All His Secrets (Manhattan Misters Book 1)

by Maya Hughes

  He stood and spun me around, my breasts pressed against the hard, cool wood. “Grab the top of the doorjamb,” he grunted. I glanced over my shoulder, but he gripped my hair and turned my face back to the door. I rested my forehead there and stood on my toes to grab onto it. Then I felt him, covering my back. His weight pressed into me and I relished the crowding. My legs were flush against his naked thighs. I tried to look back, but it was too tight to move. His hands came in front of me and dipped back down to my pussy, spreading me open and massaging me again. His other arm came up and around my neck, tight enough so I couldn’t move, but not so tight that I couldn’t breathe.

  Then he dipped his hips and slid his cock into me with one long hard stroke, every inch pushing deeper and deeper.

  “Fuck, Mel,” was all he groaned against my ear. His chin nestled in the crook of my neck, where he nipped at my skin. My head swam. It took my breath away. I was so full. And before I could bask in the pleasure coursing through me as he finally plunged inside to depths no one else reached, he pulled out again and hammered right back in. His hand on my clit continued to massage, pluck, and pull me there. His head rested on my shoulder as he pumped into me, driving me higher and higher, so hard my feet came off the ground.

  “So sweet,” he moaned against my skin and I leaned into him, giving over to him completely. He flipped me around and wrapped my legs around his waist. My back pressed up against the door and he held my face in his hand.

  “Come for me.” He cupped his hands around my ass, digging his fingers into my flesh and pounding his cock into me over and over. The angle had his stomach scraping against my clit with each thrust and my moans turned to gasps and his groans turned into grunts. My legs shook as my orgasm approached at lightning speed. Then he bit down on my shoulder, marking me, and I was gone. Flying higher than ever before as he bit out a curse and slammed into me a final time, holding himself there as he spilled into me.

  23

  Rhys

  Mel. I rolled her name over in my mind as I wrapped my fingers around one of her curls. I’d fallen asleep with her last night, my arms wrapped around her. I told her about my past with Killian, about my wife, about almost everything. She listened quietly, running her fingers along my arms. I told her things I’d never told anyone and that tight ball I always kept a hold on, never letting up, never letting go could finally release. She showed me that I didn’t have to be alone. I could be with her and free with her.

  I’d slept without any nightmares, without any exhaustion, other than sexual. When I’d been with other women, even after a night of fucking, I still couldn’t sleep. I’d have to burn off that excess energy. With Mel, all I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms, tuck her head under my chin, close my eyes, and sleep. And that’s what I’d done. I expected to wake up a few hours later, ready to battle my night demons, but when I opened my eyes orange and red streaked across the sky as the sun peaked over the horizon.

  I stared down at her. Melanie Bright, what have you done to me? I knew when I was finally with her it would change me. That’s part of the reason I kept her at bay so long. Only allowed myself small tastes of her. But when I saw her on that balcony wrapped in another man’s coat, I couldn’t stop myself. Screw restraint.

  The urge to wake her was nearly insurmountable, but it warred with my desire to watch her sleep. Her hair fanned out across the bed, her arms up over her head. I traced the outline of her body with my fingers, goose bumps raising on her skin. She moaned in her sleep and turned on her side, inviting me to cover her back with my body. Would she be able to do the impossible? Could I fall back asleep with her in my arms? Something I never remembered doing before, but something I thought was possible with her.

  She was mine now. I was sure of it. More sure than I’d ever been of anything in my life. I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t let her go. She fit perfectly in my arms, around my cock, and in my heart. I needed her like the air I breathed. I buried my nose in her hair and settled in.

  Coffee. Was my last thought before I closed my eyes, my lids heavy as sleep overcame me again. She smelled like coffee, even months after leaving the diner. It was like it had woven itself into her DNA. She smelled life coffee and comfort and I wrapped my arms tighter around her, unsure if I’d ever be able to let her leave.

  24

  Mel

  Waking up in Rhys’s arms was second to none. I’d basked in the morning glow, glad Esme’s interrupted sleep meant she hadn’t been up at the crack of dawn like usual. I shot up in bed, but he pulled me back down.

  “It’s fine. She’s still asleep,” he said against my neck. I didn’t know how I felt about Esme finding me in her dad’s bed, but he didn’t seem concerned.

  “What if Esme finds me in here?” I tucked the sheet tight around me.

  “I’m sure she’d be delighted.” He snuggled against my side. “Just five more minutes and then I have to get up.” His eyes were still closed, but I couldn’t deny him that because it would have been denying myself too. We finally rolled out of bed and joined the land of the living. We’d had another round in the shower, hot and sweaty under the cool spray before getting ready for the day.

  Rhys headed out to yet another meeting and I went to find my little girl. I sat in the living room, putting a puzzle together with Esme. The elevator door sprang open and Rachel stepped into the room.

  “Hi, Rachel,” Esme said chirpily.

  “Hi, Esme. Hey, Mel,” she said, juggling tons of bags. I hopped up from the floor.

  “Here, let me help you with those.” I grabbed some of the bags out of her hands.

  “Thanks,” she huffed out, completely out of breath.

  “What is all this stuff? Where do you need me to take it?”

  “It’s stuff for the tree. Mr. Thayer…Rhys said to leave it here. The tree decorators will be here soon.” She set the bags down next to the ten-foot-tall tree that had been delivered earlier that day. A tree decorator? Who knew that was a thing?

  “Hey, Esme, do you want to decorate the tree?” I called over to her. She popped up immediately.

  “Yes!”

  “It’s okay, Rachel. We can handle it.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Rhys was quite insistent that the decorator would be here to do it.”

  “Don’t worry, Rachel, I’ll handle it. Just tell him it was my fault.”

  Ideas raced through my head as the opportunity crystalized in my mind. And I was immediately transported to a time I’d hoped to forget, except for the fact those memories helped me through so many hard times over the years. Since moving in here, the nightmares as I called them no longer woke me in a cold sweat. I could enjoy them for what they are. And I looked forward to making even more happy memories starting with this tree.

  I’d never had a real tree for Christmas except for that one year. I’d actually had two. I was brought to Shannon’s house just three days before Christmas. The social worker’s car pulled up in front of the small white house with blue shutters and a red door. I thought it looked like a house out of a story, little flower garden out front, a holly wreath hanging on the door. My face pressed up against the cold window, my breath fogging up the glass. The Ashers came to the door and looked like the perfect mom and dad, like from a TV show. Shannon was wearing a pink apron and Ben had the paper tucked under his arm. I hadn’t expected much. Anxiety and fear raced through my mind.

  I trembled as the social worker handed me off to them, my hand wrapped tightly around the garbage bag that held my meager belonging, and that was it. I’d been left with these people I didn’t even know. Other kids who waited with me for their placements told me all about the things they’d experienced. I was a foster kid now and while they seemed like nice people, when you grew up like I did and heard what I’d heard, trusting people didn’t come easily. I cried myself to sleep that first night after Shannon left the room after reading me three stories. I didn’t know what to do.

  It was so quiet. No be
er bottles clanking, no loud music thumping. The only sounds were the wind outside my window and the gentle hum of the heat turning on and off. My whimpers must have not been that quiet as Shannon cracked open the door and peeked her head inside. I was so scared, I sat straight up in bed. It was never good to draw attention to yourself, never good to make an adult come into your room. But there was no yelling of screaming. No threats of what would happen if I didn’t shut the fuck up.

  She brought me a glass of water and sat it on the table beside my bed. She stroked my head and hummed me a lullaby. I still remember the warmth of her hand and how soothing her hand felt running through my hair. My last thought that night was how much I wished I had a mom like her. And for a while I did.

  The next few days were a blur of activity. They’d taken the decorations off the tree, so we could all decorate it together, complete with a string of popcorn wrapped the whole way around. Shannon had me help her wrap a couple of presents for Ben and we baked probably a thousand cookies. By the end of that week, I never wanted to see another cookie again, well, not really, but for a solid twelve hours, I’d say I didn’t want to have one.

  By Christmas Eve, I was the happiest I’d ever been. I didn’t even care about presents. Being there was the best present I could have asked for. Every night Shannon and Ben came in and read me a bedtime story. Watching them with each other showed me how things were supposed to be. There was no screaming and shouting, no one threw anything at anyone else, except for a pillow fight we had and more importantly, no one nodding out, so high they couldn’t even form words. No needles and bent spoons lying all over the floor and counters. On Christmas Day, Shannon and Ben came to get me in my room and walked me downstairs.

  “We’ve got a special surprise for you, Melanie. We hope you like it,” Shannon said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. Last night, the tree had a few presents I’d helped Shannon and Ben wrap under it. I was so excited to see if they liked their gifts to one another. The tree skirt had been dotted with presents, now it overflowed with shiny wrapping paper topped with colorful bows.

  My eyes widened and I squeezed my hands tight at my sides. They weren’t for me. I learned a while ago, before I was seven, that Santa wasn’t real. At least he wasn’t real for kids like me, so I knew they bought them, but I didn’t think any were for me. I would’ve been more than happy to just watch them open theirs. I’d never had a Christmas like this before. I was like something out of the movies. I hadn’t expected presents, so when they handed the one to me I was over the moon.

  Grinning from ear to ear, I carefully opened the present. The wrapping paper was so pretty, I didn’t want to tear it. I wanted to make it last. I hadn’t ever gotten a present like this before. As I peeled off the paper, a grinning bear in a pink box stared back at me. The two of them stood in front of me, arms around each other, looking at each other like they’d never been happier. I couldn’t hold back my smile. Ben took the box from me and opened it and held the bear out for me. I reached my hand out and pulled it back, afraid this was all a trick for some reason. Even with all the kindness they’d showed me, I kept waiting for it to all evaporate and disappear.

  “Mel, here. It’s yours,” he said, holding out the bear again. I took it from his hand and wrapped my arms around it, so tightly my arms ached. I’d never had a stuffed animal before.

  “Are you ready to open your other presents?” Shannon said, gesturing under the tree.

  “Which ones?” I said, so content with my bear, I couldn’t stop staring at him. I didn’t need anything else.

  “All of them,” she said, pointing to the rest of the colorfully wrapped presents sitting under the tree. My mouth dropped open and I slid to my knees on the floor to get a better look at the presents.

  “All of them?” I said. They both nodded and we spent the rest of the morning unwrapping the presents, drinking hot chocolate and eating pancakes. By the end of that day I had all the new clothes I could have ever wanted. New shoes. A new backpack for school. I don’t think I’d ever had anything new in my life up until then.

  That year hurt to remember. The keen longing that hit me whenever I thought of my room. My bed, my clothes, my toys, and most of all my parents, it cleaved me in half and I felt like some part of me had been amputated without my permission. Like I couldn’t breathe from all the tears that clogged my throat, threatening to drown me under all I’d lost. Skipping to school, waving to my mom from the backyard swing, snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie. It was all a painful reminder of the life I could have had.

  We’d put the tree up again the next year just after Thanksgiving. I couldn’t wait to help bake cookies and wrap presents again. I was in my room and Shannon screamed. She never raised her voice, never yelled. I thundered down the stairs to see her in a heap on the floor, Ben crouched down the comfort her. The social worker was back. She’d popped in every couple of months at the beginning, but I hadn’t seen her in a while. A pit formed in my stomach. No. I didn’t want to believe it. No. They couldn’t send me back. No. Ben and Shannon were my parents now.

  And I knew it was all my fault. We’d gone out shopping for Thanksgiving. I wanted to ride on the pony rides outside the grocery store, but Shannon told me to wait, we could do it when we left. I was impatient. Comfortable enough to disobey her now. She turned to pick up some things off the shelf and I decided I’d go on those rides by myself.

  I just waltzed out of the store and onto those rides. I didn’t even have any money to make them go, but I knew I deserved a ride on them. My life of deprivation slowly slipping away from me, I felt like ‘of course’ I should get a turn. I wanted to yell and scream at myself. Go back in! Go back to her. But I didn’t. The store employees locked it down, but I was outside. The police came and I’d never forget the sounds Shannon made when she ran over to me. It was like someone died. She held me in her arms and shook. I didn’t know what was wrong. I just wanted to ride on the pony. I wrapped my little arms around her and breathed in her strawberry scent. She always smelled so good. With such a small decision from a little child, I completely changed my life. Imploded it without even knowing it.

  One look at Shannon and Ben from the last step of the staircase and I knew. I knew I was going back. They couldn’t keep me. My sadness transformed into anger. A ball of it welled inside of me, threatening to overcome me. Why? Why can’t they keep me? Why are they letting them take me? I locked myself in my room and refused to come out. Ben had to unscrew the knob from the door. I felt betrayed when the door opened, like a gremlin trying to gnaw its way through me. Ben standing there with the screwdriver in his hand, that he would help them take me crushed me. I didn’t care that his eyes were red-rimmed and Shannon had her arms wrapped around herself leaning against the wall sobbing. I didn’t care. They were letting them take me and that was all that mattered.

  Each step down the staircase with as much of my life that fit in my suitcase was a step toward a place I didn’t want to go. Bile rose in my throat as I stared back at Shannon and Ben from the social worker’s car. It was the story of my story in reverse, but this time I knew it wouldn’t have a happy ending. I think at some point I must have blacked out or stopped thinking or feeling. Because the next thing I knew I was back in my old house, in my old room, surrounded by everything I’d come to hate about it. The stench of cigarette smoke covered with some floral scent. I could feel the holes in the mattress under the clean sheet Colleen threw on top of it. From the outside, it looked like she’d cleaned herself up, but I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust her.

  Colleen kept things nice for a while. Maybe a few days when the social worker came back, but it wasn’t long before I came back from school and she’d gone through all my things. My bags ransacked, my belonging thrown on the floor, dresser drawers pulled out. She’d taken my clothes, my toys. I could only imagine she sold them or traded them for money or drugs. Or hell, maybe she just threw them out to spite me. I stood in the doorway and it all came crashing d
own. I was back to being me.

  It was months later that I finally snapped. I had to walk home from the bus stop. I didn’t have a coat anymore. No umbrella to shield me from the pelting rain. Rain soaked me through to the bone, as Colleen cackled and drank with her friends. My bear, the pink bear I’d hidden away so she wouldn’t get it sat out on the floor. His insides ripped apart as the dog one of the guys brought over gnawed on it.

  I stared at her, my body vibrating with rage. I threw down my bag and launched myself at her. She turned to me, sluggish like she moved in slow motion and made me want to claw her eyes out.

  “Why did you bring me back? Why did you even want me? Why couldn’t you have just let me stay?” I screamed at her as one of the guys pulled me off her and held me back.

  “If I don’t get to escape this life, sweetie, you sure as hell don’t.” Her eyes were glassy and hollow, before she threw her head back and laughed. Laughing at me and everything she’d ever done to me. I left, my anger no longer getting the better of me. I left to the one place I knew I’d be safe again. Only that didn’t turn out the way I’d planned. It just broke me a little more.

  25

  Rhys

  The elevator door opened and a smell wafted into the elevator that immediately made me think of Christmas. It was the smells of cinnamon, citrus, cloves. At least that’s what I imagined. My childhood had been much more antiseptic. Less Christmas cheer and more paid companionship by a host of nannies while my parents were out saving the world. I don’t know why they thought it would be a better idea to leave me behind than take me, but that’s what they did. Almost every day of my life, spent on my own with people paid to look after me.