Dirty Little Secrets

by Kierney Scott

  “I’m clean. Are you?” he asked. His tone was low, almost a growl.

  She nodded her head. “But don’t come inside me. I’m not on the pill.”

  His dark brows knitted together in a brief expression of surprise and confusion, but it was soon replaced again with a dark hungry desire.

  With a single powerful trust he was in her. She cried out at the sudden fullness between her thighs. Her eyes widened at the invasion. He was too big but her body still wanted it. She pulled frantically on the buttons of his shirt. She needed to feel more of his flesh.

  “Fuck you’re tight,” he moaned against her mouth. “So wet…fuck…so good.” He slid in and out of her, his pace frenzied, lacking all the control he had demonstrated earlier. She did that to him. She was drunk on the power of it and the need for him. A bolt of electric desire ran up her spine.

  He lifted her from the counter, still sheathed inside her. He pushed her up against the wall, his pelvis driving hard into hers. She tilted her hips so every thrust slid across her clit, pushing her higher towards release.

  She closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her, her emotions temporarily suspended; there was nothing but the feeling of his body in hers, this moment, the passion the frenzy. If she thought about it, she would realise it was reckless and sordid, maybe even dirty: two strangers, fully clothed, fucking against a wall. But she didn’t think, she just felt.

  And it felt right.

  Her breath came in frantic pants. Her internal walls clamped down hard against him as the tension built.

  “Fuck I am going to come.” James pulled out of her, letting out a ragged breath.

  She slid down the wall, her legs unable to support her. James pulled her tight against him, not letting her fall.

  She felt empty and incomplete.

  “We’re not done yet,” James rasped. Effortlessly he lifted her and carried upstairs into the master bedroom. His cast was hard against her back, biting into her flesh.

  He laid her on the duvet, the white material puffing up around her. James opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a condom.

  Megan pulled it from his fingers, her hands shaking as she frantically ripped at the foil wrapper and rolled it over him. Her hands ran down the length of him and settled on his balls, their full weight heavy in her hand. He was utterly male, nothing polished or refined about his masculinity.

  Megan pushed James down on the bed. She could help him take off his trousers but it added to the sensation to leave them on, made it feel anonymous. She climbed on top of him, and lowered herself onto him, inch by inch, taking him deeper into her, deeper than she remembered a man could be. She stopped for a moment and let her body stretch tautly around him. She was so full, so complete. She rocked against him, grinding her hips against him, using his body, bringing her closer to release with every languid movement. The tender pressure built inside her, gathering tighter, pushing her higher.

  With one hand she traced the deep ridges of his abs. And with her other, she reached between them, finding the sensitive spot and rubbed.

  He gave a terse shake of his dark head, a devious look on his perfect features. Wordlessly he rolled her on her back, pinning her between him and the mattress. His mouth was on hers again, kissing her as he rode her. This time it was his hand between them, his hand tracing circles around her clit, wringing out every ounce of pleasure her body had. He was invading her in every way a man could, and she wanted it. There was nowhere else she would rather be, no person she wanted more.

  Her back arched as she threw her hand high above her head and knocked the headboard. The metal of her wedding band hit the iron rails, creating a high tinny chime. The sound reminded her of her marriage, her role: all the boundaries she had painted around herself. In the moment she was free of everything. There were no secrets, no goals: no pressure. She was just a woman experiencing the primal satisfaction of a man deep inside her. She cried out from the pleasure of it as she gave herself over to her climax.

  Her body shook and spasmed, clamping down around him. Seconds later he groaned, signalling his own release.

  He collapsed onto her, his weight pinning her in place. He was heavy so there was not much room to breathe but it felt…right…safe. His large muscular frame was like a barrier to reality. She closed her eyes and let the last contractions wash over her, her body completely sated. She breathed in his scent, creating a memory. For a few moments they lay together, James still inside her, their hearts beating fast against the other’s ribs.

  Chapter Four

  James said something she could not hear as he pulled out of her. An apology maybe? Her brain had not yet engaged. How long had they lain entwined, James still hard in her body? She opened her eyes and saw him pulling off the condom as he walked to the bathroom.

  The scene was jarring, in sharp contrast to the euphoria she had just experienced. For her body it had felt like a fantasy, a treat that she had deprived herself of for too long, but no.

  This was real. She had just had sex with a stranger.

  No, with a journalist!

  An icy cold realisation washed over her.

  “Oh fuck,” Megan said. She pulled down her dress as she frantically tried to search for her underwear. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. So fucking stupid.” Where were her stupid panties? She pulled the duvet off the bed and swore again. She needed to get out of here. She needed to see Ben.

  “What’s wrong?” James asked as he ran back from the bathroom.

  She ignored him and continued to search for her panties. Of all the stupid things she had done in her life… What the hell had she been thinking?

  “Megan, calm down, what are you looking for?”

  “I need to go. That was a mistake…oh God. Please don’t tell anyone.” She ran down the stairs. Where were her panties? At least she still had her shoes. Shame nearly knocked her over, she still had her shoes on. What had she done?

  “Just relax. Let me get you a cup of coffee…or something.”

  He was close behind her, following her steps as she searched for her clothing. He was too close. She did not need the reminder of what she had just done.

  She spun on her heel. “I need to go. Please don’t print this. Shit, what is Ben going to say?” Her heart would not stop its brutal assault against her ribs.

  “You’re going to tell your husband?” James asked. A peculiar look of confusion and annoyance marred his features.

  She realised too late she had spoken her words aloud. Shit, what would an adulteress say? She could not think right now. She had no idea how she was supposed to react. This wasn’t in the script. Funnily enough she had never planned for the eventuality of falling into bed with a journalist. She just needed to get out of there. Screw her underwear. He could keep them. Use them as bloody evidence if he wanted. She just needed to get out of the house before she said anything else. “I’m sorry. I had too much to drink. I have never done that before. I care about my husband. Please don’t publish this.” She closed her eyes, an unfamiliar pressure building. She wasn’t going to cry, she never did.

  James stood between her and the door, preventing her from leaving. “Sit down and I’ll call you a cab.”

  Megan pushed him frantically. “I need to go. Just let me go.”

  “Calm down. What’s wrong?”

  What was wrong?! She had just slept with a stranger. She had just messed things up in a monumental way. If anyone found out, if anyone ever questioned her marriage to Ben… No, it could not happen. She just needed to get out of there so she could think.

  “I need to go.” She pushed him with all her strength, but he did not budge.

  “I’m not letting you go until you calm down.”

  “I can’t calm down until I go home and speak to my husband.” She was frantic now, her nerves amped up to maximum. She would not be OKuntil she had spoken to Ben and came up with a plan.

  James shook his head. “Seriously, woman? Think that one through. It’
s your marriage so I’m not going to tell you what to do, but as a man, I can tell you, I would not want to know. You made a mistake, don’t compound it by telling him.”

  Megan’s hands balled into tight fists. “I’m not going to let him read about it in the papers. I’m not going to blindside him with this.”

  “No one is going to put this in the papers. I’m hardly going to run a story about how I shagged a senator’s wife. I don’t want my sex life in the paper any more than you do.”

  She shook her head. “Your sex life is in the paper all the time.”

  James ran his hand over the stubble of his chin. This was not the usual postcoital reaction he received. Usually his only concern was dealing with a clingy woman and having to feign interest before he made an excuse as to why he could not lie about and cuddle and talk about feelings and enjoy the post-orgasm glow. This certainly made a change.

  Fuck, what was this woman playing at? Had he misread the signs? They had been pretty clear, like blinking lights over the motorway clear, but maybe he had got it wrong. Shit.

  “I’m not going to tell anyone we had sex. It’s not going to be in the papers so just relax.”

  “I can name all of the women you have had sex with this year. Because I read it in the papers! So forgive me if I don’t believe you.” She was shaking now, from fear or rage, he couldn’t tell.

  Those were hardly all the women he had been with, those were just the women the paparazzi had caught him with, but he was hardly going to correct her on that point. “You think I print stories about myself on purpose? Woman, I do that because I don’t stop my reporters from printing any news they see fit. Unlike my father, I don’t interfere with the free press. I don’t bury stories because they make me feel uncomfortable. If my journalists have a story, they run it. Full stop. But as you can see there are no photographers here, so you’re safe.”

  Christ, if she only knew how much he hated seeing stories about himself. He suspected there were a few reporters who pushed to find the most damning story they could run on him, just to see if he would step in and stop them. But he never did and he never would. James would never interfere with the press, no matter what the consequences were for him personally, because he was not his father. He could handle the embarrassment of any story, it was simply a reminder that he had the integrity his father lacked, because James could stop the stories and he didn’t.

  Megan’s chest was rising and falling quickly as she took in shallow breaths. She looked scared and vulnerable, like a bird. She was small, maybe a foot shorter than he was. Her height had not been as apparent before because her persona was so brash. But when he looked at her objectively, there was nothing to her.

  “I need to go.” Her foot tapped frantically against the hard wood floor.

  “Let me call you a cab.”

  “Just let me go. I never want to see you again. Please forget this ever happened.”

  Megan pushed past him and this time he let her go.

  James waited until Megan had closed the door behind her, before he swore out loud. What had just happened? Fuck the staying impartial and reporting the story. He was firmly imbedded in the story. Shit! What had happened?

  He should not have let things go as far as they had. Christ, what had he been thinking? Truth was he hadn’t been thinking at all. He let himself forget about his job and his responsibilities, forget about the mess with his father. With Megan it had been too easy to forget why he was in DC.

  But he was here for one reason.

  Megan had provided a nice momentary distraction but he didn’t have time to forget what he was after. He needed to stay focused. He had worked too hard to rebuild GMN.

  One thing was certain, James would discover what Senator McCoy’s involvement had been with the death of Seth Blair and nothing would stop him.

  Chapter Five

  Megan glanced at her watch. Getting a cab at this hour was not a great idea. All she needed was a driver to recognise her and feed the rumour mill. Lucky for her, her house was a ten-minute run away. Shame she was wearing heels. “Screw it,” she said. She took off her shoes and began running. The endorphins would do her good, because she was feeling pretty shit at the moment. What the hell had she been thinking? Who in their right mind has sex with the journalist doing a story on them? So epically stupid. And she would probably have done it again had the sun not started to come up and reminded her what was at stake. Funny how everything looked different in the cold light of day. No wonder so many crimes were committed at night—inhibitions and judgement go down with the sun.

  She ran faster, her bare feet striking the hard ground. With each stride the concrete bit into the flesh of her bare soles. She picked up her pace, running at a speed she rarely achieved. She just needed to be home to speak to Ben. Her lungs were on fire but it felt good to feel the cool air on her skin, sobering, comforting.

  Megan sprinted through her front door and into Ben’s room.

  “I messed up,” she said as she collapsed beside him on his bed. “Wake up, Ben. I need to talk to you. I made a mistake.”

  “What time it is?” Ben groaned, rolling over to face her, a crease from his pillowcase marring his otherwise perfect features.

  “I had sex with James Emerson.”

  Ben sat upright in bed, wiping his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear his vision.

  “Seriously, Megan? Is that your idea of a joke? Go back to sleep.” He pulled the duvet over her.

  “I am not kidding. I had sex with him. I really messed up. Talk about poor judgement. I guess I’m more like my mom than I thought.” She curled in beside Ben, seeking comfort.

  “The Australian journalist?”

  She nodded—who else would she be talking about?

  “Try again. You’re not really his type.”

  He was referring to the models James was usually seen with. Megan had a good ten years and 40lbs on most of them. “Fuck you and yes I had sex with him.”

  Ben eyed her dubiously. “Where?”

  “What do you mean, where? On the kitchen counter, against a wall, in his bed. You know, the usual places people make pisspoor decisions.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Yes I am serious. Why is it so hard to believe I had sex? We both know I’ve had plenty of it.”

  “Yeah but it has been a while and he is…shit, he is hot. Sorry Megan, you know I love you, but you were punching out of your league with that one.”

  She shook her head. “Go to hell, Ben.” She stood up to get out of bed but he pulled her back.

  “Don’t be like that, Megan. You know what I mean. Only women can date down. It’s biology. He is a ten and you are a seven and a half, eight with make-up.”

  “Fuck you. I don’t need this right now. I want you to be kind-and-supportive Ben, not bitchy-but-call-it-honest Ben.”

  Ben pulled her into a tight embrace. His body was smaller than James’; Ben was lean and sinewy, while James was hard muscle. “Did you really have sex?”

  Megan sighed in exasperation. Why was it so hard for Ben to believe she had had sex? When they first met, Megan had gone through several men, the encounters were too brief to be considered relationships. “Yes. I slept with James Emerson and if you ask again I will leave. Honestly Ben, you are not the only one who’s entitled to a sex life.”

  She was stepping into uncharted waters by mentioning Ben’s sex life, but she was too upset to dance around the issue. Ben had a special friend, if he could have sex, so could she.

  “Love, you are more than entitled, you just never partake. But well done you for getting back in the game. And with such a gorgeous man, the interview must have gone really well.”

  “No, it was an unmitigated disaster. I’m not sure what happened. One minute I was getting a salad ready and the next I was up against the wall.” Her cheeks warmed at the memory. “Are you mad?”

  “Should I be mad?” Ben asked.

  “I had sex with a reporter.”

&n
bsp; “And?” Ben pressed.

  “And what? That is bad enough. I don’t need an ‘and’, do I?”

  “He’s unlikely to say anything. There is no story there. He wants to keeps his nose clean as much as anyone else. After the senate hearings on the wire-tapping debacle, he wants to stay out of the spotlight as much as you. Trust me.”

  She bit down on her lower lip as she contemplated Ben’s logic. “Do you really think so?”

  “Absolutely. He is the perfect one-night stand.”

  “Really?” she asked dubiously. “Someone could find out,” she pressed, still not convinced.

  “I’m not suggesting you go out and sleep with a different man every night, but if you are going to have sex, he is a good choice. He’s hardly going to sell a story on himself. And if he does print anything, you deny it, we threaten to sue and we force him to relive the wire-tapping scandal.” Ben wrapped a protective arm around her and gave her a reassuring smile.

  He looked happy, so different to the despondent man she had left last night. “Did you…?” She did not know precisely how to phrase it. “You don’t seem as upset about—”

  “We worked it out,” Ben interrupted her before she could say his name. “He came over and we talked things out.”

  The way he was smiling led her to believe that they had done more than talk. “I am glad you’re friends again,” she said softly. She wished for Ben’s sake that she could say lovers or partners or any other word that would acknowledge the depth of the two men’s relationship. But she wouldn’t. Those were words that were left unsaid. She had never even met the man Ben loved. Ben and Megan shared everything, apart from that. That was a secret that Ben kept just for himself. She did not press the issue because she knew about those kinds of secrets too.

  Megan leaned over and kissed Ben on the cheek before she slid off the bed. “Good night, Ben. I’m going to go sleep off the shame.”

  “Wait, are you done with your story? You sleep with the most eligible man in DC and you don’t give details?” Ben grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him.