Dirty Sweet Valentine Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Laurelin Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Foreword

  Dirty Filthy Valentine

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Filthy Valentine Fix

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Dirty Sweet Valentine

  Dirty Sweet Valentine

  Cherry Popper

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Let’s stay in touch!

  About Laurelin Paige

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Visit my website for a more detailed reading order.

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  The Dirty Universe

  Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - READ FREE

  Dirty Duet: Dirty Filthy Rich Men | Dirty Filthy Rich Love

  Dirty Sexy Bastard - READ FREE

  Dirty Games Duet: Dirty Sexy Player | Dirty Sexy Games

  Dirty Sweet Duet: Sweet Liar | Sweet Fate

  Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)

  Dirty Wild Trilogy: Coming 2020

  The Fixed Universe

  Fixed Series: Fixed on You | Found in You | Forever with You | Hudson | Fixed Forever

  Found Duet: Free Me | Find Me

  Chandler (a spinoff novel)

  Falling Under You (a spinoff novella)

  Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)

  Slay Series: Slay One: Rivalry | Slay Two: Ruin

  Slay Three: Revenge | Slay Four: Rising

  The Open Door (a spinoff novella)

  First and Last

  First Touch | Last Kiss

  Hollywood Standalones

  One More Time

  Close

  Sex Symbol

  Star Struck

  Written with Sierra Simone

  Porn Star | Hot Cop

  Written with Kayti McGee under the name Laurelin McGee

  Miss Match | Love Struck | MisTaken | Holiday for Hire

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  DID YOU KNOW…

  This book is available in both paperback and audiobook editions at all major online retailers! Links are on my website.

  If you’d like to order a signed paperback, my online store is open several times a year here.

  Dirty Filthy Valentine

  One

  “What did Donovan get you? I bet it was super romantic. Tell me all the details so I can gush in jealousy.”

  I shifted the receiver from one ear to the other, uncomfortable with Audrey’s conversation starter. What had I expected though? It was February 14th and this was my little sister. She worshipped at the altar of St. Valentine all year long. The official holiday was the one day she could expect everyone else to see the world through love-colored glasses along with her.

  And since this was the first time I’d actually had a “boyfriend” on the date—if that’s what Donovan was to me—of course she’d be eager to hear all about it. If I hadn’t wanted to deal with her whimsy, I shouldn’t have accepted the call when Ellen patched it through.

  “Oh, you know him,” I said, trying to sidestep the quicksand that I was already sinking in. “He’s not really a hearts and flowers kind of guy.”

  “That’s right. His gift was probably something super erotic. Is he taking you away for a sex weekend? Did he buy a new contraption for your secret sex dungeon?”

  “Audrey!” I tried to glance out the door, worried about who might overhear me. Since Donovan was technically my boss—or rather, the owner of Reach, Inc., the marketing firm where we worked—it was even more crucial to keep the details of our relationship on the down-low around others in the office. But since I didn’t have a vantage of the hall from my desk, the neck straining was unproductive.

  I lowered my voice, and angled my chair toward the corner of my office, as if that might protect me from eavesdroppers. “We don’t have a secret sex dungeon. Could you please stop assuming we’re some BDSM couple from one of those trashy romance books you read?”

  Her sigh was filled with swoon. “You mean one of those incredible, amazing, romance books I read.” With a sharper tone, she added, “You know, Sabrina, for a feminist, you aren’t very supportive of women’s choices when they aren’t your own.”

  Immediately I felt guilty. Truth was that I had no problems with her romantic notions. I even indulged in a sexy novel on occasion. Criticizing her reading material was a knee-jerk reaction to the stress of the conversation. “You’re right. I didn’t mean that. I just don’t know where you get your ideas about my relationship with Donovan. We don’t have a dungeon. We don’t have a playroom. We don’t even have a set of handcuffs.”

  “Fine. I’m not going to try to pretend I understand what it is you’re into, but I know it’s kinky, so you stop trying to pretend otherwise and tell me what he got you. Or, if it’s too personal, can you at least hint?”

  It was my turn to sigh, but it was less swoon and more resignation. Sex with Donovan was definitely kinky, but I was hard pressed to try to define what it was we were into. What it was I was into. I was only just becoming comfortable with my preferences myself, thanks to the man who’d taken my virginity more than ten years ago and had only just recently come back into my life. Not only did he know what I needed—dirty, filthy, rough play with dubious consent—but he’d also encouraged me to accept that I wasn’t weird because of it. I was a normal, healthy, sexually vibrant woman who loved a man who understood me better than I understood myself.

  I wasn’t about to tell my sister any of that.

  But, even if I was okay with talking to her about my sexual proclivities, that wasn’t the underlying frustration with this tête-à-tête.

  Again, I glanced back toward the door. Then I glanced at the clock on my computer. It was a quarter to five, which meant there would be a lot of activity in the halls with the office closing up soon.

  “Hang on a sec,” I said to Audrey. I set the receiver on the desk and hurried over to the entrance of my office. I glanced around to see if anyone seemed to need me, exchanged a smile with Ellen, then shut the door before darting back to my desk.

  Now feeling sure that what I said would remain private, I launched into my complaint. “He didn’t get me anything, Audrey.”

  There was a silence that I sensed was stunned. “What do you mean he didn’t get you anything?”

  “I mean he didn’t get me anything. Nothing romantic. Nothing sexy. No trips for the weekend. No flowers. No chocolate. Not even a card. Nada. Zip. Nothing.” I hated how disappointed I sounded over it—how disappointed I felt over it. Audrey was the one who believed that those kinds of sentiments were meaningful. Not me.

  Yet, as deliveries had come in throughout the day for my coworkers, as Ellen had bragged about the new earrings her girlfriend had given her, as I’d had a sneezing fit from all the flowers perched on desks wh
en I walked down the hall, I’d deflated. Was I being ridiculous or were these gestures something I genuinely needed from a partner? Donovan and I were compatible on almost every level, but was it possible we didn’t speak the same love language?

  “I don’t believe it.” Audrey-the-ever-optimist was unwilling to face reality. “That guy is too into you not to do anything for you. Do you think he forgot what day it was?”

  Donovan wasn’t the type to forget anything. He was the most observant person I’d ever met, and his attention to detail was exceptional. Those were cold hard facts.

  But in case Audrey thought my perception of his character traits was shaded by my feelings for the man, I had other proof to offer. “If he forgot before he woke up today, he knew shortly after. I gave him my Valentine’s card first thing.”

  As well as a blowjob. He’d been much more appreciative of the latter. To the card, which had contained a short but very personalized note about my feelings for him, he’d simply said, “That’s a cute declaration of something I already know.”

  “Then he’s going to do something for you tonight!” My sister’s idealistic vision had no end. “The day isn’t over yet. Just wait.”

  “I don’t know about that. He was blatantly unimpressed with my—”

  Without warning, my office door opened, and the man in question stepped in, shutting the door again behind him.

  I could feel my cheeks heat, even though there was no way anything he could have heard me say was embarrassing. It was just as likely that it was my irritation at his intrusion that was behind the rush of blood to my face.

  “Uh, hey, sis, I have to go. Talk to you soon, okay?” I didn’t wait for her to respond, though I did hear a final insistence that Donovan surely had something up his sleeve as I lowered the receiver toward the cradle.

  Not very likely, as far as I was concerned, but a girl could certainly hope.

  “The door was shut for a reason,” I said to my lover, a mock scowl on my face as I stood to come around my desk. “What if I’d been with a client?”

  He shrugged dismissively. “Ellen told me you were on the phone with your sister, so I already knew it wasn’t business related.”

  “Just because it wasn’t business doesn’t mean it wasn’t private.”

  He smirked. “You and I both know you relinquished your privacy the minute you stepped into the threshold of my room at The Keep.”

  That had been more than ten years ago, and I hadn’t known it for the greater part of the decade. But I did know it now, and his point was clear. Why would I ever think that a shut door would be an obstacle for Donovan Kincaid?

  I crossed my arms over my chest and pretended to pout. “We could have been planning something special. You would have ruined the surprise.”

  “Good thing you weren’t planning anything then. Especially since I hate surprises, unless I’m the one doing the surprising.”

  The pessimism I’d expressed with Audrey started to melt away. Had she been right? Was he about to spring me with a Valentine’s Day surprise? It was still a little before five. Donovan wasn’t the type to leave his desk early without a good reason.

  My pulse kicked up in anticipation as his hazel eyes grew dark and his rugged features stern. “Get over here so I can figure out whether or not you’re wearing panties under that skirt. It’s been driving me crazy all day.”

  With no reluctance, I stepped into him, relishing the feel of his arms as they came around me, and his lips met mine with a possessive kiss.

  After several delicious strokes of his tongue and enough groping of my ass to get me hot and bothered, he broke away. “A thong? I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or excited about the extra barrier between me and your cunt.”

  “Barriers have never been a deterrent for you.”

  “No, they haven’t.”

  Liquid heat pooled between my legs. “That gleam is a wicked gleam, Mr. Kincaid. Are you suggesting I break my rule about no fooling around at the office?” It was a rule he frequently ignored, and, considering I had no resistance where Donovan was concerned, one I’d broken a few times myself.

  He kissed me again, much shorter this time and without as much tongue. “I wish I could, Ms. Lind. Unfortunately, I came to tell you I’m going to be home late tonight. The new client Nate brought in wants to meet with both of us at The Grand Havana Room before he signs the contract.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Short notice, I’m sorry. You know how Trent Advertising is swarming over this one. Gotta get it signed before we can call it a victory.

  My entire body went rigid. I pushed out of his arms so he wouldn’t notice. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  He shrugged a single shoulder. “I take it these boys don’t celebrate.”

  Obviously a lot of boys didn’t celebrate.

  “They must have very understanding wives and girlfriends,” I said coolly. “Or no women in their lives at all.”

  “I’m pretty sure Cooper is gay.” Whoops. There I was assuming things based on my heterosexual lens. “And whether or not his boyfriend understands has very little bearing on how business actually works. We don’t get to take days off for our birthdays either. It’s called being grown-up.”

  My scowl this time was very real. “Thank you for the mansplaining.” I sat on the edge of my desk, my arms once again crossed over my chest. “So you’re going to be drinking and smoking cigars with the boys, and I should fend for myself for dinner, that’s what you’re telling me? In that case, I think I’ll stay here and get some work done while the building is quiet.”

  I did have work to do—at a company as successful as Reach and since I’d recently been promoted to the Director of Marketing, I always had work to do. However, I’d made the comment as a dig to Donovan who didn’t like it when I stayed late alone.

  And since it was a holiday that all the other execs in the office were likely to celebrate, I would most definitely be alone if I stayed tonight.

  “Make sure you order something for dinner,” he said, surprising me with his choice to not push back. “I’ll tell the security guards you’re up here. And you’ll set the alarm when everyone else is gone.”

  My response was terse. “Yes. I’ll set the alarm.”

  He studied me for a handful of seconds, while I tried not to study him. He was stunningly attractive on an average day, even more so wearing his fitted cashmere Kiton suit, the brown of the jacket bringing out the dark flecks in his eyes. Paired with the taupe-gray trousers and his leather Berluti shoes, it was impossible not to want to jump him. Or, more specifically, for him to jump me.

  That wasn’t happening, though. At least not tonight.

  “Hey,” he said, stepping forward so he could rest his palm at my neck. “I know I got you riled up with the heavy petting when I first came in, and I definitely owe you payback for this morning. I don’t like it either when I have to put work before you. I’ll make it worth the wait. Okay?”

  It was a sweet gesture, authentically Donovan. It made me feel guilty for being disappointed. This was who he was—responsible and practical. It wasn’t his fault that I thought today he might be different. It was a stupid, trivial commercial holiday created by marketers like me. I knew better than to put any meaning behind it. I definitely knew better than to expect that he would put any meaning behind it.

  But knowing all that and feeling guilty about it didn’t change the fact that I was still disappointed. Donovan used words of love so sparingly, I’d kind of been looking forward to today. Wondering how he’d express his feelings, what kind of gift he’d give. What his version of a romantic card would entail.

  I wasn’t just disappointed, I was crushed.

  Our first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and we’d be spending it apart. While the waitresses and gay men at the gentlemen’s club drooled over Donovan in his bespoke suit, I’d be putting together Conversion Metrics Reports.

  Lucky, lucky me.

  Two


  Almost three hours later, I shoved my chair away from my desk and blinked a few times. I’d been staring at my screen too long, and now my eyes were dry. Donovan had told me to stop for dinner, but I hadn’t, half because I’d been too wrapped up in work, but also half out of spite.

  As my stomach growled loudly, I realized I was the only one suffering from that decision.

  Resigned to the fact that I had a human body with human needs, I stood up and stretched. Then I padded my way down the hallway toward the kitchen in search of some forgotten leftovers in the fridge. If I couldn’t find anything edible, I could always resort to one of the many options for takeout that Ellen had tucked away in one of her drawers.

  Reach, Inc. occupied two floors of the Town Center. The executive offices were on the sixtieth floor, and with floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides, there wasn’t a direction you could turn without bumping into a stunning view. Even at night, there was so much to see and wonder over in New York City. Especially at night.

  But at this hour in the heart of the office away from the windows and the light pollution, the darkness was thicker. The space was my home-away-from-home, and generally I felt very comfortable in it, but this was my first time alone like this, and it was thus unexpectedly creepy. The hallway was only dimly lit from floor lights that ran along both sides, and my mind played tricks, convincing me that every shadow was a hidden predator, making me jump every time the ceiling whooshed with the sound of the heat turning on.