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

by Aubrey Cara

  “Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “This all for me?” His fingers trail through my wetness and circle my clit. He repeats the motion again and again until I’m trembling then drops a gentle kiss on my nose and steps back.

  I whimper, my body strung tight. I take a step in his direction, and he stays me with a hand.

  “That’s all you get tonight.”

  “What?” His words don’t make sense, not penetrating right away.

  “You teased me, baby. Let me think I was going to get to own your pussy tonight then you fucked my brother. Now, you don’t get to come until I say so.” His voice is deep and soothing, but his words hit me like a slap.

  “And no touching yourself, beautiful. No making yourself come. This pussy—” He cups me again, and my traitorous body reacts instantly, hips swerving toward him. “This pussy belongs to me now.” Jess gives my clit a teasing flick then steps away again. “If you’re good, in the morning I’ll give you more orgasms than you can handle.”

  Then he turns and walks to the door. When Jace doesn’t move to follow, Jess points a finger in his brother’s face. “We need to talk. Now.”

  Jace gives my body one last long heated look that ends with a smirk. My already hard nipples go bead tight. He makes a show of adjusting his erection and winks at me before pushing off the counter and following Jess out the door.

  I’ve dealt with my fair share of arrogant assholes, but these two trump them all.

  I stand in shock longer than I’m proud to admit before stepping back into the spray and begin to wash in a daze of frustration and sexual longing.

  How dare he? No one owns my body but me. I can touch myself if I want. Come when I want.

  But I don’t touch myself.

  Not in the shower.

  Not when I dry off or stand in front of the mirror combing out my hair.

  My eyes are overly bright, my face flushed. I’m aching. My clit is throbbing, my core swollen with pulsing need to be touched, filled. And I do nothing.

  Jace’s room is as grungy as the man. The bedsheets are half off the mattress, clothes overflow the hamper, and there’s a fine layer of dust on every surface. Having left Jess’s cozy flannel in the other bathroom, I root around Jace’s dresser drawers until I find a clean soft T-shirt to put on before I march down the hall to the guest bedroom.

  Hearing the low tone of the guys’ voices, I contemplate going out there. My body is thrumming with unfulfilled need, but I hold back from joining them. I haven’t had nearly enough booze to numb the rush of emotions swamping me.

  They make me feel…they make me feel. Too much. I crave things from them I’ve never wanted before. Sex? Yes, understandable. To have them hold me? Comfort me? No.

  Unacceptable. I don’t understand it, and I need to shore my defenses before I’m fit to be around other people, especially those two.

  The guest room is stale. I’m not sure if anyone has been in here since the nineties, but my stuff is piled in the center of the faded floral bedspread along with the bottle of Jack Daniels.

  I’m not a drown-my-sorrows kind of woman. I’m a cut-my-losses-and-move-on kind of person. Tonight, the losses seem to have piled up and won’t break free. I haven’t felt like I was spiraling out of control like this since I was sixteen and my mother died.

  Seems Clover Creek is destined to be my place of purgatory. Bad things happen; I’m stuck here.

  This time father isn’t around to condemn me with a mixture of scorn and humiliation, but I can sense it from the grave.

  Funny how he’s the epic failure, and I’m still striving to be better than him. What do I have to prove? That I’m good enough to be a Fitzpatrick? Better? Haven’t I proven that?

  Why do I still feel like a failure?

  Because. Because I never heard him say the words. I never heard him say he was proud of me. That I had done well, had bested him, was better than him.

  That I fucking won.

  I didn’t want or need his love, I just wanted him to say it. That he was wrong, and he was…he was sorry.

  And now I’m never going to. If I’m honest with myself I’d admit he never would have given me any of that. Not even a crumb.

  Mayhue seemed to think he wanted to, but that’s bullshit. Nothing was stopping him but himself.

  The only accolades I received from him as a child were a nod and half smile. When I brought home the perfect report card. When I won first place at debate. When I won the Young Equestrian State Championship.

  I was fucking perfect, and his love for me was an obligation he could give or take. He really only cared about my mother.

  And I foolishly strove for his affection and acceptance.

  Being perfect and in control became not only a way of life but who I am. Without that, who the hell am I?

  The daughter of some small-circuit-race-car driver my mother slept with in college? No. Absolutely not. I don’t know much about my bio-dad, and I have no interest in learning more. As much as I hated Edward Fitzpatrick, he was my father. Approving or not. Loving me, or not. He shaped the woman I am...

  A nearly middle-aged drunk woman sobbing in a dusty old room that smells like an attic. That’s who. Thanks, Dad.

  I take another drink, starting to actually feel the glowing buzz of drunkenness.

  Drunk and crying.

  How did this become my life?

  And why am I stuck here, of all places?

  The home of the boy I treated so badly. He only wanted to be my friend and I shit all over him. Pushed him away like I’m pushing his brother away.

  I thought you could use a friend. That’s what Jess had told me today, and I had hated it. Thrown it in his face. I wanted to stomp any warm feelings he may have for me into the ground, just like seventeen-year-old me had done to Jace.

  What is wrong with me?

  Maybe it’s those thoughts that pull me out of bed. Maybe it’s too much whiskey, but I find myself stumbling out into the dark hall. The light over the kitchen stove is a beacon drawing me in all the way to Jess’s open doorway.

  There’s enough light coming through the window to make out his sprawled form in bed. “Maddie?” he asks in a gruff, sleep-heavy voice.

  “I just want to sleep,” I hear myself say.

  “Come on.” He flips the comforter down and pats the bed.

  I climb in, holding the bottle of whiskey to my chest like a cherished teddy bear, but Jess takes it from me and sets it on the side table. Then he settles around me, twining our legs, snaking an arm around my waist to pull me into his body. We practically share a pillow.

  He’s too close.

  Too warm.

  His scent too comforting.

  “Everything’s falling apart.” My voice comes out a choked whisper. “And I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

  His arms tighten around me. His lips press against my hair. “It’s okay, Maddie. I’ve got you.”

  He has me?

  I’m asleep within seconds, and isn’t that fucked up?

  JACE

  The guest room door opens, and the floorboard in the hall squeaks. It’s why we always had to hop out a window when we were sneaking out.

  I’ve been listening to Madeline crying for about an hour now, the sound like taking a knife to the gut over and over. I thought she’d finally cried herself to sleep. I hoped.

  Jess made me promise to leave her alone tonight. Let her lick her wounds if she needed to. Process. She’s stubborn as fuck and has more pride than most men, so I leave her the fuck alone.

  It’s not like I’d know how to comfort a crying woman anyway.

  My breathing goes shallow as light footfalls pad closer to my door. There’s a hesitation, and I wait for my bedroom doorknob to turn, but Madeline keeps moving.

  I debate staying in bed for two-point-two seconds before tossing back the covers and going out to follow Mads across the living room, through the kitchen to Jess’s door. I hover in the hall as she settles into my brother’s bed. He
wraps his arm around her, and she nestles into him.

  And then...nothing. They sleep together, all spooned up like they’ve done this a million times. Like it’s more comfortable to be together than apart.

  It’s the kind of intimacy I have no interest in. Mads is going to beat a path out of here so quick, it’s going to leave my brother in a cloud of dust. He’s getting attached with nobody to blame but himself.

  Doesn’t stop my insides from clenching, a burning knot forming in my chest.

  For a wild second I’d thought she was coming to me. To crawl into my bed. And, god dammit, I wanted her there.

  Jess and I agree that if Madeline stuck around tomorrow, we’d keep it casual with her. She doesn’t want a real relationship. Just sex. Hot, filthy, dirty, sex. It’s all she’s willing to give. It’s what Jess’s is willing to take. And me? I don’t fucking know what I want.

  That’s not true.

  I fucking want Madeline like an addict wants their next fix.

  Sleep doesn’t come. The sun’s barely rising when I head out. Needing to drive, I hop on my bike and hit the road with no particular destination. There’s no better freedom than the rush of wind whipping past me.

  Riding has also cleared my mind, but no matter how fast or how far I go, the pressure in my chest doesn’t ease. I take a turn with reckless speed and wobble, fishtailing in gravel before righting and getting back on the road.

  Goddammit. She’s got me so twisted I nearly wrecked my fucking bike.

  Heart hammering from the adrenaline spike, I still can’t escape the sensation the walls are closing in on me.

  I don’t obsess over women. I don’t get attached. And I’m not about to now.

  Mads is just a warm body who’s more exciting than most to sink my cock into. The fact she’s wormed her way under my skin doesn’t mean shit. All I need is to get her out of my system and out of our house.

  Right.

  Getting her out of my house will likely be easy.

  Getting her out of my system?

  I’m not sure she ever really left.

  Senior Year

  She didn’t show. I waited two fucking hours, playing every single interaction we’ve ever had on repeat in my head. She wouldn’t just stand me up. She wouldn’t. Something had to have happened.

  Despite what everyone says, Madeline isn’t a bitch. If she didn’t show, she has a reason.

  I drove past her house last night—all right, I parked the old Ford pickup I share with my brothers, on the side of the road and crept up to her huge fucking house.

  All the lights had been out, save for one downstairs.

  I would have climbed up to her room, knocked on her window, but I wasn’t sure which one it was. I drove by her place Saturday and Sunday, too, but there were zero signs of life. I’m worried, now. She never gave me her phone number—something about her dad not being cool with guys calling—but she has my number. Why wouldn’t she have called?

  I’ve been hovering by her locker for the past ten minutes, much like I hovered by her house waiting for some sign of her presence.

  Finally, she’s strolling up the hall, the sight of her bleeding most of my irritation away, leaving nothing but concern.

  The second she spots me, she pauses, her features growing even more guarded than usual. She drops her gaze, pulls her backpack strap a little higher on her shoulder.

  “You’re blocking my locker.”

  That’s what she has to say to me?

  I move over so she can open it. “Where were you Friday? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, something came up.” Still no eye contact. She stuffs some books in her locker and takes out her English lit text.

  “That’s it? You don’t call or anything, and now you’re giving me the brush-off?”

  Her pretty winged brows furrow, and she looks up at me with so much scorn, I take an involuntary step back.

  “What did you expect here? That we’d date? Have sex? Or maybe you wanted bragging rights. You can tell your little friends you banged me.”

  “What the actual fuck? I’m not telling anyone I banged you.” Even if we actually had sex. Which we didn’t.

  She rolls her eyes. Shrugs. “I don’t care.”

  “I do.” For some stupid reason, I thought being with Madeline would be different. Special. Not bragging rights. I don’t think I would have even told Jess about it, and I tell him everything.

  “Look, Jace. You’re you. And I’m me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, you’re you and I’m me?”

  “It means you’re small town. A little below average. Maybe you’re going to a state school or maybe you’re just going to work in your father’s garage for the rest of your life.” She tilts her head, staring up at me with condescension. “The second we graduate, I’m out of this shit town. There is nothing and no one here that matters to me. I’m going to an ivy league school. After that I’m going to be make six to seven figures, and I’m going to do it before I’m thirty.”

  She flips her ponytail over her shoulder and purses her lips. “The trust fund I’m getting on my twenty-first birthday will be more than your entire family will make in a lifetime.”

  She points to her chest. “I’m me.” She points to me. “You’re you.”

  “Everyone was right. You are a stuck-up bitch.”

  Her eyes flare, and she slams her locker, but I don’t stick around to hear whatever else she has to say.

  I can’t believe I was so fucking wrong about her.

  My chest aches like a cannonball-sized hole has been blown through it. I wrap it in all the anger thrumming through me.

  Fuck her.

  11

  Life is a moving, breathing thing. We have to be willing to constantly evolve. Perfection is constant transformation. ~Nia Peeples

  M adeline

  Waking up alone, slightly hungover, and slightly sore between my legs in Jess Wallace’s bed is becoming an increasingly familiar activity. Yet again, there’s a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand. This time, there’s no note.

  A curious sensation snakes through me. It feels terribly similar to disappointment.

  Disappointment there’s no sweet note.

  Disappointment the man himself isn’t still in bed.

  I had rough, dirty sex with Jace last night in their garage. While I sucked off Jess.

  The thought blindsides me, and I bury my face in the pillow.

  I take a peek at the bedside clock and groan. That’s why Jess isn’t in bed. It’s nearly noon. Maybe it’s better this way. Sex therapy à la Wallace brothers was a terrible idea, even though just thinking about being trapped between them last night makes me flash hot and cold. They make me feel powerless. They take all my tight-knit control and stomp all over it.

  But then...then they make me feel liberated. And a little sick to my stomach.

  My time with them is kind of like riding a roller coaster. Just as exhilarating but completely throws off my equilibrium. And I’m insane because I want them to do it again.

  I need to get the hell out of here without anyone noticing.

  After I brush my teeth and splash some water on my face, I wander out into the kitchen. “Hello?” Nothing. There’s no sign of the guys, and when I go into the guest room, all the clothes I was wearing last night are gone. All my stuff is gone, including the keys to my rental. I check Jace’s room and bathroom. The panties I washed and hung up so I’d have a clean pair for today are, of course, gone.

  I hear the back door slam and head back that way.

  Jess has come in, and at the sight of him my mouth goes dry. He must have been outside working on something. Even from here, I can make out the sheen of sweat that has his shirt clinging to his chest and abs like a second skin.

  My hormones are on overdrive. Instead of being rationally disgusted I’m so turned on for a moment I forget all about my missing car keys and clothes.

  I forget why I thou
ght sneaking out was a good idea at all.

  “What happened to my clothes?” It comes out a little harsher than I intend, but Jess doesn’t seem to notice. I’ve startled him.

  The way he looks at me makes my heart stop. I know I’m an attractive woman. I’ve never been in want of male attention. Quite the opposite. But no man has ever looked at me with such possessive desire.

  No, that’s not true. Jace looks at me with just as much naked longing, and my reaction is just the same.

  It makes me want things I shouldn’t.

  JESS

  “What happened to my clothes?” Madeline pads into the kitchen as I take a sip of water, and I nearly choke. Jace’s Lenard Skynyrd T-shirt barely covers her ass. It was hard enough leaving bed this morning and letting her sleep in, but now, seeing her in all her glory…

  The white globes of her ass peek out at me as she strolls past the kitchen table. I snatch her wrist before she can get too far and pull her down onto my lap to nuzzle her neck. The fresh-faced sleep-rumpled look on Maddie is sexy as hell. Her breath is a toothpaste/mouthwash minty, but I wouldn’t hold morning breath against her.

  “Do you have a particular set of clothes in mind?”

  “Yes.” She leans away from my lips. “The ones I wore last night? You know, the only pants some psychopath didn’t rip apart.”

  “Oh yeah, those. They’re in the dryer.”

  “You washed my clothes?” she asks with surprise.

  I shrug. “Jace told me most of your stuff got shredded.”

  “Hmm, thank you. And the rest of my things, like my car keys?”

  “Oh, those I hid in case you thought to take off without saying goodbye.” She moves to get up, but I hold her in place and caress up and down her silky thigh. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  She arches a haughty brow. “You’re incredibly high-handed.”

  “Yes. Yes I am.” I nip the hollow of her throat and suck until she relaxes into me. “Can I get you coffee? Eggs?” I ask between nibbles.

  “Mmm.” She tilts her head. “Is this a full-service bed and breakfast?”