Page 1 of Dirty Little Secret

tessa

. . .

The silkof the lingerie brushes against my skin like a whisper, cool and smooth, as I finish dressing. The penthouse is quiet around me, the hum of the city below just a distant murmur through the thick glass windows. I walk over to where a bottle of my favorite cabernet sits, already open, breathing. I pour myself a glass, its rich aroma mingling with the faint scent of rose from my bath.

As I approach the window, the lights of New York City spread out before me like a bed of stars just out of reach. Somewhere down there, Magnus Larsen is making his way through the streets to me. It’s funny how life turns on such tiny moments. Would everything have been different if my father hadn’t insisted on throwing that dinner party last spring?

Magnus had been just another guest, another suit among many in Dad's sprawling garden. But our eyes met across the crowd, and something unspoken but palpable passed between us. It was kismet. He was my father's friend—an intimidating, successful entrepreneur—but when we spoke, it felt like I’d known him all my life.

We discussed books, art, and our mutual appreciation for vintage jazz—so much so that by the end of the night, it seemed only natural for him to secretly take my number and promise a tour of his favorite spots in the city. Although I knew it was something special, it felt forbidden. After all, I was eighteen then, and my Magnus was a week from his forty-fifth birthday. I remember that part well. He celebrated by taking my virginity, using me thoroughly, and sating a hunger I never knew I possessed.

Now, here I am, six months later, living in a world high above the ground in a place I couldn’t have imagined before him. There is an edge to it all—a sharpness to this life that sometimes cuts because while he gives me everything I could ask for materially, what remains unsaid fills rooms more than any tangible gift.

Magnus says he loves how I look at the world—as if everything is still new and full of possibilities. Maybe that’s why he enjoys spoiling me. But as I sip my wine and wait for him to walk through the door, part of me wonders if it’s really about love or something else entirely—a need to possess and display me like one of the beautiful objects he loves to collect. After all, why does he still keep us secret?

As soon as the thought enters my mind, I brush it away. If you didn’t know us, it might appear as if we’ve built a transactional relationship—an exchange of sex for security, my youth for his experience. But that’s not us. Magnus and I are in love, and I know he’ll make things right one day soon. I trust him, and more importantly, I believe in us.

I take another sip and let the warmth settle into my bones. Tonight, Magnus will find me as always—ready for him, framed by the city lights, draped in silk and mystery—a living work of art he ritually conquers.

As Magnus steps through the door, the soft murmur of city life from outside fades into a hushed silence, swallowed by thethick, opulent drapes that frame the windows. He pauses, his eyes widening slightly as they drink me in—a silhouette haloed by the golden glow of the setting sun, sipping red wine in nothing but sheer black lingerie. The glass in my hand feels suddenly cool against my warm fingers as I watch him, his reaction unfolding slowly like a sweet, anticipated script.

For a moment, Magnus just stands there, his jacket hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. His tie, slightly askew from what must have been a busy day, only adds to the image of disheveled elegance. There's something thrilling about seeing him this way—unraveled, yet so distinctly himself.

I see Magnus’s eyes trace every line and curve of my body as if he's memorizing me all over again. There's hunger in that look, an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. As he strides toward me, each step deliberate and filled with purpose, he sheds his jacket, his tie following, discarded carelessly on the couch. All while his gaze never leaves mine.

The air shifts as he closes in, and it's charged with anticipation so thick I can almost touch it. When he finally reaches me, he doesn't hesitate. His hands frame my face gently but firmly as he leans in without a word—his breath mingled with an almost imperceptible scent of cologne. Our lips meet in a tender kiss that grows passionately desperate in seconds. It's as if each second apart has been one too long, and now there’s no space for air or thought between us—only this overwhelming symphony of emotions.

Magnus’s lips move against mine with an eagerness that mirrors my own. My arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until there is no room left for anything resembling distance or doubt. In this embrace, surrounded by the quiet luxury of my apartment and the distant hum of the bustling city below, nothing matters but us.

Magnus’s fingertips trace the lace edges of my lingerie as if memorizing every detail, every curve they encounter, sending shivers down my spine that echo his silent groan against my mouth. The world shifts subtly under our feet, as if the entire universe is condensing into this small circle made only for us.

We break away just slightly, breaths mingling fast and ragged, pausing only to gaze into each other's eyes—seeing and being seen, lost and entirely found all at once. Every day, I fall utterly in love with this man, again and again. There’s no sense denying it.

“God, Tess,” Magnus whispers hoarsely, as though words are all that can tether him back to reality.

But tonight, I'm not interested in what’s real. Tonight is about letting go and falling wherever this night might take us. And so, with another lingering kiss that promises much more to come, I lead him by the hand, away from the window and into our bedroom.

Pulling back just enough to speak, I whisper against his lips, "I've been thinking about this all day, Daddy." I use his favorite moniker, which he taught me when we first came together. I never thought calling him that would suit me so well.

“And I've been thinking about my baby girl,” Magnus counters smoothly, his gaze holding mine captive.

Magnus's body presses against mine with a delicious weight, igniting my skin and setting my nerves alight. Each point of contact sends sparks of electricity through me. I am immersed in his embrace, lost in the intoxicating sensations of his warmth. Suddenly, he rolls me over and places me above him, a position he always favors. I feel the power shift between us as he surrenders control to me, even though we both know he still holds all the cards. It adds an extra level of passion and thrill to our lovemaking.

Magnus’s lips trail a path of fire from my breasts down to the apex of my thighs, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through me. He gently eases my legs apart, settling himself between them, and I feel his warm breath against my aching core. I gasp as his tongue finds its mark, lapping at my sensitive clit in slow, deliberate circles.

"Oh, Daddy," I moan, my head thrown back in ecstasy. The word feels like a prayer on my lips as he continues his skillful ministrations, each caress of his tongue sending me spiraling closer to the edge. Magnus seems to sense my mounting pleasure as he slides a finger inside me at the same time, his touch sure and confident. I arch my back farther, pressing myself against him, needing more, always more.

Magnus’s tongue and finger work in perfect harmony, licking and probing until I can no longer hold back the building crescendo within me.

"Daddy!" I cry out, my body convulsing in a powerful climax that seems to leave every fiber of my being sated yet hungering for more.

As my heartbeat returns to normal, I look down at him, basking in my post-orgasmic bliss. "My turn," I purr, rolling him onto his back and straddling his hips. He smiles at me through hooded eyes, the picture of satisfaction.

“You know I’ll never deny my baby girl. Show your daddy how much you want him. Make me believe it.”

magnus

. . .

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