Page 25 of Filthy Little Secret

I’m being obvious. But that’s how I was that first night, and he didn’t seem to mind.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m just leaning back here.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, smirking.

“Maybe I figured you deserved a little something for the jam you got me out of last night.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Then take it because you can.”

“What if I don’t want it?”

Disappointment surges through me.

“Then you can take your clothes and go.” I’m not defensive or angry. Just matter-of-fact.

In his tight jeans, I notice his cock hardening. I gaze into his dark eyes. “I think your dick is giving away your bluff.”

“Mark, stop trying to play with fire. That’s how you get burned.”

“I think you’re going to have a hard time burning me.”

I approach him quickly and kiss him.

His scruff brushes softly across my face. I’ve missed having his body against mine.

I grip the crotch of his jeans, stroking his girth—that girth I want inside me, filling me, bringing me such pleasure. That sharp sting within that leaves me reeling with excitement.

He pushes me back into the living room, claiming control over the situation as he continues kissing me, his mouth moving from my lips, across my face, across my neck.

He nips and licks at my flesh, clearly not satisfied with just kisses. Like he needs to devour every part of my body.

He shoves me back onto the couch before removing his jacket and tossing his T-shirt off over his head, displaying that body I crave so much right now.

I remove my shirt and hurry out of my jeans. I kick my shoes off and slide my pants and briefs down. I’m frenzied in my movements. But he moves slowly, undoing his belt. He’s patient. I don’t know how he can have such patience when all I want is for him to drive his stiff cock into my ass.

“You mind if I do something?” he asks. “I won’t if you don’t want to.”

His wicked smirk makes whatever he’s about to suggest sound enticing.

“What is it?”

He steps out of his jeans, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out his phone.

And I can tell by the way he glances at it and then at me what he wants.

“You want to record it?” I ask.

An uneasy tension rises within me. I know what Mom would say. She’d be furious with me for even entertaining the idea.

I shouldn’t. That’s how everyone gets caught doing stuff like this. By having it caught on video.

What if he tried to blackmail me with this one day? Or my mother?

“We can set it up so it won’t have your face in it.”

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