DirtyBeautiful

by Jodie Becker

  Light slanted over his yard from the adjoining property and he caught sight of Erica in her kitchen. She wore a flannel cow-print pajama set, not at all what he thought she’d wear. She’d been in his thoughts for the better part of the day after her brief visit and he pondered on the instant camaraderie that’d flared up between them. For once, he didn’t feel too much like a sack of shit when he looked her over. She didn’t fit his type and perhaps that made her a safe bet. Her curvaceous figure was a far cry from the athletic frames he went for, but he found himself intrigued nonetheless. Perhaps it was the way her hazel eyes sparkled with sharp wit or perhaps it was her lips, the bottom one plumper than the top.

  A silent voyeur, he followed her about the kitchen. She opened her fridge and pulled out one of her brownies. She knocked the fridge door closed with her hip and bit into her dessert. The moan of delight carried the distance. Jesus Christ, she was a moaner. His dick hardened at the sound and he followed her every movement as she devoured the brownie. Her eyelids fluttered shut in a picture of pure ecstasy. Shit, he didn’t think he’d find a girl like her sexually attractive, but his body decided to prove him wrong. He shifted in an attempt to ease the tightness in his jeans. His dick throbbed and he hated himself for getting turned-on. It’d been about an hour since he’d wiped one out but his body remained unsatisfied. The manual method didn’t cut it anymore. He glowered at his knee. He was sick of jacking off at the slightest inclination and wanted to find the balance of healthy sexual interest rather than total sleezeball. Don’t shit where you eat, Dylan. If he knew anything about women who lived in yellow houses and wore cow-print flannels, it was that they were wholesome little homebodies. Those types of gals didn’t do anything casual.

  With a muffled curse, he stood and slipped into his house. In the semi-darkness, he found the light switch to the living room and clicked it on. He turned the LCD TV to ESPN and watched the highlights of sports from the day. He settled into the leather recliner to watch some football. The play followed through without the least bit of attention on his part. Instead he found his thoughts on Erica and imagined how she’d look, ruffled up, naked and moaning. His cock thrummed with a need for release. He tried to shake it off but he couldn’t concentrate. His Goddamn sex drive was ruining his life. Flicking off the television, he stood and marched up the stairs to take matters into his own hands…again.

  * * * * *

  Dylan pulled his truck into the parking spot outside the hardware store and stepped out. The early-morning sun slanted long shadows across the dark asphalt and the town was pretty quiet. Although he knew his time would eventually be up and he’d have to face the residents of Templeton, for the time being, Dylan preferred to keep his anonymity. Vane’s words still haunted him and had kept him up for part of the night. Sure, men watched porn, but it all depended on what type they watched and which production they liked. It stood to reason maybe, just maybe, a couple of guys might recognize him. But Dylan was pretty confident that if they did know him, they wouldn’t say anything.

  He grabbed a cart and guided it down an aisle. The smell of fertilizer and woodchips caught him full in the face. Navigating by the bags of garden produce, he ambled to the back of the store and selected a few small items he needed for floor preparation before heading toward the paints and varnishes. He selected his choice of lacquer and an application mop then searched for high-end drum sanders.

  “Excuse me.”

  Dylan twisted around to find himself confronted by a woman. Blonde hair was pulled back in an elegant twist, her lips the color of cherries as she smiled at him. Unwittingly his gaze fell on her slim frame and pert breasts encased in a skintight dress. And damn if he didn’t notice the lack of a panty-line. She was just his type. Tall, slim and blonde. Dylan began to make comparisons between her and Erica and he cut it off. He wasn’t here to sleep with the female population. He forced his attention upward and attempted to look politely interested. “Yes?”

  “I was wondering if you could please get that tin of ocean-blue paint for me.”

  Dylan followed her finger to the tin she could’ve reached if she stretched a bit. With a friendly smile, he pulled it from the shelf and handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said, a husky vibrato to her voice.

  “No prob.”

  “Oh, it’s heavy!”

  “Want me to take it to the counter for you?”

  She preened. “How kind of you.”

  He started toward the front of the store and the woman followed him, her pumps clacked on the cement surface. “I haven’t seen you around here before. I’m Mary-Mae,” she said by way of introduction.

  Dylan nodded and shook the dainty hand she offered up like the Queen of England. “Dylan.”

  “I heard a new person had moved into Samuel’s old house and since I’ve never seen you around before, it must be you.”

  “Yep.”

  “That place must be a dump, so I guess it takes an innovative person to move in there. Are you planning on selling it off and making a profit?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh… I’m doing some renovations on my house. I find myself rather handy with a hammer now that I’m divorced.”

  Dylan ignored the blatant hint and the hand that stroked his forearm.

  The woman behind the counter turned to him.

  “Do you have a drum sander?” he asked.

  “No. You can probably go by Bill’s Carpentry. He might have one.”

  “Where might I find that?”

  “I can show you,” Mary-Mae interjected.

  Wordlessly he dropped his stuff on the counter, deciding it better to get this over with. Mary-Mae was sexy as hell, but Dylan couldn’t afford a distraction, let alone indulge in some drive-by necking no matter what his dick demanded of him. He collected his items, stepped out of the shop and dropped them onto the back of his truck. He turned to face Mary-Mae. She stood on the curb for him, hands clasped together.

  “Where’s your paint?”

  Dylan could literally see the wheels turn in her head. “Oh Jessica will keep it for pick-up later,” she lied.

  “Right. Look, you don’t have to walk me to Bill’s Carpentry. If you just point me in the right direction, I think I can manage.”

  She waved her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I need to ask him a question about the doggy door he built for my Talya.”

  Interest perked, he glanced down at her. You could always tell something about a person by the way they treated dogs they had. “You’ve a dog?”

  Hooking her arm around his, she dragged him along with her. “Yes. I have the cutest miniature Pomeranian. All white and so pretty.”

  Dylan zoned out sometime when her rambles turned to costumes she dressed the poor thing in. Soon after, he found himself in a store lined with wooden furniture. He breathed in the fresh scent of wax and sawdust. The sound of sanding from the back of the shop drew him farther into the store.

  The proprietor looked up at their approach, sawdust peppered his cheeks and white mustache. He pushed his bifocals up his nose and stood. “Morning, Ms. Grear, how’s that little dog of yours?”

  “Good, Bill.” Her arm tightened around Dylan’s, her body glued to his side. “I’d like you to meet the newest addition to Templeton. Dylan. He bought Samuel’s house.”

  Rheumy blue eyes peered up at him and he held out a weathered hand. Dylan shook it, subtly surprised by the man’s strong grip. “You needing some work done?”

  “Oh no, he’s doing it up himself,” Mary-Mae said.

  Irritation spiked inside him, but he kept it at bay.

  “Is that right, son?” Bill asked.

  “Yes. The internal structure isn’t too bad. It just needs a bit of TLC and elbow grease.”

  “You familiar with carpentry?”

  “I worked in the construction industry for a bit.”

  The old man nodded, impressed. “Well, what can I do you for?”

  “I’ve got pl
ans to fix up the floors. I was wondering if you have a drum sander and edge sander?”

  Bill hitched up the side of his jeans. “Sure do.”

  “Great. How much to hire out?”

  “Aw, don’t you worry about that. You just volunteer a bit of your time here and you can use it. My hands are a bit arthritic and with winter approaching, I could do with a lad who knows his way around a flat end of timber.”

  Dylan found himself smiling at the older man. He’d wondered what he could do with his life outside the adult film industry and with this opportunity, he could end up in the same profession he started out in. Things felt as if they were finally coming together. “Sounds like a deal.”

  “Good.” Bill turned and waved for Dylan to follow.

  After a brief struggle, he slipped from Mary-Mae’s boa-like grip and trailed after the fellow into a back room. The extension of the shop consisted of a steel structure complete with a ventilation system to capture the excess sawdust. The room was big enough to fit four cars inside. In fact, he noticed an oil pit and winch. “You used to be a mechanic too?”

  “Huh.” He glanced around then flicked his hand. “Nah. That was my brother. He liked his cars. But when he got too sick, he gave it up. Another lad took over, he’s up on Crescent Street. Now I just use this as my workshop. Ah, here we are.”

  Bill dropped his hand on the handle of the drum sander propped against the back wall. “You got a way to transport it?”

  “I have a pickup.”

  “Good. Just bring it around the back and I’ll open the roller door. It’ll save my back.”

  Dylan smiled. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  He returned to the front of the store to find Mary-Mae still there. Eyelashes fluttered. “How fortunate you’re a carpenter! I was meaning to ask Bill, but with him being so busy, I can ask you. I was thinking of extending the porch. Perhaps you can come around and have a look?”

  Dylan recognized the ploy. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested. Here was a woman who fit more into his line of thinking. She’d let him take her behind the building if he wanted. He glanced over his shoulder, unsure why he even hesitated. Shit, he was sick of being so damn horny all the time.

  “Uh, sure. After I load up the sander I’ll follow you.”

  Heated lust flashed in her eyes and she sashayed from the store. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Dylan ignored his conscience, loaded the sander and drove his truck behind Mary-Mae’s car. Within twenty minutes he found himself in front of a prairie-style house. Dark brick and white columns contrasted against each other. Mary-Mae opened the front door and waved him inside. Now was the moment of truth. The zipper pressed against his cock in a bite of painful pleasure. He could taste her desire on the air, his body on high alert, ready to get his load off. But he stood at the base of the stairs, unable to make his feet take the required steps into the house.

  She exuded sexuality and knew how to present herself. Probably wore a damn sexy negligee to bed rather than flannels. Dylan grimaced. Shit, what was wrong with him?

  Mary-Mae frowned. “Are you coming inside?”

  Was he? “Yeah.”

  Each step toward her felt wrong. He thrust aside his apprehension and focused on her hot body. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, and she had legs that could go for miles. Perfect. But why did his stomach turn at the idea of being inside her? As he passed the threshold the door clicked shut behind him.

  In a heartbeat she was on him like a starved lioness. Dylan grunted as he hit the wall. Heavy perfume assaulted his senses as she pressed her body against him. She stood on tiptoes to kiss him but he turned his head.

  “No kissing.”

  Too intimate. He never did that with quick fucks.

  She pouted, but relented. The top button of his jeans popped open and her fingers brushed over the head of his cock. He groaned as pleasure spiked down to his balls.

  “Shit, yeah,” he mumbled.

  She fisted his shaft. It felt good, damn good, he couldn’t deny it. But this didn’t feel like him. It felt like… Drake.

  The thought killed his desire like nothing else had. Sickened, he jerked from her touch and stepped away. Heaving out a breath, he buttoned his jeans with unsteady hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Confusion lowered her manicured brows, the hard nipples underneath her dress reminded him how easy it would be to fuck her. To get off and get out. But he didn’t want to do that anymore. He wanted to be different.

  “I can’t do this right now. I remembered I promised Bill I’d be back.”

  Her gaze hot with unconcealed lust, she ran a finger down his chest. “But what about my porch?”

  He shook his head. “You and I both know you didn’t want me to look at your porch.”

  She pouted again. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “Sure,” he lied.

  Dylan hurried out of the house and all but ran down the steps to his car. As he slammed the door shut, he leaned back in his seat and sighed. His dick hurt like hell but at least his conscience was clear. As he drove down the street he wondered how long he could hold out when what she offered was there for the taking. Jesus save him from man-eating women like her.

  Chapter Two

  Erica scooped up her laundry basket in the kitchen, pushed open the screen door and came to an abrupt halt.

  “Get away!” she shrieked at the terrier and his relentless bounce for her underwear.

  At that moment, it grasped her floral full briefs and hesitated, its eyes wide, brows twitching in a desperate search for escape. Erica dropped her basket and ran down the steps. The dog shot off as fast as its little legs could take it. He dove through the hedges and Erika circled the bush only to see him shoot out from the other side toward a loose panel in the fence.

  “No!”

  Stomping by her rose bushes and into the front yard, she crossed over into Dylan’s property. The absence of his pickup in the driveway made her pause. She knew where the dog went and wondered if she should break into the backyard now that the house had an occupant. After a brief battle with her conscience, she threw up her hands and flicked the catch on the side fence. It opened to a bare lawn and she made her way to the back of the house. At the porch, she knelt down and peered underneath. Somewhere beneath the house a stash of her underwear and bras made a nice bed for the mutt. Wet dirt filled her nostrils and she caught a flash of fur in the bowels of darkness. He looked up, her panties dangled in his mouth. She leaned down until her head touched the grass. If she reached in slowly, maybe she could grab it from him…

  “Here, doggy doggy,” she called.

  His head tilted to one side, panty swinging temptingly beyond reach. She shifted closer, then snatched for it. The dog bounced away. Erica punched the ground then sucked in a breath, desperate to remain calm. “Come out here, you panty-snatching little mutt,” she crooned through clenched teeth. “You can have all the underwear you like if you just come here.”

  “Not quite the offer I was expecting,” a familiar, dry tone replied.

  Erica jerked upright and turned to face the witness to her humiliation. Dylan stood by the end of the porch, two tins of paint in his hands. Awkwardly, she dusted off the dirt on her knees and patted her hair. “Oh hi. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m in your backyard.”

  “Not really. I take it you have a dog?”

  She glanced at the cubbyhole the small animal was so fond of. “No. He’s just some stray that likes to camp under your house and seems to have an affinity for my undergarments.”

  Dylan chuckled. “It’s a guy thing.”

  Erica grimaced. “I bet.”

  He gestured to the ground. “You need some help there?”

  Erica stepped back and invited him forward with a wave of her hand. “Be my guest. But he isn’t coming out.”

  Dylan placed his items on the porch deck and dropped to his knees to have a look. “Uhp, there he is. Is that…”<
br />
  Heat seared across her face. “Yes, they’re granny panties!”

  He pushed up on his arms and blinked at her. “I was gonna say I think he’s a Parson Terrier. They’re a playful breed. Probably thinks this is a game.”

  Her heart pounded once and she dropped her face in her hands. “Oh God.”

  “Hey, I’m not judging your choice of underwear.”

  “Kill me,” she mumbled.

  After a heavy silence, she dropped her hands to find him leaning down once more, clearly unaffected by her choice in panties. And with his good looks, what did he care what she had underneath her dress? Dylan whistled to the dog a couple of times then stood. His blue eyes glinted with suppressed amusement. “He is a tricky one. Looks like I’m gonna have to try something else.”

  He started up the steps and Erica’s hands fluttered in protest. “Oh don’t worry about it. I really don’t want to be a hassle.”

  “No hassle. I’ll be right back.” Dylan unlocked the back door and stepped inside, leaving her alone with the dog responsible for her humiliation.

  A moment later he returned with a piece of well-done steak. He tore off pieces and made a trail from the porch. “Nothing speaks to a man like a nice piece of juicy steak.”

  Erica folded her arms and tapped her foot while Dylan waited, crouched beside her. A moment later a white-and-brown head, sans underwear, appeared. Eagerly he ate up the line of steak and hesitated, eying the large chunk in Dylan’s hand. She could see the dog weigh his options to either make a dash or take what the stranger offered him. Hungrily he licked his chops.

  “That’s it,” Dylan murmured. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  As if not to scare the animal, Dylan eased out his free hand, which the dog sniffed, licked, then ignored. Dylan patted the terrier’s side while the dog contemplated the last piece of steak. Hunger won out and he took the offered food. “Good boy.”

  Once the dog finished the meat he sniffed around Dylan and inspected both his hands. “All gone, bud.”