Dark Secret Love Read Online Free PDF

be together again. After the modeling gig, Connor had to work at the restaurant. And where did I have to be? Nowhere. The whole time I was with Byron, I went to school part-time and worked part-time. Over the three years, I had worked at the newspaper, at a clothes store,as a personal assistant, at a magazine, at a movie theater, and as a masseuse.
    Recently, I had been splitting my time between the screenwriter’s office and the home of a fairly well-known movie star. But I’d been let go from the movie star’s house because I had worn a diaphanous dress around her director husband, who apparently hadn’t been vaccinated against girls in sheer sundresses.
    “Diaphanous” was her word. It was simply a sundress, one of my favorites, pale pink with tiny pearl buttons down the front. The dress wasn’t tight, or even all that short, and I wore a slip beneath and stockings, yet had managed to catch the husband’s eye regardless.
    Now I had no job, and I desperately needed to find housing that was less costly than $240 a night. Connor called from work with the happy news that I could stay with a friend of his named Lois. She had two male roommates (don’t look at me like that!) and she was happy to put me up. Connor lived with a whole slew of guys out at the beach and they had a rule against moving females into the house. (Girls in the house were considered bad luck, same as on a ship.)
    I spent the morning at a café perusing the help-wanted ads, trying to figure out what I was good at. Byron hadn’t thought I was good enough to do much of anything. He liked to taunt me and say that within three years, we’d have a station wagon with three kids in the back. According to Byron, I was good enough to be a wife and mom. End of story. Every time I heard his voice berating me, I closed my eyes, searching for a mental “erase” button. Free from his critiques, I answered every ad I was remotely qualified for. I spent my days driving all over the city and my nights with Connor. Everywhere with Connor.
    We were back to searching for outdoor locations, for privacy in a very public city. His Venice pad was bus-stop busy with twelve guys and no place to hide. Lois and her roommates were cool, but I couldn’t see paying them back for their kindness by fucking all over their apartment.
    So Connor and I got creative. We used the back seat of his car, a huge cherry-red ’67 Chevy. We found alleys. We fucked in Griffith Park. We went all the way in a department-store dressing room—I’d needed to buy more clothes: jeans, T-shirts, underwear. We had no fear any longer. Who the fuck cared if someone saw us? Exhibitionism has always been one of my weaknesses. Connor was more than ready to play. He wrapped my wrists with his wallet chain and spread me out in the Chevy’s huge rear seat. He always took his time, looking at me, making me feel even more naked by the way he evaluated every part of my body. His hands roamed over my shoulders, my small breasts, down to the basin of my belly. He liked to hook his fingers into my nether lips and spread me wide, blowing a puff of air over my pussy before locking his lips on my clit and sucking. Making me come was no challenge for him. I melted at the way he touched me—sometimes so rough I was shaking. Sometimes so softly I’d beg him to stop teasing.
    “Please—”
    He loved to hear me beg.
    “Please what, Sam?”
    “Oh, god, Connor. You know.”
    “Say it.”
    Cruel, he was. I’d been rebuked. I’d been put down. I hated spelling out what I wanted. And Connor loved every torturous minute.
    “I want to hear you say the words.” His fingers tracedlightly over my ribs, making me squirm and pull away laughing. As soon as I moved away he’d be on me, biting my bottom lip, holding me in place with his body, still fully clothed. His voice whiskey-soft and dark: “Tell me. Tell me what you need.”
    My eyes down, my hair falling forward, unable to look at him, even though I knew he