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

by Jaine Diamond

  So fucking much for that.

  As I slipped my hand down between her legs and she started rubbing herself against my fingers, at the same time that she grasped my cock and started jacking me off, I knew I had to man up and face the fucking music. Because I could feel it when we were alone. When Dylan’s vibe wasn’t screwing with my head and he wasn’t here to see us… There was something real, right here, between me and Amber.

  And we both felt it. I knew it when I looked into her green eyes.

  I knew it, because she looked as scared as I felt.

  “Hey,” I said, suddenly wanting to cheer her up. “You wanna watch it again?”

  “Watch what?”

  “The commercial.”

  A slow smile spread across her pretty face, lighting her up. “Okay.”

  I found my phone on the bedside table and pulled it up. We’d watched it together last night, the three of us. Liv had sent it over—the finished Underlayer commercial. As I played it back now on my phone, Amber and I watched it together.

  “Shit, he looks beautiful,” she said. “It turned out so good…” She sounded regretful about that, but not disappointed. Liv had done gorgeous work, as usual. I knew Amber was proud of her; proud of her and Dylan both.

  The commercial was hot, slick, and gave you everything the world knew and loved about Dylan Cope. How fucking gorgeous he was. His killer bod. And how he fucking rocked on the drums.

  Toward the end, there was a single shot of him wearing his kilt, as he delivered his line to camera: It’s what’s under the kilt that counts. And because he was Dylan, he managed to do it without sounding like a douche. He looked fucking hot in the kilt, but in a way that made you love him rather than hate him.

  Dylan was the boy next door who grew up into a god.

  He was everything you wanted to be, or wanted to have.

  And Liv understood who Dylan was; both sides of him. The rock god and the boy next door. It was Liv who’d pushed for that scene. She’d pushed for the kilt, because let’s face it: everyone loved Dylan Cope in a kilt.

  But the things I loved about him went far beyond some piece of clothing he was famous for wearing onstage.

  And I knew by now that Amber was falling in love with much more than that, too. She’d never really even seen that part of him. She’d never been to one of his concerts. She’d never even asked to see him in his trademark sexy kilt. She wasn’t a fangirl.

  She was the girl.

  “God. I was such an asshole at that shoot,” she said.

  “Yeah. You were.”

  She threw me a dirty look. “As were you.”

  “I was.” As the commercial ended, I tossed the phone aside and rolled toward her. “Thought that’s what you liked about me…”

  “No. I like your pierced dick. And these eyebrows.” She put her hand on my face and smoothed her thumb over my eyebrow.

  “Eyebrows?”

  “All twisty and angsty… Your eyebrows say it all, Ashley Player.”

  “Yeah? Are they telling you how much I wanna kiss you right now?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, her green eyes softening, “they are.”

  So I kissed her.

  We rolled around in Dylan’s bed for a while, with the smell of him still on the sheets, groping, making out. Then we got down to business and fucked like animals.

  While we fucked, we kept talking about Dylan.

  “What would you do… if he was here right now?” she whispered.

  “I’d eat your clit while he fucked you,” I told her, sucking on her neck for emphasis—and the girl fucking went off. She went nuts, riding me from beneath, jerking her hips to meet my thrusts as she cried out and clawed at my ass and her pussy pulsed with her climax.

  Jesus…

  She was the perfect fucking woman.

  I made her suck me off after she came, licking her sweet juices off my dick and taking me deep in her throat.

  “You take Dylan’s cock that deep, baby?” I asked her as I slowly fucked her mouth. Of course, I knew she did. I’d seen her do it. “That horse cock of his, you take it that deep?”

  She moaned in response and seemed to be trying to laugh, but I was already gone, coming down the back of her throat.

  “Jesus… fuck, yeah… suck me deep, baby…” I kept the dirty talk going, because I figured with her mouth full, it was only polite that I carry the conversation.

  Then I ran out of fucking words as my brain overloaded with pleasure.

  Afterwards, I collapsed face-down on the bed. She was definitely laughing, and smacked me on the ass.

  “Horse cock?”

  “Have you seen it? Is there a better way to describe it?”

  “Maybe a sexier way. I’m not really into bestiality.”

  “With that horse cock up inside you all the time, you sure as fuck are.”

  “Don’t.” She laughed again and smacked my ass, harder this time.

  I just lay here, fucking spent, in the afterglow. Nothing could’ve made this moment better, other than Dylan being here with us.

  And sure, I didn’t have to tell her how happy I was. I could’ve downplayed it, gotten up and gone on with my day. As usual. But maybe I’d learned from my fuck up with Elle.

  Took a fucking while, but I’d learned.

  So I was gonna tell Amber how I felt about her.

  I wanted to tell her, had to tell her, upfront—fucking now—instead of pretending like everything was cool. I’d done that before and been crushed.

  So I spit it out.

  “All jokes aside,” I said, “I’m starting to fall for you, Amber Paige Malone.”

  She was lying beside me, her head on the same pillow, her face close to mine. She was still smiling, but that smile started to fade, maybe when she realized I really wasn’t joking. That there was no punchline coming.

  She didn’t say a fucking thing, so I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked down at her, and kept going.

  “I’m telling you that because honestly, I don’t want to fall for you if you’re just gonna jet.”

  Her mouth opened long before any words actually came out. Then she said, “Oh. I mean… I just thought…”

  I sat up all the way, pulling my knees up in front me. “You thought what?”

  “I thought… we were just kind of, you know… sharing a kink.” She blinked at me. “You and me.”

  “What kink?”

  “Dylan,” she said.

  I stared at her.

  “I mean… I thought to you he was a kink.” She swallowed, her eyes getting wider the more she spoke. “Or maybe, I just hoped…” She trailed off. But the look in her eyes as she stared back at me told me she knew.

  Sure, she hoped. But she fucking knew Dylan was more to me than just some kink.

  But to her, that’s all this was? Some fucking kink?

  That’s what she thought we were doing here?

  “Please tell me you’re fucking kidding me,” I said, way too quietly.

  She sat up. And the fucking pity on her face as she looked at me was too much for me to take. I pulled away as she reached for me. “Ashley, I—”

  I flew out of bed, grabbing my clothes along the way, and walked out of the room before I could hear another word.

  Chapter Thirty

  Amber

  I found Ashley on the back deck, above the point, overlooking the water.

  He’d hopped out of bed so fast after what I’d said—that stupid comment about us sharing a kink—that I was afraid I’d really hurt him, when I definitely didn’t mean to.

  He stood with his back to me, leaning on the railing in his black T-shirt and jeans, feet bare. His hair was mussed from the sex we’d just had, from my hands clawing through it. He looked vulnerable and sweet, and angry.

  As I neared him, I could both see and smell it: he was smoking.

  “How’s quitting going for you?” I ventured, standing next to him.

  He didn’t answer me
. He didn’t even look at me.

  I wrapped my cardigan around myself; I hadn’t bothered to pull on anything but panties underneath and it was pretty chilly out here. I leaned in closer to Ashley so I could feel his warmth; I was on his right side, the Fuck Bitches tattoo on his bicep in my face.

  I touched my finger to the tattoo, lightly tracing the F with my fingertip.

  He tensed a little at my touch, but still wouldn’t look at me.

  “You don’t have to be like this with me,” I told him.

  He took a drag of his cigarette. “Like what?”

  I dropped my hand and leaned on the railing to look up at his face. “Like… the guy who gets offensive tattoos and drinks too much when he’s angry and lies to his lovers.”

  “That’s who I am.”

  “Yes. But there are many other parts of you, too. And by now, I think I’ve met them all.” I leaned in closer, until my shoulder pressed against his arm. “I like them all.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just stared out over the water, not really looking at anything at all. But his blue eyes gleamed a bit, wet.

  “I know how you feel about him, Ashley,” I said quietly. But my words felt loud between us.

  He looked at me, finally, his blue eyes crashing into mine.

  “And now, I know how you feel about me,” I added, softly. “But did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re falling for me because you think he’s falling for me, too? And maybe you want me to be the thing that keeps him connected to you. You know… sexually.”

  The thought had occurred to me, long ago, and I couldn’t exactly pretend it wasn’t true anymore.

  “That’s not true,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Isn’t it?”

  He looked away again.

  “If I wasn’t in bed between the two of you, he wouldn’t be there, right?”

  He said nothing, but he shook his head a little. I couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with me or disagreeing.

  “At least, you don’t think he would be,” I ventured.

  Ashley still said nothing.

  “So… why don’t you find out? Just tell him how you feel.”

  He laughed a little and flicked his cigarette in the water. Then he pulled out a fresh one, shaking his head. “You think it’s that easy?”

  “It doesn’t have to be easy. Lots of things in life that are worth doing aren’t easy.”

  He lit his smoke, falling silent again.

  “Don’t you think he’s worth the truth?” I pressed. “Don’t you think he deserves to know? Don’t you think he’d want to know?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t.”

  “Then too bad for him. Tell him anyway.”

  I watched him smoke, ignoring me. The gleam in his eyes had dried, but he didn’t look happy.

  “Come on.” I elbowed him lightly. “Don’t be a coward, Ashley.”

  I meant it as a bit of a joke, since I’d never really thought of Ashley as a coward, but it came out all wrong.

  Like stupid tough talk.

  Really tough talk, given that I hadn’t found the courage to tell Dylan how I felt about him.

  I’d been trying to convince myself for a while now that Ashley telling Dylan his feelings was the right thing to do—for Ashley and for Dylan. And that was true, as far as I could see. But I also needed Ashley to tell Dylan how he felt, because I needed to find out if Dylan’s heart, in any way, belonged to Ashley.

  Because I wanted Dylan for myself.

  I didn’t even have the courage to admit that to Ashley, right now. I didn’t want to confuse things for him. I didn’t want to make this any harder for him than it already was. But I was also afraid he’d reject my advice if he thought I was telling him for selfish reasons.

  I was, and I wasn’t.

  I wanted Dylan, but only if he wanted me, too. I couldn’t be the runner-up, the consolation prize, if what Dylan really wanted was Ashley—and the two of them weren’t together only because they’d never found the courage to take the chance.

  I couldn’t let myself fall for Dylan Cope any harder than I already had if his heart—or even half of it—belonged to someone else.

  “It’s not about cowardice,” Ashley said, finally. “It’s about accepting the truth, Amber. Dylan isn’t in love with me. I’ve accepted that. I’ve accepted having him in my life the only way I can have him.”

  “With a woman between you.”

  He said nothing.

  “How do you know that’s the only way? I saw you touch him, when we were having sex. You put your hand on him. He let you, Ashley.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “What if it does?” I challenged. “What if he’s open to being touched by you again, and more? Don’t you want to know?” I knew I did. As much as it might crush me, I had to know.

  “I already know.”

  “Know what?”

  “He’s never judged me,” he admitted. “But he’s not into guys like I am. It’s there, but we don’t really talk about it.”

  “Which part?”

  “Any of it. About me and the guys I sleep with.”

  “You’re afraid what he’ll think?”

  He didn’t answer that.

  “He’ll think you like dick,” I said, enunciating every word carefully.

  Ashley glanced at me. He cocked his pierced eyebrow, so at least I was managing to amuse him somewhat.

  “Big. Deal,” I said. “He already knows. So why do you care?”

  He shook his head at me. “It’s not just about dick, sweetheart. I wish it was that simple.”

  I took a breath and sighed. “It doesn’t have to be easy or simple. It just has to be the truth.”

  He considered that.

  “Okay,” he said. “The truth is, I’m not gay. People say I’m bi, but that doesn’t feel right to me either. It’s not a half-and-half, fifty-fifty situation. If we’re talking percentages, I’d say I’m a solid sixty-six-point-six percent straight.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Interesting math.” But watching him squirm while he tried to explain it to me? I’d never seen him squirm like that before.

  “I’m like, one-third into dudes at best,” he concluded, raking a hand through his hair. He took a drag on his cigarette, then tossed it in the water.

  “Right.” I stared at him, and my skepticism must’ve been written all over my face. “And what percentage of your heart belongs to Dylan Cope?”

  That hit home. I knew it did.

  He stared at me, his blue eyes blown. “Where did you come from?” he asked me, his voice kinda choked and rough.

  “Well… Brazil.” I shrugged. “But you know I was born here. I—” I didn’t get to finish that sentence because he kissed me. It was a soft, devout kiss, and as his body pressed in close to mine and I felt his warmth, his heartbeat, his fingers digging into my arms as he held me to him, I could feel how much he really did care about me.

  Maybe Ashley’s feelings for me weren’t only based on a misguided desire to keep Dylan intimately attached to him. If Dylan wasn’t even in the picture, maybe Ashley really would fall for me?

  But Dylan was in the picture.

  And I wondered, like I had many times now, was it even possible to love two people at once? Equally? Or would there always be an imbalance, one who owned your heart more than the other, and always would?

  And what if you were the one who didn’t get equal real estate in the equation? Would it be worth it to stay, or better to break loose and find something that was one-hundred-percent your own?

  These questions reeled in my head as I allowed myself to cling to Ashley, selfishly, for a lingering moment on Dylan’s deck.

  When we broke apart, I told him, “I’ve never seen two guys closer than you two.”

  “Amber…”

  “Unless, you know, maybe if they were married or something.”

  Ashley drew away until we weren’t touching anymore. “Well,” he said,
clearing his throat, “there was that one time he came in my face.”

  I froze. “He… what?”

  His eyes found mine. “He came—”

  “Oh,” I said. Oh.

  Shit.

  I did not need that visual. Weeks ago, maybe it would’ve piqued my curiosity or turned me on. Now it only scared me.

  “He loves you, Ashley,” I choked out. But I couldn’t help it; jealousy burned behind my words, making my throat tight. I swallowed with difficulty.

  Ashley went silent.

  I didn’t know how or when or if he was going to talk to Dylan about any of this, but I knew, either way, I had to take a step back. Bow out of the equation and let them work this out—whatever it was between them—first. No matter how long it took.

  They were best friends long before I ever met them, and Ashley was probably in love with Dylan long before I ever was, too. They were sharing women and complicating things between the two of them long before I got all twisted up in it, and I had no business in the middle of it, complicating things any worse than they already were.

  Especially when I didn’t even want to be in the middle of it anymore.

  I knew right now, hearing those words, that I didn’t.

  He came in my face…

  And somehow, I wasn’t in the middle anymore. It felt like Dylan and I had somehow switched positions and now everything was out of balance.

  Or maybe I was never in the middle at all.

  I hugged my cardigan tighter around my waist and looked away. “It’s cold out here. I should get dressed. Can you still take me into the city today?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

  I nodded and started toward the house, but Ashley’s voice stopped me.

  “What if I tell him,” he asked me, “and it doesn’t work out?”

  I turned to face him. “What if it does? What if it’s the best thing you ever had?” These were questions I’d been asking myself a lot lately—about Dylan and myself. “Isn’t that what’s really got you so scared?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Amber

  After lunch, Ashley gave me a ride into the city in his boat. Then he drove me to Jessa Mayes’ baby shower in his truck. And I barely knew what to say to him.