A Secret for a Secret

by Hunting, Helena

  I let her bring our mouths back together, and for a while I get lost in a long, slow kiss. Somehow we end up on the bed, and my shirt gets tossed on the floor. Once the clothes start coming off, things go from hot to frantic, and any thought I had about talking this out disappears.

  Just like the time she came to my place, we end up naked, with Queenie straddling my face while she takes me in her mouth. I have no recollection of oral sex ever being this amazing—either the giving or the receiving—but I could literally spend hours in this exact position, or any variation that allows for mutual gratification.

  Unfortunately, it starts to become difficult to concentrate after a while because my chest, face, and stomach are getting itchy. I refocus on the feel of her mouth, the vibration of her moans against my erection every time I lick her just the right way, how soft she is on my tongue, and how good she tastes. As distracting as the annoying itch is, I finally warn her I’m going to come soon. She almost knees me in the head as she shifts around.

  “Hey, I’m not done with you!” I try to catch her ankle before she can get too far, but all of a sudden I have an excellent view of what she’s doing to me. I groan at the sight of her stretched out between my thighs, fingers wrapped around the base of my erection, lips covering the head, cheeks hollowed out as she sucks. “You are depravedly stunning like this.”

  She pops off for a second, tongue circling the ridge, hand moving up and down. “Do you like it when my mouth is full of your cock, Kingston?” Her lips cover the head again and slide back down.

  “You have no idea.” I prop myself up on one elbow so I can skim the place where her bottom lip meets the base of my shaft with my thumb, and then along her throat when I feel the head bump the back. I try to remain civilized and respectful, but it’s a challenge when she says things like that and follows it up with deep throating my entire erection. “I want inside all of you like this.”

  CHAPTER 11

  THAT SEEMS RASH

  Queenie

  I don’t think Kingston realizes that his constant commentary is an absolute turn-on. And it’s not like he ever says anything really and truly dirty. It’s more that he just keeps talking and offering praise in the form of mostly PG statements.

  I hum around his erection, determined to actually take all of him, because listening to him lose it is becoming one of my favorite things. His fingertips drag along the soft, sensitive place under my chin, and he grunts his approval.

  “I can’t hold off anymore, Queenie,” he warns.

  I press my thumb against the spot under his balls, and his fingers slide into my hair, curling to grip the strands as he finally lets go. His expression reflects both hunger and satisfaction.

  I’ve always been a fan of oral: obviously receiving is amazing with someone who knows what they’re doing. But I find that with Kingston I love the giving, maybe because he gets so into it, and he likes to give while he gets. I’ve always assumed it would be too much of a distraction, but I’m finding I don’t mind having to split my focus at all.

  When he’s spent, he flops back on the mattress with a sigh. “Your mouth is glorious, Queenie.”

  “So is yours.” I stretch out beside him. His hair is an absolute mess from my hands having been in it while we were kissing, his face is flushed, and he’s breathing heavily. “You wanna check to see if you have condoms in your room before you get hard again?”

  He side-eyes me. “Uh . . . are you serious?”

  “I get the shot, but I figure you’d want to be extra safe like the Boy Scout you are. You’ll get hard in, like, five minutes; might as well be prepared for all possible scenarios, don’t you think?”

  He rubs at his bottom lip and exhales a long breath. “Uh, I’d like to talk to your dad first.”

  “Why? It’s not like you’re going to ask him for permission to have sex with me.”

  “Well, no, but I’d at least like to get his consent to date you.” He runs his palm down his chest and back up.

  “Oh. Right.” I guess he’s taking me seriously about convincing my dad it’s okay for me to get involved with him. “But I don’t see what that has to do with us having sex.”

  “I’d like to take you out for dinner first.”

  “What if we order room service?”

  “I mean, I’d like to take you on a proper date, where I pick you up at your house and bring you flowers and chocolate. Then I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.”

  “It’s kinda late to do that tonight, don’t you think?” I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s already ten. It’s way too late for a dinner date.

  A grin tips up the corner of his mouth, and he scratches his neck. “It is.”

  “So . . . does that mean you don’t want to have sex with me tonight?” He’s already getting hard again. I poke his semisoft penis and frown. I’m not sure if it’s the lighting or what, but it looks a little red . . . and bumpy.

  “No. I mean, yes, of course. I want to be inside you more than I want my next breath.” He skims my cheek with his fingertips. “But I want to do things in the right order, and so far it’s all been very backward. Let me put the effort in, Queenie. I want to show you you’re worth it.”

  “When you put it that way . . .” I prop myself up on an elbow, ready to barter for a round of wet Slip ’N Slide, but I’m distracted by the blotchy red patches that have appeared on his chest and stomach. “Uh, is this normal?”

  He glances at my hand, which is right by his now mostly erect, hot-pink peen. “We’re talking about sex, and you’re naked, and all I can smell and taste is you, so yeah, getting hard is normal.”

  “No, I mean this.” I poke one of the raised red welts below his navel and follow the visual trail that extends all the way up his chest, to his nipples, over his neck, and to his mouth. I can actually see it growing progressively worse with each passing second. “Are you having an allergic reaction? Oh my God, are you allergic to me?”

  “What? Oh hell!” King sits up in a rush and runs a hand from his pecs to his peen.

  “Do you have any allergies?”

  “Just strawberries. I get hives if I eat them or touch them.”

  We both look over at the takeout cup sitting on the desk on the other side of the room. I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh God, I just had a strawberry milkshake. What should I do?”

  “I need an antihistamine. And some cortisone cream and possibly some EMLA cream.” King grimaces as he rolls off the bed and gets a good look at his dick. It’s sizable on a good day, but right now it’s swelling and bumpy and very much the wrong color.

  “I don’t know if I have any antihistamines, or any of that other stuff.”

  “I have some in my room. The antihistamines anyway. The sooner I take it, the less severe the reaction will be. And I need to shower.” He yanks his boxers on and hops around as he tries to put his pants on.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I should’ve asked about the milkshake. I was too caught up in making out to really think about it.”

  “There’s a CVS down the street. I can always run out if you don’t have all the things you need.” I hurry to put on my clothes.

  “The team doctor always has stuff on hand.”

  “Right. Okay. That makes sense.” His face is getting progressively worse. His normally full lips are puffy, like he’s had collagen injections or something, and half his neck is covered in red welts. “It’s not anaphylactic, is it?”

  “No. Just the hives. At least that’s what happened the last time I had a reaction.”

  “When was that?”

  “I think I was a teenager.” King pulls his polo over his head, forgoes his socks and shoes, and crosses over to the door.

  “Is it possible for an allergy to worsen over time?”

  “Maybe?”

  I don’t bother with a bra, pulling my shirt over my head as I follow on his heels. It’s not like I can do anything constructive, but with the amount
of swelling around his face and mouth, I sure as hell won’t be leaving him alone.

  Kingston throws open the door but doesn’t rush across the hall like I expect him to, so I slam into his back with an oof. “What are you waiting for? We need to get this under control before your di—”

  “Oh, hi, sir!” he almost shouts.

  “King? What’re you doing in my daughter’s room at this hour? And what happened to your face?”

  Shit. Of course my dad has to pick this exact moment to drop by. I slip past Kingston, and my nipples brush his arm, causing them to peak more than they already are, especially when the blast of air-conditioning hits me in the hall. I cross my arms to cover them. “He’s having an allergic reaction. He needs an antihistamine.”

  “A reaction to what?”

  “I’m allergic to strawberries, sir.”

  “Shit. That’s right. What did you eat that had strawberries in it?”

  “I didn’t eat anything, sir. Queenie had a strawberry shake.”

  His brow furrows. “Jesus. This is from a shake?”

  Leave it to Kingston to be far too honest for his or my own good. “Can you ask questions later, Dad? I think we need to get King something for the swelling before it becomes an issue.”

  “Right. Yeah. Let me call the team medic.” My dad pulls out his phone, clicks a couple of buttons, and brings it to his ear, then motions for us to follow him.

  Neither of us is wearing shoes. “Let me grab my purse in case I need to run to the CVS for anything.” I duck behind King, slip on my flip-flops, grab my bag and his dress shoes, and meet them down the hall by the elevators. I pass King his shoes, because there really isn’t another option.

  “We just have to go down a couple of floors. You doing okay there, King? That’s a pretty nasty reaction to a milkshake.” My dad frowns as Kingston slips his feet into his shoes. They’re loafers, which I’d usually make fun of, but for some reason they work on King.

  The crease in my dad’s brow deepens as he inspects King’s face more closely. His usually neat hair is a mess. Because my hands were in it. And there’s a somewhat decent chance that we smell a lot like sex.

  The elevator dings, and my dad turns his suspicious gaze on me. “I’ve got it from here, honey. You can go back to your room.”

  “But—”

  “It’s all right. It’s late and you should get some rest. Thanks for your help, Queenie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” King gives me a slightly strained smile and follows my dad into the elevator.

  I sincerely hope King is alive come morning.

  CHAPTER 12

  PLEASE DON’T CASTRATE ME

  Kingston

  My swallow is audible as the elevator doors slide shut. Jake leans against the rail and crosses his arms.

  I can smell Queenie on me: not only a faint hint of her perfume but also, and far more pungently, her special scent, completely unique to her, because it’s still all over my face. I glance at my reflection, getting a good look at my swollen lips and chin and my unruly hair. I quickly try to tame it but then realize Jake is watching me, so I clasp my hands in front of me.

  “Sir, I—”

  The elevator dings and the doors open. A couple in their midthirties gets on, preventing me from saying anything else. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to tell him. Obviously I’d planned to talk to Jake about my relationship with Queenie, but I hadn’t anticipated doing it while having an allergic reaction caused by making it to third base with her.

  We get off at the next stop, and I silently follow Jake to the medic’s room. Bill is already waiting for us, his bag of supplies laid out on the coffee table.

  He makes a face as soon as he sees me. “Oh, man, that’s one hell of a reaction. Are those hives? Aren’t they itchy?”

  “Yes and yes,” I say with a nod. The worst of the itching is below the belt. I’m actually nervous about what things might look like down there at the moment, considering how uncomfortable I am.

  Bill ushers us inside, motions for me to take a seat on the couch, and begins by inspecting my face and looking inside my mouth. “Okay, no swelling of the tongue, so that’s a positive. It’s not anaphylactic, but I think we should probably have you retested, since this seems to be a pretty intense reaction.” He holds my chin and shifts my head from side to side. “So this is from strawberries, huh? What’d you do, smear it all over your face? It’s all down your neck too.” He pulls at the collar of my shirt. “How far down does it go, King?”

  “I, uh . . . it’s not . . . it doesn’t go too far,” I stammer, and then I glance over at Jake, who legitimately looks like he’s going to murder me.

  He pushes off the edge of the dresser. “I’m going to let you two manage this. King, I’d like you to stop by my room before you head back to your own. I’m right next to Queenie, across the hall from you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You sure you don’t want to wait? I’m going to give him a shot and some cream and he’ll be good to go.”

  “I’m sure.” Jake nods stiffly and leaves.

  “He’s in a mood,” Bill mutters once the door slams shut.

  “I’m sure he’s just tired.”

  Bill makes a sound and stabs me in the arm with a needle. Then he gives me some anti-itch and cortisone cream to help settle the hives and the swelling. “I’ll get you set up with a new set of allergy tests when we get back to Seattle and make sure we don’t need to be carrying around an EpiPen for you, just in case.”

  “Okay, thanks, sir.” I push up off the couch and run a hand through my hair. I try to smooth it out a little more as I head for the door.

  “And next time, tell whoever you’re getting friendly with not to eat strawberries beforehand. It’ll save you a lot of discomfort.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  Bill raises his hand to stop me. It’s not as if I can complete that sentence without outright lying. “Get some rest and stay out of trouble’s way, King.”

  I have messages from Queenie waiting for me as I get into the elevator and head back up to my floor. She wants to know how I am and requests that I message as soon as I’m done. I put a hold on that, since I need to talk to her dad before I do anything else.

  I decide it’s a good idea to stop in my room first and quickly wash off the strawberry residue and the smell of Queenie before I visit Jake in his room. I have my key card poised over the sensor when the door across the hall flies open. He wasn’t lying about being next to Queenie, and he looks less than impressed.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jake leans against the doorjamb.

  “I’m supposed to wash my face and put some of this cream on, but it can wait.” I desperately want to calm the itch and the discomfort, but based on how unhappy Jake looks, I think it would be a better idea to just bite the bullet. Hopefully not literally. I slip the cream into my pants pocket and take a step in Jake’s direction.

  He moves aside and allows me into his room. I notice the adjoining room door. The low tones of music come from the other side. Where Queenie probably is right now.

  The door slams shut behind me. I wonder if this is how reluctant MMA fighters feel when they get into the ring with a superior opponent.

  Jake crosses the room and retrieves a bottle of scotch from the fridge. He removes the cap and pours himself a glass but doesn’t offer me one. He takes a hefty gulp. Then he stares at the wall for a long time before he finally looks my way. “I asked you to watch out for Queenie.”

  “Yes, sir, you did.”

  “I trusted you with her welfare.”

  “Yes, sir, you did.” I want to scratch my stomach so badly right now.

  He takes another massive gulp of his scotch, and I grimace at the memory of that flavor. I really don’t like scotch. “It looks like that trust was misplaced.”

  “On the contrary, I don’t believe it was.”

  His eyes narrow in suspicion. “I’m not an idiot. I know what the hell was going on. Look
at yourself.” He flings a hand out. “You’re a disheveled mess. You know how many times I’ve seen you anything but put together? Never. Until now. I know my daughter, and I am very well aware of the effect she can have on people. It was a mistake to bring her on as my assistant.” He paces the room. “I should’ve known better.”

  “With all due respect, I disagree. Queenie is an exceptional woman, and she’s doing a fantastic job as your assistant. Even though this job isn’t something she’s necessarily passionate about, she goes above and beyond at every opportunity. She’s done everything she can to prove that you made the right decision, sir, and she would be devastated if she knew you felt this way.” I glance toward the adjoining door. Music is still playing on the other side, muffled but there.

  Jake runs a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant. I know she’s doing a fantastic job. She’s impulsive and doesn’t always consider the ramifications of her decisions. That’s all—”

  “I would like to date her,” I blurt.

  Jake’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “With your permission, of course.”

  “You want to date Queenie?”

  “Yes, sir.” I can’t quite figure out his tone or his expression. “I’ve had a chance to spend time with her, and I care about her. I would like her to be my girlfriend. I planned to ask your permission tomorrow, but then this happened.” I motion to my face, which is probably not a great idea, so I jam my hand back in my pants pocket.

  “Does she know this? That you want to date her?”

  “Yes, sir, she does.”

  “And what does Queenie have to say about that?”

  “She’s in agreement, if I’m able to convince you to allow it. She was the one who insisted we remain platonic, because she didn’t want to disappoint you. What happened this evening was my fault. I had intended to speak with you first, but—”

  He raises a hand to stop me, which is good, because I’m not sure there’s a good way to complete that statement. “You can stop with the ‘sir’ and just call me Jake.”