Dirty Like Dylan: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 4) Read online

  I looked at his face, at the tension written all over his beautiful features. The lust he felt, as desperately as I did. His eyelids lowered slightly, his pupils wide and dark. His lips parted as he shifted his hips… and he thrust into me with a low groan.

  My head rocked back as the feeling smashed through me. As he filled me, deep. As he pulled back out and then thrust in again. He rocked into me a few more times, finding room for himself. He was long and thick and I felt it to the tips of my fingernails. My toes tingled. My nipples ached as his chest brushed mine.

  When he was fully inside me, he paused. I met his eyes again as he lowered his body carefully over me. His arms seemed to be shaking a bit. Maybe he was holding himself back.

  He kissed my face, my neck, as he fucked me in a slow, hot rhythm that set my body aflame, one delicious spark at a time. His groin pounded against my clit, the head of his cock seeming to batter my womb, sending shivers of hot-cold through me. My whole body was going haywire, struggling to just keep up, to register everything I was feeling.

  I squeezed Ashley’s cock every time a new sensation hit me, or the pleasure rushed through me, so intense… as Dylan fucked me closer and closer to orgasm. I tried not to forget Ashley was here as Dylan took over my body. I stroked him up and down, squeezing the head of his cock and running my thumb over his piercing, listening to his harsh breaths.

  “You want to come, Amber?” Dylan choked out in a rough, lust-drunk voice, “or do you want to save that for Ash…?”

  Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought about that. Who I was gonna come with, or when or how.

  Did I have to make decisions like that right now?

  “Make her come.”

  No. I didn’t have to make decisions like that. Because Ashley answered for me.

  And Dylan didn’t ask again.

  He kissed me, his tongue filling my mouth, his taste flooding my senses, his smell and his warmth and his weight overwhelming me again… the rhythm of his cock invading me, his body thrusting against my clit as he possessed me. I kissed him back, my head spinning, my toes tingling, and every part of me dazzlingly, frantically alive… as I rode the wave of pleasure that he just kept driving higher and higher and higher… until it finally smashed apart.

  I cried out into his mouth and he tore himself away, letting me breathe. I gasped and clung to him as the pleasure ripped through me… distantly aware that Ashley had put his hand over mine on his cock; slowing me down. Maybe I was about to make him come.

  Or maybe we were.

  I heard him hiss out a breath between his teeth.

  Dylan kept fucking me, slow and rough, rocking my body as the orgasm pulsed through me. I felt him breathing with me. I felt his body tense, saw the change in his face when I looked up at him. I heard the groan catch in the back of his throat, shifting into a growl as his hips rammed against me and he came.

  I squeezed him closer with my thighs, brushing kisses all over his face as he sank against me. Kisses on his full lips as he breathed raggedly. On his cheeks and his chin and his strong, stubbled jaw. He pressed into me a few more times as his cock jerked, and I felt him inside me like I’d never felt another man.

  I’d never had a man this size inside of me.

  And maybe… maybe I’d just never wanted a man inside of me as much as I wanted him, right now. Even after we’d just come.

  We stared at each other. His eyes were hazed with pleasure, looking down into mine as he caught his breath. Then he kissed me, soft and sweet and lingering as my heart pumped life through my body and the sweetest air filled my lungs.

  It’d never felt so sweet to breathe as it did breathing the same air as Dylan Cope, wrapped naked in his arms.

  It was pretty much at the split second he stopped moving that Ashley took my hand again and pulled me toward him. Only then, I realized he’d let go of me at some point and lifted my hand off his cock, so he could put on a condom.

  Dylan shifted off of me, and Ashley drew me over him. I went where he pulled me, and Dylan helped lift me. My legs felt like jelly, but I managed to straddle Ashley’s hips. He settled me over himself, lining up his cock so that when he sat me down in his lap, he filled me in one deep thrust.

  The pleasure rose again, fast; I’d never really come back down. And I rode him with abandon, too aroused to do anything but chase my next orgasm. His hands squeezed my ass, my pussy squeezed his cock, and he dropped his head back against the headboard. He looked at me from under his heavy eyelids, his blue eyes dark.

  And it was unbelievably erotic, that Dylan was watching this.

  That Dylan wanted this.

  He lay next to us, and his hand roamed over my body. His fingers caught my sensitive nipple and squeezed. Twisted a little. Tugged until my mouth dropped open and my eyes met his.

  He watched me intently, his eyes on mine as I fucked Ashley.

  I didn’t stop until I felt Ashley surge up beneath me. I felt his orgasm hit as he lifted his hips off the bed, as his cock flexed inside me. Dylan rolled my nipple between his fingers, his eyes darkening as he watched—and all of it set me off. I came with a soft, ragged scream, my hips jerking against Ashley’s… and finally collapsed against his chest.

  As I came down, gradually, my entire body shaking and damp with sweat, someone ran his hand gently down my back.

  I couldn’t even figure out who it was.

  In the moment, it hardly seemed to matter anymore.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ash

  Fuck me.

  When I woke up in my bed, kind of squished up on the edge of the mattress with this soft, warm body curled against my back, I tried to get a grip as the memories of last night pummeled me. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t hung over. I was painfully sober and aware of every single fucking thing that had happened in this bed.

  And as I looked over at Amber and Dylan in the morning light… yeah, I was fucked.

  I rubbed my eyes and peered over at them. Jesus Christ. We were triple-spooning, the three of us all lined up in a row, facing the same direction. Dylan had his arm over Amber’s waist and she was nuzzled up into the back of my neck, her tits pressed against my back.

  I extracted myself as quietly as I could. I pulled on my jeans, T-shirt and Vans and stumbled out the door.

  By the time I got back from the coffee shop down the block, they were both awake. And they were still in my bed.

  Actually, they were cuddling.

  They were being cute together, fucking laughing about something, and looking sexy as fuck all snuggled up together, naked, under my blankets.

  “Fuck, it’s cold out there,” I grumbled, putting a coffee for Dylan and one of those hippie teas Amber liked on the table by the bed for them.

  “It’s October,” Dylan pointed out. “You might wanna think about putting on a little more than a T-shirt.”

  Yeah. Probably would’ve thought of that if I’d had my head on straight. If I hadn’t woken up next to Amber and Dylan after the hottest night of my life and kind of lost my shit for a minute there. Because last night, I’d fucked Amber twice and watched Dylan fuck her three times.

  It had all started out slow and kinda tender, and by the end, it was the kind of frantic, animalistic fucking that probably woke up the neighbors.

  Not to mention that I’d experienced another one of Amber’s brain-melting blowjobs while Dylan fucked her.

  And now I wanted to do it all again.

  A lot.

  “Oh, look,” Amber teased, “he’s pouting.”

  “He does that a lot,” Dylan said. “You get used to it.”

  “I’m cold,” I muttered, sitting down on the bed and sipping my hot coffee.

  “Then come back to bed,” Amber said.

  But I just sat where I was. Watching Dylan’s thumb stroke up and down her bare arm. They had a blanket pulled up around their chests, and I couldn’t see his other hand. Who knew where that was?

  I dug for my stash in the bedside table and lit up
a joint. One drag, then two, and I already felt better, the tightness in my chest loosening. But my heart was still beating too fast.

  I told myself it was from the jog to the coffee shop in the cold. But I was a fucking liar.

  I held the joint out, offering it to them. Dylan declined, but to my surprise, Amber sat up and took it, sucking back a couple of experienced little puffs. She hugged her knees to her chest, still covered with a blanket.

  “So, I’ve always wanted to ask you…” Her gaze drifted down my arms as she blew out the sweet-smelling grass smoke. “About your tattoos. Get Money is pretty clear. But is that Fuck Bitches as in ‘have sex with bitches’ or Fuck Bitches as in ‘to hell with bitches’?”

  I sipped my coffee, just looking at her. Her eyes were softer than usual. And she still had the same small, pleased-as-fuck-with-herself smile that she’d been wearing since I returned and found her lazing in bed with Dylan. Though that was pretty much how most women looked after getting in Dylan Cope’s pants. The dude was not only gorgeous; he was hung like a fucking horse.

  And I’d been told, by more than one woman, that he fucked like a stallion.

  When I didn’t answer her question, Dylan ventured, “Pretty sure it’s both.”

  Amber giggled as she took another toke, the pot going to her head. “Just a tip, though,” she told me, “women don’t love it when you call them bitches. In case you were unclear on that.”

  “I’m pretty clear. But thanks.”

  She raised an eyebrow, passing the joint back to me. “So then you’re trying to offend people when you get tattoos like that?”

  “I’m not really thinking about ‘people’ when I get tattoos. It’s my body.”

  “Oh?” Her gaze slid down my side, and drifted over to my dick, like she could see right through my clothes. “So then you didn’t get that sexy-as-fuck tattoo of all the flames and the bird-dragon taking a nose-dive into your pants so that ‘people’ want into them?”

  “Wow.” Dylan chuckled. “I gotta say. I’m loving how she sees right through your bullshit, Ash.”

  “It’s a phoenix,” I informed her. “You know, rebirth from the flames? Not a ‘bird-dragon.’”

  She shrugged. “Either way. Sexy.”

  I stared at her as she lay back against Dylan.

  “Who’s Danny?” she asked, all innocence as she blinked her green eyes at me.

  Great.

  She’d seen the fucking flower tattoo. The one way the hell up between my legs. The one that said Danny 4Ever.

  “He doesn’t know,” Dylan answered for me, biting back a laugh. The story of how I’d gotten that tattoo always made him lose it.

  When I threw him a murderous look, he crammed his fist into his mouth to shut himself up.

  “He what?” Amber asked.

  “Get him to tell you the story,” he whispered. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

  Amber studied my face. Then she relaxed farther into Dylan’s arms and said, “It’s okay. He doesn’t want to tell me.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, taking a pull off the joint, then handing it back to her. “Ancient history.”

  “Forgotten history,” Dylan said, grinning.

  I ignored him.

  It was definitely weird, though, seeing a woman lounging in his arms. The guy gave out hugs left and right, and I’d seen him cuddle with a chick before, but not often. I’d definitely never seen him this at ease with a woman in bed, after sex.

  Usually, Dylan was the first one to get up and hit the shower and get on with his day. I was more down to loiter in bed, for obvious reasons. And the girls, sometimes they stayed for the same reasons: to gawk at Dylan Cope and make themselves available in case he felt like another round. Though sometimes, they bounced as quickly as he did.

  But this morning, he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. I could see it in their body language.

  Dylan looked more than comfortable sprawled out in my bed, with Amber in his arms smoking my joint. Busting my balls with her, and drinking the coffee I’d bought him.

  And I liked it.

  I just wasn’t sure why I liked it so much.

  I’d been in love with a woman before. With Summer, for sure. If I was being honest, I was well on my way there with Elle. But I’d never felt that strongly about any of the women Dylan and I brought into bed with us. In part, because a lot of them, for me, were little more than an excuse to get in bed with Dylan. That was the truth; one I’d never admit to anyone, even Dylan.

  And in part, because those women just didn’t mean that much to me. The chemistry just wasn’t there. Not to sustain more than a night or two, or at most, a few weeks or months of fun times.

  It had definitely never felt like this with a woman in bed between us.

  So much more than skin-deep.

  I hit up the shower mainly so I could be alone to think. Get my head around things. Dylan and Amber were still cuddling and goofing around in my bed. It was as if having sex had shot them both up with fairy dust and, overnight, they were both totally gone over each other.

  I could very fucking easily have fallen back into bed and seen if they were up for another round.

  But that was probably inadvisable, until I got my shit together.

  Until I figured out how I was gonna handle this. So far, I wasn’t handling it so fucking well.

  Amber had accused me of being nicer to her, and she wasn’t wrong.

  Something had changed between us the night of Zane’s party.

  Maybe it was seeing her and Dylan out of the house together, and all dressed up, looking like the perfect couple.

  Maybe it was feeling like a third wheel.

  Maybe it was seeing her hanging out with Katie and Maggie and looking like she fit right into Dylan’s world.

  Maybe it was when she got drunk and let her guard down, forgot about the stick up her butt and started being nice to me. When she leaned up against me in Zane’s kitchen in the middle of the night, and all I wanted to do was put my arm around her, take care of her, because she was Dylan’s. I knew she was Dylan’s.

  I’d known it from moment one, that she was made for him.

  And maybe I wanted a piece of that.

  But then she’d touched me. She put her hand on my stomach and slid her fingers gently down toward my crotch, and my dick fucking leapt to attention. And the way she looked up at me, her green eyes all needy and soft, with heat building behind them…

  In that moment, I knew she wanted me.

  And I fucking wanted her.

  I wanted to bend her over Zane’s kitchen counter and give it to her. But I wasn’t gonna do that. She was pretty wasted, for one, and she was there with Dylan, too. It wasn’t the right time.

  So I’d stopped her, because I had to. Because if she put her hand on my dick with that look in her eyes, I didn’t want to be responsible for what I might do. Truth was, I was kinda drunk, too. And it had been long enough since I’d sank my dick into a warm, wet pussy… I didn’t trust myself.

  The next day, I suggested she take photos of Dylan on his back deck because I knew that would put her directly in his naked path. I needed to stoke the fire between them. Make it combust. Because as of that moment in Zane’s kitchen, when I realized I could have her… I also realized I’d been missing out on an opportunity.

  An opportunity to have a piece of something that might actually have a chance at holding Dylan’s attention. To get my hooks into this girl, who also had a chance of hooking Dylan.

  Maybe Amber Paige Malone would be the fucking sexy glue between us.

  Stupid, maybe. Desperate thoughts. But what could I say? Since Dylan and I had started taking chicks to bed together, I’d never met one with the potential to keep a good thing going. Someone who could potentially deepen the fucking tenuous intimate connection between Dylan and me.

  When I saw the opportunity to fuck Amber in my dining room, when she was drooling over the photos she’d taken of Dylan, hell yeah,
I took it. At that point, I was probably scared as shit that he was gonna fuck her first, and I’d be fucked right out of the equation. I suddenly needed to know, like now, if I could really have her.

  If she really wanted me, even half as much as she wanted him.

  And when I slid my hand up her skirt and felt her heat, her dampness through her panties… I knew. I fucked her to make sure that as much as she might be Dylan’s, she’d also be mine.

  Then the girl surprised the shit out of me.

  Minutes after I’d made her come, she went down on me like a fucking Hoover.

  She did it again in my bed in the night.

  And then the next morning, she ran the fuck away.

  And it bothered me. A fucking lot.

  I knew Dylan had to step in or we might lose her. The girl was skittish as a deer at a hunting convention.

  I’d told him what happened, that I’d fucked her. And as soon as he heard those words, I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t jealous. Dylan never got jealous. But it was like he now had permission to go after her himself—hard.

  Just like I’d suspected, he’d been waiting, holding back. He really was gonna let me have her.

  At least, have her first.

  But now that I’d made the first move, I’d had my chance with her… all fucking bets were off.

  He’d dropped me off at my place so fast my head kinda spun. Then he went to collect her from Liv’s.

  For a couple of hours, I feared I’d made a huge fucking mistake.

  Then his text came in.

  Meet us at the Back Door.

  I’d never walked those ten blocks into Gastown so fucking fast—with my fists jammed into the pockets of my jeans the whole fucking way, because I had the hard-on from hell. And when I got to the bar, I just tried not to blow it by getting drunk while I waited for them.