Page 22 of Dark Secret

Wet, hot skin, just out of the shower was one of my favorite things. “I think, mmm, yes. Right there.”

I backed him up against the wall and slid down to my knees. I caught a sparkle from my new nails and grinned as I opened the robe. Those things were going to be distracting, but not as distracting as that.

I took his already hard cock in my hand and took him as far as I could take him, until he throbbed in my mouth. I loved those pulses that signaled his blood was pumping through him hard and fast. Dylan just let me do as I pleased and dug his hands into my hair to steady himself.

“That’s so good, Stephanie.” That was something else. He’d stopped calling me pet as often as he used to. Oh, he would say my name, but he rarely did when we were having sex.

I liked it when he called me pet, but when he growled my name, even my fake name, it was so much sexier. I could die happy, if the last thing I ever heard was him saying my name like that. Even if it wasn’t my real name.

That was something else that ate away at me. He still didn’t know who I was. It was a huge omission on my part, and one I knew I was bound to pay for sooner or later. I was the forgotten Thompson, though, and I could hope that he’d forgive me, once he found out.

I didn’t slow my attentions, but for a moment longer, I was distracted. How could I say I wanted a real relationship with him, if he didn’t even know my name? I looked up and saw his eyes were on my face as I worked on him. I winked at him, and he had my whole attention once more.

With a practiced technique, one that he’d taught me, I got him close to the edge and backed off. He groaned in frustration, but he didn’t protest. He just waited on me to finish my slow tease of his dick with my hand and patiently took what I offered.

“You’re going to kill me one day.” He gasped when I finally took him in my mouth again.

“I hope not,” I whispered before I went down on him, all the way. This time, he took over and started to fuck my throat as I did the best I could to breathe around him.

There was a moment when I wondered if this was wrong, if maybe I shouldn’t use sex as a tool to avoid that talk, but I dismissed it. It didn’t matter, not right now.

I swallowed around him, and that finally did it. He went over the edge. I took everything he had to give me, and when he was done, I stood up with a happy grin. “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

I kissed him, went into the kitchen, got a glass of wine, and looked in the freezer. “Do you want to order something, Dylan? There’s not a lot in here.”

I turned to see him standing in the kitchen, against the wall. The panels of his bathrobe were back together now, and he had a satisfied look on his face. “I liked that.”

“What?” I asked, my head tilted to the side a little.

“That hi honey part. That was … nice.” He seemed embarrassed and looked away. “It’s not something I’ve ever heard real people say.”

“Not even your adoptive parents?” I held my breath. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

He looked uncomfortable for a minute, but then he relaxed. “No, not even them. Only you.”

“Well, then, that makes it special.” I walked up and pressed myself to him, then gave him a wine-flavored kiss. “What shall we eat? I’m starving.”

“What do you want?” His hands were on my waist, and I couldn’t help but feel like this was one of those moments when I showed him what our life could be like without a contract.

“I’d like whatever you want, Dylan. I’m not picky for once.”

“Well, if we order Italian, I have time to take you to bed before it gets here. If not, I won’t have time for anything but maybe a nice warmup to the night’s events.”

“Oh my, that is a choice.” I made my eyes go wide and then grinned. “But if we eat first, and I have a shower, then we can call the night done, and just go to bed.”

“That sounds like the winning plan.” A strange look came over his face for a minute, but it passed.

I saw it, a look I’d seen before, but he always carried on, as if nothing happened, so I assumed it was some pain he didn’t want to talk about. It seemed to be happening more frequently, though, and that concerned me now.

“Are you alright, Dylan?” I asked as he went to get his phone.

“I’m fine, just a twinge in my back. No big deal. Do you want the lasagna meal for two or something different?”

“That sounds fine.” I let the question go and headed for his shower.

I didn’t like the fact that he was in pain, but if he could keep it under control, then I shouldn’t worry too much, I guessed. I went to the shower, cleaned myself up, and came out with wet hair and no makeup. The poor man knew what I looked like with a naked face, and that was something people rarely got to see from me.

I’d been putting on makeup, expertly, since I was thirteen years old, and my mom had sent me to an expert to show me how to apply it. I’d updated the look as the years changed, but it wasn’t so different really. Oddly enough, Dylan preferred me without it anyway. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t like when I had it on, because he did. It just wasn’t important to him that I keep it on.