Getting Dirty: A Second Chance Menage Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 1)

by Aubrey Cara

  She’s beautiful.

  Unique.

  Broody.

  Unattainable.

  “Beats me.”

  “You ready to finish watching that movie?”

  We were totally not watching a movie. She takes my hand, and I let her lead me back to the sofa, where I pounce on her, making her giggle. It’s breathless and kind of fake. I normally don’t mind. Tonight, it’s kind of grating.

  We make out, but her lips don’t taste as sweet. Her body doesn’t feel as good under me as it usually does. She’s on her period, so I settle for a blowjob. I should be more enthusiastic about it, but when I come, it’s not as fulfilling as it should be.

  Screw Jace for showing up here and making me think of her. And him. And them together.

  Screw them both.

  7

  J ace

  Chow’s leaving for the night, and it’s already starting to get dark when I pull into the gravel back parking lot. He waves on his way to his restored Indian dirt bike. Kid did the work himself, and I’ve thought more than once about poaching him from the garage to work on bikes with me. I doubt my brother would appreciate that.

  The lights in the main garage are still on when I step through the back door. Front and center is the car that has been taunting me for years. The car of my dreams. A tingle goes up my arm as I trace the contour of the hood, my hand hovering over the surface with the reverence she deserves.

  Fuck, I love this car. I love seeing it in my family’s garage so much I’m busting a bit of a chub just being here with her.

  “Do you two need to be alone?” Jess’s voice breaks my special moment. “I can come back. Try not to get any jizz on the car. I don’t think Maddie would appreciate spooge stains.”

  The mention of Madeline makes my dick twitch for different reasons. “Fuck you.”

  Jess snickers, then he sobers and pushes off from where he’s leaning in the doorframe to the main hallway. “I want to be partners. Wallaces & Sons and Jace’s Custom Bikes,” he says, getting right to the point.

  I guess we’re starting our talk. “That’s not the name of my bike business.”

  Jess waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I don’t care what you call it, I want to be partners. I think we should expand the garage to include your shop.”

  “Are you serious?” We just did a major reno on this place three years ago. The money from Dad’s life insurance had been more than we’d ever anticipated, and we went a little overboard.

  It’s everything Dad had dreamt of doing and then some. I’m only sad he didn’t get to see it. There was room for me to work out of here now, but I didn’t want to rock the boat any more than I already had.

  “I see how busy you’ve been,” Jess says, tucking his hands in his pockets. He shrugs a shoulder. “Your business is growing fast, and you’re going to need your own shop outside of the pole barn. Somewhere clients can come. Maybe hire one or two guys to help. Someone to answer the phone and take orders. Maybe a business manager.”

  My skin gets tight and itchy. I hate thinking about that side of things. “I just want to build bikes, man. I don’t want to complicate shit.”

  “Exactly. That’s why you need me. Have you been keeping track of your earnings?” he asks. “Holding back a percentage for taxes? Inventorying all your expenses?”

  The back of my neck goes hot. He knows damn well I haven’t.

  “I know you hate that shit,” he points out with a smirk, as if reading my mind. “I could help manage that side of things until you get big enough to hire a business manager.”

  That Jess believes in me enough to think my business is going to get big enough to need more help than he could provide is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. My bike business is doing well and I hate to admit it, but it’s growing quicker than I know how to handle. I’ve wanted to talk to Jess about this shit a million times but held back. I still don’t quite believe it.

  “This is really something you want to do?” I ask. “No more guilt about me not playing a bigger role in the garage side? And I’d have full control over my side of things?”

  Jess huffs out a breath. “Man, I never meant to guilt you about shit.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I love the garage the way you love building your bikes. I get that now.”

  “About damn time,” I gripe, not giving an inch.

  “So, what do you say?”

  The dickwad is already smiling. He knows he’s got me. “Yeah, I’m in.”

  I’m suddenly excited about the prospect of working with my brother again. Not being at odds over every damn thing. Truth be told, I’ve missed him.

  He takes out his keys. “I’m going to go get cleaned up. I’ve got plans later, but do you want to grab a quick burger?”

  “Nah. I’m going to The Den. Bernie is bringing in a big screen for the pay-per-view fight, but it’s not starting for another hour. I think I’ll stick around here to check over the GTO one last time. Make sure it’s fixed properly.”

  “I did all the work on that car myself.”

  “Exactly.”

  He shakes his head. “Asshole. Try not to undo any of my work while you’re making out with her. And if you really want to be helpful, check out Gladys Wright’s old Lincoln.” He gestures behind me to the white behemoth. “It’s making a clanking sound. I thought it was the alternator but the guys changed it out and the sound’s still there.”

  I grunt and we shoot each other the bird by way of farewell as he heads out the back door.

  “Jess?”

  Led Zeppelin, Houses of the Holy blasts from the stereo we have set up in the back of the shop, so I don’t immediately recognize Madeline’s voice, but I should have known it was her.

  Just as she comes into view, I straighten from where I’m working over the old Lincoln and grab a rag to wipe my hands off. She stops right in front of the Pontiac, and fuck if they don’t look good together.

  She’s wearing black pants that could be painted on and ankle boots with the kind of heels that make her already long legs go on forever.

  “Oh…Jace.” She sounds surprised. “Is Jess here?”

  “Nope. He went home for the night.” My feet draw me closer to her. Close enough a whiff of the flowery perfume she wears makes my pulse kick up.

  Her brow scrunches. “Really? He said to meet him here.” She glances up at the big old clock on the far wall. “I guess I’m early.”

  And I guess she’s the kind of woman who makes plans with my brother after letting me finger fuck her.

  She shifts on her heels, popping a hip out and crossing her arms over her chest, making her ample tits overflow the open neckline of her loose button-up blouse.

  “It’s good you’re here,” she says in a no-nonsense tone. “We should talk.”

  What is this? The night for talks?

  “Save it, princess. I’m not your secret keeper. If you want to keep fucking around with Jess, you’re going to tell him about us.” With every word out of my mouth, I draw a little closer to the maddening woman, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing her. Pulling her in and wrapping my fist in her hair, bending her head back and—

  “Us?” Her mouth opens and closes before she draws herself up, a flush spreading over her cheeks and chest. “Yes, I agree. Not that there’s an us, but that I should tell Jess about—you know—” She puts up a hand as if to stop herself. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “That’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh, no. Actually, I wanted to discuss my father.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Really?”

  She hesitates. Her arms drop. Her fingers twitch, fist, and release. She turns her face as if to study the Pontiac and runs the pad of a finger along the hood. “You intimated you knew things about my dad. That he wasn’t as aboveboard as everyone thought.”

  Intimated. Now there’s a five-dollar word only Miss Snooty Pants would use. “I didn’t intimate shi
t. I said flat out your father was crooked.”

  She looks down at the GTO. “Because he didn’t give you the car after he lost the poker game?”

  “That’s pretty damn big.”

  “But, is that the only reason?”

  “There’s other shit.” Not that I’m gonna sit around and hash it out with her. Dude is gone. What good would it do?

  She rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. “You know what, never mind. I don’t know why I thought I could talk to you.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She makes a sexy little growl in the back of her throat. I want to hear her make that same sound while I’m balls deep.

  “I know you were telling the truth about the car. The poker game. Everything.”

  “Good job, Nancy Drew. You come to that conclusion on your own or you get help?”

  “Harold Mayhue was there that night. He told me.”

  “Well, congratu-fucking-lations. You found out I was telling the truth. You wanna cookie?”

  “I’m trying to give you the fucking car.” She splays an arm out like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune. “It’s yours!”

  “I don’t want the fucking car.” My heart is racing.

  She scoffs and calls me out. “Yes you do.”

  Of course, I want the fucking car. “You can keep your precious daddy’s car.”

  “Fuck you, Jace.”

  “You read my mind, princess.”

  Her face goes scarlet, but she draws her shoulders back, her mouth pursed. “I’m sorry,” she says evenly.

  “What?” It takes a second for her words to register. I was expecting a scathing retort.

  “I’m sorry for standing you up and...for everything I said the next day. We were friends. You didn’t deserve that.”

  Everything in me bristles. My arms drop, and I crowd her back against the car.

  “Wait.” She puts her hand on my stomach. At her touch, a shock runs down my abdomen and straight to my dick.

  She freezes like she feels it, too. Then she snatches her hand off me, and I snap.

  I twist her around with her arm behind her back and shove her face down over the hood of the GTO.

  “What is it you want from me?”

  “Dammit, asshole. I just wanted to apologize.”

  “Why? Why are you here?”

  “I told you. Jess—”

  “Jess ain’t here, princess. Yet you still are.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “What’re you sorry for? You sorry you want to fuck me when you’re screwing my brother?”

  Little Miss Priss has been straining against my hold, but she stills at my words. “What?” she asks with a wobble in her voice.

  Oh, yeah. I’ve got her number. “Don’t try to deny that shit.”

  “Fuck you, Jace.”

  “What, were you expecting a Hallmark moment? You’d apologize and give me the car and what? What the fuck did you expect from me in return?”

  I work my free hand down the front of her pants while she struggles against me. Her wriggling works to my advantage to get my fingers right over her slit. It’s as hot and silky as I remember.

  “Mmm, baby, you’re already wet for me.”

  Her breath hitches. “Let me go.”

  “You said you were sorry. How sorry are you?”

  “Jace,” she whimpers.

  My dick punches against my fly, wanting out. “Does my brother know how bad you want me to fuck your tight little honeypot?”

  Madeline

  I screw my eyes shut. “No,” I admit. Tears leak out because I’m weak and I hate myself for not wanting to fight this. My throat’s so tight with shame, it’s hard to breathe.

  Jace releases my arm to unzip my pants. He does it quickly and yanks them down over my hips. I lift to help him, wanting whatever he’s about to dish out.

  There’s cool air against my ass, the loud drag of his zipper, the rustle of foil wrapper, then he’s there. Hot, hard flesh prods my slit once then shoves in.

  No fanfare.

  No foreplay.

  And fuck he’s big. I gasp, fisting my hands on the roof of the car at the invasion. I’m wet, but not ready, and the stretch burns. I try to buck back. He winds a hand in my hair, his forearm pressing between my shoulder blades, holding me in place.

  “Condom?” I have the sense to choke out.

  As answer, he forces my hand down between us, sliding my fingers over the rubbery band of the condom at his thick base. Relief spirals through me, then I’m choking for air as he grinds our joint fingers into my clit.

  “I should fuck you raw.” His dark words rasp in my ear. “Would you like that? Nothing between us. All your wet heat lapping against my cock as I fuck your pussy numb, then fill you with every ounce of cum I’ve got in me.”

  “You fucking disgusting grease monkey.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, baby, I can feel just how much you hate me.”

  I thump my forehead down on the cool metal of the car, my core tightening on his length. Why his words turn me on, I don’t know. This is stupid. Irresponsible. Dirty.

  His hand tightens in my hair, stinging points spreading from my skull down my spine. His other hand is going to leave bruises on my hip. He grunts, his big cock bottoming out with every thrust as I let him fuck me.

  As I enjoy getting fucked.

  I’ve wanted him since the moment his angry blue gaze landed on me in his brother’s office. But I also wanted Jess just as much, and Jess was easier. Safer. Jess doesn’t hate me, or he didn’t. He’s going to.

  Jace hits deep, and I almost come. I’m so close. My body tightening. He changes angles, and I groan in frustration.

  He chuckles at my ear. It rumbles through me, dark and evil. “Oh no, princess. You’re not coming this time. This time is for me.”

  I gush on his cock. He told me I can’t come, and I nearly do.

  My brain is warped.

  My body...

  He laughs again, as if he knows his effect on me, and I slam my head back, making solid contact with his face.

  Jace curses. With an angry jerk of my hair, he wrenches my face around and slams his lips over mine. A coppery tang fills my mouth, his busted bottom lip scrapes mine and I lose myself in the savagery of the moment. This is a hate fuck, pure and simple, and I’m loving every second of it.

  The rhythm of his hips speeds and in the next two seconds, his cock expands. Jerks. He groans in pure male satisfaction as he gets his.

  “Are you serious?” I elbow him, pissed he didn’t let me come.

  He grabs my throat, pulling me right up against him. “Temper temper, princess. You’ll get yours. You’re just gonna have to be patient.”

  “I better not get chlamydia from your nasty ass.”

  “My nasty ass is clean. So is my dick. Maybe I should shove it up yours.” He rips my shirt open with a loud rend of fabric, and buttons ping off the car and cement floor.

  “How sensitive are these beauties?” He takes my left breast from the cup of my bra to give my nipple a mean twist that takes my breath. “I could play with these for hours, baby. I’d clamp them so tight you’d be begging to get released.”

  I’ve never worn clamps, but he’s pinching my nipples so hard I can imagine how torturous it would be. He lets go of one breast and starts on the other. Heat snakes down my belly.

  His free hand snags between me and the car and delves between my legs.

  I dance up on my toes as he flicks my clit. My eyes roll back as his fingers work right where I need it. I’m about to shatter; I’m on the cusp, so close…

  He pulls out and smacks my ass.

  “What the hell?”

  His fist is back in my hair creating stinging points over my skull that radiate down my spine and up around to my sore nipples.

  He pulls me away from the car. “Pretty girl, you don’t think it’s going to be that easy, do you? After coming back here? Hooking up with my brother? Playing like everythin
g is fine and dandy between us? You’re going to have to earn it, baby. Hands and knees,” he commands.

  “What?”

  He yanks me toward the floor. “Hand and fucking knees.”

  I don’t know why I sink to the floor in compliance. Jace is a jackass, a pig. I’ve never been treated so roughly in my life. But my body is a live wire, and the electric current thrumming between my thighs is in charge. I’m reveling in getting shoved to the cold, gritty cement.

  A hand presses between my shoulders until my cheeks rest on the floor that smells of motor oil and exhaust. Then he drives his thickness back into me, still just as hard as if he hadn’t come at all.

  “Shit, you love this, don’t you, princess?” A slick digit presses into the tight ring of my anus, and I gasp at the burn. “Ahh, baby. I bet nobody has ever touched this little pucker, have they?” He pulls out slow and thumps in hard and deep.

  I mewl and claw at the ground as he pumps into me.

  “This is how you’re meant to be fucked. Hard on the cold, dirty floor.” He smacks my ass hard. My eyes tear. “Isn’t it?” he demands.

  “No.”

  “You’re gonna deny that shit while soaking my dick? You’re a dirty little slut for my cock, Mads.” He smacks my ass again. “Say it. Say you’re a dirty little slut for my cock.”

  “Fuck you.” My waiting pride demands I spit out the angry retort. But right now, in this moment, I would let Jace do anything, and somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know I shouldn’t. That I’ll regret this.

  He grips my throat, pulling me up and back against his torso. His free hand smacks my clit lightning fast, three times. I scream at the shock of sensation, my core clenching on his big dick.

  I struggle as he fucks me and assaults my pussy with stinging slaps.

  “Say it, baby, and I’ll give you what you want.”

  My vision hazes. My body’s bowed on an electric string.

  “Shit,” I curse. I angle my hips back, and he bites my shoulder.

  “Admit you’re a whore for my cock,” he growls, and I want to do just that.