Dirty Like Zane: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 6)

by Jaine Diamond

  “Uh-uh,” I said, pinning her down. “I’m on top, and you’re doing what I say.” I had her thighs open wide with my spread knees, one hand in the middle of her chest, holding her down, and I started grinding my dick against her. I was hellbent on keeping control. Much as I loved giving it up to her, she wasn’t taking it this time.

  She wriggled beneath me, increasing the friction, and she started making those husky little gasping noises I knew so well as she tried to rub herself off on my dick.

  “And slow the fuck down,” I ordered, even as my voice got low and rough with lust. “You’re not going off until I say.”

  “What? You don’t want to rush it, fine. But I’m gonna get me some.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  I peeled her arms off me and pinned her wrists above her head. I leaned low on my elbows and got in her face, fusing my body to hers as I slowly but forcefully pushed the head of my cock into her.

  She gasped and moaned. “Zane… yeah.”

  And the fact that she loved it? Went straight to my balls and took all the blood in my head with it.

  I shoved my way in slowly, deeper… until I bottomed out and the heat swept through my body. The feeling of being squeezed by her, so hot and tight, the pressure gripping me… Pure fucking heaven.

  Maggie squirmed, wanting more, but I just stayed like this, deep inside her, for a long moment. I kissed her, catching her full bottom lip and nibbling as she squirmed. But I was holding onto control.

  Just barely.

  “You gonna calm down?”

  She blinked at me, dazed. “What?”

  “Stop wiggling around and calm down, I’ll feed you some more cock.” I kissed her softly. “You like that?”

  Her eyelids lowered and maybe she tried to glare at me a bit; didn’t really work. She relaxed a little beneath me. “Okay.”

  I lifted my hips, drawing my dick back out to the very tip, and slamming back in. Maggie’s eyes rolled closed and she breathed this soft, raspy sound… “Baby…” she sighed.

  And that was about it.

  My self-control went out the window without a fucking parachute.

  I buried my tongue in her mouth, squeezed her wrists tight and started fucking her hard and deep, kind of mid-tempo and hungry. I wasn’t chasing the finish, but I wasn’t holding back either. I wasn’t even thinking about coming. I just wanted to make Maggie come. Feel her shiver and shake and run out of breath in my arms and fall the fuck apart.

  Make her feel the way she always made me feel…

  I wasn’t gonna eat her out or play with her clit or tease her to get her there. I was just gonna smother her until all she could feel with every part of her hot little body was me. I was gonna crush her, devour her, fuck the hell out of that tight, swollen little pussy of hers until she screamed so loud they heard it in the cockpit.

  So that’s what I did, with single-minded focus.

  I fucked her until I was lost, too. Until all I could feel was her body pinned beneath mine. All I could taste was her taste; chocolate cake and Maggie. All I could hear were her soft, panting cries in my mouth, against my skin. All I could breathe was her soft smell.

  Until her pussy convulsed around my dick and she screamed… that soft, ragged Maggie scream that totally did me in.

  I felt the rush, the high of making her come gripping me… and the pleasure tearing right through me.

  My balls seized and my cock blew up. I drove into her hard, shooting deep, as she murmured, “Yes…” against my skin. I felt her nails digging into me, her teeth in my neck, her grip on me heightening the pleasure.

  Fucking Christ. No way I could hold that one back.

  Maggie panted softly beneath me, kissing my neck and kinda humming happily. As my body gradually relaxed against hers, she twitched and squirmed a little. I was still inside her and every time she moved, it sent a twinge of raw pleasure up my spine.

  “Fuck…” I sighed. “Sorry, babe. I couldn’t even help it…”

  “I loved it,” she said, her voice soft. She gazed up at me. “Why do you apologize? I love it when you come.”

  “Yeah. Can’t even hold it back with you. You just make me lose my shit…”

  Her gray eyes searched mine. “Why does it bother you?”

  “That I can’t last for shit with you?” I rolled off her, carefully pulling out. “Because I’d love to be able to fuck you for hours, obviously.”

  “You do fuck me for hours. Just because you come multiple times, and so do I, it’s not a fail, Zane. I love that you can’t hold back. Don’t you know that?” She drifted her hand over my chest and down my abs, making my muscles tighten. Everything was so fucking sensitive.

  Maggie knew it. She leaned in and flicked my pierced nipple with her tongue, sending pleasure sparking through my body. Then she sucked it into her mouth, and Jesus Christ, I wanted to fuck her again.

  Then she kissed her way up my chest. “I love it that you lose control with me,” she told me. “I love making you lose control.” She smoothed my hair back from my face and smirked. “I guess this is the one area of your life that I don’t mind you being so out of control. So unpredictable.”

  “It’s predictable as fuck, Maggie.” I relaxed beneath her with a satisfied sigh as she lay half on top of me. “Get you anywhere near my dick, and I can tell you exactly what’s gonna happen.”

  She grinned at me. “Well, your dick’s not complaining, and neither am I. So just enjoy it.”

  My gaze wandered down her face to her tits, which were pressed against me. “Never said I didn’t enjoy it.”

  “Good.”

  She started to sit up, and my dick twitched at the sight of her perfect naked breasts, her perky, rosy nipples. “Fuck it. Let’s do it again.”

  She laughed.

  “I know what this is about, Zane.”

  I looked over at Maggie as we got dressed; she was tucking her top into her skirt as I did up my jeans. We didn’t end up doing it again. I would’ve loved to have this conversation while we were horizontal, but the jet was about to descend and the flight attendant had already knocked on the door.

  “You want us to tell everyone we’re together,” she said gently. “I know you do. You bring it up every day.”

  “I do? Thought I was being subtle.”

  “This is your idea of subtle? A private jet and a florist’s entire stock of pink flowers?”

  “Two florists, actually.”

  She just shook her head at me.

  “You don’t like it?”

  She sighed. “What girl wouldn’t like it?”

  “What was your favorite part?” I asked her, seriously. I was pretty bent on adding more shit to that growing list of things that made her happy.

  She glanced down my body as I pulled on my shirt. “I’d have to say the bed was a nice touch.”

  “Yeah?” Fully dressed, I walked over to her.

  “Yeah,” she said as I took her in my arms. “I’ve never mile-highed it before.”

  I grinned and kissed her. “Fuck, I love deflowering you…”

  “But… I’m still not ready to go public,” she said firmly. “It’s not that I don’t want everyone to know, Zane—in theory.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. The hell did that mean?

  “I don’t like hiding it any more than you do,” she said. “Honestly. I just don’t want to rush this.”

  “This?” I kissed her again.

  “Yeah.” She softened against me. “This thing between us. It’s real and it’s good, and even though I’ve loved you for so long, this is new. You and me. And when we share it with the world, it’s gonna change. It could be a big change or it could be a small change, but it will change. It’ll be different when everyone knows. And for just a little while, I want this to just be ours.”

  “Okay, Maggie.” I kissed her on the forehead, then let her go. “But I really don’t think our relationship is gonna change just because people know.”

 
; “I wish that were the case. But I don’t think that’s realistic.” She seemed to consider the look on my face, then sighed. “I know. I’m a buzzkill. I swear, I keep hoping it won’t be a big deal. But literally the day I started wearing the ring, people started asking.” She waved her left hand at me, where she wore the wedding band. “I mean, the girls started asking. Katie. Amber. Even Jessa messaged me from Vancouver to tell me she’d heard, probably from Katie. And Brody keeps doing this thing… Whenever we finish a conversation, he goes silent for a moment, like he’s waiting for me to say something. I don’t, because I’m still figuring out how to explain to him what this is and how it’s not going to affect my job. I just haven’t found the words yet.”

  “I know, Maggs.”

  She gazed up at me, chewing on her lip a bit. “I told the girls that you and I are working on things, privately, and I asked them to give me some space. They were totally supportive, of course. But I keep trying to figure out how to face up to all the little lies I’ve had to tell and answer all their burning questions, and it all just seems so daunting. I don’t even know how I can begin to deal with it and deal with us at the same time, you know?”

  “I think you’re making it a lot harder than it has to be,” I told her, gently.

  “Yeah. You know, I used to think that was your domain. You were always making everything too difficult. But now I can see what you mean… I don’t exactly make life easy, do I?”

  “You make my life better. That’s all that matters to me.”

  Total truth.

  She smiled at me softly. “Thank you.”

  I wanted to smile back, but it felt wrong. I really, really didn’t want to fuck up all these good vibes we had going between us—for one thing, we were now able to calmly discuss our personal shortcomings without going off on each other, and that was fucking refreshing—but we were heading back to Earth and soon enough, she was gonna turn her phone back on.

  So I took her hands in mine. “Maggie… I’ve gotta tell you something.”

  She stared at me, and as those words and the seriousness of my tone sank in, I could see the trepidation in her eyes. I could feel it as she started to brace herself for the worst.

  And what would the worst be, in her mind?

  I’d fallen off the wagon?

  I’d fucked someone else?

  “There was a story this morning online,” I told her. “Brody sent it to me. I’m sure he sent it to you, too… but you know how I confiscated your phone?”

  She blinked at me, and I could see her pulling the pieces together in her head. How I’d bounced out of bed this morning and grabbed her phone, shoved it down my pants and told her she wasn’t working today because we were gonna spend the day together.

  Then she pulled her hands from mine. “Yes…?” she said, warily.

  “Our wedding in Vegas was mentioned in the article.”

  She stared at me. “What about our wedding?”

  “It was an eyewitness account. From someone who was there.”

  “I know what an eyewitness account is,” she said, her tone cooling. “Are you telling me my dad talked to the media about us?”

  “It wasn’t your dad. It was that girl he brought to the wedding.”

  “Maxxi?” She gaped at me, stunned. “That little… My dad’s girlfriend talked to the media about us?”

  “She, uh, said a whole shitload of stuff about your dad, too. We weren’t exactly the focus of the story. But yeah, she threw our wedding in there. I’m thinking they must’ve had a falling out or something? And she felt the need to expose all his private shit to try to hurt him?”

  “Oh.” Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Shit,” she muttered. And that was it.

  She was taking this pretty fucking well, considering I’d been mentally preparing for a screaming fit.

  There was a knock on the door. “The pilot requests that you take your seats and buckle in…” the flight attendant called in, for the second time.

  “We’ve gotta go sit down,” I told Maggie gently, reaching for her.

  She looked up at me, but she didn’t take my hand. And that’s when I really saw the look in her eyes.

  Nope. She wasn’t taking this well.

  Not at all.

  “You stole my phone and hijacked me so I couldn’t see it? So I couldn’t react?”

  “So it wouldn’t totally ruin your day,” I corrected her, “and we could talk about it before either of us reacted.”

  She stared at me. She wasn’t yelling, but somehow, as she glanced at my hand and refused to take it, this felt worse. She looked resigned and fucking disappointed, like she couldn’t even be bothered to fight. “You don’t even care, do you?”

  “Of course I care.”

  “You care how I’m going to react. But you don’t care that it’s out there.”

  “I’m not gonna lie to you, Maggie. I don’t give a shit that it’s out there.”

  She got to her feet and looked into my eyes, ignoring the hand I’d offered her. She shook her head at me with that disappointment in her eyes. She didn’t touch me, but somehow it felt worse than a slap in the face.

  Then she whispered, “I need to talk to my dad,” and left the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Maggie

  I arrived at my dad’s place in Las Vegas late that afternoon. I’d considered simply calling him, but then it would’ve been too easy for him to just hang up on me. Instead I’d texted him to confirm that he’d be home, and got my ass on a plane.

  While I was on the plane, I’d reread the offending article repeatedly—it was rapidly circulating the less-reputable entertainment gossip sites—and I knew I was making the right move.

  This was really more of a go-ream-him-out-in-person situation.

  By the time my taxi pulled up to my dad’s house, though, I’d lost most of my gusto. I knew the odds I’d actually ream him out over this or anything else were pretty slim.

  I’d never given the man a tenth of the flack he’d deserved.

  Standing in his tacky home, surrounded by all his flashy, gaudy bullshit, and giving him hell? Unlikely. Looking my father and his ridiculous life in the face always disarmed me. Made me realize how futile anything I could say to him really was.

  It had been a long time since I’d been inside my father’s home. Maybe… six years? Seven? He’d lived in this one for over a decade, in this gated community in Summerlin, and I’d never enjoyed coming here. I’d never really enjoyed being in any of my dad’s homes over the years, but this one was easily my least-favorite.

  Maybe because when I walked into it, it seemed so grossly unlikely that a man who’d fathered me could actually live here.

  It looked like a Goodfella lived in it. All marble and glossy and too much gold. And my dad himself, in his paisley silk pajama pants and robe, was the picture of Look at me, I’m rich and sleazy.

  There was even a new young thing on his arm.

  Well, she wasn’t exactly on his arm. She was lounging on his couch, half-naked, when I followed him into the expansive, shiny living room. She was topless, to be precise, and had a tiny, fluffy white dog in her lap.

  When she saw me, she looked me over slowly and speculatively, making no move whatsoever to cover her breasts. And my dad, the epitome of grace and manners, didn’t even introduce us properly.

  “This is Margery,” he told her. And that was it.

  “Maggie,” I said. My dad only ever called me Margery to be an ass, because he knew I preferred Maggie.

  “Charmaine,” the girl said, still looking me over. And not in a friendly way.

  “I’m his daughter,” I informed her, before she could say anything I could never unhear, like asking him if I’d dropped by for a threesome. “Could you please give us a little time to talk, alone?”

  She didn’t say anything, but she got up and made a point of walking over to my dad, boobs still out, and gave him a gratuitous kiss before handing him the dog. Then sh
e threw me another look. Like Maxxi, she was young and slightly plump, but where Maxxi had brown hair with fuchsia at the tips, this one was a peroxide-blonde.

  She also had a definite skank vibe about her.

  Sadly, I kinda missed Maxxi.

  When she’d wandered out of the room, I asked my dad, “What happened to Maxxi?”

  “Gone,” he said, with a lack of feeling that was pretty disturbing, though I really couldn’t be surprised. I watched him stroke the dog’s fur and deposit the tiny thing gently on the couch. Then I looked around.

  Why would I even hope to find Maxxi here?

  Just because he’d kept her around longer than a lot of the other ones didn’t mean she’d be staying forever.

  I sighed and set my purse on a table. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get the kinds of answers I was hoping for. This became abundantly clear when I took a good, long read of my dad.

  It was barely four-thirty on a Wednesday and he was definitely not sober. And he was mixing himself a fresh drink on his gaudy drink cart, this mirror-and-rhinestone thing that looked like it belonged on the set of a 1970s porno.

  Looked a hell of a lot like the one he’d sent me and Zane as a wedding gift, actually.

  Needless to say, we didn’t keep it.

  On the wall behind him, there was a giant painting of—I shit you not—himself, with the dog. He also had a new tattoo on his wrist of a naked chick. Which brought the total count of naked chick tattoos on my dad’s body to three, as far as I knew.

  “Maxxi was nice,” I offered. It was true enough; the one time I’d met Maxxi, the night I married Zane, she was nice. She was pretty wasted, but she was nice. Probably nicer than my dad deserved, honestly. “You were with her for a while. A couple of years, right?”

  My dad made a disgusted sound. “Maxxi’s a useless cunt.”

  Okaaay.

  I watched him take his drink and settle onto the couch, drawing the dog into his lap, completely unaffected by my presence. Well… he looked mildly annoyed, maybe.

  Holy shit, this was gonna be hard.

  Harder than I’d anticipated, even.