Dirty Little Secrets Novels & Stories

NICHOLAS I held a glass in one hand and my phone in the other. The headline read: "Stella, girlfriend to real estate billionaire James Hawthorne, found fooling around with rival real estate tycoon Nicholas Ford." I smiled. Of course they would twist it to their taste. The media loved scandals, and I loved feeding it to them—especially when it was all to my advantage.

I drag myself out of bed, legs unsteady, and open the laptop on the desk like it’s a lifeline. The screen wakes like it’s been waiting for me. 6:20 a.m. Perfect. I open the folder labelled OFFSHORE. Inside: eight years of Theo’s dirty little secrets (Cayman accounts, shell companies, payments to “consultants” who never consulted, bribes disguised as charity). Every lie he told while I coded until my eyes bled. Every time he kissed my forehead and said “we’re in this together” while siphoning millions into accounts I would never see.

“I mean, look at you. You look way over thirty—you’re old enough so don't play dumb. Be realistic. A guy like that—tall, fit, loaded—how many men fit that standard? And you really thought…” She bursts into laughter. “You thought the best he could do was you?” My frown deepen. “I don’t want to have this conversation. Excuse me.” I stand to leave, but she yanks me back. “I’m not done with you, fatty. Don’t run away like some emotional little girl. Listen carefully—I want you out of his life for good. Oh, and did I mention he owns a secret p**n company? That’s where his money comes from. Can’t you see I’m saving you the embarrassment? Or do you want to see your bathroom and sex tape on one of h

He watched my face the entire time, those grey eyes missing nothing. "Does your daddy know what a good little slut you are?" he asked conversationally, like he wasn't balls-deep inside me. "Does he know his innocent daughter takes four cocks every Friday night?" "No," I sobbed. "He doesn't know—" "That's right. This is our secret. Our dirty little secret." His pace increased. "Come for me, Ashlynn. Come on Daddy's cock." I did, my pussy clenching around him as pleasure crashed through me again.

“Shit.” I got down on my knees to pick up the mess I had created, looking at the contents of the pieces of scrap paper. They had some small doodles on them that Dudley must have drawn while he was working and bored in here. But one scap had a riddle on it: My biggest secrets lie beneath forbidden fruit. What secrets was he talking about? His seeds? This couldn’t be about his journal, could it? “Forbidden fruit,” I repeated to myself. “His biggest secrets.”

As they exit the dressing room, Kat is waiting for her. “You rock girl,” Kat says. Kat hugs her. “Anytime you have an issue, you call me. I will come down here and kick some ass,” Reese says. We can eat at a restaurant or the Dungeon?” Luca asks Reese. “I have always wanted to see the Dungeon,” Reese replies. “The Dungeon it is,” Luca answers. The two arrive at the Dungeon. The Dungeon is well known for its erotic secrets. The Dungeon is a bar and restaurant, but what it is known for, is what goes on downstairs. The Dungeon is a place you can pay to have your fantasies come to life. No sex only play.

A message from him. I hesitated, quickly scanning the room to make sure no one was watching me too closely. My fingers shook as I unlocked the screen. Fuckkkk… My stomach dropped, my pulse spiking as I saw it… another dick photo, this time not a “view once.” Before I could process, another message came: “I want you. I’m going to the bathroom. Can’t wait…”

I had tried to be honest and open, but it seemed like it wasn't enough. "I know your dirty little secret with Amihan," she continued, her voice low and dangerous. "I know about the sex, the money, and everything else. Do you really think you can hide it from me? Or from Dalisay, for that matter? Wait till I tell her the truth so she can pack your poverty ass off this mansion, you gold-digger." I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. I had thought I'd kept my secret safe, but apparently she knew everything. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Three months of talking dirty to a ghost. That’s what it felt like. Three months of spilling my guts, my deepest, darkest, most fucked-up fantasies, to a faceless name on a screen: ‘Master’. It started on a whim, a lonely, horny night scrolling through a dating app I was too scared to actually use for dating. I’d swiped right on a profile that was just black silk and a single, commanding line: “Tell me what you need.”

I go into the panic room and shut the door. I hear the office door open, and the three men begin to go through the office. "Where is she?" Mr. David calls out in anger. I am not sure I can trust him, either. I open the floor of the panic room, revealing the safe. I put the key into the safe and open it. I reach in and pull out a bag of money, a new ID for me, and a credit card. I have a feeling I might be on the run for a while.