Dirty Secrets Novels & Stories

I tried to come up with a lie that'd save my ass from getting into any trouble, but Dennis was no fool. My step brother saw through my scheme and suddenly pulled me into his room, forcing me to kneel before him! I thought he was going to rage at me for witnessing his dirty secret, but I wasn't expecting his next step. Dennis pulled his pants down and stuck his hard monster dick to my face, ordering, "Suck it." "What?!" I was stunned! "No need to pretend, Tara. I know you came here for this. Just have your fill and call it a night," He spoke dirty, smirking at me!

This time, she sat. The leather was expensive. Everything in this room probably costs more than her monthly salary. Adrian took his seat across from her and slid a thick folder across the desk. “What’s that?” she asked. “Your lifeline.” She opened it cautiously. Legal language greeted her. Dense. Precise. Intimidating. “NDA?” she asked. “Yes.” “Plural?” “Yes.” She flipped pages, eyes widening. “Non-disclosure, non-disparagement, media conduct—are you serious?”

At twenty-one, Lara was still a virgin, and most nights, that fact gnawed at her like an unsolved error in her code, but tonight, like so many others, her focus wavered. The lines of Python code blurred as her mind drifted to the hidden folder on her phone, the one buried deep in a sub-sub-folder, password-protected and labeled innocuously as "Notes_Backup." It was her secret stash of hardcore p**n, the kind that made her cheeks burn even in the privacy of her own room. She couldn't help it; she was addicted.

Alex's POV Another useless idle day spent in a boring office full of paperwork and awful bosses who treat me like trash. I was far too annoyed, far too stressed, as I began searching BDSM clubs, submission, and someone else taking control of your life. Somehow it sounded wild yet tugged something within me. The Vault was the name that kept popping up. That was the secret spot where real Doms played rough.

A bunch of unread messages. My stomach tightened. I called Derek back. No answer. I opened his texts. Ivy, please… we need to talk. I’m sorry about the other night. Something’s happened. I’m in trouble. They’re saying I killed my parents. They’re going to ruin me. Please don’t leave me too. There were voice notes. He sounded broken. I tried calling again. Nothing. I called the unknown number. Nothing. I panicked and ran straight to Aunt Linda’s room.

MADDOX The scent of damp earth and aged whiskey lingered in the hidden basement, a room concealed beneath layers of stone and secrecy. The dim, flickering light of a single bulb cast jagged shadows across the walls, dancing like restless phantoms. This was my sanctuary, my hell, and my throne. It was here that I could drown in the twisted symphony of my memories without the weight of eyes judging my every move.

Matthew explained calmly as he pointed to the top of the television to signal one of the hidden cameras. After closer inspection, Juliet noticed that there was, in fact, a camera at the top of the flat screen, similar to what one would see on a laptop. As much as she wanted to shy away from it, she knew no matter where she hid, she would still be seen from the various other hidden devices she didn't know about. “The mudroom when I was changing, does someone have a video of that somewhere? Or the bedroom this morning?” She asked bitterly, and Matthew cringed at her tone. She made the betrayal that she was feeling very clear with every word she spat at him.

Well, I'm the fucking Devil, and I will make people roar in fear of me. I'll be the dark fog engulfing the room, with nothing to lose and so much to gain. Like smoke, destroying everything it comes into contact with, until, all that remains is the aberrant odour of my contamination. My name is Sandro Peker, and you can read about my mission in the upcoming instalment of... Hidden Secrets: Forbidden Heirs.

The silence made my thighs clench. "What kind of dreams?" he asked, still calm. "I shouldn't say." "You came here to let it out," he answered simply. I held in my breathing. "They're... sexual. I wake up soaked. Aching. And ashamed." "Go on." I let my head rest against the wooden panel behind me. My eyes closed. "He touches me in ways no one ever has. And I let him. I want it. God, I want it so bad." The words spilled out, broken and messy. "Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days."

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.