My Little Secret

by Anna J. Forrest

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Midori Hunter has it all, including a midnight-black Aston Martin Vanquish S parked in the driveway of the mini-mansion she shares with her husband, Dr. Ray Hunter. On the outside looking in, one would think Midori is happy, but it’s another story when you don’t marry for love, but rather for financial gain.

Tired of her cheating husband and fed up with being lonely, Midori takes a liking to Jaydah B., the sassy, sometimes cranky bestselling author who has drama of her own that she hasn't quite figured out how to deal with. They appear to be a match made in heaven, but when the lies that both women have told threaten to be exposed, who decides who stays and who goes? Midori and Jaydah have a lot on the line, and both could lose everything they've worked for. That's why their love affair has to remain their little secret.

Produced by Buck 50 Productions

Release date: October 1, 2011

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

She feels like melted chocolate on my fingertips. The same color from the top of her head to the very tips of her feet. Her nipples are two shades darker than the rest of her, and they make her skin the perfect backdrop against her round breasts. Firm and sweet like two ripe peaches dipped in Baker’s chocolate. They are a little more than a handful and greatly appreciated. Touching her makes me feel like I’ve finally found peace on earth, and there is no feeling in the world greater than that.

Right now her eyes are closed and her bottom lip is tightly tucked between her teeth. From my viewpoint between her widely spread legs I can see the beginnings of yet another orgasm playing across her angelic face. These are the moments that make it all worthwhile. Her perfectly arched eyebrows go into a deep frown, and her eyelids flutter slightly. When her head falls back I know she’s about to explode.

I move up on my knees so that we are pelvis to pelvis.

Both of us are dripping wet from the humidity and the situation. Her legs are up on my shoulders, and her hands are cupping my breasts. I can’t tell where her skin begins or where mine ends. As I look down at her and watch her face go through way too many emotions, I smile a little bit. She always did love the dick, and since we’ve been together she’s never had to go without it.

I’m pushing her tool into her soft folds inch by inch as if it were really a part of me, and her body is alive. I say “her tool” because it belongs to her, and I enjoy using it on her. Her arms and legs wrap us in a cocoon of coconut oil and sweat, body heat and moisture, soft moans and teardrops, pleasure and pain, until we seemingly burst into an inferno of hot-like-fire ecstasy. Our chocolate skin is searing to the touch, and we melt into each other, becoming one. I can’t tell where she begins . . . I can’t tell where I end.

She smiles. Her eyes are still closed and she’s still shaking from the intensity. I take this opportunity to taste her lips and to lick the salty sweetness from the side of her neck. My hands begin to explore, and my tongue encircles her dark nipples. She arches her back when my full lips close around her nipple, and I began to suck softly as if she’s feeding me life from within her soul.

Her hands find their way to my head and become tangled in my soft wrap, identical to hers, but not as long. I push into her deep, and grind softly against her clit in search of her “J-spot” because it belongs to me, Jaydah. She speaks my name so softly, I barely hear her. I know she wants me to take what she so willingly gave me, and I want to hear her beg for it.

I start to pull back slowly, and I can feel her body tightening up, trying to keep me from moving. One of many soft moans is heard over the low hum of the clock radio that sits next to the bed. I hear slight snatches of Raheem DeVaughn singing about being in heaven, and I’m almost certain he wrote that song for me and my lady.

I open her lips so I can have a full view of her sensitive pearl. Her body quakes with anticipation from the feel of my warm breath touching it, my mouth just mere inches away. I blow cool air on her stiff clit, causing her to tense up briefly, her hands taking hold of my head, trying to pull me closer. At this point my mouth is so close to her, all I have to do is twitch my lips to make contact. But I don’t. I want her to beg for it.

My index finger is making small circles against my own clit, my honey sticky between my legs. The ultimate pleasure is giving pleasure, and I’ve experienced that on both accounts. My baby can’t wait anymore, and her soft pants are turning into low moans. I stick my tongue out, and her clit gladly kisses me back.

Her body responds by releasing a syrupy-sweet slickness that I lap up until it’s all gone, fucking her with my tongue the way she likes it. I hold her legs up and out to intensify her orgasm because I know she can’t handle it that way.

“Does your husband do you like this?” I ask between licks. Before she can answer, I wrap my full lips around her clit and suck her into my mouth, swirling my tongue around her hardened bud, causing her body to shake.

Snatching a second toy from the side of the bed, I take one hand to part her lips, and I ease her favorite toy (The Rabbit) inside her. Wishing that the strap-on I was wearing was a real dick so I could feel her pulsate, I turn the toy on low at first, wanting her to receive the ultimate pleasure. In the dark room the glow-in-the-dark toy is lit brightly, the light disappearing inside her when I push it all the way in.

The head of the curved toy turns in a slow circle while the pearl beads jump around on the inside, hitting up against her smooth walls during insertion. When I push the toy in, she pushes her pelvis up to receive it. My mouth is latched on to her clit like a vise. She moans louder, and I kick the toy up a notch to medium, much to her delight. Removing my mouth from her clit, I rotate between flicking my wet tongue across it to heat it and blowing my breath on it to cool it, bringing her to yet another screaming orgasm, followed by strings of “I love you” and “Please don’t stop.”

Torturing her body slowly, I continue to stimulate her clit, while pushing her toy in and out of her in a constant rhythm. When she lifts her legs to her chest I take the opportunity to let the ears on the rabbit toy that we are using do its job on her clit while my tongue finds its way to her chocolate ass. I bite one cheek at a time, replacing each bite with wet kisses, afterward sliding my tongue in between to taste her there. Her body squirming underneath me lets me know I’ve hit the jackpot, and I fuck her with my tongue there also.

She’s moaning, telling me in a loud whisper that she can’t take it anymore. That’s my cue to turn the toy up high. The buzzing from the toy matches that of the radio, and with her moans and my pants mixed in, we sound like a well-rehearsed orchestra singing a symphony of passion. I allow her to buck against my face while I keep up with the rhythm of the toy, her juices oozing out the sides and forming a puddle under her ass. My lips taste salty-sweet from kissing her body. I’m loving it.

She moans and shakes until the feeling in the pit of her stomach subsides and she is able to breathe at a normal rate. I know exactly how she feels because I get that very same feeling upon orgasm when she’s blessing me. She tries to get her head together, rubbing the sides of my body up and down in a lazy motion, and I take that opportunity to milk the rest of her orgasm from her body before I lay back to relax.

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, and I have a wonderful evening planned for the two of us. She already promised me that her husband wouldn’t be an issue because he’ll be out of town that weekend, and besides all that, they haven’t celebrated Cupid’s day since the year after they were married, so I didn’t even think twice about it. After seven years it should be over for them anyway.

“It’s your turn now,” she says to me in a husky, lust-filled voice, and I can’t wait for her to take control.

She starts by rubbing her oil-slicked hands over the front of my body, taking extra time around my sensitive nipples before bringing her hands down across my flat stomach. I’ve removed the strap-on dildo, and am completely naked under her hands.

I can still feel her sweat on my skin, and I can still taste her on my lips. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the sensual massage I’m being treated to. After two years of us making love it’s still good and gets better every time.

She likes to take her time covering every inch of my body, and I enjoy letting her. She skips past my love box and starts at my feet, massaging my legs from the toes up.

When she gets to my pleasure point, her fingertips graze the smooth, hairless skin there, quickly teasing me before she heads back down and does the same thing with my other limb. My legs are spread apart and lying flat on the bed with her in between, relaxing my body with ease. A cool breeze from the cracked window blows across the room every so often, caressing my erect nipples, making them harder than before, until her hands warm them back up again.

She knows when I can’t take anymore, and she rubs and caresses me until I am begging her to kiss my lips. I can see her smile through half-closed eyelids, and she does what I request. Dipping her head down between my legs, she kisses my lips just as I asked, using her tongue to part them so she can taste my clit. My body goes into mini-convulsions on contact, and I am fighting a battle to not cum—a battle I never win.

“Valentine’s Day belongs to us, right?” I ask her again between moans. I need her to be here. V-Day is for lovers. She and her husband haven’t been that in ages. I deserve it . . . I deserve her. I just don’t want this to be a repeat of Christmas or New Year’s Eve.

“Yes, it’s yours,” she says between kisses on my thigh and sticking her tongue inside of me. Two of her fingers find their way inside of my tight walls, and my pelvic area automatically bounces up and down on her hand as my orgasm approaches.

“Tell me you love me,” I say to her as my breathing becomes raspy. A fire is spreading across my legs and working its way up to the pit of my stomach. I need her to tell me before I explode.

“I love you,” she says, and she places her tongue in my slit, and I release my honey all over her tongue.

It feels like I am on the Tea Cup ride at the amusement park as my orgasm jerks my body uncontrollably and it feels like the room is spinning. She is sucking and slurping my clit while the weight of her body holds the bottom half of me captive. I’m practically screaming and begging her to stop, and just when I think I’m about to check out of here, she lets go of my clit.

I take a few more minutes to get my head together, allowing her to pull me into her and rub my back. We lay like that for a little while longer, listening to each other breathe, and much to my dismay she slides my head from where it is resting on her arm and gets up out of the bed.

I don’t say a word. I just lie on the bed and watch her get dressed. I swear, everything she does is so graceful, like there’s a rhythm riding behind it.

Pretty soon she is dressed and standing beside the bed, looking down at me. She smiles and I smile back, not worried because she promised me our lover’s day, and that’s not quite a week away.

“So, Valentine’s Day belongs to me, right?” I ask her again, just to be certain.

“Yes, it belongs to you.”

We kiss one last time, and I can still taste my honey on her lips. She already knows the routine, locking the bottom lock behind her.

Just thinking about her makes me horny, so I pick up her favorite toy to finish the job. Five more days, and it’ll be on again.

I can’t believe this bitch had the nerve to stand me up, again. After all I’ve done for her, she just keeps running back to the arms of that loser. For what reason, I’m still trying to figure out. Okay, so he’s a doctor and he provides her with a lavish lifestyle, but all of that means absolutely nothing if that bedroom ain’t hitting for nothing. How does this guy don the title of Chief of Gynecology and he can’t even make his own wife cum? That’s why she keeps bringing her behind to see me.

I’ve heard her say on so many occasions how she is so fed up with his lack of length and stamina, but my whole thing is, she knew that shit before she married him. What the hell did she think? His dick was going to grow after they exchanged vows? And since we’re being real about some things, good head will only get you so far. I don’t have time to be getting all hot and bothered just to be let down by spontaneous combustion on his part. Damn, can I at least get my nut first?

I’m even more pissed that I’m sitting out here in the damn rain in front of their house. She doesn’t know I know where she lives. Yet. So let’s just keep that our little secret.

It’s chilly as hell in this car, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself in this haughty-ass neighborhood. It’s bad enough I paid my cousin to let me borrow her old dusty Honda to come over here. I don’t want to blow my cover by making any unnecessary noise from her loud-ass engine.

My stomach knots up every time I see them embrace, and watching them through these binoculars is starting to give me a damn headache. Does that bitch have on the lingerie I bought her for her birthday? Lord, let my eyes be deceiving me because I’d hate to have to bust up in there on their asses.

Then she keeps smiling and giggling and shit, like they’re just having a dazzling muthafuckin’ time. Just two weeks ago she was telling me that having sex with him was like watching paint dry. Paint? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I had more fun at my grandmother’s funeral, so something has to give.

We were supposed to be spending Valentine’s Day together. The plan was to meet her at Suburban Station, and we would take a horse and carriage ride around Love Park. From there we would be dropped off at Panache, where we would feed each other French delicacies over a candlelit dinner. Afterward, that expensive-ass horse and carriage ride would drop us off at the Hyatt down on Delaware Avenue, where I reserved the presidential suite for the next two days. It was then that I would introduce her to a whole new way of having those multiple orgasms that she loves so much.

She promised me for the billionth time that everything was a go and that nothing would hold us back. Not even her trifling-ass husband, Ray. It hasn’t been quite a week since we’ve seen each other, but I knew some shit had gone down because she had been ignoring me since Monday.

When she was at my house Sunday night, barely breathing because I was putting the smackdown on that ass, it was all good. I had her from behind with nine inches inside her, and another of our toys in the back door. She was throwing it back, and I was catching that shit like I was a damn baseball player on third base.

“Your husband doesn’t do this for you, does he?”

“No, baby, not like this,” she said with her eyes closed.

She was probably biting her bottom lip out of habit, and I was surprised she had any lip left. I was rubbing my finger across her clit, and pinching her nipples at the same time with my free hand, while working the shit out of this strap-on. She was begging me to let her turn over on her back, but we’d do that on my time.

“Is that right? Turn that ass over and spread ’em.”

She obliged without hesitation, and I was back in there like I’d never left. She had an angelic, peaceful look on her face like she was in heaven at that very moment.

The amazing thing about a dick is you can buy exactly the size you want just about anywhere. If only I could actually pee while standing, I’d be on point. But I know the power the penis has behind it, especially one that doesn’t ever go down.

“Yes, just like that.”

I was killing her with deep strokes. I had her legs spread as wide as humanly possible and her toes pointing at the ceiling, with both of her nipples in my mouth. Her skin felt just as soft as mine, if not softer, and I tasted a hint of coconut from the flavored body crayons we’d used earlier in the evening. If nothing else, I made sure she got what she wasn’t getting at home. Her husband could never compete with me.

“Come. . .