Free Dirty Little Secret: New Adult Rock Star Romance (Not Exactly A Stepbrother Romance Book 1) by Kristen Strassel, Allyson Starr Page A

proper visual in mind when you scream his name.”
    “I’m sure as hell not going to be screaming your name.” The possibility was becoming more real, but I’d never tell him. “I was thinking the actor, but I want you to picture the turtle.”
    “Deal.”
    He wasn’t afraid to touch and explore. So many guys I’d been with had been funny about taking care of business down there, but Bret took his time, making sure to wrench every drop of ecstasy out of me. He slipped his tongue inside, quick and venomous like a snake, as he fucked me with it.
    “Harder,” I whispered.
    Bret pulled away, and I groaned. “Patience, Gemma.” The bastard started all over again, licking my labia so gently it tickled.
    “Claw into me.” My voice didn’t belong to me; it came out in a growl. “Draw blood if you have to. Make it hurt.”
    “I said, be patient.” Bret squeezed my hips.
    I squirmed away from him. “No. Quit it with the gentle shit. Save that for your girlfriend. I want you to fuck me. Hard.”
    “You don’t get to tell me what to do in here. When we’re in your bedroom, you can order me around all you want. But when I host, what I say goes”—he nipped my clit, and I muffled my cry in the mattress—“unless you use your safe word.” He sucked hard, and the sensation changed from stinging to throbbing. I didn’t want to come yet. I kept making it too easy on him. Bret needed to work for this shit. It wasn’t fair that he could get me to burst into a million pieces but I had yet to figure out how to unravel him.
    It pissed me off.
    Bret totally had the upper hand in this whole thing. He’d figured out the key to my body, and I was still trying to read the instruction manual on his. The bastard had it written by someone who only spoke English as a third language. It gave me a headache, and I had a bunch of parts left over I didn’t know what to do with. I’d been close to giving up more than once, and he convinced me to keep going. I didn’t understand how he did it, but if the rock star thing didn’t work out, he should consider a career in motivational speaking.
    I could’ve let him have the money and then hated every second of the rest of my life, knowing I let Bret be a millionaire while I suffered in poverty for years. But he wouldn’t let it happen. It was like he wanted me to win.
    Whatever his strategy was, it was a complete mind fuck.
    And I liked it.
    Bret pushed his tongue back inside me, the quick strokes sending electricity shooting through my body. He massaged my clit in hard, rhythmic circles. The sensations didn’t translate into words. They were just feeling.
    “Bret?” A voice that sounded an awful lot like Mom’s came from the hallway.
    No.
    My subconscious had to be playing tricks on me. The devil crept out of the dark recesses of my brain and planned on dragging me straight to Hell. Satan had a safe word, and it was my stepbrother’s name.
    Bret froze, his tongue still inside me.
    Shit. He heard it too.
    The frantic thumping on the door erased any chance we were hearing things.
    “Fuck,” Bret groaned, pulling my legs out from under me.
    I landed flat on the mattress with a thump, and the impact knocked the breath out of me.
    “Just a minute,” he called. He ripped the comforter out from under me, threw it over my body, and tucked it around my feet. I wanted to tell him my clothes were on the floor, but I couldn’t risk Mom hearing me. The room was such a mess, she probably wouldn’t notice.
    “I can’t fucking believe this,” he muttered.
    My heart beat so hard, I thought I’d break a rib. There was nothing I could do but lie there as Bret opened the door.
    “What’s up, Ellen?” His voice was an octave higher than it usually was. I had no idea what he still had on. When he pushed my face down, he was still fully dressed. It was a blessing in disguise that he’d taken his time with me. If he’d started fucking me, he would’ve had to shove everything back into