Filthy Beautiful
A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2)
Jaine Diamond
Contents
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Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
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Copyright © 2019 Jaine Diamond
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, uploaded or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The publisher and author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks, and word marks mentioned in this book.
Published By DreamWarp Publishing Ltd.
First edition: December 2019
Published in print and electronic formats.
ISBN: 978-1-989273-04-3
ASIN: B07W5Q4MPY
V_1
Cover design: DreamWarp Publishing Ltd.
Jaine Diamond Online
www.jainediamond.com
Author’s Note
This book, Filthy Beautiful (Players #2), is the second novel in the Players series—a rockstar romance series about the members of the rock band “the Players,” and the women and men who love them.
This is a spin-off series from the Dirty rockstar romance series (and the tenth book in this world). Some characters and storylines in this book had their genesis in the Dirty series or in Players #1, and if you want every detail of the crazy-romantic rock ’n’ roll adventure so far, you’ll want to read the Dirty series first.
If you are new to my books and would like to check out the Dirty series, I recommend you start with Dirty Like Me (Dirty #1), OR you can start with Dirty Like Us (Dirty #0.5), which you can get free in both ebook AND audiobook form, by signing up to my mailing list.
I write each book as a standalone, so that it can, well, stand on its own… But I do consider the books in the Dirty series and the Players series “interconnected standalones,” meaning you could pick and choose which ones you read, in any order, but you will definitely get the most out of the series, the individual books and the relationships within if you read the books consecutively.
Reading order so far
The complete Dirty series:
Dirty Like Me (Dirty #1)
Dirty Like Us (Dirty #0.5) - Free
Dirty Like Brody (Dirty #2)
A Dirty Wedding Night (Dirty #2.5)
Dirty Like Seth (Dirty #3)
Dirty Like Dylan (Dirty #4)
Dirty Like Jude (Dirty #5)
Dirty Like Zane (Dirty #6)
The Players series:
Hot Mess (Players #1)
Filthy Beautiful (Players #2)
With love from beautiful Vancouver (the home of Dirty and the Players!),
Jaine
Prologue
Xander
It was official. I was having the worst fucking sex of my life.
I was a firm believer that sex was never bad. I’d held that opinion ever since I’d had sex for the first time at seventeen. Yeah, I was a late bloomer.
But I’d made up for lost time.
I was a rock star, after all.
And now, right fucking now, after all these years…
Bad. Sex.
It wasn’t her fault, exactly. She was a stripper, and she knew what she was doing. At least, I was pretty sure she did. I’d fucked her once before, long ago.
But tonight? She’d looked better at the club, from a distance, doing her thing onstage. Not that she looked bad, exactly… just… wrong.
I had her on her knees on the bed as I drilled her from behind. Her ass was in the air, spread wide. And judging by her cries for more, she was loving it. She kept calling me Daddy. More, Daddy! Shit like that.
And fuck, I hated it when she called me Daddy in that raspy smoker’s voice. I was thirty years old, and she couldn’t have been much younger. Just because I tipped her at the club didn’t mean I wanted to be her fucking Daddy.
I pushed her deeper into the pillow and she giggled. She was pretty, maybe, but who could really tell with all the makeup? I really didn’t give a shit about her face.
Or remember what it looked like...
Could’ve blamed that on the gin. If I was actually drunk.
Had I really been that desperate when I picked her up tonight?
Yeah. Fucking maybe.
She was Asian, Chinese, maybe, and the blonde highlights in her hair looked brassy, fake. Her skin was nice, kinda tan-looking in the dark.
Her shoulders were too square. Maybe that was it…
Her shoulders weren’t right.
She had a tattoo on her lower back, a gaudy tramp stamp. A butterfly or some shit. I couldn’t even look at it.
“Yeah, Daddy…” she moaned. “Give it to me good…”
I fucked her harder, my hand sliding up the back of her neck, under her hair, and holding her down. She seemed to like that, moaning into the pillow.
No matter how hard I fucked her, though… I couldn’t get anywhere close to coming. The moment I’d started fucking her, I got all weirdly disconnected from my own dick. Couldn’t even seem to focus through all the shit in my head.
All the shit from tonight.
I could barely focus on the chick beneath me, even when I looked. I tried to shut out her voice and just concentrate on the sensations… her soft body under mine. Her pussy squeezing my dick every time I rammed in…
But nothing was right. She didn’t feel right on my dick. She definitely didn’t sound right.
She didn’t smell right.
Fuck me…
Your dick is up a tight, willing pussy.
Fucking focus.
I kept ramming into her, and she kept ramping up the appreciative whimpers and moans and all the dirty talk.
But I could not fucking come.
I was hard, but it was like my dick was just going through the motions, waiting on this to be over.
I slowed my pace, trying to catch my breath. I was running out of breath, killing myself trying to come.<
br />
It just wasn’t happening.
I’d already made her come, like five minutes ago.
Was she as bored with this as I was?
Maybe I should’ve just ended it…?
How?
Fake a fucking orgasm?
Now there was a thought I’d never had during sex. Was it even possible for a dude to fake an orgasm?
Had any guy in history actually tried?
I grabbed her hip and held her still, my other hand on her neck, fucking her faster, hitting it at a different angle.
“Ohhh, Daddy, yeah, like that…”
Jesus Christ, would she not shut up?
Give me the best you’ve got.
I froze.
I heard the voice in my head… That other voice. So soft. And I went stone still, even as my breath rasped and my heart slammed in my chest.
Her voice.
Her face… Her eyes… They blurred through my brain in a swirl of soft color. Disorienting.
My stomach turned.
I almost doubled over, but I couldn’t move. It was like a wave of vertigo had kicked me in the balls and left me paralyzed.
“What’s wrong?” the chick beneath me moaned. “Don’t stop…”
I fucking growled.
Frustration.
Pure. Agonizing. Need.
Shit…
It’s happening again.
My balls were suddenly so fucking blue it made my teeth hurt.
I snapped out of it and shoved my hand down between her legs. I rubbed her clit, double-time, as I pounded into her. She squealed and purred and made all kinds of slutty, whiny noises, hitting every note in the porn star playbook. But her orgasm was real. She definitely came. Her legs got all weak and shaky afterward and she collapsed beneath me.
Me?
Nothing.
I pulled out and peeled off the condom, grabbing some tissues to wrap it up and toss it aside.
“Where you going…?” she panted.
Christ, didn’t she get what she wanted?
I collapsed in the big armchair at the foot of the bed, still trying to catch my breath. I was fucking sweating and my dick was still half-hard.
My balls fucking hurt.
I dropped my head on the back of the chair and went limp, my knees falling open. She seemed to take that as an invitation and crawled across the bed toward me. She got down on the floor, knelt between my legs, and swallowed my dick.
I saw her face then. Met her eyes. They were dark brown, and she winked at me with my dick in her mouth.
And all of it was so fucking wrong.
But I didn’t stop her.
What the hell was her name again?
Tawny.
Her name was fucking Tawny.
I tried to relax, but my head was still reeling. Her mouth felt good, but it didn’t matter. It was clear to me by now.
I was never gonna come.
I felt kinda sick, dizzy in the wake of that fucking vertigo thing. Some twisted adrenalin dump.
Same as it felt in my car earlier tonight… when I dropped Courteney off at home.
Is that all you’ve got?
I could still see her honey colored eyes, locked on mine.
Challenging me.
I swallowed.
My phone buzzed. I looked over at it, on the table next to me.
Then I picked it up—right in the middle of getting blown.
Tawny saw it and stopped blowing me. “Uh… you’re not into this?”
“I’m into it,” I said. “Do you mind if I make a video…?”
Nice save.
“Mmmmm,” she purred. “Great idea…” Then she went to town on me, putting on a show. Unfortunately, I wasn’t watching. I held the phone in front of me, pretending to film her… but instead, I swiped open the text message.
Cary: Someone here with you?
Shit. I didn’t tell him I was bringing someone here. Figured it was so late, he’d be sleeping.
I texted him back, quick.
Me: Just a chick. I’ll get rid of her.
I glanced down at the head bobbing in my lap and fucking sighed.
What the fuck to do now?
My dick was in her mouth. Faking an orgasm was out of the question.
Kick her out?
Let her finish…?
If I could fucking finish…
I shifted my hips. If I stopped her in the middle of this, my balls might never recover. She was really fucking working it, too. So I tried to sink into it. Focus on the highlights. Like… her body. I could see her in the mirror on the wall. She was tight. Fit. She had big tits…
Those weird ripples on the sides when they bounced, from the implants.
Fake nails.
False eyelashes…
Everything about her was fucking false. Even her name.
I glanced at my phone, still in my hand. I swiped my thumb across the screen—navigating somewhere before I even thought about what I was seeking. Not porn; that would be too civilized.
I opened the text conversation with Courteney.
The last time we’d texted each other was like two months ago—about Cary.
My attention snagged on her tiny little profile photo. She was wearing a baggie hoodie, a giant smile on her face.
When the fuck did she ever smile like that? Not when I was around.
Definitely wasn’t smiling tonight, in my car.
Within half an hour of dropping her off, I’d found myself at Misty’s, picking a stripper out of the night’s lineup. Minutes later, Tawny and I were in my car, headed back here. Because if I didn’t get my dick into someone, I really didn’t know what else might do…
Like maybe go back to Courteney’s house—her parents’ house—in the middle of the fucking night.
But why?
To apologize for what went down between us?
I wasn’t about to apologize. I’d said everything I needed to say to her in my car.
And I really didn’t need to hear any more of that dirty shit coming out of her mouth.
I can handle you.
Bring it on…
“Yeah, Daddy. Mmmmm, that’s goood…”
The chick between my legs was suddenly all encouragement. Maybe because my dick had perked right the fuck up. I was rigid, and when she sucked me deep, I glanced at Courteney’s face again—that fucking smile of hers—and my brain exploded.
My balls exploded.
Kinda felt like my heart blew out of my chest. I groaned as the orgasm rocked through me.
Fuck. Me.
I collapsed on the chair, fucking panting. My sex life was good, but Christ…
When was the last time I came like that?
“Mmm, I knew you could do it,” Tawny purred, licking her lips. Then she winked at me again.
Fucking strippers. You’d think this one was campaigning for an Oscar or something.
I pushed her off, gently; told her she had to leave, pretty much immediately. I mean, I let her get dressed first. Mostly.
She smiled at me as she put on her bra. “In a hurry, aren’t we?”
“My, uh, roommate doesn’t like overnighters.”
She glanced out the bedroom door into the living room. We were in a one-bedroom guesthouse. “Roommate?”
“Up in the house,” I said vaguely, pulling on my sweats.
“Sure, hon. Whatever you say.”
I walked her out through the dark backyard, around the pool, and up the path that wound around the side of the giant house, through the trees. I didn’t mention Cary’s name; I’d never tell this chick who lived here.
She followed me up the long driveway to the gate, and to her credit, she didn’t ask any more questions. By the time we got out to the street, her cab was rolling up.
As I put her in the car, she said, “Send me that video?”
“Sure,” I said. Then I watched to make sure the cab was gone before I walked back to the gate and locked it behind me.
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Of course, there was no video. Just a fucking tiny thumbnail photo of Courteney Clarke in a hoodie.
And me, losing my fucking mind over this bullshit again.
Always, this fucking shit with her.
I made my way back around the house in the dark, wondering where the fuck this night went so wrong. Because somewhere along the way, it had gone very fucking wrong.
One minute you’re having a perfectly civil night with friends at a bar… the next you’re saying incredibly fucking inappropriate shit to your best friend’s little sister in your car… and the next, you’re having the worst sex of your life with a stripper, followed by the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in recent memory.
But it wasn’t the stripper who got me off. Definitely wasn’t her I was thinking about when I blew like that.
It was that other shit.
Shit that should not be getting me off…
Arguing with Courteney Clarke in my car, in her parents’ driveway. And that look in her eyes.
Why the fuck did she have to go looking at me like that?
Filthy Beautiful: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2) Page 1