Dirty Like Seth: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 3)

by Jaine Diamond

  “Hate to say it, but he’s right,” Brody told me, low enough Zane wouldn’t hear as he settled into a seat next to me; I was watching the cocky bastard whisper in Katie’s ear, making her laugh. “Just go back to your cabin and I’ll take care of things here. It’s past three o’clock. At this rate, your wedding night’ll be over before you consummate it.”

  That may have been so, but I didn’t like being told when, how or where to fuck my own woman. It wasn’t Brody’s fault, though; he was just born bossy. Usually, I didn’t mind.

  “How about you?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Amanda?”

  He sucked on his beer, looking gloomy. “Later.”

  I doubted that.

  Brody had brought his latest “girlfriend” to the wedding, but that didn’t mean much. It never did. They were always perfectly nice and perfectly pretty, with perfectly nice names like Amanda or Jennifer or Michelle—and he was always bored with them before they even got started. The odds of him actually sleeping with this one tonight seemed slim, what with the way he’d been acting around my sister all day… avoiding the shit out of her, then staring at her from afar like some lovelorn stalker.

  My little sister was gorgeous; I got that. She turned heads everywhere she went, and not just because she was a lingerie model and looked like one. There was something about her that guys had always eaten up, even when she was a dorky little kid; I’d had to witness it all my life. It was this kind of awkward sweetness she had, some kind of dick-throttling magic that made boys follow her home from school and reduced grown men to idiots. Made them all—boys and men alike—want to get in her face, push her buttons; make her squeeze out a smile in their direction so they’d feel better about themselves.

  None more than Brody.

  I had no idea what shit had gone down between the two of them, though what I’d once assumed was a more-or-less mutual infatuation had obviously turned south—and now neither one of them seemed able to either completely ignore or tolerate the other.

  I looked at my sister across the fire. Jessa caught my eye and swiftly flashed her infamous bratty look—the one that earned her the nickname “bratface” among my friends, years ago, when they were all crushing on her but wouldn’t admit it in front of me; it was the face she’d given me as a little girl when I pissed her off. I didn’t even know she was still capable of that look, yet she’d been in Brody’s vicinity for mere hours, and now there it was.

  I didn’t love it, but not much I could do. I wasn’t exactly a relationship expert.

  The fact that I’d managed to get Katie to the altar still kind of stunned me.

  I looked at Brody. He pretended not to notice Jessa sulking and leveled me with a gray look. “Quit being a fucking hero and take your woman to bed,” he muttered.

  “Uh-huh.” I stared at him, gauging his reaction to my words. “Guess someone should get laid tonight.”

  He didn’t touch that. Just sipped his beer and pretended he hadn’t heard me. But he still wouldn’t look at my sister.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, when he could feel me staring at him.

  And I realized I didn’t have to. Not really. Brody was one of the good ones. If I’d ever had qualms about the idea of any of my friends hooking up with my sister—and I did—Brody wasn’t one of them. Still; if he didn’t pull his head out of his ass and quit putting that bratty look on her face, I was gonna have to say something to him about it… sometime.

  My wedding night, though, was not that time.

  But at least one thing I knew for sure: Brody wasn’t gonna let Zane or anyone else fuck with Jessa.

  I sighed. “Babe,” I said, standing up and extending a hand to Katie. “Let’s go.”

  Katie beamed her sweet smile up at me, like she’d been waiting on those words all night. She took my hand and I yanked her to her feet. She fell against me, her tits squishing against my chest, just like I wanted them to.

  I wrapped my arms around her waist and leaned down to give her a kiss. It was soft and slow, and earned us a bunch of whoops and growls from the guys.

  So maybe I was showing off. A bit.

  Then we did the obligatory round of goodnight hugs and kisses and backslaps. We got congratulated, yet again. Then I picked up my new wife and tossed her over my shoulder, despite her mild protests, and finally, we got the fuck out of there.

  “Don’t come back ’til she’s popped your cherry!” Zane called after us as we disappeared into the dark of the trees.

  “Go easy on him, Katie!” Dylan added. “He’s new at this!”

  And then my friends all laughed, which was understandable. They were, after all, jealous.

  I couldn’t blame them for that.

  Get A Dirty Wedding Night

  Coming Soon: Dirty Like Dylan

  Dirty Like Dylan (Dirty #4)

  One woman.

  Two rock stars.

  A threesome that will change everything…

  Photographer Amber Malone sucks at love. She’s been dumped, duped and dated more a-holes than any girl should ever have to.

  Then she meets rock star Dylan Cope, drummer for the mega-successful rock band Dirty; gorgeous, charming and all-around nice guy. For once, the stars seem to be aligning in Amber’s favor.

  There’s only one problem.

  Dylan’s rock star best friend, Ashley Player, is not a nice guy. He’s broken, bitter, protective of Dylan—and wants Amber gone.

  It’s almost enough to send her packing…

  But when Amber and her camera inadvertently catch Ash kissing Dylan, she finds herself sucked head-over-heels into a world of secrets, lust and heartache… and a three-way relationship that will change everything she thought she knew about love.

  Get Dirty Like Dylan

  Sneak Peek: DEEP

  Feeling a book hangover coming on?

  Try out the white-hot DEEP series!

  DEEP (DEEP #1)

  The more lines they cross, the deeper they get…

  Top cadet Lana Marsden lives by the rules. The most important rule of all: no messing around with an officer.

  She learned that one the hard way.

  Now her only desire is to survive the grueling DEEP Training program and leave that scandalous past behind.

  When she reports to Station Six amid wild rumors of erotic hazing rituals and sadomasochistic games, she’s not prepared for any of the rumors to be true—or for her insatiable attraction to Sergeant “Catch” Durant, her tattooed rebel of a trainer.

  One touch from Catch, and Lana knows she’s in trouble. One night of white-hot ecstasy, and the rules melt away...

  A cadet with a secret.

  An officer with a secret kink.

  A whole lot of rules to be broken.

  DEEP

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Nice ass.”

  Lana glances over her shoulder. The cadet walking behind her flashes a charming if not predatory smile, a mouthful of straight white teeth. Trust me, that smile says, I know what I’m talking about. Military poster boy, the kind accustomed to panties raining at his feet back home. Not exactly Lana’s type, but her cheeks heat as she turns away.

  It’s the bodysuit. The stretchy, breathable fabric, fitted from the neck to wrists and ankles, clinging to every curve, the long zipper from throat to navel promising easy access. Lana knows it looks good on her, the sheen of the navy blue, a color that brings out her blue eyes. All trainees wear blue, even the officers going through the program, to differentiate them from the corpsmen and the officers on duty who wear black; the same black Lana will wear in only three months’ time if she doesn’t fuck this up.

  This morning in her cube, the tiny dorm room she’s shared with three other women for the last eight weeks, she was elated to put the bodysuit on for the first time. Once she stepped out into the corridors of the ship, once she was among the men, she lost her equilibrium, just like the first time she took a simulated spacewalk and almost puked. She felt their eyes
on her, on the suit, and had a hard time forcing down her breakfast. Now as she makes her way through Transport Bay, where one hundred and thirty-six identically dressed trainees await disembarkment, she can’t help wondering if the skin-tight bodysuit and the gazes roaming her figure from every direction are just the first tastes of the many tortures awaiting her at Station Six.

  But no, rumors aren’t always true. If anyone knows this, it’s Lana.

  She hefts the heavy rucksack containing everything she owns in the universe onto her shoulder, striving to make this look easier than it is—a fundamental skill in the International Space Corps—and works her way through the crowd toward a group of familiar faces. According to the ISC’s Fraternization Policy, friendship across ranks is a slippery slope into full-on “Prohibited Relations.” Rangers flank the many portal doors of the bay, surveying the assembled trainees; it’s wise to stick to your own kind, especially when you’ve got an audience bearing arms. A steady, silent breed, those Rangers, solid and impassive, their black uniforms lined with sculpted armor. There’s something undeniably hot, in a primal sort of way, about well-built men in uniform, armed and trained to protect. Lana wonders—not for the first time—how in the universe Rangers have sex, if no one’s supposed to touch them.

  Focus, Marsden.

  She sets her rucksack down next to the group of young women, among them, one of her roommates, Matthews. Next to Matthews, a pretty cadet with short black hair and catlike eyes sizes Lana up.

  “How goes it?” Matthews sweeps a hand through her loose blonde hair. In transport, some of the rules about grooming have been disregarded, but you’d be stupid, or ballsy, to step foot on Station Six with your hair in your face—and ballsy Matthews is not.

  “Hey.” Lana notes that most of the women have swept their hair back into a knot or a sleek ponytail, like hers, and all of the men have finally shaved. She considers pointing this out to Matthews, just as that deep clank-and-rumble resounds through the hull of the ship. Too late; the shuttle is docking.

  “I hope you girls’ve got a lotta lube packed in those rucks,” says Cat Eyes, “because you are gonna get fucked.”

  Matthews’ eyes widen, but Lana does her best to look unconcerned. She heard the rumors about Station Six during transport, just like everyone else did; the same rumors she heard at Station One when she received her reassignment—rumors about the debauchery on Six.

  It all happened so fast, the last minute change, a redistribution of the trainees and her reassignment from the training program at Station Seven to the one at Six—the station where her brother, Adam, has been a trainer for the last year. Of course, Adam never mentioned kinky sex or erotic hazing rituals to her, but why would he? He never expected his little sister to show up at his station. And when she asked him about it on their last com, right before she boarded the shuttle, his answer was vague and superior. Don’t believe everything you hear, Lana.

  “I hear they have some serious hazing going on,” Matthews concurs, hushing her voice for effect. “A friend of mine in Basic said her sister went through Six four years ago and she had to suck six guys’ cocks at once and they had a circle jerk around her. So disgusting.” The other cadets make little sounds of horror and revulsion, but Lana’s already heard this particular story about a thousand times in the last eight weeks. Matthews flips her hair at her captive audience and narrows her eyes at Lana. “You’d better be prepared, Marsden.”

  How exactly one is to prepare for a six-man circle jerk, Lana’s not sure, but she’s not surprised Matthews doesn’t offer any tips. If Lana’s assigned to room with the mouthy blonde again on Six, she might just have to quit the Corps right there and let the shuttle haul her back to solid ground; twenty-one months of training out the window. In the meantime Lana doesn’t waste her breath. Who’s to say her friend’s sister didn’t enjoy blowing six guys at once? Hell, maybe it was her idea.

  Or maybe there’s no sex on Six at all. Wouldn’t that be even crueler? Get all the trainees primed up during transport, plant salacious rumors that are bound to spread, and when they disembark subject them to three long months of celibacy on a remote space station loaded with officers in uniform. Turn off the viz and bind their hands at night so they can’t even masturbate. Bind their hands when they shower, assign a bunch of petty officers to wash them down…

  “I’ve heard the same thing,” says Cat Eyes, a condescending smile on her lips. “I hear they rape you if you don’t perform well. I bet they just love to do it to pretty white girls with lovely long hair.” Her voice drips with mock flattery, her dark gaze raking over Lana.

  “All I’m saying is no one better try to rape me,” Matthews says, as if the threat was directed at her. “Any prick who tries has it coming.”

  Lana turns toward the portal doors, weary of the conversation; sometimes the women in the Corps are worse than the men with all the bravado. The redhead in front of her swivels around and raises a sharp eyebrow at Matthews. She has a pretty, heart-shaped face and wears a corpsman’s insignia above her ample chest. Lana’s seen her around; not really the kind of woman you forget. Sat next to her at breakfast this morning, but didn’t attempt conversation—Frat Policy and all. Her call sign, Scarlet, has been stitched into the ISC badge below her insignia.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. No one’s getting raped.” Scarlet’s green-eyed gaze flicks to Lana. “Don’t listen to them, sweetheart. They have no idea what they’re talking about.” She turns to face the portal doors, shoulders back, and tosses her head, reddish curls bouncing. She hasn’t pinned her hair up. Though she’s about the same height as Lana, she seems taller.

  “Aren’t you nervous?” Lana whispers.

  “Of course.” Scarlet gives Lana a sly look over her shoulder. “That’s just part of the fun.” She winks effortlessly—Lana has never been able to pull off a wink like that—and stands at attention as a departure officer assumes her place in front of the nearest portal, computer tablet in hand. Other officers file into place, ready to call the roll.

  The multi-layered portal doors slide open, revealing the small airlock chambers that will whisk the trainees up into the Transport Level of Station Six. Lana watches as trainees are sorted into the lighted chambers, five at a time, her heart drumming an anxious rhythm as she listens for her name.

  Scarlet steps forward—Lana doesn’t even catch her real name when it’s called among the flurry of others—and takes her place in one of the chambers. She gives Lana another wink and a mischievous grin as the doors shut.

  When Lana’s name is called by one of the officers, he tells her, “Echo Unit,” with a too-familiar sidelong glance. Before she can figure out if that look, prompted by her last name, was triggered by her brother’s infamy or worse—her own—she’s herded into a chamber. The bright white light pools over her and the four other trainees inside. The triple doors slide shut, one over the other, and as the floor begins to rise, Lana’s stomach sinks.

  This is it.

  Once she sets foot on Station Six, she’s officially in. Technically, training begins tomorrow, but everyone knows evaluation begins the second you breathe Six’s air. From that moment on, there will be no way out of the DEEP Training program but to drop out or to be dropped, take the long shuttle ride back to Corps Central and face the training board a failure. Have that excruciating talk with her parents over the com, the one in which her mother tells her with utmost sincerity, It’s perfectly fine, Lana. Honestly, we had no expectations.

  She stands up straighter, recalling Scarlet’s flawless posture. The other trainees in the chamber stir, like restless animals about to be released from a cage. Life on the shuttle is cramped and bloody boring, but Lana knows the taste of freedom on the comparably enormous station will be fleeting. DEEP Training means long, intensive hours slaving away at the mercy of the rigorous program, and in particular, her Commanding Officer—her trainer. Deep Space Extra-Vehicular and Emergency Preparedness is a pass or fail program, and Lana knows her CO will
have the ultimate say in whether or not her performance meets the bar, whether or not she achieves her dream of a long-term assignment in deep space. DEEP is the gateway to that dream, and her trainer will hold the key.

  Lana has done her research; DEEP has an approximate sixty percent failure rate. Of course, she wouldn’t be here if the Corps didn’t believe she has a real chance, if she didn’t believe she has what it takes to make it. If she didn’t want it down to the marrow of her bones. But making an excellent first impression on her trainer is vital, and it all starts when the chamber doors open.

  She takes a deep, steadying breath. The chamber locks into place, the layered doors open—one, two, three—and Lana gets her first glimpse of the organized chaos that is Station Six’s Hub as she and the other trainees stumble into the fray, dispersing in search of their respective units.

  The Transport Level of the Hub is a transparent web; Lana drifts along the entry passage, glancing into the various rooms, each one surrounded by clear walls on three sides, the back end open to the passage that loops around the entire level. She glimpses an intake officer in several of the rooms, the black uniforms easy to spot in the sea of blue. Other officers stand above the web in the raised corridor that runs through the center of the Hub, observing the commotion below. Lana wonders if her trainer is up there… her neck is craned so far in that direction, she walks into a wall of muscle.