His Precious Secret

by Jenna Rose

  His Precious Secret

  Jenna Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the book

  Dreamy billionaire, Rick Clark has a big problem. He just met the girl of his dreams — a girl who lights his jaded heart on fire and gives him something real to live for. What’s the problem? She’s his wife’s daughter from another marriage. If the tabloids find out it his life will. But the sweet girl is impossible to resist. Will Rick be able to keep their relationship a secret, or will both of their lives come crashing down in front of the entire world?

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  Contents

  1. Rick

  2. Taylor

  3. Rick

  4. Taylor

  5. Rick

  6. Taylor

  7. Rick

  8. Taylor

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  His Only Desire Box set

  1

  Rick

  “Stay? Are you out of your goddamn mind? You admit to cheating on me and expect me to let you stay in my house!?”

  Is she fucking crazy? She must be, because as I stare at my soon-to-be ex-wife who’s standing there gawking at me like the entitled little princess she is, I don’t see a single ounce of regret or shame on her newly-worked-on face.

  “I admitted it to you, Rick!” she protests as though that’s somehow going to change the fact that she’s been taking it from behind from strangers for the last three years of our marriage. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Count?” I roar with laughter. “Let me tell you about counting. Why don’t we count how many strange men you’ve entertained in the last year, shall we? Let’s start with the bartender. He was the first one, right? Oh, and then the barista. And then the skydiving instructor, and the—”

  “Okay, stop!” Brandi groans, doing that cutesy arm thing she does where she squishes her cleavage together in an attempt to play on my basic male desires. It’s worked in the past, when she did something like spent too much money shopping or something, but it sure as hell isn’t gonna work on this.

  “No, you stop,” I growl. “Because I don’t want to hear it. Not one more word. I want you out tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!?” she shrieks as I turn on my heel and stride away from her. “But my daughter is coming home tomorrow!”

  “She can leave too!” I laugh. Then a thought occurs to me. I stop and spin to face her. “Actually, she can stay. You can leave.”

  “What!?”

  Finally, some expression shows on that plastic face of hers. There was a time when Brandi was a great looking woman, but those times have passed. Too many mini-face lifts, rhinoplasties, eyebrow lifts, chin restructuring, lip injections…fuck, I’ve lost count. And all bought and paid for with my money.

  Sometimes I wonder if I should get my head checked for marrying her in the first place. I guess she played her cards right.

  I was a stone-cold unreachable asshole when I met Brandi. As a billionaire, you run into more dishonest women than honest ones, but Brandi convinced me that they weren’t all that way. I opened up to her. She roped me in, convinced me she loved me, then went behind my back and got as much strange dick as she could. And I wouldn’t have found out either if a business associate of mine hadn’t caught her out on a late-night romp around town with a man other than me.

  I mentioned it to her, and she tried to pretend she was already going to come clean. Her explanation? That she was in long-term relationships throughout her 20s, culminating in her marriage to me, and never got to experience the single life.

  Can you believe that? She actually blamed me for marrying her. Talk about gas-lighting.

  Now the walls are back up. I won’t be burned again.

  “You heard me,” I laugh. “How old is she now? Eighteen? Wouldn’t mind having something hot to look at around the house.”

  I’m being harsh. Maybe a little too harsh, but she deserves it. I gave my heart to this woman, and in return, she gave herself to half the town.

  “You son of a bitch,” she snips back, glaring at me with death-eyes. “You’ve never even met Taylor.”

  “Well if she looks even close to what you used to look like, she’ll be a beauty. Yeah, that’s what I think I’ll do. You can pack your shit, and I’ll give her one of the guest rooms to stay in.”

  Seeing red, I turn away and head for the garage. “You son of a bitch!” Brandi shouts after me. “You know what? I’m glad I cheated on you! You never fucked me anyway!”

  I’m seething, but I’m also grinning as I step into my shop. She’s right; I haven’t fucked her in a long time. Why? There’s a simple answer; I wasn’t feeling it.

  There’s a lot of women out there who won’t believe this, but I actually need to feel a connection with a woman to be turned on. Tits and ass on their own don’t do it for me, and maybe I was subconsciously picking up on the distance between Brandi and me—what with her cheating on me—and that’s why our connection was severed.

  I gave it to her a few times here and there, but it was nothing special. She didn’t even try to hide it and would roll her eyes when I wasn’t in the mood. Talk about entitled. What, a guy’s always got to have a raging hard-on, even for a woman who’s betrayed his trust?

  Don’t think so.

  The hot rod is right where I left it. The shop lights click on, illuminating its fresh red paint job, causing my smile to grow. Nothing is sure in life, but cars are reliable and predictable. If something’s broken, you fix it, and it ain’t broken no more. If something needs tweaking, you tweak it. Cars don’t cheat.

  I’ve been a car man all my life. What started as a hobby with my late father turned into a small business doing restorations when I was finishing up high school. I took the money he left me and opened up my own shop. Then I started doing custom performance parts and bodywork fabrication.

  That business exploded, I expanded, and within five years I was out of the shop and in the office—CEO of a monster of a company with franchises all over the country. From there, we ramped up production, and by the time I was thirty, I’d made my first billion. Now, at thirty-five, I have no competition. If you want high performance, reliable parts, you buy ‘em from me. End of story.

  Grabbing the torque wrench, I slide out of my shirt and toss it aside. My little shouting match with Brandi has me sweating, and I try to shake the anger from my chest as I loosen the lugs on the front right tire. I’m doing a full replacement on the brakes—larger rotors to increase stopping power. After I upped the horsepower on the engine, I’m going to need it.

  It was a low blow bringing Brandi’s daughter into the argument. But what kind of courtesy do you really owe a cheater? She’s right; I haven’t met her. She’s been away at boarding school since we got together and did her summer program in Italy. She came here for two days before going back, but I was out of town on business. I guess there’s a chance she’s some ugly heifer, but I doubt it. Brandi, before the surgeries, was model material.

  Not that I’d do anything with her anyway; she’s my stepdaughter for fuck’s sake. I may be a horny motherfucker, but even I know where the limits are.

  I spend the remainder of the afternoon doing all four brakes on th
e hot rod. Covered in sweat, grease, and grime, I head upstairs to make myself some dinner. There was a time when Brandi cooked for me, but those days have passed. I almost wonder if she’ll have whipped something up for me as sort of a gesture of peace, but who am I kidding? The kitchen is empty, and by the sounds of it, Brandi is in the back den watching TV.

  Headlights flash, and I turn to see the gate open to let a car in. Uber Eats. Typical. But as the car parks, there’s no sound from Brandi, so I head outside to intercept. Maybe she ordered something I’d like to eat. But as I step out the front door, I see the car pull up beside mine and park. The driver’s side door opens, and an absolutely stunning girl steps out.

  “Christ…” I mutter under my breath as I take her in.

  Perfection.

  Every single fucking inch of her is perfection. From the mess of dirty blond curls spilling down across her bare shoulders, to the perky, bra-less tits that bounce as she grabs a bag from the car, to the perfect ass I catch only a brief glimpse of as she bends over.

  Yoga pants. No panties. A little hint of camel toe.

  Fuck.

  I gave it all up for Brandi—all the best pussy in the world that I could have had. A girl like this could have been in my bed tonight. I could have had my aching cock buried deep inside her with my lips around her perky little nipples as she screamed my name into my ear.

  But fuck it. I’m single now, right?

  “You know, delivery drivers usually don’t park their cars.” I grin. “They leave them running while they bring the food in.”

  The girl blinks a couple times as though she doesn’t understand what I’m saying. As she shifts her weight, her unbelievable rack jiggles, causing my cock to pulse between my legs.

  “I—I’m sorry? Deliveries?”

  “Uber Eats, right? Or Door Dash? Which one are you?”

  “I’m neither…” she says slowly. There’s a tone in her voice as though I just said something so stupid she can’t even process it. “I’m Taylor. I’m your stepdaughter.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  2

  Taylor

  The tension in the air has me ready to fall over. Where the hell is my mom and please tell me this isn’t who I think it is!

  The man standing before me is drop-dead gorgeous, like a rugged prince who stepped out of a men’s magazine. His hair, almost black, once swept back, hangs loosely, framing his intense blue eyes that seem to hold me with an unknown power.

  His skin is glistening with a thin layer of sweat that reveals the cuts and striations in his chiseled muscles. Arms of a gladiator. As he breathes, his thick chest rises and falls, calling attention to his broad shoulders. His pants are filthy but expensive, and the designer tank-top he’s wearing clings to his muscled chest like a second layer of skin.

  I’d bet he’s six-foot-something and in his thirties.

  He’s here at my mom’s house, so unless I’ve completely lost my mind, the man standing before me is my stepfather.

  “I’m Taylor,” I say. “I’m your stepdaughter.”

  Yeah. This is bad.

  Don’t blame me, okay? But a flash of a total porn scenario blips through my head as I stare at him. It’s not even a conscious thing; it’s not like I try to imagine him on top of me, pinning me down on the bed, doing what he wants with me.

  I just…do.

  Can you control your cravings when you see a perfectly delicious ice-cream sundae? No? Then you know how I feel looking at Rick.

  Rick. My mom’s husband.

  Oh, God. I don’t know whether I’m completely turned on or about to be sick.

  “Oh,” Rick says simply. “I thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow.”

  “I got upgraded to an earlier flight. Thought I’d come and surprise Mom. She is here, isn’t she?”

  Rick nods. “She is. But not for long. I’m kicking her out tomorrow.”

  The way he speaks—it’s like his word is gospel. I know he’s a CEO, a type-A personality, but having never met him before, I didn’t know what to expect. But now I see he’s a man who’s used to getting what he wants. The world moves when he says it does, and if he says my mom has to be out by tomorrow, he means it.

  “Why, Rick? What…did something happen?”

  My skin is hot, almost tingling, and my heart is racing. “Your mom cheated on me, Taylor. I’m sorry to have be blunt about it, but that’s what happened.”

  Shit.

  “Oh…” I say sadly. “I’m so sorry, Rick. I…I understand why you would want her out then. I just…you pay for my school. My mom can’t afford to send me to college…”

  I hang my head in shame—my mother’s shame. Then I feel Rick’s index finger beneath my chin. He lifts my eyes to his, and it’s like a full blast of heat to my face. His eyes are filled with burning, unmistakable passion. This is a man who will not be denied, and although I may be a virgin, I can read a man’s look, and I know what he wants right now.

  And I know what I want too.

  It happened in an instant. One minute I was Taylor, the happy high-school-graduate on her way home to see Mom and meet her husband, and now I’m a drooling little puppy dog trapped in the gaze of her gorgeous stepdad.

  This is so wrong. Forbidden. Maybe even illegal?

  No. That would only be if we were actually related.

  “Jesus,” he growls. “The boys at your school must have all wanted you. Which one made you his?”

  The intensity is almost too much to bear. I feel my knees begin to quiver and a pulsing sensation rise between my thighs. “I… None of them,” I admit.

  “What does that mean?” he asks.

  “I never had a boyfriend, Rick.”

  He frowns at me. Does he think I’m lying? Does he really think a girl who doesn’t drink, doesn’t sneak out and party, and prefers to spend her time alone writing and drawing in her room is the kind of girl the boys would be fawning over?

  “Bullshit,” he says roughly. “You’re telling me you’re a virgin?”

  Wow. Way to just come right out and say it! I don’t know why, but I feel suddenly embarrassed. I just met this man—my stepdad—and he’s confronting me about something so personal. So raw. I don’t even know what to say, so I simply shake my head, expecting him to shake his back. But he doesn’t.

  He smiles.

  “You know, I think I may have thought of a way to make this work. Are you a good student, Taylor?”

  “Yes,” I say softly.

  “You want to go to college, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He moves closer to me, so close I can feel the heat from his body. I smell his deodorant, similar to men’s cologne, masked by the smell of something related to cars. Mom told me he had a shop at the house. That must have been what he was doing when I arrived.

  His strong, rough hand slides around my body and settles on my lower back. I feel his hot breath on my cheeks as he pulls me closer, and instinctively, I let my lips fall open.

  His presence is hypnotic. I feel as though a spell has been cast on me, like I’ve stepped into the presence of a god.

  Rick’s lips close in on mine.

  Is this going to be my first kiss?

  “I haven’t had sex in a long time,” Rick purrs, his words buzzing up my spine. “And you haven’t had sex at all. See where I’m going with this, Taylor?”

  “Rick, I—”

  “Call me Daddy, beautiful.”

  Wow. I did not expect that. My friends always teased me at school, telling me that because my dad divorced my mom when I was nine, that I had “daddy issues.” I always denied it though. Sure, I’d watched some role-play porn scenarios a few times, but who hasn’t? It’s not like I ever had a daddy-kink.

  Or at least that’s what I thought…until now.

  “Daddy.” The word slides off my tongue with ease, like I was meant to say it. Rick’s eyes flare and he pulls me closer, so close that if I puckered my lips at all they would touch his.

&nb
sp; Is this really going to be my first kiss!?

  “I’ll let you and your mom stay here,” he says, as his other hand slides slowly up my thigh. “On two conditions.”

  He waits. My chest shakes. The heat between my legs expands like a sun going supernova, threatening to engulf me.

  “W—what conditions?”

  “The first”—he smiles—“is that you call me Daddy. And the second, gorgeous, is that you let me have that sweet little pussy of yours whenever I want it.”

  This is so wrong, but my body doesn’t care. I bloom with heat, desire sweeping through me like a golden wave. Rick’s touch is perfection. He is definitely a man who knows what he’s doing with his hands, and I can’t even begin to imagine what he could do to me with them.

  Finally, I admit the truth to myself: I want him. There’s no question about it. But can I really give myself to the man who has also had my mother?

  “Rick…I don’t know,” I reply, my throat desperately trying to snatch my words back. “It—isn’t it wrong?”

  “It’s so wrong, beautiful.” Daddy’s lips twist into a devilish grin, and I feel my panties dampen. “And that’s why it’s so right.”

  “I—”

  “You know I could take you right here?” he asks, his lips dangerously close to mine. Does he know how dominant he is? Of course he does. “I could put a hand over those plump lips of yours, bend you over the hood of your car, rip those yoga pants open and slide my cock inside you. You want to be a little slut for me, Taylor, and you will be. Hell, you don’t even have any panties on, do you?”

  His eyes blaze at my reaction. He noticed. That means he was checking me out from the moment I stepped out of the car. I only didn’t wear them today because I was traveling, and panty lines look so gross. But now I’m glad I didn’t wear them for another reason.