Tell Me a Secret (The Story Series Book 4)

by Tamara Lush

  Tell Me a Secret

  The Story Series: Episode Four

  Tamara Lush

  Edited by Jami Nord, Chimera Editing

  Copy Editor Rebecca A Weston

  Cover Hang Le

  Contents

  TELL ME A SECRET

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  INTO THE HEAT

  Also by Tamara Lush

  About the Author

  TELL ME A SECRET

  The Story Series: Episode Four

  By Tamara Lush

  www.tamaralush.com

  Copyright © 2016 by Tamara Lush

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief excerpts in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  I was naked, on all fours, in between Caleb’s sprawled legs. From what I could see in the mirror when I turned my head, I had a perfect curve in my lower back, my body sinewy, my skin milky white and almost glowing in the candlelight.

  For some reason, I wasn’t pregnant. No, for some reason, I had the body I used to have, back when Caleb and I first met. A better body, actually. Tiny and sexy and curvy. Hmm. Interesting.

  “Emma.” Caleb said my name in almost a singsong voice, drawing out the mm sound in the middle, making the space deep inside of me thrum and vibrate. “Come.”

  I moved forward, eager to sit in his lap, to fill myself with him. Instead he reached and cupped my face, the middle of his palm aligning with my jaw.

  “You know what I want,” he said quietly.

  I nodded because I did. With a firm touch, he pushed my head down, forcing me to take his rigid cock into my mouth. He made a strangling noise when I took him deeper, and I knew he was coming undone because of me. And because it was so gratifying, the only thing I could concentrate on was Caleb’s pleasure. I glanced up and saw his lips parted with a certain hunger, felt his big hand pressing on the back of my head, commanding me downward. How I loved to please him like this, be subservient to his desires. It fulfilled something instinctual in me and he recognized that.

  “Suck. Take the whole thing,” he growled. “Yeah, like that. Just like that. Good girl, Emma doll.”

  I took him all the way in, right up to my gag reflex. We were in semi-darkness—not our bedroom, not anywhere I recognized. He was naked, smiling lazily, languidly propped against a plush red tufted headboard. The bed was something I’d seen once in a boutique hotel. I had no awareness of arriving here. Were we in a hotel? Did it matter?

  It didn’t. Only he mattered.

  “You give the best head,” he murmured lasciviously.

  I raised my head and cocked an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t be proud of that, but I am.”

  Caleb laughed and leaned forward, pushing on my head, almost making me choke.

  The bed was giant, covered in white sheets, the room illuminated by dozens of candles. Oddly, the rest of the place was stripped bare, not a bureau or a lamp or a chair.

  There were mirrors on two walls, and when I glanced to the side, I could see my reflection, inhaling him. And Caleb’s image, his eyes narrowed, his teeth bared in a snarl, urging me to consume more, to make my mouth overfull with his cock.

  Lifting my head, I ran my tongue around his tip, pausing to daintily lick the slit. I wrapped my hand around him, my red manicured nails gleaming. A gossamer strand of fluid extended a few inches from my bottom lip to his tip. I looked up with big eyes and blinked.

  He gasped. “Fuck,” he said. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  The desperation in his voice made my stomach clench. Caleb swiped the moisture from my lip with his thumb, and the rough gesture sent a moan into my throat. His cheekbones were extra-sharp tonight, his voice unusually low, and his short, silvery-black hair glinted in the candlelight. He looked intensely devilish and not like the man I married. No, he was edgier, but I couldn’t quite determine why.

  It didn’t matter.

  “I want to fuck you,” I purred. Something in the room smelled amazing, like decadent dark chocolate and cinnamon.

  I tried to move to kiss him, but he stopped me, his hand on my shoulder. He traced my lips with his thumb, and I opened my mouth, wanting to suck every part of him. I swirled and tasted his flesh and felt my skin flash hot. He took his thumb out of my mouth and pulled a handful of my hair. The sting sent a column of pure desire into my core.

  “Can I be on top? Please, Caleb? Please? I need you.”

  He shook his head.

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to reward you another way.”

  “But I want to kiss you.” His jaw looked so smooth, as if he’d had an extra-close shave.

  “One kiss.”

  He released me from his grip, and I leaned forward to assault his mouth, cupping his face in my hands. He squeezed my ass in return.

  “That’s enough,” he murmured.

  I trailed my nose along his satiny cheek, inhaling. I detected a wisp of mint on his skin.

  “Mmm,” I hummed, backing away and dipping my head, even though I was slicker between my legs than I’d ever been. Despite my sensual trance, I was disappointed we weren’t going to fuck right away. His erection was exquisite, and a surge of warm blood flowed through me, my lust matching his. I wriggled into position, clenching my thighs, wondering if I could orgasm with just the tightening of my muscles.

  “I know you want to come, Emma. I’ll let you, eventually. You’ll see. I’ve got a present for you. You’ll like it, I believe.”

  A present?

  “Look at all this hair. So fucking pretty.” He looked focused, ravenous, and played with my curls, sweeping them to one side as I plunged my mouth onto him, simultaneously increasing the pressure of my lips on his skin and stroking with my hand.

  I rose, curious, still fisting his shaft. I exhaled pleasurably. “What’s my gift? Tell me. You know I hate surprises.”

  Suddenly his face changed, a look of wicked satisfaction. “There. Look over your shoulder.” He motioned with his face behind me.

  I turned, and I gasped. Colin? His brother? Oh my God. What? He was naked and smiling, and all I could focus on was the tautness of his stomach, the faint line of hair from his bellybutton leading to his defined, thick erection. His black hair was a little long, and for some reason, a hint of a dark goatee rimmed his mouth.

  Electricity surged through me, and a roar whooshed in my ears. How long had he been watching us? With an open mouth, I turned back to my husband, and he wore a grin. Now I was dizzy, unsteady, and I stopped stroking.

  “There’s your present. Keep sucking and I’ll let you have it.”

  For some reason, I obliged. I folded forward, arching my back once more and widening my stance, aware Colin was probably watching from behind with a self-assured smirk.

  My nipples grazed Caleb’s thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut as I opened my mouth
wide, wondering what would come next.

  When I felt someone grab handfuls of my ass, I knew exactly what would happen.

  “This is what we should have done with Tara,” I heard Caleb say. “Maybe it would have saved her life.”

  That seemed like faulty logic because Tara, Caleb’s first wife, had died of cancer. But I didn’t have time to think it through because a full body shiver went through me when I felt fingers between my legs, a slow glide into my arousal that made my toes curl. I shifted my head to look in the mirror, only to take in the sight of me sucking my husband. And his brother, with a thick erection near my ass, one hand buried deep inside me and the other caressing the small of my back with a feather-light touch. When had Colin grown a goatee? I also pondered why he wasn’t making one of his typical, ironic statements and then wondered why I even cared.

  This. Was. Insane.

  But so hot and so dirty. And the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.

  I stopped sucking so I could talk, but shifted back toward my heels, which made my body rake against Colin’s fingers even more. I rocked and gyrated against his hand, enjoying the buildup, the pressure. Stark desire was the only thing I felt.

  “Is this what you want?” I murmured to Caleb, moving my legs wider so Colin could have better access to my clitoris. He moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, and I was close, so close. I whimpered.

  “For tonight, Emma, it is what I want. You’re our toy. Our fuck doll. We’re going to take care of you. Save you. Make you feel alive.”

  “Save me? From what?” I whispered, my heartbeat swirling in my ears, making conversation difficult to hear.

  They both laughed.

  I was just a plaything. An object. And after a surge of a near-orgasm from Colin’s rhythmic fingers, I didn’t care. And if my husband was okay with it, then who was I to protest? Surrendering to Caleb was my only desire.

  Once again with my lips wrapped around Caleb’s hard length, I increased the suction in the back of my mouth and hummed. He groaned and pulled my hair up in a ponytail with his hands.

  “Do you see how good she is, Colin? How sweet? I told you.” The glint in Caleb’s eyes made my body drench with heat, and I lifted my head to whisper a few filthy promises. Caleb chuckled softly.

  “Such a dirty mouth on such a good girl,” he murmured.

  Colin responded in an equally low voice, something I couldn’t make out. I felt the heat of his body move closer to mine and then the touch of his lips on my lower back, the soft hair of his goatee making my skin shudder with pleasure.

  I wriggled closer to him and glanced in the mirror. I watched as Colin rose to his knees and rubbed his erection on the cheek of my ass, then hover at the entrance to my core. His mouth was set, hard and intense, his eyes smoldering on my bent-over body. Distracted by Colin’s harsh beauty, I shifted and moaned loud into Caleb’s muscular thigh.

  It was difficult to comprehend the feeling when Colin entered me, because it was as if there were a hundred sensations at once—a hundred brothers, all seeking my attention and demanding I serve them. I bit Caleb’s thigh, hard, and he yanked my hair and pressed my mouth down on his cock, impaling me with his hardness, while Colin filled me entirely and fucked me with commanding, hard thrusts. I was consumed with lust, cock-needy and desperate. For both brothers.

  My entire body trembled, and I looked up into my husband’s eyes with a searching glance. He stroked my cheekbone with his thumb while my tongue swirled around his head, the sexual current between the two of us at its height. I felt more connected to Caleb than ever before, even though he was encouraging his brother to have his way with me.

  “We’re not going let her come yet. Make her wait. Make her beg, Colin.”

  With that, Colin pulled out and I groaned, strung tight and wanting more. He also groaned, a savage, growly sound. He teased his tip between my thighs, and my clit was agitated, pulsing, uncontrollably. I lifted my mouth from Caleb and jerked him furiously, gasping and trying to rock backward so Colin would fill me again.

  “Please? Please?” I begged.

  “Come here,” Caleb growled. I crawled forward a few inches, feeling the absence of Colin’s body.

  “Colin, she likes it rough.”

  Grinning, Caleb gently but firmly cuffed my cheek with an open hand. Colin hit my ass immediately after with a louder, harsher crack. I stung in two places and nearly came straight away.

  That jarred me awake.

  With a river of sweat between my breasts and a pool of moisture along my hairline, I sat up, gasping and shaking. The white, cotton sheets were heavy and tangled around my legs. It was morning. I was alone in my beautiful Art Deco bedroom and Florida’s sherbet-colored sunrise poured past the half-open curtain. My skin was aflame, as if on the verge of sunburn.

  I was eight and a half months pregnant and dreaming of a ménage with my husband—who had been missing for weeks—and his brother. To say I was going insane was an understatement.

  I sobbed, hard, my chest heaving. At one point, I almost retched, I was crying with such force. Sitting up, I gulped in a few breaths, trying to calm myself. It was nothing but a crazy, hormone-and-stress-fueled dream. One of many tormenting nightmares I’d had in recent weeks, ever since I’d been put on bed rest due to precariously high blood pressure.

  After a minute or two, I stopped wailing. A thick fog had settled into my brain, and I shook my head, trying to chase away both the haze and the memory of the intensity of the subconscious sex scene. The recurring dreams—or were they erotic nightmares?—always made me simultaneously wet, needy, and ashamed.

  Also profoundly, horribly sad.

  I was grieving, but still hopeful, that Caleb would be found. But each day without news brought only more anguish and more ambiguity. So I was constantly in a state of suspended animation, never quite sure what was real. Was Caleb alive? Hurt? Did he miss me or had he just vanished because he hadn’t wanted to be a father? We’d hired private investigators, his parents were back and forth to Brazil helping with the search, and I was not only on a first-name basis with the detectives of the Sao Paulo police force, I’d sent one of their kids a birthday present the previous week.

  And still, nothing. No clues, no leads, no Caleb.

  Since he’d gone missing, my blood pressure had spiked dangerously and predictably. Bed rest was the only solution, the doctor had said. Which meant I was in a velvet coffin of sorts, cared for down to the detail in my luxurious penthouse by my friends, Caleb’s family, and hired help.

  “Emma!” Colin burst into the room, making me yelp in surprise at the sound of his deep voice. In Caleb’s absence, I’d taken to wearing pajamas to bed—there was no one to sleep naked for—and today, I was thankful.

  “Are you okay?” He reached for my shoulder, and I shrank away, remembering how his touch had singed my skin in the dream. I glanced up and was relieved to see his smooth face, that he hadn’t somehow grown a dark goatee since I’d last seen him.

  “I’m fine.” I shuddered, fixing big eyes on him, wondering why he was here. Then it hit me: it had been Colin’s turn to stay the night with me, and he’d slept in the guest bedroom. Although my vitals had calmed in the past few days, I wondered what they’d be if someone wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm now, after that crazy nightmare.

  “Are you crying?” he demanded. He was dressed in gym clothes—dark grey sweatpants that hugged his thighs and a white T-shirt. I raised my gaze and spied his thick bicep, then quickly squeezed my eyes shut and flopped back onto the pillows, turning my back to him. I was so hugely pregnant it took me a couple of rolls to flip on my side.

  “Don’t you have to go to work soon?” I mumbled into the duvet, which was in a heap.

  “It’s Saturday, Emma. I’ll work a little from here, but I’ll be around in case you need anything. Seriously, are you okay?”

  I sighed. I’d never before felt so out of control in my body before. The baby kicked like crazy; my se
x drive was through the roof; and most of all, I missed Caleb so much I ached all over, as if I’d run a marathon. Most of the time, I wanted to unzip my skin and walk out of it, I felt so uneasy.

  Unable to look at Colin, I cleared my throat in response. My heart pounded against my ribcage. Could he sense what I’d been dreaming about? I sniffled. Did I smell like arousal? Jesus, I hoped not.

  “You’re crying. I heard you,” he insisted, sitting on the far edge of the bed.

  I squirmed to face him and opened my eyes reluctantly. Colin’s head was bent, and he raked a hand through his black hair.

  “I just had a nightmare, that’s all.” I shrugged, staring at the ceiling.

  “Again?”

  Why did he have to sound so worried?

  “Yeah. But I’m okay now.” I’d never told Colin my nightmares were sexual in nature, or sometimes they were bleak, with Caleb succumbing to torture and violence. Those were the worst of all. And I’d never reveal they occasionally featured him.

  Colin moved closer and fixed his icy blue eyes on my face. It made me flush, and despite my overheated body, I pulled the sheet over me.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No. I’d…I’d like some juice, please. And some breakfast.”

  Colin jumped up, seemingly happy to perform a task. “Of course. I squeezed some for you earlier, and Laura made the homemade granola you like. Let me go fix everything. Coconut milk, right?”

  “Yes, please.” Somehow Colin’s politeness made me feel even more ashamed for dreaming such carnal things about him.

  He rose from the bed, then paused at the door and turned. “Laura and Sarah will come by with more books today. Maybe after the nurse comes to check your vitals, we could watch a movie later. Or play poker, like we did the other day.”

  He shot me a tiny smile, and I was grateful. Colin was trying, valiantly, to keep me healthy and sane, like everyone was. Although Sarah and Laura treated me delicately, they tried to act pretty much the same as before, joking and trying to pretend like everything would be okay.