Page 1 of Filthy Little Secret

1

MARK

He steps through the entry into the kitchen.

It’s over for me.

Folding his arms, he leans against the column across from the kitchen island I sit at, his dark eyes on me like some sort of predator. That’s what he is. I saw how he was looking at me upstairs when I was chatting with my friends. It’s why I slipped away, looking back at him just long enough to offer an inviting glance before I snuck down to the unfinished basement kitchen that’s supposed to be off-limits for party guests.

He must’ve seen how lonely I am…sensed my intense grief.

Now, here we are. Him—the notorious asshole who likes to fuck spoiled rich kids. And me—a sad, defeated, lonely kid who needs an escape from the pain.

The bass of the music upstairs makes me think of all the red Solo cups and dancing I witnessed a few minutes ago. The scent of wood and new paint fills the room.

I lean forward on the bar stool and rest my elbows on the island. I gaze into his eyes, wishing I were stronger. But if I were, then I could resist him, and I wouldn’t want to do that. I deserve a night with someone like Tim Halwell. I deserve to feel passion and to be as bad as Greg was to me.

“Seems awfully lonely down here,” Tim says as he steps away from the column, approaching me—moving slowly, taking his time. He doesn’t need to take his time, though.

“You’re some kind of demon, aren’t you?” I ask as he saunters around the corner of the island, trailing his finger along the marble countertop.

He smirks. “What do you mean?”

He must know I’ve figured out his game by now. How he leads guys on. How he excites them. Entices them and then leaves them hungry for something more…something he can’t give them. I’ve heard the story so many times, and I’ve been intimidated by him ever since I first heard about him last year. But tonight, I’ve given up.

“You can sense weakness,” I say. “My fear.”

“Are you afraid?”

I shake my head. “I would be on a different night.”

“What about tonight?”

“Just sad.”

“I can make it better.”

“That’s not how it works, but I don’t mind making a mistake.”

“And I don’t mind being your mistake.”

Revenge sex is what I need right now. To get the fuck plowed out of me until I can forget about Greg and what he did to me. How much he hurt me.

Tim moves in closer, so that he’s right beside me, and I turn and gaze into his beautiful brown eyes, which seem to have some great secret behind them—something he keeps from all his fuck buddies.

His short dark hair combed to the side, he has a sharp jawline covered with a light scruff like he forgot to shave this morning. The specks of hair surround those thin pink lips—curved just right…the most kissable fucking lips I’ve ever seen.

A voice calls out within me, begging me to reconsider acting on my lust and vengeance, but I can’t deny how hard I’m getting just thinking about fucking him.

I rise from the bar stool so that we’re just standing there, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” I say.

“Who needs ’em?”

I move toward him quickly and kiss him.

I imagine him getting together with his buddies, bragging about how exciting it was to fuck the shit out of the governor’s son. Telling them how easy I was. How I’m the biggest bottom he’s ever had. How he owned me. Controlled me. Humiliated me.

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