Dirty Little Secrets

by Kierney Scott

  As if he could read her mind, he amended, “I would not be disappointed in you. I would be disappointed that we robbed the world of a Megan/James hybrid. With your brains and my money that kid would be bloody unstoppable. Watch out world.”

  Megan let go of the breath she had been holding, relaxing as she realised James was not being critical. She cupped her hands together to pour water over James’ head, rinsing away the shampoo. “Or she could end up with my bad temper and your…” Megan tried to find a negative attribute James could pass to his progeny, but she drew a blank. He was friendly and kind, and intelligent, and beautiful. She shook her head. “And your profession. That would be a disaster. I hate her already.”

  “Watch it, woman. That’s my daughter you’re talking about. And journalism is not a genetic trait. But she would inherit the company. She is brilliant, this daughter of ours, so the company has doubled in value since she took over. I am one proud papa.”

  A strange sensation washed over her, a sadness she didn’t understand. This is why she did not deal with hypothetical. She could barely process emotion for actual events in her life. She didn’t have the energy to consider things that would never happen. “Again, I have to point out, I will never have an accidental pregnancy.” Again. She left the last word unsaid.

  “Poor Adelaide. Her life over before she was even conceived. She was a beautiful girl too. My height, your curves. The men of Australia would mourn the loss if they knew, but saying that, I would annihilate any guy who upset her, so it is probably for the best she will never be, our sweet girl.” He laughed, a deep rich sound she could feel gently reverberating through her.

  Megan shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was indulging in this conversation. She must be drunker than she thought. “Adelaide? You named your daughter after a city?”

  “Yes. My gran is from Adelaide. I spent all my summers there. It was the best part of my childhood. I loved my gran, so I’m naming our daughter after her. Unless you have another suggestion. Is there anyone else you would want to name her after?”

  Megan thought. There was no one in her family she would name a dog after, let alone a child. Her mind went to Louise, her maid. Louise was the most compassionate and loving human being she had ever met. But she wasn’t going to tell James that her maid was the most admired person in her life. She still couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. She couldn’t remember a single postcoital conversation she had ever had, and she had had more than her fair share of sex. Maybe this was a normal chat to be having after sex. For all she knew, everyone talked about this. “Um,.no. Adelaide is fine. But wouldn’t it make more sense to name her after your grandmother by giving her your grandmother’s name?”

  “Her name was Myrtle. I couldn’t do that to a child.”

  “Good point. Any chance you already have a little Adelaide out there? I read the papers, man-whore, I know you spread it around.”

  “No chance. I know I’m a target. I’m worth billions. I don’t want my Adelaide born to a gold digger. I had never had sex without a condom until you, until tonight. Well, technically last week on my kitchen counter, but that was only a few strokes. And I have to say, I now know why people have unprotected sex. It’s so much better without rubber in the way. It was like I was finally doing it properly. I like feeling you around me, hot and wet, by far the best feeling a man can experience. If I did not have this bloody cast on, I would be fucking you again, right here.”

  Megan’s breath hitched. She wanted him again now. She was ready, she would happily have sex again right now, but she realised something else: she would quite happily just sit and speak to James. She didn’t really talk to people that often, not in the way they were talking, about nothing and everything. It was nice. Most of her verbal intercourse these days was practical. She was going to make a point to speak to Ben more about things that weren’t related to the election.

  “Is this what you always talk about after sex?” Megan asked.

  James shook his head. “I don’t usually talk after sex. I usually leave or worst case scenario I pretend to sleep until I can get out without the post-game analysis.”

  “Me too. Well, not the sleep part, I don’t have time to waste waiting for someone to fall asleep. But that explains our unconventional postcoital talking points.”

  “Probably. We’re both woefully out of practice at this part. But I like talking rubbish with you. I feel I can relax with you, my fellow wombat.”

  She thought about telling him she did not consider herself a wombat, but who was she kidding? “You’re right. It is surprisingly liberating to have sex with someone you know harbours no illusion of romance or any other nonsense. I know I can say whatever I want and not worry about how you take it, because it’s not like I am trying to impress you. It’s kind of weird too, just being able to talk.”

  James pulled her hand to his mouth and gently glided his teeth over her index finger. “Shit, I would enjoy just talking to you. We could even skip the sex once in a while. Don’t tell anyone or they might revoke my wombat status.”

  She laughed. “Settle. Talking without sex, are you mad? I said I liked it, I didn’t say it was an adequate substitution for sex.”

  James turned to look at her. His lips caught hers and he kissed her. His tongue slid across her mouth, teasing it open. She opened to him, welcoming him and kissed him with a passion that rivalled his. She felt close to another person for the first time since she could remember. She was surprised by how pleased she was to have shared something so intimate with James. She wouldn’t let herself think about it too deeply because there was no room for logic in their relationship. This would only ever be about how they made each other feel. They both were here to take, but somehow she was touched that she had given him something. She had given him an experience he had denied himself. She had never been anyone’s first anything.

  James shifted so he could face her more directly. In the process is hand fell off the side of the bath.

  “Damn cast,” James muttered as her pulled away from her. He hoisted himself out of the tub and reached for a towel to wrap around his cast to dry it off.

  When he stood, Megan got an unobstructed view of him. Her stomach did a flip. He was so beautiful, so masculine, so perfect. She had only ever seen someone as good looking in the pages of a glossy magazine. Each of his muscles was taut and defined under his tan skin. Even his penis was pretty, not something she had ever thought about a man, but his was, even soft it was long and thick as it gently swung as he walked.

  “I can’t wait until I get this off so I can give you a proper seeing to. I’m much better when I have my left hand to work with. I got some mad skill.” James smiled broadly and wiggled his fingers beneath the long cast to demonstrate.

  Megan smiled in return. Her muscles felt out of practice, she realised she did not smile very often. “I am so glad you said something first, because that is exactly what I was thinking. ‘I hope James can fuck better without a cast, you know, because those last two orgasms were subpar,,” she teased him. She had no idea where it was coming from. She could never have been accused of being playful or light-hearted, but it felt natural with him.

  “Challenge accepted, woman. Next time we have sex you are getting three orgasms. You will be sober, that might help too. I can’t fuck to my full potential when I’m feeling guilty, really knocks me off my game.” His smile broadened as she stood up and he wrapped her in a soft white towel.

  She shook her head. There was no way she was going to have sex sober, she never had, never consensually. She shook the thought off, those memories had no place here. They didn’t fit with what she felt when she was with James. “Sex and karaoke require a certain level of inebriation. And dim lighting.”

  “Woman, that reflects a very poor view of the art of karaoke.”

  She laughed as she followed him back through to the bedroom. She sat down on the side of the bed.

  “Next time we are doing it stone cold s
ober.” James stood between her legs. A mischievous grin played on his full lips. “Well, not next time, because I still owe you three orgasms. But the time after that, you are going to be sober, woman.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t do sober sex. Always need at least a glass of wine.”

  “Another thing I have to look forward to, teaching you the joy of a sober fuck. It’s even more dirty when you know exactly what you’re doing.” He pushed her down hard against the mattress. She smiled as she opened her legs further for him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Megan lifted her knees as she picked up speed. She glanced down at her stop watch. She was going to finish her run in fifty-two minutes if she kept up her pace. She smiled to herself; anything under an hour was good. Her times were definitely getting better. She cranked up the volume on her iPod and pushed herself harder.

  She loved her dawn runs along the Potomac. There were few places as beautiful in DC, and nowhere as peaceful. On her right was the rugged beauty of the river and on her left was a dense forest. If she had to pick a happy place, this would be hers. She loved the view, and she loved the familiar ache in her legs and the burn in her lungs as she pushed herself. Her perspective changed when she ran, all her problems seemed smaller, just tiny blips on the radar.

  She had started running as a kid; literally she ran away from her problems. She would hit the trails for hours to avoid being home. Luckily her mom never seemed to notice or care that she was gone.

  Suddenly Megan felt something on her arm. Someone was behind her, grabbing her. Her heart sprinted against her ribs, pounding in a painful cadence. Her index finger was already on her pepper spray. She never ran without it in her hands. There was usually never anyone on the trail at 5 a.m. but she was always prepared, just in case.

  In a beat of her heart, Megan stopped and turned. Before she could even register a face, she sprayed, directly in his eyes.

  She pulled her head phones out in time to hear a stream of fluent curses.

  “James?!” she screeched. Her heart would not slow down. Fear and adrenaline pushed her pulse higher. Her breathing came in pants as she tried to control the trembling in her limbs. “Jesus Christ, James. You scared me. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Fuck that hurts!” James bent over and held his hands over his eyes. “Fuck, rubbing it makes it worse. A broken hand, stitches and now you fucking blinded me. Brilliant.” James gasped and then doubled over as he coughed violently.

  Megan ran in place. She couldn’t stop moving. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” What was she supposed to do now? She had never had to spray anyone before. “I am so sorry. Does it hurt?” she asked.

  “Yes it fucking hurts,” James coughed.

  “It’s the capsicum. Shit! I didn’t know it was you. Why did you grab me?”

  “I’ve been calling your name for the last mile, you didn’t hear me. Fuck, did you need to pepper spray me? Two seconds to turn around and see it was me before you sprayed. For fuck’s sake. Woman, you are going to be the death of me.”

  Megan shook her head. She didn’t know what to do. Shit. She always knew what to do. Why wouldn’t her heart stop pounding? “I’m so sorry. It is going to hurt for half an hour.” At least. Why had she sprayed him? Her chest constricted painfully. She wished he would stand up so she could see the damage. All she could do was stand lamely and watch him suffer in obvious pain.

  “Please don’t tell me how long it’s going to hurt.” She could hear he was speaking through clenched teeth.

  “I’m so sorry.” She remembered the bottle of water she had in her backpack. “Wait, don’t move. I have something.”

  “Where do you expect me to go, I’m blind as a fucking bat.”

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry.” She took the lid off the water and pulled his head back until his face was exposed. This was not how she thought he would look the next time she saw him. His face was a shade somewhere between red and purple. A fast torrent of tears streamed from his eyes. She was surprised he wasn’t screaming. She would definitely be screaming at this point and swearing. To give him his due, he was doing a fair bit of swearing. “I need you to pry your eyes open so I can pour water into them.” She didn’t know if it would help but she was certain it couldn’t make it worse.

  James pried open his eyes and for a brief second, she wished he hadn’t. The whites of his eyes were mottled with a myriad of angry red veins, fanning out in a crimson net. She sucked in a sharp breath as she poured water in his eyes, first the left and then the right.

  He swore again, a long string of profanities in combinations that had never occurred to her. After several minutes and every permutation of all swear words in the English language, he righted himself. He still could not open his eyes. They were squeezed shut but still a stream of tears flowed constantly from them. “Woman, why did you spray me? Were the broken hand and stitches not enough for you? Every time I see you, you’re either drunk or inflicting an injury on me. Christ, you’re a lot like hard work.”

  Her back stiffened. “You scared me.”

  “Seriously? That is your defence? Pretty shit excuse, counsellor.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you.” The last time she had seen him was a week ago when she had spent the night with him, well, most of the night. She woke up at half past four in the morning and left without saying goodbye. She had enjoyed the sex but once she sobered up she realised she couldn’t deal with the rest of the trappings. For a brief period that night, she thought she could manage to stay after sex, but she had been kidding herself; alcohol had been the only thing that kept her there that long.

  “Did you not expect to hear from me either?” he asked pointedly. “If you want to end it, don’t be a coward, say it to my face. I’m a big boy, love. I can handle it, just don’t dick me about.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I can’t tell you are lying. Do us both a favour and just admit you are too fucked up to manage any meaningful human interaction. Christ, woman, I thought I was messed up, but at least I could make it through the night without freaking out.”

  Megan was glad he could not see her. His words were too close to the bone. He didn’t know her well enough to call her on her issues. He was right. She couldn’t make it through the night. She had tried to go back to sleep, to enjoy the closeness, but the room felt like it was closing in on her. The hands that she had wanted all over her during sex were too much when one was draped over her hip as she tried to sleep. She couldn’t admit that she found it easier to have sex with a stranger she hated than sleep beside a man whose company she was starting to enjoy. It was fucked up, she knew that, but it was none of his business. “I was going to call you,” she said at last. That much wasn’t a lie. She just needed to put some time between them. This was a casual thing, they did not need to phone each other and plan dates.

  “Really? Because you haven’t answered any of my calls.” James winced again as another wave of pain washed over him.

  “Yes, I was going to call you today.”

  “And say what? Sorry I couldn’t manage to say goodbye before I left? Sorry I didn’t return any of your calls?” James folded over again “Fuck, this is sore. I would take a broken hand over this any day.”

  “No, I was actually going to ask if you were free tonight.”

  “Seriously?! You avoid my calls all week and you expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t you believe it, it’s the truth. I was hoping we could meet tonight. Ben has plans so I need to be out of the house anyway.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  Megan narrowed her eyes. What was wrong with him, other than being in agony? This was their arrangement. This is what he signed on for, casual sex when they both had the time and inclination. “Look, I’m sorry I sprayed you but I’m not going to apologise for not calling you. We are fuck buddies. I didn’t call because I didn’t have time for sex this week. I’ve had a lot on.”


  “Christ, you’re difficult.” James sunk to his haunches and breathed in slow ragged breaths.

  “You already said that.”

  James coughed then gave his head a terse shake. “Well, it fucking bears repeating. And I wasn’t too busy this week for sex. It’s not all about you, sweetheart.”

  She took a deep breath.

  He was right.

  She had not considered his feelings on the situation. She had never needed to care about someone else’s viewpoint where sex was concerned. It had always been about taking whatever was on offer. Considering someone else was new to her and it was more than a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure where to start. “You’re right. I should have returned your calls. I’m sorry.”

  James shook his head. “Now I really wish I could see. Did the ice queen just admit she was wrong?”

  “Yes. It probably won’t ever happen again so enjoy it, man-whore.”

  Through the stream of tears, a smirk formed on James’ full mouth. “The ice queen and the man-whore: aren’t we the pair to draw to?”

  Despite herself she smiled too. What was it about him? She had not smiled this much in years, hell, in her life maybe. Why did he have to be such a great guy? She liked it better when he was just a stranger she was fucking. It was easier that way.

  “Let me take you to the hospital.”

  James shook his head. “I don’t need a hospital. I just need to drink a shit load of alcohol and sleep it off.”

  “Alcohol is your go-to for a lot of things.” Megan reached for his hand and helped him up.

  James righted himself but he did not let go of her arm. His body was hot against hers. “At least I can have sex without it.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I told you that. I tell you things I shouldn’t even though I know you’re just going to use it against me later.”

  “Because I’m a journalist?” James asked.

  They began walking along the worn trail with Megan leading. Her hand was wrapped tightly around his cast, leading him. Even blinded, and in a helpless state, she had never experienced a presence as powerful or as masculine.