His Secret: (Man Of The House Taboo Erotica) (CANDY GIRL SERIES)

by Lucy Lixx

  © Copyright 2016 by LUCY LIXX - All rights reserved

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  His Secret

  By Lucy Lixx

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  *** SNEAK PEEK: BOOK2 ***

  BONUS CONTENT ONE

  BONUS CONTENT TWO

  BONUS CONTENT THREE

  Prologue

  My body was pressed against the hard wood of the desk, a pair of hands firmly holding my hips as they rocked against the polished oak. Grunts and moans filled the office with echoed waves of pleasure as Step Daddy’s body collided with mine. Each thrust permeated my body with electrical force; sweet and painful shocks of pure pleasure spreading from my pelvis through my every limb. With each thrust deeper than the last, his reach was deep. The massive girth of his manhood kneading and ripening my delicate flower, with each deep, sharp shock. I smiled, gripping the edge of the desk.

  We had been catapulted into this beautiful tryst, a loving bond that spoiled me in every way. As he hungrily drove himself further and further into me, imprinting himself over and over again within my folds, all I could think about as I reeled in pleasure was how he had become my everything. All of his gifts, by his own twisted definition, were called ‘pure’; be they sex or drugs. He showered me with money, clothes, and his high profile friends spoiled me just the same. None of their intentions were genuine. I knew that. They paid to win my affection, or buy my silence. Nothing was off limits if it meant staying in my so-called ‘hot shot producer’ mother’s good graces, by proxy through me.

  A hand came down to smack my bottom, causing me to giggle as he continued to plow my delectable insides.

  “Do you like that, little girl?” he asked through a smile.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I whispered over my shoulder. “I love it.”

  His hard tool filled me to the brim with pleasure making me shiver with delight, his hips crowning my bottom as he took me from behind. The desk creaked. A pencil fell to the floor with a soft thud as I flailed around in response to his increased rhythm. I bayed softly against the wood, keeping myself steady with two hands, while licking my lips.

  This is my favorite thing to do. Fuck.

  Having my Step Daddy inside me makes me feel at home. There was no one in the world who could make me feel this way. I’d given him my flower as well as my promises, our secret was safe as long as it stayed between us. My mother has been totally oblivious to our affair and I couldn’t have asked for a more titillating relationship, though we were breaking all the rules. While other women dreamt for years to find the one that could satisfy them, I was lucky to have stumbled upon mine in my own home.

  As he continued to heatedly slam into me, the door to the office flew open and forced us to stop, almost frozen with shock. My immediate and first reflex being to drop down beneath the desk and hide as Daddy tried to explain to my mother why he was completely nude. I covered my mouth, trying desperately not to snicker. I was high from ‘candy pills’ I’d popped earlier, and my senses were still skewed, thus the inappropriate giggle I tried to muffle, unable to fully grasp what was actually happening. It was comical until I was grabbed by my hair and yanked from my hiding space in a way that oddly reminded me of the time I was discovered hiding in the hay on my grandfather’s farm.

  She exposed my naked body and slapped my face, shaking my shoulders.

  “You little slut!” she screamed. “What are you doing in here with my husband?!”

  As her hands came down to slap me again, I considered how I had come to this moment. We had taken every precaution necessary. Our tryst was nestled between both my ears, having never left my lips or my fingertips. I had never told anyone, nor had I ever written it in my journal which had gathered dust in my bedside drawer. How had she come to this conclusion? She was supposed to be at work all day without any breaks in between, her studio too far from the mansion even if she was spared an hour for lunch…. So, who had told her?

  *

  Four months prior to this salacious incident, I had flown into LA to live with my successful mother who I hadn’t spoken with very often since I was eight. This is my story of how I spiraled into the fast lifestyle of LA – drugs, alcohol, and sex. I was given everything without question, the only expectation being my undying love and affection to my sweet Step Daddy. He might have been my mother’s husband, but I had claimed him as my true guardian. He was the man who’d keep me safe and fed for a short time before it was all ripped away. This is how I came to be Maddy Diamond. And this is how I came to dance with the devil.

  Chapter One

  The sun was setting in the distance, reminding me of how long my flight was going to take. It had been a few hours since I had left Charlotte, North Carolina where I waved goodbye to the only family I had ever known. I was heading to the most popular city in California, a place that all my high school friends had wished to visit with wide eyes and open hearts. Las Angeles had never appealed to me. It was where my mother had run off to when I was eight years old, chasing dreams that would eventually come to fruition.

  There was no telling what waited for me at my destination. I was sure my mother would open her expensive arms and hug me, perhaps even apologize for being away for ten years. It didn’t matter. This was merely a formality of losing my grandparents who had dedicated their lives to my care and comfort. The city is no place for a country girl like me. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  After napping on and off, I dreamed of meeting a wonderful man on the other side of the country. Perhaps he would save me from my starry eyed mother. We could return to my beloved east coast and raise animals on a farm, never minding the dirt getting under our nails from hard labor. My thin frame was clad in daisy duke shorts and a white top along with a blue plaid shirt. Yellow, wavy locks like straw hung down over the fabric. I toyed with the dead ends.

  The pilot announced we were landing and I sat up, buckling myself in. I gripped the arm rest with both hands and squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling with relief after making our shaky landing. I grabbed my backpack from above and shuffled up the aisle towards the terminal. This was such a strange experience. I had never left the state of North Carolina unless it was to visit the outer islands of Roanoke and Corolla which weren’t particularly far from my town of Raleigh. Still, it was both exhilarating and upsetting to leave the east coast.

  Walking through the terminal, I looked around for my mother. She wasn’t near the gate. I kept walking through the rows of people waiting for their flights, envying the families that were mostly whole. I watched a little girl give her father a treat. It made me smile. But, it also made me wondered what my mother’s husband was like and whether I’d be able to have that kind of relationship with him. My father wasn’t around when I was born, so I looked to my grandfather as my main male figure. We had a loving bond that made me feel comforted. Now I felt like I had been catapulted into a world of madness without anything to hang onto.

  My mother was nowhere to be found, even at the baggage claim area, so I walked outside where I f
ound a blond man waiting in front of a Porsche holding up a sign that said, “Madison Hayes.” He was wearing a pair of Gucci sunglasses and a vintage shirt with a pair of torn jeans. There was no way he was more than ten years older than me. I guess he saw me staring at him because he approached and held out his hand.

  “Madison?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied, taking his hand slowly.

  He had a firm grip, the muscles of his bicep flexing gently as he shook my hand.

  “I’m Dallas. Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he explained.

  “Hi, Dallas,” I said. “Are you the chauffeur?”

  This question prompted him to chuckle.

  “I know I look young, but I’m your mom’s husband. She’s out working right now, so she sent me to pick you up,” he replied. “Let me help you with your bag.”

  I was mesmerized by his smile. The pearly whites shining at me were astounding, definitely a requirement of a Hollywood lifestyle. Dallas took my bag and loaded it into the back, then opened the door for me. I thanked him as I sat down. The interior was plush and shiny. I was afraid to touch anything. Looking down at my brown boots, I noticed how dingy they appeared next to the lavish leather. This was a totally different world.

  The ride to my mother’s house was mostly quiet, Dallas turning up the music for a few songs and rolling down the windows for me to smell the fresh ‘smoggy’ California air. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this. If the way this man looked was the ‘norm’ in Cali, then I had a lot to learn, because the country boys I was use to back home were far less intimidating to look at, and definitely more approachable. Dallas was so young and attractive. How had my mother end up marrying him? My thighs twitched as I studied his right hand resting on the gear shift. His fingers looked soft, which was a far cry from the rough calloused hands my grandfather had. All the blue-collar men I’d known all my life had always prided themselves on manual work, as if displaying the dirt on their sleeves, and their rough, scraped hands was a badge of honor, proving a hard day’s work. Validating their manhood.

  “I think you’ll really like it here,” said Dallas while pulling up to a wrought iron gate.

  “This is the house?” I asked, shocked at the sight sitting before me.

  Just beyond the gates was a gargantuan mansion, the color of egg white and sparkling in the afternoon sun. Dallas pushed a button on the sun visor and the gates opened slowly.

  “Welcome to The Diamond Mansion,” he said while pulling the car up.

  A butler was waiting for us on the steps and he collected my things. We followed him inside where Dallas showed me around part of the first floor. There was simply too much to take in. I was blown away by the sheer magnitude of the mansion, the dining room alone appearing to be the size of two bedrooms. Who needed all this space? I guess my mom was a lot more successful than I thought, or that my grandparents had led on.

  “How can you afford all this?” I asked, studying the mosaic on the ceiling.

  “Livvy makes a huge paycheck with the production company she runs,” Dallas said, as if it were no big deal and expected, common knowledge.

  “Livvy?” I asked.

  I had never heard anyone call my mother by that name. It must be new.

  “That’s her nickname. She told me that somebody gave it to her when she first moved here and it stuck,” replied Dallas.

  “So, when did you meet my mother?” I asked.

  “A few years ago at a movie premier,” said a female voice from behind me. “Hello, dear Madison.”

  I turned to find my mother standing in the doorway, clad in a beautiful white suit wearing stilettos and holding a pocket poodle under her arm. The dog yapped.

  “Hi, mom,” I said dryly, trying to smile.

  It wasn’t an exciting moment, though you’d think it should have been.

  “Come here,” she said holding out her free arm. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

  Because you abandoned me, I thought.

  I gave her a side hug and took a step away, waiting for some instruction on how to behave. I wasn’t even sure what to say to her. Our chats before this moment were mostly brief and one-sided.

  “Let me show you to your room,” she said while taking my hand. “I think you’ll love it.”

  I already don’t. I said to myself, sarcastically.

  Chapter Two

  After my mother showed me to my room, she helped me unpack my bag for which I felt grateful. I didn’t stay mad for long. Although she had left me with my grandparents, I was glad she was trying to make a connection with me now. The truth was, I really didn’t have anybody else after they’d passed; at least no one who would really care if I lived or died. Friends were one thing, but family was another.

  A little bit of indignation remained from all those years wondering why she had left me, and it seemed to be melting away as she laid my clothes on the large four-post bed. She held up a dingy plaid shirt.

  “My goodness, have they been clothing you with thrift store items?” she asked with a small giggle. “I’m sure we can do better than that.”

  “I don’t mind them,” I said. “It’s comfortable and it fits.”

  “Well, you live with me now and we’ll make sure to get you an entirely new wardrobe. How’s that?” she asked, placing a few shorts in a drawer.

  “I guess that’s alright,” I retorted.

  I didn’t want to feel like a burden. She had already paid for my flight which was more money than I had ever spent on anything. It bothered me to think I might owe her if she spent any more.

  “It’s no problem. I’ll give Dallas one of my cards and you two can hit the shops. I have to go back into work to settle some business, but I’ll be back later this evening,” she said, standing in front of me and holding my shoulders gently. “It’s good to have you here, Madison. I really hope we can reconnect.”

  “I do, too,” I responded with a small smile.

  My mother wrapped me into a tight hug, patted my shoulder, and then waved as she left my room, closing the door behind her. I looked around. This bedroom was massive. The curtains appeared to be made of silk and the comforter was practically a cloud melting between my fingers. Everything was white embroidered with gold patterns and I rolled over on to the bed while spreading out my arms. I felt like I was floating. These things were lovely, but I missed the sound of the cows mooing across the field and the horses whinnying in the stables. I missed my stallion, Buttercup. She was always my favorite to ride. Most of all, I missed my grandpa and mammy.

  “Are you hungry?” asked a voice from the door.

  Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Dallas enter the room. He leaned against the door with one hand on his hip, appearing to have all the confidence in the world.

  “Sure,” I replied from the bed.

  I was afraid to move in his presence for fear my klutzy nature would knock me off the bed. Dallas waited in the doorway.

  “What would you like?” he asked.

  What did rich people eat? I thought.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied, sitting up slowly.

  “Well, let’s go look in the kitchen,” he said.

  When he left my sight, I hopped off the bed and followed, my boots clunking against the ground. His smooth movements were nothing compared to my lanky legs and awkward arms. We made our way down the huge staircase and into the marble kitchen, my fingers running over the smooth surface and admiring the lush appliances.

  “It’s so shiny,” I commented, regretting my vocabulary couldn’t describe the awe I felt.

  “Livvy insisted on new equipment. Would you like a quesadilla? They’re my specialty,” he said, motioning to the open fridge.

  “Sure,” I replied, perching myself on a stool at the bar.

  I watched Dallas collect a tortilla, shredded cheese, and a handful of spinach. He buttered the pan and then started adding the ingredients, folding the tortilla expertly and letting it sit before flipping it over.
Every motion was perfectly calculated. I admired how his fingers danced over the plate, adding a few finishing touches.

  “Do you want sour cream?” he asked.

  “With a quesadilla?” I asked in response.

  “It’s pretty good. I’ll give you a small dab,” he said.

  As he did that, I gave a small smile.

  “I didn’t think you could smile,” he pointed out. “It looks good on you.”

  My face flushed and I let my hair fall in front of my face to cover the red in my cheeks. Dallas reached over the counter and pushed my hair behind my ears, raising my chin with one finger.

  “You look really pretty,” he said, peering deep into my eyes. “Your mother suggested a makeover. I think a haircut and a little make-up would really bring out the color of your eyes.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered bashfully, as his finger traced my jaw.

  “Take a bite. Tell me what you think,” he said.

  I looked down at the delicious tortilla in front of me, inhaling the mouthwatering scent of melted cheese. It smelled heavenly. I took one bite and then another, getting lost in the delicious combination of flavors.

  “This is wonderful,” I said between bites.

  Dallas smiled in response and got me a glass of water. It wasn’t long before the entire quesadilla was gone and I licked my fingers, gulping down the water eagerly. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry. I gave Dallas my plate and hopped off the stool. While fixing my shorts, I looked out the French windows on the other side of the room, admiring the lush, green scenery rolling across the estate. A hand rested on my shoulder. The sudden touch caused me to recoil, sending waves of heat between my thighs. I didn’t understand why his presence did that to me.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning over to peer through the window. “I inherited this estate from my father before he passed away. Since then, I’ve been proud to keep it in working condition.”