grabbed her seat belt and drew it across her body. He snapped it into place with it pinning her arms down, and held it tight against the seat, disabling her from freeing herself. Still watching her, he lifted the material of her loose skirt to reveal the shorter, tighter one underneath.
More unwanted heat and arousal speared into Keely’s core when his gaze flicked to her lap, and a sinful smirk spread across his lips.
“Mmm, and the points keep racking up,” he remarked.
He slipped his hand between her thighs where the short skirt had risen high enough to reveal the bottom of her hidden dagger. Killian removed it from the sheathe slowly, careful not to touch her skin. His body heat caressed her thigh, and that only made her crave his touch all the more.
Sitting back, he held the knife up. “Well, now this looks familiar.”
Keely swallowed, conflicted emotions forging a knot in her throat. She’d found the dagger among all of the other things her mom had kept hidden from her. Like the photo of her dad standing against a stone wall on one side of her mom, Killian on the other. On the back was the inscription: best friends are like four-leaf clovers, hard to find and lucky to have.
There had been other things: mementos from Ireland that she’d never hear the stories behind because her mom had been dead before she’d found them. Bridget Fletcher had taken all of her secrets to the grave. That was why Keely was willing to risk her life and sanity to sit in the same space as her father’s killer because there was no one else left to give her the answers she wanted.
Killian tucked the dagger into his suit pocket and started the SUV, pulling away from the clinic. They drove in silence to his waterfront compound. It was a modern mansion with sleek lines and mirrored, bulletproof glass inside a security wall. Armed soldiers guarded it twenty-four seven. The interior was just as richly furnished and decorated as one would expect from a billionaire crime lord, but the pieces were all distinctly Irish. There were no Persian rugs, Ming Dynasty urns, or Italian Renaissance paintings.
It was obvious Killian cared more about being loyal to his roots than appearing cultured. Keely might find some satisfaction if he couldn’t return to the country he loved so much, but she knew that wasn’t the case. He was far too powerful, wealthy, and connected to fear the authorities in Ireland. He chose to stay in the states because it was more lucrative.
Up two flights of floating stairs to the third floor, Killian led her toward a set of double doors where armed guards stood on either side.
“Fuck off,” he dismissed them, and they obeyed without a word.
Killian punched in a code and opened the door, gesturing for Keely to enter first. It was a large office or possibly a study. There was a desk, lounge, bar, and a balcony overlooking the bay. Many of the interior walls were made up of built-in shelves, none of which were empty.
“The Dubliner has to be by the water, I see,” she remarked, stopping in front of the wall of windows and peering out at the lights reflecting off the waves.
“It’s preferable,” he said.
Instead of crossing to the bar, Killian went to a decorative cabinet in the corner that he had to unlock and pulled out a fancy bottle full of amber liquid. He then collected two glasses cut in the familiar style of Galway Crystal.
“A toast,” Killian said, as he poured a finger for each of them, then carried the glass to Keely. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Let us celebrate.”
“There’s nothing to celebrate, Mr. Flynn,” she said. “You murdered my father. I just want to know why.”
Appearing unconcerned, he tapped his glass to hers. “That’s five-hundred-dollar Dair Ghaelach. Have a sip and savor.”
Keely had the urge to toss it in his face, and he must’ve seen that because he smiled. But it was dangerous, challenge and desire swirling in his eyes.
“If you want your answers, I suggest you have a taste,” he said.
Holding his gaze, she downed the whiskey and hated that it was the best fucking thing she’d ever tasted in her life. That almost pissed her off as much as having the hots for her father’s murderer. Almost.
Killian sighed and shook his head. “I suppose I understand your impatience. Just as I understand why your mother would tell you that I killed your father. In her eyes, I did just that.”
“I don’t want any of your lies, Mr. Flynn,” she warned.
She didn’t correct his assumption. Maybe if he thought her mom had already revealed all, he would feel more inclined to tell the truth.
He pinned her with a stern stare. “I’m guilty of many things, Keely. But lying to you will never be one of them. Unlike your mother.”
Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. Keely scowled at him for insulting her mom, but he was unaffected. He merely waited for her to open the document. So, she did.
The first thing she saw was the large numbers in bold near the top: 99.8% paternity match. Confused, she glanced up at him.
“It’s a match,” she said. “But how did you even have any of my father’s DNA for the test?”
“Keep reading,” he said.
She looked back to the page, and her eyes widened on the first sentence under the graphs, her heart jolting to a painful stop.
This test of paternity confirms that there is a 99.8% chance that Flynn, Killian is the father of Fletcher, Keely.
All the air fled from her lungs on a single exhale; she was so stunned.
“I don’t understand,” she said, speaking out loud more than to him.
“Don and Biddy were like brother and sister. Probably, why she chose to use his last name when she fled the country. They were my childhood best friends. We all came up together on the streets of Dublin. Like too many poor kids, we were forced to pick pockets and steal for the men who ran the streets. We were lucky to get a boiled potato as pay, unlucky to get our heads bashed in if we came back empty-handed.”
“Y-you’re my father?” Keely stammered.
Her head spun, even as shame tried to seep through the shock. Oh God, how many times had she been sexually aroused by her own fucking father? Keely kept waiting for her stomach to turn, but when she looked at Killian, all she felt was uncomfortably hot and bothered.
“So, it would seem,” he answered. “I didn’t know. It’s possible Biddy didn’t even find out until after she left.”
“I don’t understand,” she repeated directly to him this time, her mind still reeling. “Why would she tell me that she watched my father die in Dublin if Donovan wasn’t my dad?”
His eyes narrowed on her. “She said that? Those exact words?”
Keely nodded, and her face warmed a little with shame. This time it wasn’t from her inappropriate attraction, but for allowing him to think that her mom had lied. That she’d given Keely any fucking details at all.
“Look, I spent my whole life asking the same questions, and my mom refused to answer them,” she admitted. “It wasn’t until I found a locked box in her room with an old newspaper article about Donovan’s murder that I even knew anyone’s names. It had a picture of both of you with your names, and it listed you as the primary suspect because you’d disappeared. And in the box was a photo of you, my mom, and Donovan together. It was easy to match it to your pictures in the article and–”
“Draw your own conclusions?” he finished for her.
She knew it had been wrong but held his gaze. “What would you have done?”
He stepped closer, assessing her in a way that had the air thickening between them. Keely couldn’t ignore the chemistry, and the look in his eyes indicated he couldn’t, either.
“We have an entirely new problem now, though, don’t we?” he asked.
She tried to swallow, but everything felt swollen and needy, craving something that was forbidden.
“You’re my father,” she whispered.
“I give fuck-all,” he replied. “I’m not your da. I didn’t raise you. I want you, Keely, and I know you want me. I knew it the minute you saw me back in the hotel room. We’re the only ones who know about the DNA test. I made sure of it.”
“My mom–”
“Has passed on, or you wouldn’t be here,” he finished for her. “I knew Biddy well enough to know that, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was five years ago,” Keely said, the heartache like a bruise in her chest that would never heal. “The news report said she had a stroke in her sleep. I didn’t stick around after calling nine-one-one because I knew they’d put me into foster care. I took all of her hidden items and used the library’s computers to find more information. When I discovered you were here, making your way up the FBI’s Most Wanted list, I knew what I had to do.”
“You found your way to my city, joined my organization, and worked your way up the ladder, doing every job you were ordered to do without complaint or hesitation. You stole for me, Keely, spied for me, and you killed for me. Your mother never would’ve done any of those things,” Killian said. “Which means you must’ve inherited all of my fucked-up genes, álainn. Should I apologize?”
She took a steadying breath and met his gaze head-on. “I need to know what my mom meant by watching my father die,” she said, unwilling to back down from the goal she’d been after for so many years. “And then you can tell me why you keep calling me that name.”
“It’s not a name. It means beautiful,” he corrected. “Because you are beautiful, Keely. As an orphan, I couldn’t tell you which relative you resemble most because it’s not me or Biddy, directly. Your hair is a darker brown than hers, your eyes a lighter blue than mine without any green, and you have the same sharp yet delicate features as the fae.”
Keely tilted her head, studying him the way he always studied her. “I’m afraid flattery won’t help you. I work for Killian Flynn.”
His grin was fast and sinful, but it slowly faded, and he grew serious again.
“Biddy was there the night I killed for the first time,” he said. “That’s what she meant by watching your father die. Because the person she thought I was, the man I’d pretended to be for her, didn’t survive that night. Don lost some items he wasn’t supposed to, things he’d stolen for the man we worked for. Duncan came looking for his missing goods with a prybar. He was just finishing the job when Biddy and I arrived. The moment I saw Donovan lying there, bashed up dead and bloody, I snapped. I can’t even recall how I ended up with the prybar, but I killed Duncan right in front of your mom. I ignored her screaming and begging for me to stop. Worse, I did nothing to comfort her when it was all said and done. Instead, I scared her even more. I scared her enough that she finally ran away. It was the last time I ever saw her.”
“You told her she’d be implicated in the murders if she stayed?” Keely guessed.
“No. I told her the truth. I demanded she take a good look at me standing there, covered in blood, because that was who I really was and who I’d always been. I told her that everything we’d ever shared and all the promises I’d made for our future was a lie.”
He stepped closer, his gaze tracing over her body and features. “Apparently, not everything,” he remarked. “But I’m sure she caught wind of my arrival in the states, the rise of my organization, and that’s why she kept us a secret from each other. I shouldn’t regret that, but I do. I just don’t think raising you would’ve stopped this from happening.”
That shouldn’t make her feel so hot with desire and warm with emotion simultaneously, but it did. Her whole life, she’d felt bitter and angry. With her mom for keeping so many secrets, with Killian for believing he’d murdered her father. Now, she had nothing to hold onto to shield herself from the incestuous lust. Because he was telling the truth, Keely knew it in her bones.
Her mom had kept the truth hidden out of fear of Keely doing exactly what she’d ended up doing, anyway: finding her dad and becoming just like him. It was a tragic irony that Keely couldn’t help feeling sorry about, yet what other choice had she been given?
“What was my mom’s real name?” Keely asked in a whisper.
“Bridget Riley,” he answered.
She released a sigh and closed her eyes. “One thing. She told me one thing that was the truth.”
Killian stepped into her, removing her fake glasses and dropping them on the desk. Reaching behind her, he pulled the clip from her hair and discarded that next. Then, he lifted her hand to guide it to the inside pocket of his suit.
“Take it,” he said.
Keely held his gaze as she slid her hand into the pocket and wrapped it around the handle of her dagger. She slid it out slowly, watching him for signs of fear or apprehension. Of course, there weren’t any. He wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. She’d already known that.
“You could stop me from kissing you,” Killian said.
Keely tilted the dagger until the point was a hair away from touching the fabric of his shirt. There still weren’t any changes in his eyes or expression. Killian leaned closer, his mouth seducing the air around her lips as the dagger pierced through his shirt and into his skin. He didn’t even flinch, merely waited for her to either kiss him or stab him, possibly both.
Keely struggled through the conflict of her mind warring with her body, the voices in her head telling her she was wrong for the way she felt. Yet the shame wouldn’t come. They were only empty thoughts without any feeling to back them up. Her grip tightened on the handle of the dagger as a wave of grief rose to the surface, knowing what her mother would expect from her in that situation.
But she wasn’t her mother. Keely wasn’t anything like her at all.
Her eyes faltered, falling to Killian’s seductive lips, and he accepted that as her decision, closing the gap. He captured her mouth, even though it forced the tip of the dagger into his chest. Keely pulled it back before it could do any real damage and released her hold on it. The knife clattered to the floor, and she threaded her fingers into his thick hair. They wrapped around each other as Killian plunged his tongue into her mouth.
He backed her to the edge of his desk and pinned his body to hers. The feel of his erection pressing into her lower stomach shot molten lava through her veins. Keely’s need was just as urgent as his, their hands groping in a frenzy. Her loose dress was whipped up over her head and tossed aside, then the skirt of her tighter dress was tugged up her thighs until Killian could grip her bare ass cheeks underneath. He moaned into her mouth before lifting her and setting her right on the edge of his desk.
Keely grabbed his slacks and started undoing his belt to get to the button and zipper, even as he slid his hand between her parted thighs. A hot breath rushed out of her as he worked his fingers down the front of her panties toward her pussy, and she rocked her hips back to give him better access.
As soon as his fingers slipped inside of her, Keely dropped her forehead to his shoulder and reached into his slacks to wrap her hand around his cock. Killian feasted at the curve of her neck, his moan vibrating her skin and sending shivers through her muscles when she began stroking his shaft. He prompted her to lift her head with his own, recapturing her mouth as soon as she did. After kissing her for a moment, he removed her hand from his cock.
Sliding his fingers out of her, Killian leaned forward to make her lay back on the desk so he could grab her panties and pull them down over her thighs and the leather sheathe for her dagger. As soon as he had them over her knees, they fell down her hanging legs, and he gripped his cock to line it up with her pussy.
Keely moaned when he rubbed the head of his cock over her folds, teasing her clit before finally pushing into her. The urgency didn’t let up. Killian worked himself into her without waiting for her to stretch, and the aching pleasure was everything her body had been craving.
He squeezed his hands between her and the desk so he could grip her ass cheeks, growling when he used them as leverage to thrust his cock into Keely harder and deeper. Killian kept going until he was finally slamming into her cervix and her outcry was pure pleasure.
For several minutes, he fucked her hard and fast. Pleasure swelled like a sweet dream, Keely’s orgasm shimmering into existence just out of reach. With another snarl, Killian grabbed the top of her bodice and yanked it down, snapping the thin straps and exposing the strapless bra underneath.
When he made to grab that next, Keely stopped him.
“Careful. Razors,” she informed him.
His grin was wide and sinister as he chuckled deeply. Then, he grabbed the bra and yanked it down without any caution, and more desire lit in his eyes at the sight of her exposed breasts.
“Spectacular tits, indeed,” he praised.
He covered her breast with his hand, squeezing it repeatedly with increasing strength until Keely cried out again. Then, he pulled and twisted at her nipples, forcing her back to arch off the desk. With a deep groan, he leaned over her to start sucking her nipples into his mouth, using his teeth and tongue at random, so her body never got used to the clashing sensations.
When he finally slid his other hand out from under her, she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and flexed her leg muscles to help him drive into her that much harder. The sounds of pleasure he moaned into her breasts were like an aphrodisiac, shoving her closer to the finish line. Keely chased after her orgasm with wild abandon, her hands diving into his hair, gripping and releasing in time with his penetrations.
Her outcries grew louder and higher pitched until all the pleasure finally burst, and she bellowed one long cry as waves of ecstasy crashed through her. Killian attacked her throat with his hot mouth, sucking, kissing, and uttering praise in Irish she didn’t understand. His hand had started kneading her breast again, matching every contraction and release of her vaginal walls around his cock.
“Mmm, álainn,” he moaned against the side of her face. “My turn.”
Killian bit her jaw lightly, then stood and slid his cock out of her while lifting her to her feet. He turned her around to bend her over the desk and didn’t waste any time guiding his cock right back into her pussy, thrusting balls deep in one forceful plunge. Keely had to grip the front edge of the desk to stay on it as he grabbed her hips and yanked her ass back to meet his next penetration.
As rough as he’d been before, it was nothing compared to how hard he fucked her then. Had the desk been anything less than a monstrous, heavy piece of furniture, it probably would’ve wobbled back and forth from the force. As it was, everything on the surface rattled and toppled over, pens and other items falling to the floor.
Neither of them cared. All that mattered was the fiery hot pleasure laced with erotic pain. It was brutal perfection, filling Keely with the pressure of another impending orgasm in no time. Killian wrapped her hair around his hand, jerking her head back to make her lower back bow inward even more. Then, he gripped the front of her throat in his other hand, imprisoning her between his strong hold and merciless cock.
Keely practically screamed from the painful pleasure of each stab of his cock, his hold ensuring she felt every impact at its fullest strength. There was no relief, and Killian didn’t show any signs of slowing down anytime soon. The pleasure was so intense it was impossible to think about anything. All she could do was feel and endure.
When her next orgasm struck, Keely’s body bucked beyond her control as much as it could. Killian bellowed with the perfect combination of surprise and pleasure, his thrusts slowing yet not weakening. He rolled into her with deliberate snaps of his hips, keeping her muscles from relaxing. Instead, her pussy continued to milk his cock, as if no time had passed since her climax had ended.
“Oh, God, please?” Keely cried, begging for an end because the pleasure was just too much.
She’d never experienced anything like it and had never thought it possible, but it really could be too fucking much. At long last, Killian slowed to a stop, pressing into her as hard as he could by using his hold on her throat and hair. Keely could only whimper as he groaned long and deep. She felt the burst of hot liquid as he came and couldn’t stop her muscles from contracting again with pleasure.
“Oh, ghrá,” he purred thickly, releasing her hair and throat to massage his hands over her back. “I should’ve made sure we met sooner. I had no idea.”
Keely felt a slight tensing deep in her chest from his use of the word love. It was one of the words her mother had spoken regularly enough in Irish for Keely to learn.
Killian continued to massage her back, then her ass cheeks as he slowly slid his spent cock from her. She heard him righting his clothes, but she was too exhausted to move.
“Come here,” he said, lifting her upright and turning her to face him.
Keely’s legs wobbled and threatened to give out on her as her head rolled right into the cradle of his palm.
“Álainn.” He smiled, amused by her lack of energy. “It’s a good thing our enemies have never tried torturing you with pleasure; otherwise, we might all be dead by now.”
She lifted her hand and flipped him off. He laughed, amused by her even more. His gaze dropped to her exposed breasts, and he hummed a pleasant sound before righting her bra and bodice, despite the broken straps.
Her eyes latched onto the quarter-sized stain of blood that had soaked through his dress shirt from where he’d pushed himself into her dagger, but Killian didn’t appear fazed by it at all.
“Come sit with me,” he said, though it wasn’t a request. He merely sat in the sturdy, throne-style chair cocked away from his desk and pulled her down into his lap. When he lifted his hand, she was surprised to see his four-leaf clover charm between the tips of his fingers. “I want you to have this now.”
Keely’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “What?”
“It’s the only thing I have left of Dublin,” he informed her, his voice softening. “Donovan found it and said we could sell it to tourists for some fast cash. We’d seen trinkets just like it in the shops all over the city. Your mother knew someone who could seal it in resin and make it more appealing. That’s where we’d been that day…”
Keely swallowed around the lump in her throat, but the emotions weren’t hers anymore. They were for him. Donovan hadn’t been her dad; he’d been Killian’s best friend. A man he’d lost and avenged all in the space of minutes.
He cleared his throat before continuing. “I had it wrapped in the gold band and engraved after I successfully took this city for myself. From then on, I was known to always have it on me, and that’s how the legend of it being my lucky charm was born.”
Killian paused and pressed it into her hand before folding her fingers over it. “But we both know I’m not here today because of luck,” he said, giving her a smirk. “I’m a ruthless cunt.”
Keely choked out a surprised laugh, then opened her hand to inspect the band and Irish words engraved around it.
“What does it say?”
“There is no luck,” he answered with an amused quirk of his lips. “Many would assume it’s part of an Irish proverb, but it’s not. It’s just a reminder that life is only what we make of it, yeah? The things we’re willing to do to have everything we desire.”
“So, you’re giving me an anti-luck lucky charm?” she asked with an arched brow.
He smiled, but then his gaze fixed on her mouth before he started tracing the shape of it with his fingers.
“No, I’m giving you the one thing I’m known to kill for,” he corrected her, looking into her eyes again. “That way, I’ll never lose it again.”
Keely’s muscles tensed, but he captured her mouth before she could respond. She tried to push him back so she could speak, but he was too strong, and his mouth was too skilled. In less than a heartbeat, she was yielding and kissing him back, pleasure swimming through her system.
“Did you really think you were going to leave now?” he asked, breaking the kiss but keeping his mouth right beside hers, so his lips caressed her skin. His tone wasn’t just threatening. There was a hint of concern there, as well. “Keely? For fuck’s sake–”
“No, I…” She shook her head as he lifted his.
His aquamarine eyes roamed over her features, studying her for signs of lying. But she wasn’t, per se. Leaving hadn’t even had a chance to cross her mind yet because everything had changed in ways she never could’ve predicted.
For years, Keely had focused on a single goal: get to Killian and demand answers. There had been no plans beyond that because, in all honesty, she hadn’t been sure she’d survive that meeting. Demanding that the head of the Irish Mob confess to murder was like begging to be shot.
Was it worse that he ended up being her biological father or just her lover? Was one more significant than the other in his mind? It didn’t matter. Even if he wasn’t either, Keely was still too deep in his criminal empire to ever be allowed to leave. That’s not how it worked.
Killian frowned at her. “Perhaps, you’ve spent too many years with the men,” he said. “I’ve never met a woman with so little to say.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed. “I didn’t plan for this. You were supposed to be my father’s killer, not my father, and certainly not…”
“So good at making you come?” he offered when her words trailed off.
She laughed, but it wasn’t all humorous. Mainly, because he wasn’t wrong, he was extremely good at that.
Her shoulders slumped as she gave him an imploring look. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to call you now,” she said. “I don’t know if you expect me to go right back to work doing what I’ve been doing or if there’s a whole new list of things you expect of me.”
“You’re too skilled and used to this life to be happy sitting idly by, Keely,” he stated. “But I can’t have you going back to work in the same capacity as before. I need to keep you close to me.”
“Doing what?” she cautioned.
“My personal assistant,” he answered. “And my lover, of course, everyone’s going to know that. Even if it’s just an assumption on their part, it won’t be wrong. You can continue calling me Mr. Flynn when we’re with others if that makes you more comfortable, but I think we’re past those formalities in private now.”
“So just Killian when we’re alone, then?” she asked to make sure.
Keely didn’t think she could ever bring herself to call him Dad, so she hoped he wouldn’t want that.
“That would be the most fitting since I don’t plan on you ever leaving my bed,” he deadpanned. “Or my side for that matter. I can’t, Keely. Not knowing we share blood. You get that, yeah?”
Strangely, she did. Even if they never formed any kind of family bond, she was still his by blood. The only living relative he knew on the planet. She nodded, and the intensity in his stare eased up a little.
“As I said, we’ll be the only ones who ever know of our relation,” he continued. “But I’m not your da, and I don’t plan on treating you like my daughter.”
She could easily agree to that, but she was curious about her new job title. “Am I supposed to do all of your paperwork and answer your calls now?”
“You’ll do everything I ask you to do, as you’ve always done,” he said with a slight smirk. “Make appointments, steal, answer phones, kill, accompany me to events and dinners, bend over my desk…”
Keely laughed, even though she knew he wasn’t kidding. He meant all of those things, despite their humorous line-up. “So, I’m a glorified secretary-slash-mistress-slash-assassin, got it.”
“No, ghrá,” he said, covering his four-leaf clover to sandwich it between their palms as he curled his fingers around her hand. “You’re my last piece of home. The one thing I’ll kill to keep.”
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