Secret Identity (What's Her Secret?) (7 page)

Sienna turned her head to the side, her hair sticking to her perspiration-damp cheek. He smoothed it back then dropped gently to cradle her until he was forced to withdraw.

He must have left to do something with the condom, because suddenly he was back, the bed dipping with his weight as he moved in behind her. Sienna relaxed, fully replete and moreover, completely at ease with Greg embracing her from behind. Here in her house, she could be herself, her
true
self. Not the detective, not whatever role she was playing undercover, but just Sienna the woman.

That
was her real secret identity, only known to one person—the man she had at her back in the investigation and in her bed.

“Nap, Cici?” he suggested quietly. “Then we can start fresh trying to work this case out.” He leaned over her to press a soft kiss to her mouth.

“Sounds like a plan,” she murmured against his lips. “As long as you never call me Cici ever again.”

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

What’s Her Secret?

Secret Seductress

Geraldine O’Hara

Excerpt

Chapter One

I was known as the mad bird, the one all the blokes in the pub went to for relationship advice or asked if I’d like to join them for a beer when all their mates were busy. None of them had ever shown an interest in me in any way other than us being friends. It would be the story of my life, I thought, being left on the dusty shelf while everyone else paired off, married with loads of kids. I was happy enough, but there was that little thing inside me that whispered about cozy nights in with the man of my dreams—him bringing wine in a large goblet, which he would pour into my navel then suck it up.

Or was that dream only unique to me? Did anyone else dream the same thing?

I couldn’t be sure, but from where I was sitting—far-left corner of The Rusty Nail, best buddy Jen next to me and half a bottle of voddy scampering through my veins like a nutty dog in a meadow—the man of my dreams wasn’t here.

Well, he
was
…it was just that he didn’t know it. And, let’s face it, he wasn’t going to want me, Mad Mandy, all ladette, a woman who could drink most of the men under the table. God, what had I allowed myself to become?

Leon, the man I’d lusted after for six whole months, was standing by the bar swigging from his bottle of Beck’s. His lips around the top of that bottle had me wishing they were firmly clamped around my clit, giving it a good old tug and making me all squirmy with pleasure. I got that feeling down below that makes you want to clench, but the desire romping about in my nethers clearly didn’t fancy buggering off any time soon.

The other lads, Gary and Marshall, were fucking about twanging the hem of Leon’s white T-shirt. God knew what they were talking and laughing about, or why they were doing what they were, but I wished I was over there, part of the gang, just so I could twang that hem myself and maybe get a sly feel of his skin while I was at it.

“He is so lush, isn’t he?” Jen asked.

“Who?” I hoped she wasn’t referring to my Leon. She’d have no trouble snagging him, brunette beauty that she was, and I wouldn’t begrudge her an ounce of happiness, but… Oh, sod it. I did begrudge her. She could be happy so long as it wasn’t with him.

“Gary,” she said, sighing then sipping her vodka and lime. “He’s so bloody lovely.”

“Not my type,” I said, ogling the strip of Leon’s belly being exposed by Harry. “I prefer Leon. But sadly, he doesn’t prefer me.”

“How come you’ve never told me you liked him before?”

“No point,” I said.

I took a big gulp of my drink and stared so hard at Leon I narrowed my eyes, trying to spot whether he had an outie or innie as a belly button. His thick hair peeked out from his waistband then fanned upwards and hid that bit of information from view, so I’d have to content myself with imagining.

“Outie or innie?” I said, glancing across at Jen.

The men—or Gary, to be exact—held her spellbound. “What?”

“Leon. Outie or innie?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever wondered,” she said. “But if we go over there, maybe you can find out.” Instead of standing and doing just that, she remained in her seat, raised her glass to her pink-painted, cupid’s-bow lips and had another sip.

“Better not,” I said. “Looks like they’re not interested in us joining them. Seems it’s a lad’s night out to me.”

“Bit of a bummer, that,” she said.

“Hmm.”

I continued to watch them, transfixed by every scrap of skin that was being flaunted, slurping it all up and filing it in my head. The blokes were getting bolder, raising the hem higher, and Leon didn’t seem to give much of a shit. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, but he wasn’t shy either. I reckoned his take on it would be that if people wanted to look, why shouldn’t they? He had an air about him that might make the ladies think he was a player, a rough-looking player at that, with his permanent stubble, every-which-way hair and I’m-a-saucy-devil grin.

He could be a saucy bloody devil with me any time.

I sighed, as only the lovesick can, and propped my chin in one hand, planting my elbow firmly on the table in front of us. I toyed with the straw in my drink without looking at what I was doing, too immersed in waiting for that hem to go higher. It did, with a quick lift from Harry, who then hooked it over Leon’s head so he looked like one of those men who wore stockings to rob banks.

“Torso!” I shouted, bolting up onto my feet and pointing at the men.

Everyone turned to stare, and I blushed so hard I had the insane thought that my face was going to melt. Couples, groups of middle-aged friends and a few old men were the sum total of our drinking companions tonight, and none of them seemed amused by my loud outburst. They shifted their attention from me to Leon and back again, shaking their heads at me, the loud girl they undoubtedly thought needed to stop interrupting their quiet night out.

Balls to them
.

I grabbed my drink and strode over to our male friends with the sole intent to rub my hands over that torso if it killed me. I heard Jen scraping her chair back behind me, and before I knew it, the pair of us were standing in front of Leon, who still couldn’t see a thing, what with his T-shirt being over his face.

I mouthed
shh
with my finger to my lips then warmed my hands by rubbing them together. I held my breath for a second before placing them on his pecs. As soon as my palms made contact with his sun-burnished skin—he was a beefy builder by trade—every rational thought went out of my head. All I could think of was mauling him silly, rubbing myself up and down his front, and ending with a press of my breasts to his midsection—God, he was so tall—that would give me thrills every time I thought about it in the future.

“Stop fucking about,” Leon said, his voice a bit muffled. “Whoever’s touching me had better bloody stop.”

“What if I don’t want to?” I asked, changing my voice to a lower key.

“Oh, Christ,” he said. “Who have we got here?”

“Pussy Pwoar, that is,” Gary said, giving my arm a nudge. “She’s come here especially for you, mate.”

I glanced across at Gary, who gave me the nod to fondle some more. I did, feeling oddly comforted by the presence of everyone around me. The lads and Jen had formed a circle, so no one else could see what we were up to. Emboldened by the secrecy they’d provided, I ran my fingertips up to the dip below his Adam’s apple then down, down, down to skim the pad of my thumb over his navel.

An innie.

I imagined dipping my tongue into it, then licking a path all the way up to his nipple. I glanced at Gary, who nodded, sticking his tongue out and looking quite pervy as he silently instructed me to make my next move. Amid cheers and laughter, I leaned forward and touched the tip of my tongue to Leon’s nipple. It burned—probably my imagination—and I swirled around it, my heart skittering madly and my clit doing all manner of throbby things that left me lightheaded. I breathed out, knowing he’d feel the warmth, and caught his nipple between my teeth.

He sucked in a breath. “Fuck me, Pussy. Steady on, love.”

Oh, I would fuck him, too, given half the chance.

He laughed nervously, and as I continued my oral exploration of his now-hardened nipple, I fondled his torso, dipping my fingertips beneath his waistband. I almost leaped back in surprise. I’d brushed the head of his cock—his very hard cock. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of him getting excited by a stranger. Then again, he was being stimulated, basically blindfolded, and I imagined any single man would get a bit hot and bothered by that kind of attention. And that was the word that made this all okay, wasn’t it? Single. He didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. No girlfriend waiting at home, oblivious to what he was up to. Except, even though I was enjoying what I was doing to him, a sneaky thought did tumble in.

What if he got turned on like this even if he
did
have a girlfriend?

Gary nudged me again, and I carried on with the nipple action while swiveling my eyes in his direction. He nodded at my hands. Pointed at the floor. Oh, God, he was telling me to push my hands lower.

Never one to baulk at a dare, I slid my hands right inside Leon’s jeans, his cock pressing against the backs. There wasn’t enough room to do what I wanted, which was to turn one of my hands over and curl it around his width, so I moved them in an up-and-down motion. His cock jolted, and he breathed a little unsteadily. This was getting into serious territory now, not just his mates getting some woman to touch him up a bit. This was more like something that should be done in private.

“Mmmmm,” I said, hoping I’d sound turned on, seductive. “That’s enough for now, big boy.”

Laughter erupted around us, and I pulled my hands out, gave his nipple another quick bite, then pushed in between Gary and Jen, taking her hand and leading her back to our table. We sat, me out of breath and her almost wetting herself with laughter, and picked up our glasses, attempting to drink and make out we’d been there all along. Harry let go of the T-shirt, and Leon yanked it back down, looking around to see if he could spot Pussy Pwoar.

Pussy wants more
, I’d say.

“You bunch of bastards,” Leon said, laughing to hide what I could only imagine was embarrassment. “Who the bloody hell arranged that?”

No one admitted to anything.

Leon looked our way. “Girls? Did you see?”

“Oh, we saw, all right,” Jen said. “Quite the hard six-pack you’ve got there—along with something else.”

I thought of that something else and how it had felt. I wanted it inside me more than ever.

“Mandy?” Leon said, raising an eyebrow and covering his bulge with one hand.

“Hmm?” Feigning nonchalance was probably my best bet.

“Did you see?” He tilted his head.

“I did.”

“And?”

“All I saw was Pussy Pwoar groping you.” I wanted to tell him it had been me, that I’d made his cock hard and had bitten his nipple, but it really wasn’t the right time. He might give a negative reaction, and then where would I be? In the hall of shame, that was where. And everyone knew that friends getting intimate always ended in tears.

“You fuckers,” he said, shaking his head then sipping his beer. “I’ll get you all back for this, you’ll see.”

“How was it?” Jen asked quietly, leaning close to me and resting her head on my shoulder.

“Lovely,” I said. “No, better than lovely. I wish I’d done more, but I didn’t want to give the old duffers in here a heart attack.”

“So why didn’t you admit it was you?”

I sipped some voddy through my straw, swallowed and shook my head. “What, and have to see the disgust on his face? No thanks.”

“You’re daft, you are. He wouldn’t be disgusted.” Jen sucked on her straw, and it made a sound like harsh wind through a window crack where her drink was almost gone.

“Of course he would be. We’re all friends. We don’t fuck each other.”

“Bollocks.” Jen sat upright. “The sad thing is, you’re right, which means I’ll never get my greedy little hands on Gary. They see us as their mates. Two of the lads.” She paused, stared down at her drink, then jumped up and said, “Want another? We may as well get rat-arsed, drown our sorrows.”

“I’m drunk enough as it is,” I said, although thinking about it, I’d sobered up since the nipple-licking, cock-fondling incident. Instead of alcohol flooding my veins, I now had lust to contend with. I couldn’t work out which one was worse for making my legs weak.

“One more for the road, go on,” Jen said. “And we’ll drink them up at the bar with the blokes. If I can manage to cop a feel of Gary at some point tonight, even if it’s just me swatting his arm when he tells a joke, I’ll be happy.”

I knew how she felt. The times I’d done that to Leon…

“All right,” I said, getting up and skirting around the table. “
One
for the road. And I
mean
one.”

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About the Author

After living all over the US while growing up, I’ve settled into the beautiful Pacific Northwest and can’t see myself living anywhere else. I’m a mom to two girls, who—to my pride and gratification—love to read and want to make a living with words themselves someday.