"Just how dirty is this secret?"
Reviewed by Helen Williams
Posted April 18, 2016
Erotic | Romance Erotica Sensual
DIRTIEST SECRET is the first book in the new S.I.N. Series
that is part of the Stark International Series by J. Kenner
and is quite different from any of the other books. This
story is about a taboo relationship which will have all types
of ramifications when it's revealed. Dallas Sykes goes to
live with his Uncle Eli when his father dies. Eli marries
Lisa and adopts her daughter Jane. Wanting to blend the
family he also adopts Dallas -- thereby making Dallas and Jane
sister and brother.
After noticing the closeness between the siblings Eli makes
the decision to send Dallas off to boarding school. But
before that happens Dallas and Jane are kidnapped. During
those weeks of captivity Dallas and Jane cling to each other
and give into feelings that have been festering. Even though
there is no blood relationship between Dallas and Jane by law
they are considered siblings. When this relationship becomes
public what will be the outcome? How will the family react
and what if any legal ramifications will result when it
The title DIRTIEST SECRET has multiple meaning. Not just from
what appears to be an incestuous relationship but also the
secrets that are tied to the kidnapping of Dallas and Jane.
Dallas and a few of his friends have formed a secret
organization called Deliverance because he is determined to
find out who and what was behind their kidnapping.
Knowing that being together is considered wrong Dallas and
Jane try to keep a distance. But being around each other just
brings all those feelings up again. To cope with what
happened during their captivity both Dallas and Jane engaged
in situations to try to forget. They will each learn some of
the dark things that happened during their captivity. There
is still the question of why they were kidnapped and who was
behind it. Is it because they come from a wealthy family or
something darker? Dallas and Jane will experiment with these
feelings. Just how far will they take things?
From the New York Times bestselling author of such
â€śsizzling Stark novelsâ€ť (RT Book Reviews) as
Release Me and Say My Name comes a Stark
International Novel featuring provocative bad boy Dallas
Sykesâ€”the first in a new trilogy in the S.I.N. series.
It was wrong for us to be together, but it was even
harder to be apart.
The memory of Dallas Sykes burns inside of me.
Everyone knows him as a notorious playboy, a man for whom
women and money are no object. But to me, heâ€™s still the one
man I desperately craveâ€”yet the one I can never have.
Dallas knows me better than anyone else. We bear the same
scars, the same darkness in our past. I thought I could move
on by staying away, but now that weâ€™re drawn together once
more, I canâ€™t fight the force of our attraction or the
temptation to make him mine.
Weâ€™ve tried to maintain control, not letting ourselves give
in to desire. And for so long weâ€™ve told ourselves noâ€”but
now itâ€™s finally time to say yes.
The King of Fuck
Even by Southampton standards, the party at the
nine-Âthousand-Âsquare-Âfoot mansion on Meadow Lane reeked
Grammy Awardâ€“Âwinning artists performed on an outdoor stage
that had been set up on the lush lawn that flowed from the
main house to the tennis courts. Celebrities hobnobbed with
models who flirted with Wall Street tycoons who discussed
stock prices with tech gurus and old-Âmoney academics, all
while sampling fine scotch and the seasonâ€™s chicest gin.
Colored lights illuminated the grotto-style pool, upon which
nude models floated lazily on air mattresses, their bodies
used by artisan sushi chefs as presentation platters for
Each female guest received a HermĂ¨s Birkin bag and each male
received a limited edition Hublot watch, and the
exclamations of delightâ€”Âfrom both the men and the
womenâ€”Ârivaled the boom of the fireworks that exploded over
Shinnecock Bay at precisely ten P.M., perfectly timed to
distract the guests from the bustle of the staff switching
out the dinner buffet for the spread of desserts, coffee,
No expense had been spared, no desire or craving or
indulgence overlooked. Nothing had been left to chance, and
every person in attendance agreed that the party was the
Must Attend event of the season, if not of the year. Hell,
if not of the decade.
Everyone who was anyone was there, under the stars on the
four acre lot on Billionairesâ€™ Row.
Everyone, that is, except the billionaire who was actually
hosting the party. And speculation as to where he was, what
he was doing, and who he was doing it with ripped through
the well-Âliquored and gossip-Âhungry crowd like wildfire in
â€śNo idea where he could have disappeared off to, but Iâ€™d bet
good money heâ€™s not pining away in solitude,â€ť said a
reed-Âthin man with salt-Âand-Âpepper hair and an expression
that suggested disapproval but was most likely envy.
â€śI swear I came five times,â€ť a perky blonde announced to her
best friend in the kind of stage whisper designed to attract
attention. â€śThe manâ€™s a master in bed.â€ť
â€śHeâ€™s got a shrewd head for business, that one,â€ť said a Wall
Street trader, â€śbut no sense of propriety where his cock is
â€śOh, honey, no. Heâ€™s not relationship material.â€ť A brunette
celebrating a recently inked modeling contract shivered as
if reliving a moment of ecstasy. â€śHeâ€™s like fine chocolate.
Meant to be savored in very limited quantities. But so damn
good when you have it.â€ť
â€śMore power to him if he can grab that much pussy.â€ť A
hipster with beard stubble and a man-Âbun wiped his
wire-Ârimmed glasses clean with his shirttail. â€śBut why the
fuck does he have to be so blatant about it?â€ť
â€śAll of my friends have had him.â€ť The petite redhead who
pulled in a six figure wife bonus smiled slowly, and the
flash of her green eyes suggested that she was the cat and
he was the delicious cream. â€śBut Iâ€™m the only one of us to
enjoy a second helping.â€ť
â€śAll your friends?â€ť
â€śHow much pussy?â€ť
â€śAt least half the women here tonight. Maybe more.â€ť
â€śMan, donâ€™t even ask that. Just trust me. Dallas Sykes is
the King of Fuck. You and me? Mere mortals like us canâ€™t
Three floors above the partygoers, in a room with a window
overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Dallas Sykes sucked hard on
the clit of the lithe blonde who sat on his face and writhed
with pre-Âorgasmic pleasure. The blondeâ€™s cries of â€śyes,
yes!â€ť mingled with the throaty moans of delight coming from
the curvaceous redhead who straddled his waist while he
finger-Âfucked her hard and deep.
Theyâ€™d surrendered to him, these women, and the knowledge
that they were his tonightâ€”Âfor tenderness, for tormentâ€”Âcut
through him. A wicked aphrodisiac with an edge as sharp as
steel, and at least as savage.
He was drunkâ€”Âon sex, on scotch, on submission. And right
then, all he wanted was to get lost in pleasure. To let all
the rest of the shit just melt away.
â€śPlease.â€ť The redheadâ€™s muscles clenched tight around his
fingers, and a tremor ran through his body, his need for
release now so potent that it crossed the line into pain.
â€śIâ€™m so close, Dallas. I want you inside me. Now. Oh, god,
He could barely understand her words, lost as they were in
the wet sounds of his mouth on the blondeâ€™s sweet pussy. But
he heard enough, and in one wild, rough movement, he rolled
the girl above him to the side, so that she stretched and
trembled on the bed, her nipples hard and her pussy slick
and open and inviting.
Dallas felt his body tighten with need. With desire. But
only for release. He didnâ€™t want either of these women. Not
really. Their company, yes. The escape they offered, sure.
Neither was the woman he craved. Neither was the girl who
had both saved and destroyed him. The woman he wanted.
The woman he could never have.
And so instead he sought pleasure and passion in the violent
rapture of hard, hot sex.
â€śSit back,â€ť he said to the blonde as he pushed away his dark
thoughts and regrets. He reached for the crystal highball
glass and downed the last of the Glenmorangie, relishing the
way it burned his throat and buzzed his head. â€śBack against
the headboard. Legs spread wide.â€ť
She nodded, moving eagerly to obey as he urged the redhead
off his waist. â€śFuck me,â€ť the redhead begged. Her green eyes
flashed, her expression pleading. Her lips were swollen, her
skin flushed. She smelled of sex, and the scentâ€”Âso
familiar, so dangerous, so goddamned compellingâ€”Âmade him
even harder. â€śI want you to fuck me.â€ť Her words were a
poutâ€”Âa pleaâ€”Âand Dallas almost smiled in response.
Almost, but not quite.
Instead he lifted a brow. â€śWant? Baby, this isnâ€™t about what
you want. This is about what you need.â€ť
â€śThen I need you to fuck me.â€ť
His lips twitched. He liked a woman who knew her own mind,
that was for damn sure. And the redhead truly amused him.
Heâ€™d plucked her from the crowd downstairs because heâ€™d
liked the way sheâ€™d filled out the flirty black dress that
was now crumpled in a heap on his bedroom floor. That, and
the fact he happened to know that she had a cousin who
worked for a government official in BogotĂˇ, and that
connection might prove handy one day.
As for the blonde, Dallas had no particular agenda with her.
But he appreciated her limber little body and quiet
obedience. Right now, she was sitting exactly as heâ€™d told
her, her legs wide apart and wonderfully vulnerable. She
wasnâ€™t moving a muscle, but the beat of her pulse in her
throat telegraphed her excitement at least as much as her
tight nipples and hot, wet pussy.
He met the redheadâ€™s flashing green eyes, then nodded toward
the blonde. â€śYou want to get fucked. I want to watch. And I
promise you, she wants to do whatever I say. Sounds like a
perfect recipe, donâ€™t you think?â€ť
The redhead dragged her polished white teeth over her lower
lip. â€śIâ€™ve neverâ€”Ââ€ť
â€śBut you will. Tonight.â€ť He met her eyes. â€śFor me.â€ť
She licked her lips as he slid off the bed and stood. She
was still sitting, her knees pressed into the mattress as
she sat back on her heels. He leaned forward, then took her
in a long, slow kiss. She tasted of strawberries and
innocence. He wanted to devour the first; he wanted to erase
the second. â€śHook your legs around her waist and kiss her
deep. Suck her tits. Touch her however you want to. But
sheâ€™s going to fuck you with her fingers while you and I
both imagine itâ€™s my cock. And, baby? Youâ€™re going to come
harder for me than youâ€™ve ever come for anyone.â€ť
He could hear the tremor of excitement in her voice and knew
that he had her. â€śIâ€™ll be right here,â€ť he said as he took
her hand and urged her toward the blonde, who was flushed
pink with anticipation. He moved behind the redhead, cupping
her breasts as she put her legs around the blondeâ€™s waist,
then he squeezed her nipples hard as the blondeâ€™s fingers
slid into her core.
Pressed against her back, he could feel every tremor of
pleasure, every quickening in her pulse. And as she started
to shake with a series of little convulsions, he slid his
hand between her legs from behind, dipping his fingers into
her wet pussy. As he did, his hand brushed up against the
blondeâ€™s, whose sensual moan shot straight to his cock.
Next, he slid his now-Âslick finger up to tease the
redheadâ€™s ass as she bucked against him, her body clearly on
fire from this dual assault. â€śDallas,â€ť she moaned as her
body shook with release. â€śOh, god, Dallas, this is so fucked
â€śThatâ€™s the way I like it, baby,â€ť he said. â€śThatâ€™s the only
way I play.â€ť
It was true. He liked his sex dirty. Wild. He wanted to be
reminded of who he was. What heâ€™d become.
The King of Fuck. Heâ€™d heard what they all called him, and
he had to appreciate how aptâ€”Âand ironicâ€”Âthe moniker was.
Because god knew he was fucked up. His whole goddamn life
was an act. A facade.
He was damaged goods. As broken as a man could be. But heâ€™d
turned that shit around. Claimed it. Made it his own.
Maybe he would never again have the woman he craved in his
arms, but if that was his reality, he was going to damn sure
make the most of it.
With his free hand he reached down to stroke his cock. The
sensation of his sex-Âslicked palm moving rhythmically over
the steel of his erection mingled with the wild, almost
feral sounds of the two women. He closed his eyes, imagining
another place. Another woman.
He thought of her. He thought of Jane.
But not like this. Not fucked up. Not like a goddamn
eveningâ€™s entertainment, as fungible as a night at the
movies and at least as unimportant.
Except everything was fucked up. Him, most of all.
Goddammit. He needed to shut it down. These thoughts. These
All these damn regrets.
The sharp trill of his cellphone startled him from his
thoughts, and he slid back away from the redhead who cried
out in protest.
â€śSorry, baby.â€ť His voice was tense, his chest tight. â€śThatâ€™s
the one ringtone I always answer.â€ť He grabbed his phone off
the bedside table, lightly brushing both womenâ€™s skin before
turning his back to them and taking the call.
â€śTell me,â€ť he demanded, expecting the worst. His best
friend, Liam Foster, wasnâ€™t due to report in until the next
morning. If he was calling now, it meant something had happened.
â€śItâ€™s all good, man,â€ť Liam said, his voice as close to
excited as his military training would allow.
â€śThe child?â€ť Dallas had sent his team to Shanghai to recover
the eight-Âyear-Âold son of a Chinese diplomat whoâ€™d been
kidnapped ten days prior.
â€śFine,â€ť Liam assured him. â€śDehydrated. Malnourished. Scared.
But heâ€™s back with his family, and physically, he should
make a full recovery.â€ť
Physically, Dallas thought, the word sounding vile in his
head. Because that wasnâ€™t all of it, was it? Not even close.
He shoved the thoughts aside, forcing himself to focus.
â€śThen why are youâ€”Ââ€ť
â€śBecause the German asshole who grabbed him tried to trade
freedom for intel. He knows, Dallas. This dickwad Mueller
knows who the sixth kidnapper was.â€ť
The words were simple. The impact on Dallas wasnâ€™t. His
blood turned to fire. The room turned hot and red. He wanted
to beat the shit out of the sixth man. He wanted to curl up
into a ball and cry.
He wanted to finally know the truth.
There had been two in charge of the six fucks who had
snatched themâ€”Âand surely this sixth man could identify his
employers. First, thereâ€™d been the main guy who sat back,
keeping his hands clean, but who was dirtier than all of
them. That man lived in Dallasâ€™s memory only as hints and
impressions. Heâ€™d been smart. Heâ€™d kept his distance. But
heâ€™d been the puppeteer, the one whoâ€™d hired the six and
pulled all the strings.
Dallas and Jane had come to think of him as the Jailer, and
heâ€™d spoken directly to Dallas only twice. Heâ€™d told Dallas
that he deserved it allâ€”Âevery moment of agony, every pang
of fear, every prick of humiliation.
And then there was the Woman. She was supposed to feed and
tend to Dallas and Jane, but instead she brought pain and
fear along with a twisted darkness and a bone-Âdeep shame
that hadnâ€™t faded even after Dallas was free of the
confinement of those mildewed walls.
But he wasnâ€™t fifteen anymore. He wasnâ€™t locked in the dark,
tortured and hungry and helpless.
He might be damaged goods, but he had money and power and he
knew how to wield both like a goddamn medieval mace.
â€śWeâ€™re getting close to ending this thing,â€ť Liam said. â€śWe
use this douchebagâ€™s intel to grab the sixth. We interrogate
him. Get him to tell us who hired him. Itâ€™s the last puzzle
piece, Dallas. We get that, and you can finally say that
Dallas closed his eyes and drew in a breath, soaking in the
words. Liam was wrong, of course. It would never really be
over. But he couldnâ€™t deny the anticipation that was
building in him. The fantasy that he really could end this.
For his sanity.
But most of all, for Jane.
Excerpted from DIRTIEST SECRET by Julie Kenner Copyright
Â© 2016 by Julie Kenner. Excerpted by permission of Bantam
Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin
Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this
excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in
writing from the publisher.
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