Shame (Secrets and Lies Book 2)

by Ainsley Booth

  The WASP in me is dying. The earnest husband, though, is all on board. “Okay. Yeah. I’m game for that.”

  “Did you do any of that limit negotiation with…her?”

  I shake my head. “I’m going to keep telling you this. It wasn’t like that. I was playing at something, and I didn’t even understand the game. Now that I understand it, I’m glad that I’ve only really played the game for real with you. And it’s not a game, I know that, it’s who you really are, and I think that’s beautiful.”

  She smiles, looking pleased, and I’m glad I got at least one answer right. I reach for something I talked about with my therapist. “That was nothing. Less than nothing. That was desperation. Cocaine off the back of a dirty toilet. A death spiral. It was grandiosity. Self-destruction. A form of addiction, probably. It could have been gambling or drugs. I took what was offered as a way to numb the pain of what I had done to myself. It was never real.”

  “Have you been in contact with her again?”

  I shake my head. “No. Not since that night.”

  “And this is real? You and me?”

  “Always. Forever. And it’ll take time for you to believe that on enough levels that the pain I’ve caused is balanced out.” I look at her, my sexy goddess, and need to know something. “Can I ask you, why did you decide to give me another chance?”

  “Maybe for the same reason,” she murmurs, her gaze searching my face. “For that young man I fell in love with in college. For the scared little boy he carried inside, for the way he protected his brother.”

  Sam. I need to do something about the damage to that relationship too, she’s saying. And she’s right. “I’ll talk to him soon.”

  “Good.” She leans in and kisses me softly. “But really, I’m here right now because of everyone I’ve ever met, you are the one person I can never stop thinking about. And it’s starting to feel like maybe I’m that person for you.”

  “You are. And you were, before. Once upon a time. I promise you that I loved you then, so much. I’ve never stopped loving you. But then thinking about you got hard. I started to feel small and stupid. And I hid. I’ll never hide again.”

  “Speaking of hiding…” She climbs off my lap and holds out her hand. “I want to show you something.”

  She leads me into her closet and pulls down one of the two vintage suitcases from her top shelf.

  “Photos?”

  She gives me an amused look. “Is that what you think is in here?”

  I frown. “Isn’t it?” I could have sworn she’d shown me some family pictures at some point. I hadn’t paid enough attention, because I was a jackass.

  Now I want to look at each one carefully. Inspect it for all the tiny clues I can gleam about who Grace is, where she came from. Every bit of her is exciting and fascinating, including the ancient history of baby photos.

  She takes a deep breath. “No, these aren’t photos. They’re…” She turns pink. “Books. A collection, so to speak.”

  Cave of Sin

  For Lust’s Sake

  The Sexiest Student

  Spanking the Sitter

  Their Secret, Younger Lover

  The Wayward Daughter

  I pick up the last one, and Grace turns red. “Some are more… No, actually, they’re all pretty intense.”

  It doesn’t take me long to figure out what she means. The words on the page are crude, violent, and obscenely out of date.

  My wife collects misogynistic porn.

  I don’t really know what to make of that. I look up at her and smile, because this changes nothing. Everything about her complicated, clever mind is amazing to me. Even something like this that I’d never have expected and don’t really understand. “Huh,” I finally say.

  She laughs.

  “How long have you been collecting these?”

  “Forever. I found my first one in college.”

  I think about all the times we’ve crawled through used bookstores on our travels. “Have you ever bought one in front of me?”

  She nods, her lips pressed together and her eyes bright.

  “Which ones?”

  She points to The Sexiest Student and Their Secret, Younger Lover. “On our trip to London last year. At the used bookstore.”

  “I don’t remember.” There’s so much about the last three years that are a fog to me.

  “You bought a biography of Winston Churchill.” She tips her head to the side. “And then we went to a pub, and you asked me what I bought, but I changed the subject.”

  Nothing. “Was that the same day we went on the Eye?”

  “The day after that. You’d had meetings that morning, remember?”

  I swear under my breath. “No.”

  “It’s okay.” She gives me a small smile that says no, it isn’t, but that’s Grace. Endlessly forgiving of the mess I’ve made of my life. Our life.

  “I want to remember,” I say hoarsely. “Tell me more.”

  “I dragged you to the Notting Hill market first. We paid too much for a print of a painting…” She cranes her neck, looking at the top of the closet on my side. “It’s up there, I think.”

  I follow her gaze and see an edge of plastic at the top of the shelf. I reach up and grab it.

  There are actually two prints there, and she gasps when she sees the other one.

  I don’t recognize it. But I do remember the one from London. “This…I remember you wanted this, and I…” I trail off. She’d wanted it, and I’d said it was ugly. She’d pouted and I’d given in, but I’d hurt her feelings. “I was rude.”

  She nods. Her eyes are wet, welling with tears, and I feel impotent—a real, brutal, deep-down sense of not being enough. It’s a million times worse than my dick being lazy sometimes.

  “Let’s frame it,” I say gently. “Please. I want to. I remember that morning. My meetings. The coffee we got before we walked through the market. That was a great morning.”

  “It was,” she whispers. “Until that conversation about the painting. I bought it anyway, out of spite, but then you checked out. And you don’t remember the rest of the day, which—” She drags in a ragged breath. “Well, I guess I understand that now. But I don’t like it, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  She gives me a grim smile and packs her books away.

  I look at the other print. It’s a coast at sunset. Similar colours to the English painting, but wilder. “What is this from?”

  “I bought that for you on my work trip to San Francisco.” She sighs and stands up, pushing past me. “I gave it to you when I got back. I’m pretty sure you don’t remember that, either.”

  I don’t.

  I’m starting to realize there’s a lot from the last three years that I don’t remember, and that’s really disturbing.

  I can’t stand what I do remember. What the fuck is going to happen when I realize just how truly awful I’ve been to the most important person in my entire world?

  “We’ll figure it out together.” She brushes her fingertips over my mouth, and I realize I asked that question out loud. “I think it’s time you come home.”

  27

  Grace

  That night, he doesn’t leave. We don’t fool around, he just holds me as we fall asleep, and it’s wonderful.

  When I left Javi’s hotel room, I was sure I just wasn’t ready to have sex again, period, and there’s still a part of me that thinks that might be true. I think that I hate how much I love the touch of Luke’s skin against mine. How right that feels even after all the damage.

  But the next day, I stop at a drugstore just in case and get a box of condoms. I tuck them into my underwear drawer, and there they sit, a ticking time bomb of dirty potential.

  We make fresh spring rolls together for dinner, and it’s just as flirty as the night before.

  After dinner, as we’re tidying the kitchen, I tap his hip to nudge him out of the way, and get a little too much front-of-the-jeans territory to be a polite nudge.r />
  Luke groans as my fingers graze the half-ready bulge behind his jeans.

  “Do you like that?”

  He gasps as I grope him again. His gaze darkens as he backs me up against the counter, but only enough to cage me in. He doesn’t take control, and I keep touching him. Tracing the shape of his cock, hard and long behind his fly.

  “I like the sounds you make.” I lick my lips. “You’re never loud, unless you’re trying to…”

  His mouth twists. “Dirty talk?”

  “Sometimes it was good. It was very good that time in your apartment downstairs…”

  He tips his head to the ceiling, baring his neck, and I hop up onto the counter so I can pull him closer.

  I hook my fingers into his waistband and tug.

  He groans. Out loud, lusty and raw.

  The tip of my middle finger is almost grazing him inside his jeans. Almost, but not quite. I tug him again, bringing him into the vee of my legs, and he shudders.

  “Really?” I whisper against his neck, my lips brushing his tense flesh. “Is that hot?”

  “My little bird being handsy and demanding? Her sweet little fingers almost brushing my cock?”

  That right there. That’s the good kind of dirty talk that I like. It gets under my skin because it’s real, uncensored, just the like the noises he’s making.

  It’s all authentic. Not an act, not a controlled version of what Luke thinks he should be.

  This is who my husband is, and I’m only just seeing it now. “Little bird, eh?”

  “Do you like that?”

  I nod. And then I feel the siren call of the condoms. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

  He grins. “Of course.”

  I shake my head. This isn’t quite right. I soften my voice. “It’s a question for a Daddy.”

  His face firms up. “Oh?”

  That shouldn’t make my panties wet, but it does. Oh, it does. “Um, so…I need to demonstrate something for class.”

  “Timeout.” He puts his hands in the air.

  I laugh, my voice returning to normal. “Too much?”

  “Nope, not at all. That was hot as fuck, and I think I like where this is going, but you said we needed to negotiate this stuff because you have some limits, and I think I need us to do that right now, before I ruin what might be the hottest thing ever.”

  My mouth drops open. “Oh. Yeah. That’s…smart.” I squirm on the spot. “All right. But you need to go first. Any limits?”

  “I don’t think so? I don’t want you to tie me up.” He gives me a helpless look. “Do I need to take that quiz right now? How long does it take?”

  “Not long, but no. You can take it later. Right now, I guess just what I need you to know is that I’m going to say some stuff that makes me sound young, but that’s a variable headspace state for me. It comes and it goes, and I’m always Grace. When we did this before, and you used my name…that was really hot.” I take a deep breath. “I love our size difference, so if you call me little, I love that, and I like being baby girl, but I don’t like any specific references to me being a child or anything like that.”

  He nods. “Totally. Down with all of that. But the school thing…?”

  “Yeah. That’s my headspace stuff. So think of it like an alternate dimension, where I’m me, Grace, a grown-up, but I also go to high school. I’m not a teenager, but… maybe innocent like one.” His eyes do something very hot when I say innocent. There’s a small tug in my belly that reminds me that he once chose a younger woman, but I can look at that and move on, because I like the rest of this. “Is that a good thing for you? The innocent stuff?”

  “It is if it’s you,” he breathes, and sweeps me into his arms. “Very good thing. Very hot.”

  “Can we drop out of timeout? Because I have this assignment thing that I need help with…”

  “Fuck yes.” He plants a searing kiss on my mouth and lifts me up. “Where can I help you with this?”

  “Bedroom.”

  He carries me to our room and sets me down.

  I twist my arms in front of me and look bashful—except for my nipples, which are so hard I’m pretty sure they’re giving away the plot a bit, but that’s fine. It’s supposed to be fun. This is everything I thought it could be and more. “So the thing is, for health class, I’ve been assigned a demonstration task, and I don’t know how to do it.”

  His stern Daddy look is back. “Can you be more specific?”

  I lean in close and whisper, “It’s embrarassing.”

  He raises an eyebrow. How can you demonstrate something if you’re embarrassed by it?

  I know, right? Exactly why I need the help. “I’d rather show you, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” He glances at the bed. “Can I sit down for this?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I scurry to the dresser and open the box inside the drawer, drawing out just one condom wrapper. I turn around, keeping it behind my back, and join him on the bed.

  I sit right beside him. Close enough that in a second, I can pull my hand from behind my back and set it on his thigh.

  “Grace,” he says, his voice low and private. “If you have something you need help with, you can always ask me anything. I’m happy to show you anything you might want to know.”

  “Really?” I look up at him and smile. “Do you mean that?”

  A faint smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Yes.”

  I lean in and kiss him. Innocently.

  He groans.

  “Thank you,” I whisper against his mouth.

  Then I climb off the bed and stand in front of him, between his legs. He leans back, bracing himself on his hands, which is perfect.

  “I need to know how to put on a condom,” I say in a rush, pulling it from behind my back. I hold it out to show him, then drop my gaze to his erection. “And you’re the only one I can think of to ask.”

  “Grace,” he rumbles. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen it before, you know. In the shower. It’s okay. It’s just scientific.”

  That smile is back. “Is it, though? Are you sure you aren’t being curious?”

  “I promise.”

  He thinks about it for a second, then shrugs. “Okay. Go get a cucumber.”

  “No!” My protest is real, and so is the laugh he lets out.

  He grabs me and hauls me onto the bed, tickling my sides. “Are you sure you aren’t also a little curious about what Daddy’s cock looks like?”

  I squeak. “Okay, yes, maybe that.”

  “That’s okay, Grace. Just be honest with me next time.”

  He kisses me softly, not quite so innocently this time, and I dart my tongue out to meet his as it licks my lower lip.

  “That’s not scientific,” he whispers.

  “But it is very curious, right?”

  “Very.” He kisses me again, deeper this time, and the condom drops out of my hand.

  He picks it up, then rolls off the bed. “All right, let’s get back to your assignment. When you take the condom out of the wrapper, you want to hold it like this, so it will unroll…” He demonstrates by rolling it a little bit down two fingers. “Like that. If it’s flipped the other way, it won’t unroll. That’s the most common user error.”

  “Can I try?”

  “Sure.” He hands over the condom, and looks expectantly at my fingers.

  I blush. “I meant can I try on your…cock.”

  He closes the gap between us and exhales as he hugs me to his body. I wrap my arms around him first, then slowly slide my fingers along his waistband, remembering how much he liked it when I tugged on his belt in the kitchen. “Please?”

  I lean back, and the unexpected movement pulls him back onto the bed. As he tumbles, I scramble up him and get his belt undone.

  He’s breathing hard, letting me go. Pretending I’m doing it without permission, maybe.

  I press up against him as my hand slides into his boxers. “Oh, you’re
so hard,” I breathe. “Is that because I was talking about putting a condom on you?”

  “Yes,” he hisses. “Fuck.”

  “It’s okay. You said this was our little secret, remember? You said I could rub against you any time I wanted.”

  “I meant with our clothes on,” he groans. “Not like this. If you put a condom on me, Grace, I’m going to want to fuck you.”

  “Will you?” I gasp. “Will you fuck me? Will you use your big Daddy cock to show me what it feels like to be fucked with a condom on?”

  “For science?”

  “No,” I whisper. “Just for me. This has made me all hot and achy. Like I need some kind of release.”

  “I bet it has. Me, too.” He his hand around mine and squeezes, his erection throbbing in our shared grip. Then he crawls on top of me, bracketing my body with his. “Me, Luke. I want you, Grace.”

  I pull him down on top of me. I want his cock inside my body. I want to feel how hard he is for me.

  It's been too long.

  That's mine.

  He pulls my clothes off as I find the condom, now abandoned and covered in lint. Swearing, he hops off the bed and goes to my dresser. “You have more in here?”

  I nod.

  He’s back in a flash, his own clothes flying off at a remarkable rate.

  And then he’s on top of me, sheathed and ready. I lift my hips, eager for him, more than ready, even though I wasn’t sure.

  But I am now. I need him.

  He rocks just the head in, taking his time. I stretch around him, crying out, and he makes the most beautiful sounds. It’s okay, you can take it, it won’t hurt for long. Horny, fictional lines that make me gush.

  He pumps his cock into me in short, jerky thrusts. Just the tip, throbbing and pulsing as he comes. I imagine the hot spurts filling me up and my pussy flutters, already primed.

  “God, Luke, just fucking do it, I need you.” I claw at him. “Fuck me hard, fuck me so deep.”