Page 12 of His Dangerous Secret

There was just no way I was going to be able to help myself. Hell, I’m ready to do it again right now despite the consequences.

If it wasn’t so fucking dangerous, I wish I could tell Ava to let my father to come on to her tonight and then see the look on his face when he realizes what I’ve done. It would be the ultimate fuck-you to the old man.

But not only is it not possible, it’s not necessary. All that’s necessary is for Ava and me to be together.

“Aren’t you the one supposed to be telling me it’s time to get up, Ma?” I say with a wink as I get to my feet. I grin when I see my cock swinging between my legs – still hard.

“Stop that!” Ava whines, rolling over onto her back and putting her body on full display. A small pearl of my cum slips out of her pussy, causing her to squeal.

“I’ll get you a paper towel.”

Still smiling, I walk over to the counter, but as I do, I hear the sound of a car pulling up outside. Quickly, I race into the bathroom and peer out the window to see my father’s truck out front.

“Ava!” I gasp, racing back into the living room. “Michael is here! Hurry, get dressed!”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, the look of dread on Ava’s face would be almost comical. Scrambling, I manage to slide into my pants and am just getting into my shirt when I hear the downstairs door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” My father’s voice rakes my spine with each syllable. Ava’s still completely naked, fumbling with a pair of yoga pants.

“Hey, honey!” she calls back, then whirls around to me. “In the closet, the closet!”

I spin and leap the couch, blunt my toe on the coffee table, and grimacing and cursing under my breath, stuff myself into the entertainment closet, praying my dad doesn’t want to watch a movie and turn the surround sound on.

Through the crack in the door, I watch as her yoga pants get caught on her incredible ass and try not to get excited all over again. Finally, she manages to tug them up over her hips, just as my father comes up the stairs.

“Damn,” he remarks, stopping to admire her. “Those are some ta-tas! Did I ever thank your momma for blessing you with those? Because I sure as hell need to next time I see her!”

Cringe. Beyond cringe. That’s shit worthy of a punch to the face. I feel like a fucking coward hiding here in the closet while my father talks like that to Ava. But what else am I going to do?

His men are outside. I do anything and they’ll be on me in a second, and if my father finds out about what Ava and I just did, it won’t just be me that faces his wrath. If it was, I’d gladly lay down my life to protect her, but it’s her life that’s at stake now too.

“You mean if you or I ever saw my mother again?” she counters.

“What are you doing walking around here topless?” my father asks as he begins to stroll around the living room. There’s an odd look on his face as he chews his cigar. It’s almost like he’s searching for someone. “Waiting on a friend?”

“I was naked,” Ava replies. “But I got a little chilly.”

“Chilly? The sun’s shining, my dear.”

“It’s also windy, Michael. Cool on my lady bits.”

Michael nods and advances on her. “Or maybe it’s just that you didn’t want me seeing those lady bits of yours that you’re so precious with. Eh?”

“I didn’t even know you were coming by,” she counters.

Christ, if this is what their “relationship” is like, I can’t imagine how she manages to get through a day without crying.

“A man can’t visit his wife unannounced?”

As he moves in on her, every single instinct I have is screaming at me to do something – lunge out and break his smug nose or drive my ankle into his nuts and watch him collapse to the floor. Part of me actually wants him to find me where I’m hiding, just so I’ll have an excuse to hit him when he swings at me.

But all I can do is watch as he goes in for the kiss.

But at the last possible fraction of a second, Ava turns her head and my father’s cigar-stained lips press against her cheek.

It’s harmless – relatively. But I’m still in a rage. My vision goes red and my fingernails dig into my palms as I clench my fists tight at my sides.

“How much longer do we have to play this game?” he asks, taking an angry puff of his Cuban.

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