Secret Shared: A S.E.C.R.E.T. Novel (20 page)

“Holy mother of mercy,” he muttered, at which point I realized I’d not only be seeing everything, but hearing everything through speakers.

“Okay, first thing: don’t smile at me so much,” Angela said to him. “You want our girl to feel you’re happy to see her, but enthuse less, smolder more.”

“Got it,” he said, literally wiping the smile off his face with a sweep of his hand.

I laughed. I mean, it was funny—
he
was funny. But Angela was not amused.

“Take a seat.”

Mark fell into the tufted chair like an obedient boy, which sent Angela’s fist to her hip.
Oh, please don’t blow this
, I thought.
If you blow this, no Jesse for me.

“Yes, ma’am,” he added.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” Angela scolded. “That is
not
going to turn any woman on.”

“Sorry.”

He examined the room, his eyes stopping on the mirror for a second. Angela followed his gaze. They were both looking directly at me.
No!
I sank in the chair, my hand to my throat, which was now closing in some kind of terror-induced anaphylactic shock. Angela snapped her fingers to bring his attention back to her. Whew.
They can’t see you! They cannot see you, Cassie!
I reminded myself. Exhale.

She strutted up to him, stood close enough to almost touch his knees with hers.

“Remember, we only pair you with women who want what you want, who crave what you crave, who want to do what you want to do, or who want to try what you want to try.”

He put one hand to the muscles in his neck to give himself a stretchy massage. Wow, he was nervous too.

“So, Mark … how shall we play today?”

How shall we play today?
That was sexy. I tucked that phrase away. He looked down at her white pumps, regarding them thoughtfully. I followed his eyes as they made their slow way up her long legs.

“I’ll play however you want to play.”

That’s my boy!
I wanted to yell.
You can do this, Mark
. Angela moved her hand across the front of her dress.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off, Mark?”

“I can get into that.”

He stood, a full six inches shorter than her, to strip.

“You’re a goddess,” he said, kicking his shoes off, looking up into her face looming over him, her breasts level
with his eyes. “I don’t care if I’m not supposed to say that. It’s what you are.”

She cupped his chin, but instead of kissing him, she let go and turned to make her way to an ornately carved writing desk. She opened a drawer and took out of it something that looked like a tangle of rope. The only way to describe how she moved was feline. She was a woman who loved being in her body and she was used to being watched. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her. Nor could I. She stood behind the desk now, watching as he ripped off his clothes, pants first.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. You’re stripping like a frat boy. Put your clothes back on and start again, honey.”

He did as he was told. Once dressed, he started again, this time removing his belt more slowly.

“Now you’re a Chippendales dancer? Not sexy.”

“
Fuck
,” Mark said, clearly pissed at himself.

“Start with your shirt. Just use one hand to undo the buttons. Try that. Look at me the whole time.”

He did, and it was much better. She held the rope in her hands.

“Now the cords,” she said, as he casually undid his belt, leaving it in the loops, and dropped his pants and boxers to the ground.

He lightly kicked them aside. He was clearly ready, but she didn’t draw attention to that fact. She pushed him back into the chair and dangledtwo ropes in front of his face.

“You should be naked too,” he said, nervous laughter escaping.

“I don’t like that word,” she said.

“Naked?”

“No.
Should.
It’s not popular around here.”

She moved behind him, firmly tying his wrists to the chair. Then she came around the front of him and nudged his thighs open. Keeping her eyes on him, she untied the side knot of her dress. She opened it up to him like an envelope. She had nothing on underneath.

“Let me put it another way,” he said, taking in the whole of her body. “It would be great if you were naked
all
the time. For the good of mankind.”

She flung her dress off her and stood in front of him, wearing nothing but her white pumps. I watched him taking her in. Then with one hand she squeezed a breast, while her other traveled all over her torso. I was spellbound, feeling her arousal as she gave herself a stir with her own middle finger.

“You’re hard, aren’t you? What are we going to do about that?”

“Holy
shit
!” he murmured, throwing his head back, his eyes riveted to her hands, her fingers. He wanted to touch her, to reach out to her, but he couldn’t. Even
I
felt his frustration, his arousal arousing me. I had never felt that before; I hadn’t seen much pornography and I was no voyeur. But this … this was intense. And hot. I sank a little lower in my club chair, slack with desire.

Both feet still in heels, she straddled his legs, leaned over and put her hands on his shoulders, her full breasts touching
his chest as she bent to kiss him. She started slowly, languidly, arching her taut body, her ass high in the air. She moved her lips down his neck, stopping every once in a while to gaze into his eyes, to gauge his reaction. He was desperate.

“Do you think you can untie me?” he asked. “Fuck, I’d really like to touch you.”

She thought about his words for a second. Then, kicking off her pumps, she lifted her leg and placed a bare foot carefully on his thigh. One leg propped up like that, she spread herself to him, keeping him an agonizing foot away from what he craved.

“You want to touch me?” she asked. He nodded, trying to keep his eyes on her eyes, but he couldn’t help himself. They traveled down the length of her perfect body to watch what she was doing to herself with her hand.

“I like when a man does this to me,” she said, the muscles in her arm flinching with every circle. “But I also like doing this for myself.”

He made a sound, something between a grunt and a moan.

“You think you could do a better job than I’m doing?”

“Yes …” he said, straining against his ropes; this was killing him.

I felt myself heating up, surprised when my hand rose to my own chest, then dipped into my bra and found my right breast, squeezed slightly. This was so new to me.

I watched as Angela bent her knee more, drawing her cleft closer to his face. She put her hands in his hair, guiding his mouth forward towards her, almost lovingly. The top
of his head moved as his mouth found her, and he lapped at her, his eyes gazing up every few seconds over the top of her thigh to check her reaction, his hands still tied behind his back. He was all mouth, only there to please and serve her.

Angela threw her head back. “That’s good … That’s very good, baby,” she cooed, her hips lightly thrusting to match the rhythm of his tongue—and I remembered his mouth on me not so long ago, his hands …

“Holy shit,
yeah
,” Angela whispered, grinding her hips into his face, his tongue. “Oh … mmm … you’re going to make me come and then … I’m going to fuck you.”

He nodded, weakened. This was like worship, the way his head bobbed rhythmically between her legs until she threw her head back in a spasm, gripping his hair and taking her orgasm from him, and he gave it to her eagerly. Spent, she dropped her foot to reach behind him and with a tug released his hands from their restraints. He immediately wrapped a fist around his erection, his own mounting desire impossible to ignore. Angela moved—a little wobbly—to the nightstand and took out a condom. Returning, she unfurled it on him with one swift movement. Then she straddled herself just above him.

“I’m going to fuck you, Mark,” she said. “You good with that?”

He nodded vigorously, placing his hands on her thighs and guiding her down onto his throbbing head. She seemed to take him in partway, bobbing slightly, agonizing him, but not sliding all the way down.

“Your pussy is fucking perfect,” he crooned, watching her slowly consume him.

“Shh … good boy,” she purred, stroking his hair. She inched down, then, holding his shoulders, slammed onto him, taking his shaft all the way in, as he threw his head back, pressing his fingertips into her thighs. Then it began, her fierce gyrations, her exquisite hips pumping him for everything he had. She was all appetite and he was simply food for her, and he was
loving
it, probably astonished that his body could provide for a woman like this. She was
fucking
him, and I could feel myself grow hotter as his fingers dug into her taut flesh, his ropy neck muscles pulsing. At one point, he held her face and kissed her hard, like he needed a hit. After which she gazed down at him over the mounds of her own bouncing breasts, and came. Her cries were barely dying down when he stood, lifting her up in an easy straddle, pivoting, and tossed her onto the bed, making her laugh out loud.

“Nice job!” she said.

Strangely, I felt proud of him in that moment too, I really did.
Go for it, Mark, now make her yours
!

He stood over her now, slapping her knees apart, his to conquer. He entered her swiftly, sharply
. Oh god
, she cried out at the same time that I murmured it, my fingers finding myself, doing to myself what he was doing to her. And that’s when I felt it too, watching them. I felt it travel all the way up my body. One hand tangled in her hair, he was relentless as she moaned beneath him, her legs wrapped
around his lean waist, her arms flung over her head, letting him fuck her hard like that for a few moments—and soaking me in the process.

Then, in one impressive move, she flipped him over onto his back and she was now straddling him, in control again. He laughed at his pinned arms, using all his strength to lift her forward onto his still-eager mouth, his fingers separating her folds, his head moving in circles. She looked back over her shoulder at his unrelenting erection, flipped around and slid his condom off, the front of her pussy now before Mark’s tongue. When she took him in her mouth, it was mere seconds before he arched beneath her, coming, moaning, “Angela …
oh Christ
,” lifting his pelvis in service to her. I was awed by her skills, her enthusiasm, as she licked him clean. And when she came yet again, so did I, with an intensity I had never felt before, all my senses exploding, my moans mingling with hers. Collapsing back into my chair, feeling faint, I breathed heavily along with them.

After a pause, Angela crawled off Mark, flopping next to him in the bed. Both their bodies were swallowed up by a cloud of down duvet and pillows. The gentleness with which he held her, the soft way her hand moved up and down his stomach,
this
now seemed far too intimate to watch. Flushed and satisfied, I quietly exited the room, shutting the door gently behind me. I ducked into a small washroom next door to splash cold water on my face and hands.

My phone said three o’clock. Enough time to stop at the
grocery store, pick up some wine, and maybe even rest a little before Jesse was at my place. That boy had no idea how this training session was also about to benefit him.

I wasted almost an hour at the grocery store trying to figure out what to cook, half distracted by Dauphine’s dilemma, but also by the incredible scene I had just witnessed. So when my cab pulled up in front of the Spinster Hotel, I had less than an hour to make bouillabaisse, set the table and take a shower. But having little time to think and pace and ruminate was a good thing. I picked out a pair of faded jeans, a blue silk blouse and silver bangles for my wrists. For some reason I didn’t want Jesse to see my S.E.C.R.E.T. bracelet; it felt odd, too talismanic.

While I was towel-drying my hair with one hand and stirring the soup with my other, the doorbell rang. He was early. Really early.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
I threw open my door and there he was: that grin, the stubble, those crinkly eyes, the Cajun accent. I was speechless and … makeup-less. Ugh! And my hair …

“Well, hello there,” he said, ducking through the doorway.

“You’re early.”

“I’m right on time,” he said, kissing the side of my damp head. He smelled so good, like cut grass and summer. “A habit of good single dads everywhere. Never make your kids wait for you; they grow up feeling unimportant.”

“Good rule. But I need a few minutes.”

“For what? You look good to me.”

He handed me flowers and a bottle of wine.

“Sweet peas and cold rosé.”

“Thank you. Lovely.”

My place was small; the kitchen, dining and living area were all one long galley, the bedroom visible through French doors at the end of the room. Jesse’s height also made my place seem like the low-slung attic apartment that it was. Both of us had grins on our faces like we’d just gotten away with something excellent.

“It’s really good to see you.”

He placed a hand on his chest and bit his bottom lip while eyeing me up and down, swaying slightly in his cowboy boots. My face shot hot.