The Secret

by Stella Gray

  He was touching me everywhere his father had touched me, as if trying to erase him. He was a hero. My hero. I had never wanted to believe it, but it was true. I was beyond grateful he had come home right when he did. My husband had saved me.

  “What else hurts?” he asked.

  Locking eyes with him, I pushed my bra and camisole down to my waist, exposing my torso, my bare breasts. Then I placed his hand over my heart. “This,” I said. “This hurts.”

  “I can make it better,” he said, his voice coming out husky.

  I let out a sigh as he kissed the hollow between my breasts, his warm breath calming the rapid beating of my heart. My nipples were getting tight now, too, and I dug my fingers into Stefan’s hair and held his head against my chest, letting myself breathe him in.

  “Take me to bed,” I whispered.

  With one fluid movement, Stefan stood with me in his arms. I felt as light as feathers, nuzzling his neck as he carried me into the bedroom and lay me down on the bed. On our bed.

  Then he slowly, carefully finished undressing me. With every article of clothing he removed, he soothed my skin with more kisses. This was different from our usual lovemaking. Something completely new. And I wanted to give him everything. Give my entire self to him.

  When I was fully naked, I leaned back, loving the sight of my husband stripping off his clothes before crawling onto the bed with me. His hands stroked my body, taking extra care every place I had been violated, lavishing my throat with kisses, overriding the hurt I’d suffered. By the time he knelt between my legs, kissing my thighs, my mound, my wet, swollen lips, I could barely remember what had happened less than an hour before. All I knew was the pleasure that Stefan was giving me.

  He licked my clit, sliding a finger inside of me as he sucked at me with his firm lips and tongue. I was already so turned on that I was afraid I’d come too fast, so I gently eased him away from me and placed my hands on either side of his face.

  “I want you inside me,” I said.

  I could see that Stefan was hard, so hard. I spread my legs for him, needing to feel him fill me up. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned me over on my belly, my face pressed into a pillow.

  He had taken me like this once before and I had loved it, loved the tight friction of his cock, the way his hand had slid under my hips to pinch my clit as he’d fucked me from behind, so I waited, eager for him to slide into my pussy, to take me hard and fast. When his hand slid up my inner thigh, spreading my legs wide for him, I moaned in anticipation. But instead of touching me where I wanted him to, where I expected him to, his hand moved higher.

  Spreading my cheeks, his finger traced the seam of my ass.

  I shivered at the unexpected sensation.

  “You’re mine,” Stefan said, his finger stroking my asshole. “Say it,” he ordered.

  “I’m yours,” I said, my voice shaking a little, my body taut and on the edge. What was he doing? And why did it feel so good? Every nerve ending was alive beneath his touch, and I could feel tingles like electric shocks reaching straight to my clit.

  He pulled his finger away and I felt him slide off the bed, then heard a drawer opening, the snick of a cap flipping open and then snapping closed. Then his weight came toward me again, and he was pulling my legs apart further, exposing my ass to him again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice. I wanted this, wanted to experience something new with him, but it was all so unfamiliar to me.

  “I’m going to take your ass,” Stefan said. “And I’m going to do it slow. Then faster, if you like.”

  “Okay.” A shiver ran through me, my pussy clenching with desire. “Will it hurt?”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. We’ll take it at your pace. If you say stop, I stop. All you have to do is relax.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  First he slid one lubricated finger into my ass, but he stopped partway when I gasped.

  I could feel myself tightening up around his finger, and I tried to focus on relaxing, as he’d instructed. “More,” I said. “I can take it.”

  He shifted slightly, the rest of his finger sliding in, and as he pumped gently once, twice, a third time, a tremble of pleasure rippled through me from deep inside. It was totally unexpected, and it made me cry out. It felt different, but good. Really good.

  “I’m fine. Keep going,” I told him, my voice husky with desire.

  He slowly pulled his finger back, just a little, and then plunged back in. I hissed a breath, then let out a moan. It was unbelievable, and so sensual. I could feel every tiny movement of his finger. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

  “Give me more,” I pleaded. “It feels good.”

  So softly, stopping only to add more lube before picking up where he left off, he continued fingering my ass, easing me into it before he finally began to move faster. My nipples were rock hard, tingling where they pressed against the bed, my pussy wetter than it had ever been. His finger pumped back and forth, lighting up the tight bundle of nerves there. When I started grinding my hips into the bed, he added another finger, stretching me even further. I’d never experienced anything like it. Soon I was begging for more, begging to be filled by him.

  Without warning, he withdrew his fingers and I nearly wept from the sudden loss. I was desperate for relief, but also anxious. This was something I had never imagined doing.

  “You’re mine,” he said, and I felt him settle his body behind me, felt the bed shift as he straddled me, his knees on either side of me. He pulled my hips up off the bed, spreading my ass wide, opening me up to him.

  I knew what was coming next, but I was still surprised when I felt the head of his cock press hard against my well-lubed ass. I gripped the bedspread in my fists, bracing myself for what he would do to me. My eyes were shut tight, my ass up in the air. I was ready for him.

  Carefully, he slid his cock into my ass, groaning with the slow, agonizing friction.

  I moaned along with him. It was so intimate, like nothing I had ever experienced. I loved how close I felt to Stefan, having this intense physical connection. He pushed deeper, inch by inch, and I pressed back to meet him, willing my muscles to relax as he fully entered me.

  “You’re mine,” he said again, lust straining his voice. “You belong to me.”

  He was on the edge already, just as I was. I could tell his control was at its breaking point. I loved that my body did this to him. That I drove him wild the same way he did for me.

  “I’m yours,” I said. “Don’t stop, please.”

  I was begging now, and I didn’t care. I needed him to fuck me. I needed him to fill me up. He began to thrust, gently at first, his cock stroking back and forth inside my ass. As I ground into him, meeting every stroke, he started moving faster, deeper. My entire body was shaking. I moaned with the pleasure that spread through me, from my head to my toes.

  “Oh my god,” I panted as he slammed into me, my fingers twisting in the sheets as he fucked my ass harder. It was good, so good I had to bite down on the bedspread. I could hardly see straight.

  “Take me,” I moaned. “Take my ass.”

  As he fucked me, one hand came around my hip to toy at my aching clit. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear, and I felt myself hurtling toward an orgasm. I could sense that Stefan was close too, as he began thrusting even harder and faster, his groans mingling with my cries of pleasure that were only barely muffled by the bedspread.

  “You’re mine,” he kept saying. “You’re all mine now. No one else’s. Never anyone else’s.”

  “I’m yours, Stefan,” I said. “All yours.”

  It was hotter than I ever could have imagined.

  He stroked my clit more roughly, pinching it, and with that searing, white-hot sensation, I came hard. Gasping with the shockwaves, my body shook as Stefan slammed his cock deep into my ass one last time. I felt him come along wit
h me, heard his groan as he filled me with his hot release. We were moaning together, our cries a symphony.

  Afterward, we collapsed onto the bed, trying to catch our breath. Stefan rolled onto his back, pulling me onto his chest. Our bodies were hot, exhausted, and completely satisfied.

  I knew in that moment that his claiming of me had been complete.

  I was his.

  Tori

  Chapter 20

  There was a coffee shop called Kahve Moon a few blocks away from campus that I’d taken to haunting lately; a small, warm space lovingly decorated by the Turkish couple who had owned it for years. Brass planters overflowed with succulents and tiny ferns, the floor was painted wood, and each table had a colored glass candle holder in its center.

  As I looked up from my textbook, I saw Reyyan, the wife, approaching with my coffee, her long skirt swishing over the floor with every careful step. Turkish coffee was made from beans ground into a fine powder, and was dark and strong, stronger even than espresso. I loved it. By now, Reyyan knew that I preferred mine with an obscene amount of sugar and just a little milk, though the milk was a thoroughly American accompaniment. She was a master barista.

  “Just as you like it,” she said, smiling as she placed the delicate cup with ornate silver handle, called a kahye finjani, on the table. “Let me know when you need a refill.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured over my notebook, inhaling the rich scent. “It’s perfect.”

  “Need any help with your verb tenses today?” she asked.

  I’d been dabbling in Turkish on the side, trying to see if I had any affinity for it. There was a course offered at UChicago that broadly covered Turkic languages, but I’d have to give up ASL next semester to fit it in. I was still on the fence.

  “I’m all good for now,” I said, gesturing at the stack of books beside me. “But soon.”

  Reyyan nodded and went back behind the counter, busying herself with another customer. Brewing Turkish coffee was more of a ritual than a process, gorgeous to watch, but I reminded myself I had to buckle down today and get caught up with my coursework.

  Regardless of how happy I usually was to study at home, Stefan was becoming more and more of a distraction at the same time that my classes started getting more difficult. He was a sexy, gorgeous, orgasm-giving distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. I’d never pass my finals if I didn’t find a new place to camp out and hit the books.

  I knew I had an open invitation to rejoin my study group whenever I wanted, and of course Harper Memorial was always open to me, but after everything that had happened at the club with my girlfriends, and the new distance I’d established between myself and Gavin, I wasn’t as obsessive about spending all my free time with my classmates as I’d initially been. We were friendly at school and texted often, but I had told them that I’d found a new home base off campus. Sometimes my hippie friend Diane would meet me there, but mostly I was solo.

  With Kahve Moon, I’d found the perfect place to study. Hot, fresh, super-strong coffee that was within walking distance of campus, a quiet and cozy atmosphere, and friendly owners who were more than happy to speak to me in Turkish and correct my grammar when I got confused. There was nothing like total immersion to help get the hang of a new language, and I started spending practically every afternoon there, chatting with Reyyan and Kadir in Turkish and drinking as much caffeine as my body could handle. It was my home away from home.

  Flipping to a fresh page in my notebook, I started copying questions from the study guide in my psycholinguistics text. I was so caught up that I didn’t even notice that someone was standing right next to my textbook-strewn table until she cleared her throat.

  Distracted and confused, I looked up and tried to figure out if I knew this woman. “Can I help you?” I asked.

  She was tall and lovely to look at in that remote, otherworldly way. Her eyes were wide-set, her hair was a waterfall of black, and she had gorgeously bushy brows.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she said, dropping into the seat across from me.

  I looked around the café. There were plenty of empty tables.

  “Have we…met?” I asked, tugging a book out from underneath her Vuitton hand bag.

  Though I didn’t think I knew her, she looked vaguely familiar—the kind of Eastern European gorgeous that was KZM’s hallmark. And her accent seemed to jive with that suspicion.

  She was dressed expensively. Her designer coat was draped across the back of her chair, her snug black sweater looked to be cashmere, and her heels were black and extremely high.

  “No. But I know your husband well. Stefan, yes?”

  I felt my stomach drop, and tried to prepare myself for the worst. I should have known one of Stefan’s mistresses might seek me out eventually. I’d finally convinced myself that he wasn’t sleeping with the models, was just a workaholic, but maybe it had been wishful thinking.

  Still, it was disconcerting that she’d found me so easily. First Stefan’s bodyguard, now this woman. How long until Konstantin started having me followed, too? Maybe he already was.

  “Yes, Stefan is my husband,” I said, feeling more than a little unnerved.

  After everything that had happened over the past few weeks—the drugging at the club and the horrible incident with my father-in-law—I was very aware that my life wasn’t as safe as it used to be. Stefan had warned me, told me that finding out about the dark, seedy underbelly of the KZ Modeling empire meant that I was a part of his world now. But now that world had hunted me down, right in broad daylight.

  “I’m Irina,” the woman said, holding her hand out.

  She was smiling at me, her expression warm and open. She didn’t seem dangerous, nor distraught in any way. I relaxed a little and shook her hand, but still I braced myself for what she had to say. Maybe she’d say she was pregnant. Maybe she’d ask me to leave Stefan.

  But Irina just nodded, her face still lit up with that mega-watt smile.

  “Will you please tell him that everything worked out?” she asked me. “He is, I think, a good man. A very good man. You are a lucky woman.”

  I stared at her.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, still waiting to hear the word “pregnant” or “relationship.”

  “I cannot get word to him anymore,” she continued. “That is why I seek you out. Please tell him for me?”

  I tried to process her words. She wanted me to tell Stefan that everything had worked out, so he wouldn’t worry. What had worked out? What had he helped her with?

  Somehow, I nodded.

  “I’ll tell him,” I said.

  “Thank you.” Irina took my hand in hers and squeezed it gratefully. “So much.”

  Before I could say another word, she got up, took her Louis Vuitton bag and her designer coat, and strode out of the coffee shop on her slick spike heels, disappearing into the cold Chicago air and leaving me gaping in her high-fashion wake.

  I just sat there trying to process what had happened.

  Stefan, a good man? It seemed like a bit of a stretch to me. He had definitely been easier to deal with lately, and there was no doubt that he was an extremely handsome and powerful man, but good? I couldn’t imagine it.

  Yet clearly Irina felt indebted to him. He had done something to help this woman. Something that was so important that she had sought me out in order to pass him a message regarding her welfare. What the hell could he have done to help her? And why would he bother helping in the first place? My husband had never shown an altruistic side.

  Maybe there was a good and noble heart hiding inside the human that hid inside the monster, a soft spot beneath the cold and ruthless front that Stefan put up every day. How many layers deep was he? His sister had said that he’d been different once, too. That when they were younger he hadn’t been as hard, hadn’t been as mean. That something big had happened to change him into the man he was today.

  Did that mean he could change back?

  I felt a twinge of h
ope. Maybe he really could be the man I wanted him to be. The man I had first thought he was, the man he’d been on the night we first met.

  And maybe I could help him be that man.

  I thought back to what my stepmother Michelle had told me shortly after my wedding. About how when you married a busy, important person, it was your job to make their lives easier. She’d said people like my father and Stefan were under so much pressure on a regular basis that they needed someone to come home to who could be the calm in their storm.

  Maybe if I did that for Stefan, and tried to be the kind of wife that Michelle had told me I should be, he would be able to become the man I needed him to be. The man I hoped he still was. But first, I needed to know more about Irina and the reason behind her cryptic message. And there was only one way to find that out.

  I’d have to confront my husband.

  Tori

  Chapter 21

  By the time I arrived back at the condo I was practically vibrating with a combination of caffeine and anticipation. Unfortunately, Stefan wasn’t home yet. I couldn’t stop imagining how our conversation would go. How he’d react, and what he would say, when I dropped the bomb and told him about the “friend” of his who’d come to see me at the coffee shop that afternoon.

  He had finally started opening up to me about KZ Modeling recently. Not necessarily the details regarding the agency’s shady dealings, but about his role in handling the legitimate side of the business. I hoped it was a sign that he was beginning to trust me more, and that he’d continue to grow increasingly comfortable about confiding in me. Especially when it came to Irina and what she’d meant by saying that everything had worked out.

  I wanted answers now, and I wanted him to give them to me.

  Sitting around and waiting for him to walk in the door was a surefire way for me to drive myself absolutely batty with nerves, so I busied myself by heating up the dinner that Gretna had made for us that evening.