Page 18 of Dirty Little Secrets

A fter the business trip to Las Vegas, I keep checking the Obsidian app.

Being there, surrounded by bright lights, endless bodies in glitter and flesh, and women laughing too loudly with men they barely knew stirred the anticipation. It gave me a hunger I thought I buried. All I could think about was fucking my boss’s brains out.

I could blame it on my past and the need to use him in order to forget. On the abuse. On the wiring of a girl who was taught that pain is the code to love. But lately, the blame shifts. It’s because of him. My forbidden fruit.

Xaiden.

Every time I look at him, it feels like that apple is brushing against my lips, daring me to take a bite. And maybe I would, if I didn’t know better. Men like him aren’t seduced by bodies. They’re immune. Controlled by their wants. Invincible to everyone.

I’m sprawled on the bed in Kristina’s spare room. It’s Sunday night. I’m bored. Kristina’s on a date, and I’m alone with my own twisted thoughts.

Like it can hear them, the Obsidian app lights up with an alert.

You have been matched. Location: Anonymous Room. Click accept.

My heart spikes. I stare at the screen. No names. No faces. No conversation. Just sex.

I press accept.

Then I get up, fast. My coat is tight around me, hiding the lingerie underneath—blood red lace and silk. By the time I reach the club, the bouncers recognize me from the other night and wave me in.

I ignore the screens, the sounds of people in the throes of pleasure. My focus on the app guiding me to the room wondering who’s on the other side.

A biometric scan clears me. The door hisses open. The room is dim. There’s a queen-sized bed. A single chair. And a man in it. Chained by the wrists.

Black silk boxers paint is cock and upper thighs.

His muscles are carved to perfection. Tattoos crawl up his torso, and my heart sputters when it stops at a giant X on his neck.

More ink flows over his arms and thighs and I swear my mouth dries up like the fucking desert when I reach his face. He’s blindfold but that’s not all.

Xaiden Drazen is X.

My fucking boss. My blood bubbles in my veins from excitement. My breath catches but my brain screams to run. Memories blurring the sight in front of me.

“You want to make me happy, right?” Brent’s voice like a switchblade on my neck. My back against a pool table in the clubhouse, the ashtray beside me holding his cigarette. The smoke curling like a noose in the air.

I nod, too afraid to say no dressed in nothing but a leather thong and crop top.

I hate drugs but inside the club, it was normal to be offered and expected to indulge.

It was his way to show the others you were part of it.

A way for Brent to get me to do whatever he wanted.

Fuck me however he wanted without a protest from my lips.

“Then be a good girl and take it.” He hands me the small pill, holding a cup of Whiskey. Don’t make me ask twice.”

“Are you going to stand there,” he says, voice like gravel and silk, “or fuck me?”

I step closer pulling me back to the present. He doesn’t know it’s me. Not like this. Not as RED.

My fingers tremble as I wave a hand in front of his face to make sure he can’t see. Nothing. He can’t see me. He can only feel. Only imagine who.

He lifts his hands. The chains pull taut when his hands slide down his abs, fingers disappearing under the waistband. My knees weaken as I watch as his hand comes back out with his hard cock.

“I saw the live feed,” he murmurs and strokes. “You wanted someone to stick a fat cock inside your pussy. Here it is, RED.”

Oh my God.

I drop my coat, heat licking up my spine. I fall to my knees, sliding between his thighs, palms skimming over muscle and skin. My breasts press against his shaft.

A low groans bubbles from his throat.

“You’re going to suck my dick,” he rasps and then swallows.

Yes. I am.

I drag my tongue down, tracing every dip in his abdomen until I reach his cock, hard and proud. A piercing glint beneath the low light. I take him into my mouth, deep and slow. My tongue flicks the metal and feel him shudder.

My head bobs faster. And faster. His fingers tangle in my hair, gentle but imperious.

“I’m about to come,” he pants, and rips me from his mouth. “Sit on my cock.”

I rise. Grab a condom from the tray. Tear it open and slide it on him slowly. But I don’t straddle him yet. I wait. I watch.

He shifts restlessly. He can’t see me. Doesn’t know it’s me. That’s the thrill. He’s tied. Blindfolded. At my mercy.

“Fuck, RED,” he growls. My clit pulses. I straddle him my pussy hovers over his cock. The moment imprinting into my memory as I lower feeling the soft head of his cock penetrate my folds, sliding further, widening me to the max.

We groan together as I sink down on him completely. “Fuck your pussy is amazing,” he grits. He stretches me, his cock thick, perfect, and devastating big.

He sets a rhythm, hands gripping my hips. Tongue tracing my chest and when he touches the piercing on my nipple, I cry out. Pain. Pleasure. Madness. All mixing like the sweetest poison.

I ride him harder. Faster. Sparks scatter behind my eyelids temporarily losing vision as my orgasm crashes over me.

“You got yours,” he pants with a smile. “Now ride this dick.”

I obey. He slaps my ass. Marking my skin with the imprint of his hand spurring me on. His fingers dig into my thighs. His jaw clenched. Veins straining. He fucks me like he’s punishing me. Like he hates me.

I love it.

When he comes, he spills inside me with a groan that sounds like surrender. Our bodies are slick with sweat, our chests heaving as he leans in. “Don’t forget to clean up your mess, RED.”

I slide off, remove the condom, and suck him clean. His fingers stroke my hair. Just once. Like he cares.

“It was fun,” he says. “Press the button on your way out.”

Just like that, the fantasy is over. A cold dish with a glass of hot water. And maybe it’s better he never knows who I am. Because this way, I can pretend to be his just for the night. There’s no point in trying to hold on to an unkept version for someone you could never be.