Dirty Secrets

by Regina Kyle

  “You should tell her that.”

  “I have.” I reach for my scotch, swirling the amber liquid around in my glass. “But I didn’t wait up for you so we could talk about Elizabeth.”

  “Then why did you wait up for me?”

  “So I could apologize for tonight.”

  “Just for tonight?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and stares me down. Way down, because she’s standing and I’m in my comfy chair, swilling scotch.

  The power dynamic isn’t lost on me, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it a turn-on. One I try my damndest to ignore. My goal is to have a conversation, not a quickie. Although in my fantasies, which are plentiful and pornographic, sex with Brie is anything but quick. She’s the kind of woman you take your time with. Exploring every curve and crevice. Figuring out what makes her moan and writhe and call out my name.

  I sip my scotch, not sure where this is going. “Is there something else I should be apologizing for?”

  “Hmm, let me think.” She huffs a stray lock of red-brown hair off her forehead. “First, you kiss me. Then you pretend I don’t exist.”

  “I thought you were steering clear of me,” I counter. “Or busy filming.”

  She shoves her purse over and sits on the sofa, and a huge, invisible weight is lifted off my chest. Sitting means staying, and staying means she’s willing to listen to what I have to say.

  “Well, my schedule has been crazy.” She slips off her no-nonsense waitressing shoes—which she somehow manages to make look as sexy as a pair of six-inch stilettos—and tucks her feet underneath her. “You really haven’t been avoiding me?”

  “Really.”

  “And I haven’t been avoiding you. So you’re telling me this has all been a giant misunderstanding?”

  I shrug and polish off my scotch, setting my empty glass back on the side table. “I guess so.”

  “And what about that kiss?”

  Right about here is where I should remember that Brie is my best friend’s sister and shut things down. But it’s awfully hard to think about Jake with her sitting across from me, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted.

  “What about it?” I ask.

  “Was that a misunderstanding, too?”

  She bites her lip and looks at me with huge, hungry hazel eyes. Her openness, mixed with a hint of uncertainty, shreds any resolve I have left. Fuck it. I’m done resisting this woman. Yeah, she’s my best friend’s sister. And yeah, we’re all wrong for each other. But I want this. So fucking badly. And from the way those hazel eyes are undressing me, so does she.

  Suddenly, being across the room from her feels like we’re a million miles apart. I need to be with her. Really with her.

  I move faster than I’ve moved in my entire life, and that’s counting the time I miraculously managed not to come in dead last in the fourth grade fifty-yard dash. In a nanosecond, I’ve tossed her purse on the floor and I’m next to her on the couch.

  “I wanted to kiss you. Then and now.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  I move closer to her on the couch, taking her head in my hands. Her cheeks are soft and warm under my palms. “Because if I kiss you again, it won’t stop there.”

  “And that’s a problem—why, exactly?”

  “Right now, I can’t think of one damn good reason.”

  I lower my mouth to hers. She parts her lips as my head descends, so that when our mouths meet I can taste her breath, sweet and cinnamony from the Fireball I correctly guessed she’d been drinking. She always loved that stuff.

  And now I love it, too. Her taste is intoxicating, taunting me to go in for more. I coax her tongue out to touch mine, and it’s like I’ve been zapped by a live wire. I groan into her mouth and slide my hands to the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her thick, chestnut curls.

  If I thought our first kiss was explosive, this one takes things to a whole new earth-shattering level. Maybe because we’re both on the same page. We know where things are going this time. And it won’t end with a kiss.

  She’s responding to me now with equal fervor, her groans matching mine, the sexy sounds she makes sending my hormones into hyperdrive. Our mouths fit perfectly together and the way she uses her tongue—fuck, that’s hot. She’s breathing hard—we both are—and that’s before her hands get in on the action.

  They’re everywhere. Working their way up my forearms to my biceps. Digging her nails into my shoulders through the thin cotton of my dress shirt. Raking through my hair, pulling me tighter to her.

  And still it’s not enough. She must agree, because the next thing I know she’s in my lap, straddling me. My semi-hard cock springs to attention, straining against the zipper of my tux pants.

  “Is that a cucumber in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  I chuckle as my hands drift down to cup her ass. “A cucumber?”

  She smiles back and rocks against the firm ridge of my erection. “Well, you are a vegetarian.”

  “I’m flattered. And overjoyed.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She initiates the kiss this time, but I have her gasping in seconds, teasing her with lazy flicks of my tongue. She tastes so damn good and she’s so fucking responsive. With her on top of me, I can feel every little twitch and quiver. It’s the biggest turn-on going, and my cock feels like about to split my zipper and burst out of my pants.

  I leave her mouth to trace a wet trail across her jawline, down her slender, elegant neck, to her collarbone. I can feel her pulse hammering at the base of her throat, another telltale sign that she’s as into this as I am. That and the way she lets her head fall back, giving me free rein to continue my exploration.

  I undo the top button of her shirt and travel lower, toward the soft swell of her breasts. Again, it’s not enough. I slip another button from its hole and nudge her shirt apart with my nose. She smells downright decadent. Her familiar scents of coconut and salt water mixed with something new.

  Desire.

  “Need this off,” I grumble, freeing a third button. “Now.”

  “You first.”

  Her hands fist in my shirt and she yanks it out of my pants. We fumble furiously with each other’s buttons, eventually succeeding, our shirts falling to the floor in a heap.

  She’s wearing a pale peach satin bra that covers all her curves but is still as provocative as fuck. I thumb her nipple through the shiny fabric, loving the way it pebbles almost immediately under my touch. Like I said. So. Fucking. Responsive. “Do you realize how sexy you are?”

  “Do you?” She runs her hands over my chest and abs, lingering on the ridges and valleys of the six-pack I’ve worked hard to maintain. “I suppose I should thank Jake for introducing you to the gym.”

  Her brother’s name—my best friend’s name—is like a bucket of ice water over my libido, and I pull my hand back.

  But Brie’s having none of that. She grabs my hand and replaces it on her breast, covering it with hers to keep it there. “Oh no, you don’t. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m all grown-up.”

  “Oh, I’ve noticed, all right.” I can’t help myself. Her satin-covered tit is full and firm under my fingers. A perfect handful, begging to be squeezed. So I do.

  She rewards me with a low, husky purr that shoots straight to my already aching groin. “Good. Then you’ll understand that, as a consenting adult, who I choose to sleep with is nobody’s business but my own. Especially not my brother’s.”

  “Point taken.” I nuzzle the sweet spot between her breasts again, the temptation of silky smooth satin and equally silky smooth skin too much to fight. “But it would help if we could maybe not talk about him anymore. At least when we’re half-naked. Or completely naked, for that matter.”

  “Are you saying you want to get completely
naked?” She trembles when I move my mouth to her nipple, gently sucking it through her bra.

  I respond without lifting my head, the words vibrating against her like a tuning fork. “I’m not opposed to the idea.”

  Without warning, she pushes my head away from her chest and climbs off me. I’m confused and disappointed and more than a little frustrated, but only for a second. Then she treats me to the most erotic strip tease I’ve ever experienced, removing first her pants, then her bra, then her matching peach panties, revealing a neatly landscaped patch of hair above the juncture of her thighs.

  When she’s naked, she turns around, giving me a full view of her ripe, round backside, and heads for the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

  “Where are you going?” I croak, frankly surprised that I have any ability left to string words together into a coherent sentence. The way her hips sway when she walks is hypnotizing.

  “You tell me.” She stops, popping a hip and looking flirtatiously at me over her shoulder. “Your bed or mine?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Brie

  IT OCCURS TO ME, as I’m standing butt naked in the middle of Connor’s living room, posing like a 50s pinup girl sans the vintage two-piece, that I may have made a critical error in judgment.

  I mean, I thought Connor was on board with where this was going. He sure seemed like it a few minutes ago when I was riding his lap. The evidence of his arousal was obvious. And impressive.

  But now he’s just sitting there. Staring at me. Unmoving.

  I’m hoping it’s because he’s stunned speechless in a good way, and not because he’s repulsed.

  I drop the pose and turn to face him.

  “You realize there’s no wrong answer here, right?” I tease, trying to hide the fact that with every passing second I’m increasingly conscious of the fact that I’m in my birthday suit and he’s still half dressed. “Sure, your bed’s bigger. But I’m pretty sure mine will work just as well.”

  “Mine.”

  He stands and stalks toward me, looking like he’s going to go all caveman again and toss me over his shoulder. Except this time nothing is broken and I don’t need rescuing.

  “Down, boy.” I say, taking a step back. “I appreciate the romantic gesture, but I’m perfectly capable of making it to your bedroom under my own power.”

  His eyes run me over from head to toe, sending a flash of heat to my lady bits. “What if I don’t want to wait that long to hold you?”

  Damn. How can a girl say no to that? I sure can’t.

  I spread my arms wide in invitation, my self-consciousness a thing of the past. He clearly likes what he sees. And the feeling is entirely mutual, even if I’m not seeing as much as I’d like.

  Yet.

  “Go for it, Lancelot.”

  He does, but this time it’s no rough-and-tumble, over-the-shoulder fireman’s carry. Instead, he lifts me gently, effortlessly, with one arm around my back and the other under my knees, cradling me to his smooth, strong chest.

  Swoon.

  I bury my face in the sprinkle of dark, fine hair between his pecs, inhaling his clean, soapy scent as he carts me off to his inner sanctum. I’ve only gotten glimpses of the master bedroom in passing through his partially open door. All I’ve been able to see are dark wood and earth tones.

  The full view doesn’t disappoint. Like the rest of Connor’s flat, it’s a study in upscale, masculine chic. There’s a wall of windows with a specular view of the Manhattan skyline. And I was right when I guessed that his bed was huge. It’s big enough for him, me, and the Knicks starting back court.

  But I’m not interested in gawking at his magazine-worthy bedroom or the most famous skyline in the world right now. There’s another view I’m jonesing for. If you ask me, it’s high time I’m not the only one in this scenario who’s wearing nothing but a smile.

  Connor lays me on his massive bed, kissing down my neck, between my breasts, circling my nipples. I lose myself in the sweet sensations created by his lips and tongue until I remember that he’s still got his damn pants on, and I reach for his belt.

  He covers my hand with his, stopping me. “Not yet.”

  “How the hell is that fair?” I groan.

  “Nobody said this was going to be fair.”

  He pauses to remove his glasses, folding them carefully and setting them on the nightstand. I want to scream. How can he be so calm, cool, and collected when I’m about to spontaneously combust?

  “But trust me, I’ll make it up to you.”

  And boy, does he. Connor Dow is nothing if not a man of his word. He slides down my body, inching my thighs apart with his hands and settling between my legs, his mouth centimeters from my core. He plants wet, sucking kisses on my inner thigh, teasing his way up to the spot where I really want him.

  When he gets there—finally—the damn teasing doesn’t stop. Instead of sucking on my clit like I want him to, he licks everywhere but. His rhythm is slow, steady, and deliberate, like he’s determined to drive me crazy before letting me come.

  I moan and close my eyes, fisting my hands into his comforter. If he keeps this up much longer, I might pass out from pure pleasure.

  “That’s it,” he murmurs against my pussy. “Just lie back and let me make you feel good.”

  I twist the comforter tighter in my fists. “I don’t think I can feel much better.”

  “Sure about that?”

  He takes my clit into his mouth and bites down. Not hard, just enough to shoot sensuous tingles to every pore in my body.

  My eyes fly open and my hips piston off the bed. “Did you just bite me?”

  He looks up at me with a “Who, me?” grin. “And what if I did?”

  I’d like to wipe his smug, sex-god smile right off his face. Except he’s got every reason to be smug. The guy’s seriously good at this. Like expert level good.

  Sex-god level good.

  I lift my head to eye him right back, not afraid to tell him what I want. No, this is beyond want. We’re into need territory. “Then I’d ask you to do it again.”

  He gives me another nibble then adds a finger to the action, pushing it slowly inside me. I can feel myself start to tighten, and I know I’m not going to last long, especially when he starts moving his finger in and out, angling it so it finds my g-spot.

  All the while he’s still licking and sucking. The trifecta of lips, tongue, and finger is too much to take, and it’s not long before my muscles clench and I’m spasming around him.

  He lets me ride out my climax on his lips. When I’m done—after what seems like an eternity, I don’t think I’ve ever come that long or that hard—he withdraws his finger and brings it to his mouth. He runs it along his lower lip then sucks it in, tasting me.

  Holy hell, that’s hot. Sure, he’s had it directly from the source. But there’s something so decadent about watching him lick it from his finger. Like he doesn’t want a drop to go to waste.

  When he’s done, he trails his wet finger down my abdomen, leaving a row of goosebumps in its wake. “Was I right?”

  “Huh?” What did he just say? I prop myself up on my elbows and stare at him through glassy, post-orgasmic eyes. My fuzzy brain has no clue what he’s talking about.

  “Was I right?” he repeats, emphasizing each word.

  Okay, still clueless. I don’t whether he’s being deliberately coy or whether I’m so blissed out I can’t even comprehend a simple question. “About what?”

  The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s fighting a laugh. “Making it up to you for not losing my pants.”

  “Hell, yes.” I’m not afraid to admit when I’m wrong. Especially when I’ve just had the best orgasm of my life. Hopefully the first of many tonight. “That was incredible. Now do I get to see you naked?”

  “Greedy girl.”

  �
��Guilty as charged.” I hold my arms out and cross them at the wrists. “Lock me up and throw away the key.”

  “If I had known you were into that kind of stuff, I would have borrowed a pair of handcuffs from the security guard downstairs.”

  He kisses my stomach just above the landing strip that leads to my sex and crawls up the bed until he’s lying next to me. When his waistband is in reach, I go for his belt buckle, unfastening it then the button at the top of his fly.

  I stop at his zipper, taking a moment to appreciate the obvious bulge underneath. I run my hand down it, squeeze it in my fingers. It pulses in my palm, hard and hot even through his trousers.

  “Thought you wanted me naked,” he growls.

  “You had your turn,” I tell him. “Shut up and let me have mine.”

  “Bossy.”

  I give his dick another squeeze, and it throbs harder. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

  He doesn’t have a snappy comeback for that one. Or maybe he does, but it gets swallowed up in his groan when I slide down his zipper and slip my hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs. I elicit another groan when I circle his length with my fingers and stroke.

  Not waiting anymore for me to undress him, he lifts his hips and shoves his pants and briefs down to his knees in one quick jerk. I release him long enough to help get them off completely, along with his shoes and socks. Then all my attention is back on his cock.

  “I could fucking die right here a happy man,” he says as I resume stroking him. “So goddamn happy.”

  “Dying isn’t exactly the reaction I’m going for.” I continue to fondle his dick as I worm my way down his magnificent body. He’s got those vees where his hips and abs meet. You know, the ones that point to the promised land and make women stupid. Even his calves are ripped, every inch of him a new revelation. And who has sexy feet? Seriously, there’s not a thing about him that doesn’t rev my engine.

  I keep moving south until my it’s my lips that are inches from his naughty parts. Returning the favor. Or is it turnabout is fair play? Maybe a bit of both. “I was thinking more seeing stars.”