by A Collection of Valentine Themed Sexy Short Stories (epub)
I try to think about me, about what he’s asking me to give up. I don’t have a lot of friends, but I do have a handful. I’m an only child and my parents are divorced. Could I leave Maman and move to a foreign country without her? Could I give up my job, my career—a career I’ve slaved over, a job that I’m damn good at—for a man I don’t really know anymore?
Could I let him walk away instead?
Instead of finding answers, my mind wanders back to the past. For a while after he first left, I replayed every detail of our time together on a daily basis. Eventually it became paralyzing. It was too hard to move on when I was stuck in the memory of him, and I made an intentional effort not to think about it and invest that energy in my career. So it’s been a long time since I’ve retraced these memories, and now that I’ve opened the dam, they flood over me in a rush.
I’d been just twenty-six when we’d met. It had been accidental, how it happened, neither of us looking for anyone. I’d been wrapped up in advancing my career at the Creative Advertising agency. After three years on the job, I was still the newbie and the only woman on the sales team, which meant I had to work twice as hard to prove myself. I didn’t have the time or energy for anything more than one-night stands and pub flings.
Which was why Harrison was supposed to be only a one-time thing. A guy I met at a concert of some no-name band. We’d gone to my place—I still brought men home back then—and had crazy monkey sex all night long. We fell asleep so he stayed the night, and the next morning we woke up to a burst pipe in my building. My entire flat was covered with three inches of water. The tenant manager quickly stepped in to handle the damages, but the clean-up was going to take at least a week since it had affected several units. There would be no water in the meantime.
Harrison helped me salvage what I could, and, though I’d already said I’d go to a hotel, he offered his flat instead. I couldn’t resist his dazzling smile and suave persona. Without hesitation, I agreed. I was madly in love with him by the end of five days. He seemed to feel the same. We were inseparable after that.
At the time, I knew that Harrison had some government type job that he couldn’t talk much about. I knew that he loved it. I knew he was a translator, able to speak Hindi, Punjabi, and Urdu. That was about all I knew. I imagined that he was called in to translate secret messages or help with interrogations. I liked picturing the confident charmer as a James Bond type, minus the danger. It was exciting.
We’d been together eighteen months before he broke down and told me all of it. I’d been pushing for a commitment, a ring. A promise. A possibility for someday, even. When he refused to give it, I was devastated and heartbroken. He hated to hurt me like that. It crushed him. Against all better judgment, against policy and his oath to his officers, he told me he wasn’t “just” a translator. He’d been working undercover for the past several years on some project, and his relationship with me had provided a good cover. He hadn’t expected to really fall in love. Now that he was, he was stuck. His obligation was to his job and the people he worked to protect, but his heart belonged to me.
“One day,” he’d said, “I will be called to a new assignment. I’ll be forced to cut off all ties to the people I know. I will not be able to contact you again. I will simply disappear.”
It was a tough blow, but one I came to understand. He’d trusted me with his life by telling me what he had, and that was a testimony to his love that I couldn’t deny. Over the next several months, he offered me more hints to the truth of his situation. He spelled out the rationale of no personal attachments. He explained that his current assignment wasn’t qualified as dangerous, but his next assignment would likely not be as safe. The best part was that he was finally able to show me a part of him he’d been hiding, and I quickly learned just how passionate he was for his work. As passionate as he was for me.
Eight months later, he was gone.
He made it easy for me, told me to accuse him of cheating. I was to tell our few friends that he’d moved to the United States. Our friends were really all my friends. No one took his side. No one asked for his forwarding address. No one had a clue there was anything other than the story I gave.
He never asked me to wait for him, and I didn’t. Not on purpose. Just, there was never a man who could fill his shoes. Never a man who could fill my soul the way he did. So, although I led an active sex life after he left, I never gave anyone else my heart. But I did give a good portion of it to my career, throwing myself into it with the passion and energy I’d once devoted to Harrison.
Now, my job is what means most to me. What I am most proud of. It’s my identity. I couldn’t imagine walking away from it. It would tear something out of me that could never be replaced. I would do it, though, for Harrison. Even though I barely know the man anymore, I’d do it. But it would damage me.
There is no doubt in my mind that Harry would be just as damaged if he were forced to trade working in the field for a job behind a desk.
“Hey,” he says, stirring now beside me. He catches my eye and his sleepy grin fades. “That’s the look of a woman who’s about to tell me goodbye.”
I slide into his arms, and he turns on his side so we’re laying face-to-face. I rub my knuckles across the scruff of his jaw. “I love you too much to go with you,” I say quietly. The tears are already stinging my eyes, but I manage to keep them in.
His features darken. “I asked you to come with me, but I think I love you too much to let you actually do it.”
My mouth finds his, and we get lost in long, slow, languid kisses. His fingers drift low and rub my clit, and by the time he rolls me under him, I’m wet and ready for his cock to glide inside me. His thrusts are sweet and unhurried, but each one is purposeful and full of bitter desire and love. Mostly love. So much love.
Later, at the door, it’s harder.
“I could quit all together. I could stay here and be a regular guy.”
“You’re not a regular guy, Harry.”
“I could be.”
“This isn’t the kind of job a man just walks away from.”
“You aren’t the kind of woman a man just walks away from.”
We kiss again, for a long time. I’ve given up making it to work on time, but there’s a client meeting at ten and a staff meeting at noon, and I’m already being ripped away from the fantasy in front of me by my reality.
Harrison feels the same, I can tell. His eyes say he’s already out the door, already half wrapped up in whatever assignment he’ll be given next.
And so it’s time to say goodbye.
“We aren’t over, Amelia,” he promises as he steps away. “One day, it will be our time.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Then I shut the door on my dirty sweet Valentine, take a deep breath, and close my eyes against the tears.
When I open them again, it’s another day without Harrison Steele. Another day closer to when we’ll meet again.
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Amy appears again in the Dirty Sweet Duet. Book one, Sweet Liar, releases February 26.
Also by Laurelin Paige
Visit my website for a more detailed reading order.
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The Dirty Universe
Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - READ FREE
Dirty Duet: Dirty Filthy Rich Men | Dirty Filthy Rich Love
Dirty Sexy Bastard - READ FREE
Dirty Games Duet: Dirty Sexy Player | Dirty Sexy Games
Dirty Sweet Duet: Sweet Liar | Sweet Fate
Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)
Dirty Wild Trilogy: Coming 2020
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The Fixed Universe
Fixed Series: Fixed on You | Found in You | Forever with You | Hudson | Fixed Forever
Found Duet: Free Me | Find Me
Chandler (a spinoff novel)
Falling Under You (a spinoff novella)
Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)
Slay Saga Slay One: Rivalry
&n
bsp; * * *
First and Last
First Touch | Last Kiss
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Spark - short, steamy sparks of romance
One More Time
Ryder Brothers Close
Want by Kayti McGee | More by JD Hawkins
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Hollywood Heat
Sex Symbol | Star Struck
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Written with Sierra Simone
Porn Star | Hot Cop
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Written with Kayti McGee under the name Laurelin McGee
Miss Match | Love Struck | MisTaken | Holiday for Hire
About Laurelin Paige
With over 2.4 million books sold worldwide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. Her international success started with her very first series, the Fixed Trilogy, which, alone, has sold over 1 million copies, and earned her the coveted #1 spot on Amazon’s bestseller list in the U.S., U.K., Canada, and Australia, simultaneously. This title also was named in People magazine as one of the top 10 most downloaded books of 2014. She’s also been #1 over all books at the Apple Book Store with more than one title in more than one country. She’s published both independently and with MacMillan’s St. Martin’s Press and Griffin imprints as well as many other publishers around the world including Harper Collins in Germany and Hachette/Little Brown in the U.K. With her edgy, trope-flipped stories of smart women and strong men, she’s managed to secure herself among today’s romance royalty.
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Paige has a Bachelor’s degree in Musical Theater and a Masters of Business Administration with a Marketing emphasis, and she credits her writing success to what she learned from both programs, though she’s also an avid learner, constantly trying to challenge her mind with new and exciting ideas and concepts. While she loves psychological thrillers and witty philosophical books and entertainment, she is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching shows like Game of Thrones, Letterkenny and Discovery of Witches, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She's also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn't do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She currently lives outside Austin, Texas and is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
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The Bedroom Experiment
an erotic short story by Kendall Ryan
About The Bedroom Experiment
When your stepbrother is a hot hockey stud with more notches in his bedpost than, well anyone, he’s the perfect candidate to help you gain a little bedroom experience. At least that's my plan this V-day.
1
"Pass me a slice of mushroom, would you Morgan?" Isla asks from the other side of the counter.
I open the box and pass her a slice of pizza, crinkling my nose at the noxious fungi she insisted on ordering.
I was nineteen when our parents married, and away at college when Isla moved in to my childhood home. She was sixteen, nerdy, and obsessed with that young adult vampire book series that was popular at the time. It was oddly adorable. I saw her occasionally, during Christmas and spring break, and then when I moved home for the summer, everything started to change. Isla started to change.
She replaced her glasses with contacts, grew a set of tits, and ditched the braces. That's when I started limiting my time at home, because Isla was jail bait—underage, more attractive than she should have been, and completely off-limits to me, her brand-spanking new stepbrother.
She was smart, on the tennis team, head of the student council, and focused all her free time on extracurriculars that would get her into a good college. She was a good girl, and I intended to leave her alone, no matter how many times she asked me to hang out.
But this week at home has been a little unavoidable. Our parents, both oncologists, are finally taking a delayed honeymoon. They're doctors at the same busy hospital, it's how they met, and it's taken them two and a half years to be able to plan this trip to Hawaii. And it's why I knew I couldn't put up a fight when they asked me to spend this week, Isla's winter break from her freshman year of college, looking after her.
I keep telling myself it's fine. I'm twenty-one years old now, not some hormonal teenager who can't keep his dick in his pants.
Isla takes a healthy bite of her pizza, flashing me a look as she chews. "Mushrooms are awesome."
I shrug. "The psychedelic kind aren't so bad."
Her inquisitive blue eyes widen. "You've done that? And yet you won't even let me have a drink?"
"Actually no, I haven't. It was a joke." Some friends of mine had, but I'd always been more focused on sports, and had little time for shit that distracted from that. "Tell me, why do you want a drink so bad?"
Isla shrugs. "I drink at college sometimes you know?"
I bring my bottle of beer to my lips and take a long swig. "I'm sure you do."
She rolls her eyes, finishing the last of her pizza, and then carries her plate over to the sink. I watch her ass as she rinses the plate and places it in the dishwasher.
Forcing myself to turn away, I polish off my beer and head to the fridge for another.
"So what are we going to do tonight?" she asks as she wipes down the marble countertops, and puts the rest of the pizza away. "We could watch a movie."
I shrug. "If you want." This might be the house I grew up in, but since Isla and her mom moved in, there's been a lot of upgrades. Including my old bedroom, that's now a media room, complete with surround sound and a movie screen-style projector.
"Cool. I'm just going to go call Tyler, and then I'll come find you."
I nod. Tyler's her boyfriend. I haven't met the guy, but she talks about him enough. I know he's a political science major and two grades ahead of her in school. They met her first week on campus and have been dating all year. She’s been talking about him almost nonstop for the past two days.
I take my bottle of beer and head into the media room, deciding to look through the movie selection while I wait for Isla to finish her phone call.
Almost an hour slides by as I nurse my beer and dick around on my phone. A couple of my teammates are going out to a bar we like back home. I live a couple hours away and just got drafted to Seattle's pro hockey team as a backup goalie. It's an amazing opportunity, and one I take very seriously.
My phone rings and it's Owen, the team's star goalie and one of my personal idols.
"Hey dude," I say when I answer. "What's up?"
"Come out with us, bro."
"We need Morgan," I hear someone say in the background. I think it's Teddy. "The pickup game is strong in that one."
He isn't wrong. I'd finally grown into my frame these last couple of years. When I hit six foot four my freshman year of college, my dad wondered if I'd ever stop growing. He's only average height so my growth spurt was unexpected. I'd been lanky and thin until I finally put on thirty pounds of muscle. That coupled with the new edition of my half-sleeve of ink, the guys on my team loved to tease me that I was a pussy magnet. I didn't hate their new nickname.
“You down or what?” Owen asks.
"Can't. I'm at my dad's house this weekend, two hours
away."
"Twat?" he says. "I cunt hear you?" I chuckle, but Owen's not done. "I think I have an ear in-fuck-tion. Don't worry, I'll finger it out."
I laugh again. As the rookie on the team, it's practically their job to give me shit. "Have fun tonight boys."
After promising to go out with them when I return, I end the call.
I check my watch, and decide rather than wait around for Isla, I'm going to hit the hot tub. I grab my navy-blue board shorts from my duffel bag and change quickly. My muscles are sore from last week's game, and as I ease down into the hot, bubbling water, I let out a low hiss.
It would have been nice to go out with the guys tonight, rather than being stuck here babysitting, but what can you do? Leaning my head back against the edge of the spa, I look up at the cloudless night sky. The stars are brighter here, somehow, and I take a moment to appreciate the view.
The silence is interrupted by the sound of the back door opening. I watch Isla pad out across the travertine walkway barefoot. Her face is red and her eyelashes are damp with tears.
I straighten up and face her. "What's wrong?"