Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

  As our breathing returns to a more normal pace, he holds me tight, biting at my earlobe and then his hot breath is there as he whispers, “I love you, Allison.”

  There is no doubt, no question in my heart when I look to him and whisper the same words back, “I love you, Dominick.”

  We step back, and I realize what the cracking sound is. That last thrust accidentally made us break one of the mirror panels. “Uhm . . . seven years’ bad luck?”

  Dominick grins. “I make my own luck.”

  We both do.

  Epilogue

  One year

  I hate that I had to take care of some work today, knowing that she’s been looking forward to our anniversary dinner. But I have something to tell her, and I’m not one for surprises.

  But this one can’t be avoided any longer. Pausing, I pull up her phone GPS, seeing that she’s at home, and a small knot of stress loosens in my belly.

  She’s fine to come and go as she pleases, especially since she’s quite good about staying with her guard now. So much so that I’ve had to find other misbehaviors to ‘punish’ her for, but I rather think she enjoys coming up with new, creative ways to get me to spank her ass. It’s become a game for us, one we both enjoy.

  Knowing she’s home safe, getting ready for our date, comforts me. I don’t even hesitate about opening the home security app. She knows about the cameras. Besides, the only two phones in the world with access are mine and hers.

  It’s become a game she plays with me from time to time. Lots of things you can do with a security camera and a naughty girl.

  Scanning the camera feeds, I find her.

  Perched on the bathroom counter in a sexy bra and panties set, she’s applying her makeup with her hair up in curlers. I watch her, tracing the line of her body on the small screen and wishing I could do so for real.

  Her mascara complete, she leans back, and I can see her contemplating something for a moment.

  She glances up to the camera in the corner of the room, and I can see the smirk on her face. She knows I’m watching, can feel my eyes even when I’m not there, and will often text me just as my eyes are on her. Or sometimes, she delights in torturing me with a show that makes me race home. One of those inventive misbehaviors she’s discovered because there are lots of things you can do with a security camera and a naughty bad girl.

  Today, she seemingly ignores her instinct that she’s being watched and picks up the towel from the counter, dropping it casually over the little plastic stick sitting there. So she finally knows. My ‘surprise’ is ruined.

  I’m not disappointed. I have waited for her to realize it, for her to tell me.

  I knew weeks ago, could taste the difference in her honey, could feel the ripeness of her breasts, and I knew she was late. It seems my anniversary surprise is a great one, the best one. Allison is mine, and our child will be mine as well.

  Somehow, a monster like me found his happy ending. I’ve gotten my obsession. My love. My Allie. And now she is creating life where before there was nothing, the same as she did for my heart.

  She looks back to the camera and gives a little two-fingered wave as she grins.

  I’m instantly out of my chair and headed home to take care of what is mine.

  Always.

  The End. Thank you for reading!

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  Want more of Allie & Dom? Make sure to check out Dirty Deeds. Allie & Dom are secondary characters, with Allie’s friend Maggie as the heroine, and Shane, one of Dom’s former men, as the Hero. Read on for a preview!

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  Shane

  Reaching down, I wrap my hand around the handles of each keg, lifting one with each arm. Marco needs the help restocking or else he’s going to be here until sunrise, so I normally help him out by carrying the kegs up from downstairs while he brings up the bottles he needs and sends in our orders for the suppliers.

  My arms are a little tired by the time I get the two kegs up the stairs, and it’s with a grunt of relief that I set them down. Marco’s working the register, checking his money against the Point of Sale system. “You have a good night tonight?”

  Marco nods, smirking a little. “Yeah, pretty solid. Decent tips, and with the eye candy from Allie’s new routine, I can’t really complain.”

  He waggles his eyes at me, like he expects to chatter on about Allie’s tits or something. It feels like a test. I’m just not sure if it’s a bro one or seeing if I’m aware that Dominick has marked her as off-limits.

  Doesn’t really matter either way. I’m a fucking professional and I know that I do not get involved with any of the girls here, whether they’ve been tabbed by Dominick or not. So Marco’s going to be disappointed in my answer. “Yeah, she’s good. She’s been working hard and it’s paying off.”

  A couple of the girls come into the club from backstage, and I’m thankful for the break from Marco’s slick vibe. Time to do my actual job and not just help out. “Ladies, let me walk you out.”

  They murmur their thanks but basically ignore me, especially Tina, who’s already gabbing away on her phone, telling her babysitter that she’s on the way home. I get it. They’ve got men talking to them all fucking night, and ninety-nine percent of it more or less leads to ‘I wanna fuck.’ They just tune it all out. It’s a survival instinct.

  I don’t mind. Walking the girls out is one of my usual duties and the one I take the most seriously. There’s always a chance that some ‘fan’ might not be able to check their fantasy at the heavy door, and I’m here to ensure that doesn’t become a problem. I make sure they get in their cars safely and then watch from the doorway to make sure they pull out alone.

  It’s a little sad, really. I can’t imagine any of them as little girls thinking, ‘Hey, when I grow up, I wanna be a stripper.’ But life sometimes doesn’t go according to plan, and we do what we need to so we can get by. So when these girls are under my supervision, they deserve respect and safety, and I’m gonna give that to them, even if no one else in their lives does.

  After the girls are gone, I head back inside, seeing Meghan swinging through the saloon-style doors from backstage. She looks young, even more so than usual in her sweats and oversized T-shirt. She could pass as a college freshman on any campus in the US.

  She’s ‘just’ a waitress, but in my opinion—not that anyone asks me. I’m not paid to have an opinion—she’s the best-looking girl working here. She’s absolutely gorgeous when she’s done up for a shift, all poufy blonde hair, big doe eyes with fake lashes, puffy, kissable pink lips, and a sexy rack atop a tiny body. She usually favors a sort of ‘naughty innocent’ look, and there’s a reason she’s getting more tips than any other waitress.

  But my favorite is her ‘after shift’ style, when she’s fresh-faced with her hair pulled up, wearing her big owlish glasses and jeans or sweats. She looks cute and sweet, and small enough I could pick her up and put her in my pocket . . . or over my shoulder. She’s almost shy, walking into the main room like she’s making sure she’s allowed to come in before committing to the movement. She sees me and smiles, walking with more confidence.

  That smile feels like a secret view not many people get, like it’s a lazy morning at home with a lover look, even though it’s damn near three in the morning and we’re at a strip club. It makes me . . . Shaking my head to let that train of thought go, I call out to her. “Meg, you ready to go?”

  She nods, giving me a little wave and a thumbs-up. “Yep. G’night, Marco. See you tomorrow night.”

  I have the urge to stick my elbow out for her, gentleman style, but the no-touching rule extends to staff. Unless asked, don’t. And I’m the enforcer of the rules, so there’s no way in hell I’m going to let myself break them. So I clamp down on that urge and have to be satisfied with opening the door for her. Still, I do let myself take a moment
to admire her pert ass as she walks through. I can’t help it.

  Outside, I ask her the same generic question I asked Marco, but I hope for a better answer from Meghan. “You have a good night tonight?”

  Meghan gives me a nod, adjusting her glasses and giving me a tired smile. “It was okay. Good tips, even from that one table,” she says, and we both know exactly what she’s talking about. “Thank you for that, by the way. I didn’t even have a chance to react before you swooped right in.”

  I shrug, not letting Meg know that when she’s on shift, I always keep an extra eye out for her. She’s just so . . . innocent. “That’s my job. Already had my eye on that table anyway. They were giving bad vibes.”

  She nods in understanding. She’s been here long enough to get those gut feelings too. “Well, I appreciate your being the bad guy so I could be the good girl.”

  I tease her, knowing it’s a bad idea but unable to stop myself. “And are you a good girl?”

  My voice has dropped a little, low and gravelly. Meg always makes me feel this way, like a caveman on the verge of dragging her off to have my way with her. She makes me yearn to control the situation, control her, but I have to settle for controlling myself.

  She giggles, but it’s not the false one she gives guys in the club. She sounds nervous and . . . flirty, maybe? “I try to be, but sometimes, it’s hard to be good.”

  There’s a hint of sex to her voice, but it feels like there’s more truth to what she said than a casual coy response. It’s maddening, the way we seem to dance around each other, half innuendos and comments that just toe the line between ‘playful banter’ and ‘outright suggestion,’ but I can’t go further. It’s too dangerous, and not because of her.

  Before I can think on it too much, we reach her car and the silence of the early morning dark is broken. “Hey, honey! You ready to go?”

  I’m instantly on alert, shoving Meghan behind me as I turn to see the finger sucking asshole who was putting the moves on her earlier. Considering that it’s now a good hour after the last patron was out the damn door, we’re way, way past the bounds of appropriate behavior.

  He’s leaning up against the car next to hers like he’s waiting for her. While it’s against the official rules, some of the girls will do date-nights with patrons on the side, almost sugar daddy style. But Meghan isn’t the kind to do that sort of thing, and I don’t consider for a second that she told him anything but a polite version of “fuck off”.

  Even if she did, I’m not letting her leave with him. Not her. Not with a guy like him.

  Instead, I shift my left foot forward while covering Meghan with my body. “You need to leave, asshole. The no-touching policy extends to when we’re closed too. So get in your car and take a fucking hike.”

  Blondie pushes off the car, facing me fully, and I do a quick assessment. He’s big, at least six feet, but I’ve got a few inches on him, and though he looks muscled, it’s in a gym rat way. Not the look of someone who’s surprisingly strong because of real manual labor.

  Most importantly, he doesn’t have that air of ‘I’ll fuck you up.’ He seems on the verge of drunk and a bit prissy, like he’s used to getting his way.

  Well, not tonight. Instead, Blondie talks about Meghan like she’s not even here, and as she almost shivers behind me, I know that if a line needs to be crossed, I’m going to cross it. “We’re partying tonight. She told me to wait for her.”

  “No,” I declare, bringing my right hand slightly up while tilting my hips to protect against a bitch move kick to the balls. “Leave now.”

  I see the fire flash in Blondie’s eyes as he steps closer, and Meghan steps forward a bit too, leaning around me and setting me on edge because she’s too close to this jerk.

  “I can’t,” she says sweetly, trying to de-escalate things before I put this asshole on the ground right here in the parking lot. “I’ve got early school tomorrow, remember? Sorry, baby.”

  I tense just a little as I hear the code word all the girls have for trouble. They’ll call patrons just about anything—honey, daddy, sugar, sweetie—but the rule at Petals is that ‘baby’ is the safe word that’ll get security on a patron like white on rice.

  I already knew he was full of shit, but Meghan just let me know for certain. I shift a little more, knowing that the beating is about to commence. I just have to make sure Meg’s safely out of the way before I start.

  Blondie’s either too drunk, or probably too stupid, to notice. “C’mon, baby. Just a quickie. We don’t even have to leave. I’ve got some goodies in my car so we can party right here. Big Guy won’t mind, right? I can slip him a few bills.”

  He reaches for Meghan’s wrist and it’s automatic from there. In a move that’s so fast that most people don’t even realize what’s happening, I deflect his hand, directing it down and back while grabbing his wrist in a sweeping motion as I twist it up behind his back. In less than half a second, he’s fully hammer locked, and in the next half second, he’s pivoted away from Meg and toward his own car.

  I slam him face down on the hood, lifting his wrist while twisting his hand to maximize the controlling pressure on his shoulder, finding that edge where the pain is balancing on the razor’s edge right before his arm dislocates. “She said no, asshole.”

  Blondie yells out in alarm, struggling from pure instinct. “Hey! Hey! Ow! Fuck, man.”

  I press him into his hood some more, using my booted foot to kick his legs out from under him, holding him in place easily even as he struggles.

  “Meghan?” I chance a quick glance behind me to see she’s frozen, her face a mask of shock. I raise my voice a bit, knowing she needs a bit of command. “Meghan.”

  She shakes her head, her vision clearing as her eyes meet mine, wider than usual behind her frames. “Yeah . . . yeah?”

  My voice is clipped, all business. Right now, I don’t have time for emotions. “Get his wallet out of his pocket. Read his license for me.”

  She’s shaking but does as I order, coming close and with delicate fingers, reaching into Blondie’s back pocket and withdrawing a brown leather wallet.

  “What the fuck, dude? You’re robbing me now? I just wanted to talk to her.”

  He has another burst of energy and thrashes underneath me, making Meghan jump back. I grab his neck with my free hand, thumping him head first into his hood, not hard enough that he can’t drive out of here . . . yet. “Shut up, asshole. Meg?”

  She opens the wallet, finding his license inside, and starts to read out loud. “Miles Jacobson, 3654 Sidewinder Trail. He lives here in East Robinsville.”

  I nod, giving her a professional smile. “Good girl. Now put it back, carefully. And Miles, if you so much as fucking move, I’m going to break your arm.”

  I emphasize my point with a little yank on his shoulder, encouraging him to be still while Meg puts his wallet back.

  Waiting until Meghan’s stepped back and is safe, I yank him off the car to growl in his ear. “Miles Jacobson of 3654 Sidewinder Trail, you are banned from Petals from Heaven. If I ever see you even close to this block again, I’ll take special care of you. It won’t be over quickly, and you will not enjoy it, I promise you.”

  “But—”

  “If you ever see my girl here anywhere at all,” I interrupt him, “you’d best run the other fucking way because if you so much as lay an eye on her, I’ll fuck you up so badly, your own mother won’t be able to identify the body. If they find it. Clear?”

  He nods jerkily, weeping softly and sober as a judge at the turn of events. I don’t feel sorry for him at all. He probably thought a little more forceful asking in the deserted parking lot would lead to Meghan partying with him, willingly or not.

  Fucking pricks like him, thinking they’re entitled to whatever they want just because they want it.

  Still, I don’t have time for a philosophy lesson. “Meghan, open the car door.”

  She moves from behind me, and I keep an eye on her movements, makin
g sure no other threats pop out of hiding in the dark lot. I pull up a bit on Miles’s arm, the pressure forcing him to stand in front of me. I prisoner-walk him to the side of the car and push him in, where he clumsily falls into the driver’s seat, yelping as his shoulder gives him a warning twinge at the release of the hammerlock. “Fuck, man, I’m gonna—”

  I lean down, keeping eye contact as I cage him in with one hand on the roof and one hand on the door. “Think about your next words and where you’re making your threat. Goodbye, Miles Jacobson. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

  I give him a hard stare, memorizing every detail of his face and his car, down to the company parking garage badge hanging from the rearview mirror.

  Stepping back carefully, I slam his door and then give it a swift and solid back-kick with my hard-soled boots, denting the panel. It’s not enough. I’d rather break his jaw or the glass out of every window of his fancy car, but it’ll have to do.

  I stand, stoic and solid, still threatening as Meghan hides behind me again. He peels out of the lot, but I catch the ‘Fuck you!’ he yells out the open window.

  Not worrying about his need for the last word, I turn to Meghan, gently putting my hands on her shoulders. She’s trembling for real this time, and so tiny I have to be careful not to accidentally hurt or scare her with my roughness. It’s more difficult than I thought. I’m still on edge, and this is the first time I’ve touched Meg other than to shake her hand the first night we met.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “It’s all over now.”

  Her eyes are glassy, but she nods, biting her lip. My thumbs are tracing circles on her arms, soothing her and soothing me too. This could’ve been bad, really bad, and I’m glad I was here to keep her safe.

  “You’re okay. He’s gone, and you’re safe,” I murmur softly. “I’ll always do my best to keep you safe.”