He drifted closer, stopping right in front of me. He put his hand lightly on my cheek, his fingertips just cupping me, his thumb drifting over my mouth.
“Fuck, you’re pretty, Amber,” he murmured.
Then he started kissing me. He leaned in and put his mouth on my neck, and my knees quivered. He kissed his way down my throat, and down between my breasts. Then he skimmed a thumb over one nipple, which was already achingly hard, and teased it with his tongue. Just a soft flutter, and I arched my back, giving it to him, strung taught like a bow.
He closed his mouth over my nipple and sucked, lowering himself to his knees. He teased my nipples with his soft kisses, with gentle flicks of his thumbs, as I gasped and shifted, restless on my feet, my fingers digging into his soft, wild hair. Needing more… but he was going so fucking slow.
Then he moved me back, inch by inch, until the backs of my knees hit the couch, and he pushed me back onto it. He started kissing his way down my stomach… slowly.
“Aren’t you getting undressed…?” I asked, my voice a shuddery whisper as he went down on me.
Slowly.
He ate me out like he’d never seen me naked before, like I was new to him. Like he’d been dreaming about eating me out all his fucking life.
He held me down with his big, warm hands pressing my thighs apart. And he took his time. Exploring. Kissing and sucking. Flickering teasingly with his tongue as his jaw stubble scraped softly against my thighs. Latching onto my clit with his warm lips until I almost had to push him away.
“I don’t want to come yet,” I gasped, sitting up. “Please… take off your clothes.”
At that, he grinned at me. He sat up, pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor. I watched how he moved, so fucking beautiful, his muscled shoulders working as he stripped off his jeans. His briefs went next, and when he was naked, he kneeled before me again and slipped his arms around my back. He gathered me in, yanking me toward him so my ass was on the very edge of the couch.
He held me there, pressing his hips between my thighs… but his cock was just out of reach.
And I was overwhelmed. By him.
I was always overwhelmed by him.
In a really fucking good way…
The strength of his arms around me. The heat off his skin. His amazing smell, like citrus and man-soap… and naked flesh.
The gentle insistence of his fingers as they slid down to play with my clit.
The softness of his hair as he lowered his head to suck my nipple into his mouth. He rolled it in his teeth until my head fell back and I cried out.
“Please. You have to fuck me right now. I need to feel you inside me when I come…”
I didn’t have to tell him twice. He released my nipple and pulled me toward him, sealing his mouth over mine, delving his tongue in, deep… At the same time, he lined up the head of his cock with my pussy and shoved into me with a groan.
And fuck, he was big.
Not just long, but broad. He stretched me to my limits and maybe a bit beyond as he sank into me, as he pressed in as far as he could get. It wasn’t exactly painful. That full, stretched feeling, as long as I was slippery-wet—which I always was when Dylan fucked me—was mind-blowing. I couldn’t think. I could only feel.
Could only feel him as he started to move.
“I’m gonna fuck you slow, Amber…” he told me, leaving hungry, sucking kisses on my throat. “Until you come. And then I’m gonna do it again…”
Oh, God… It really wasn’t gonna take long.
It never did.
Usually, Ashley could fuck me longer. But Dylan usually fucked me first. I had no idea if it was an arrangement they’d made beforehand, or if it was just how they both preferred it. But it was almost always Dylan’s cock that filled me first, drove me to orgasm first.
And it was different than when Ashley fucked me.
Dylan had more mass. He had more muscle bulk on his body, and he felt different between my legs as he pounded into me.
It also felt different in other ways.
The truth was, Dylan just turned my head on in ways that had me primed for orgasm before he’d even touched me.
Dylan turned my heart on.
Ashley didn’t do that to me.
Ashley was harder. He fucked harder, in general, but his body also felt harder between my legs. And sometimes I could feel his piercing, hitting me in unexpected ways, in ways a man’s cock had never done before.
If I’d never had Dylan, sex with Ashley would easily have been the hottest sex I’d ever had.
But I did have Dylan.
I had him right now.
Alone.
And I wanted to enjoy it—like all fucking day.
But every time I opened my eyes and actually looked at him, at his beautiful face, tensed with lust… or let my hands drift over his skin, the heavily-muscled curves of him… or let myself actually focus on what he was doing, his strong body drilling between my legs, his big cock filling me as he kissed me everywhere he could find skin to kiss… as he pushed me back and held me down against the couch, his hands on my wrists… I knew I was going to come—too soon.
Fuck…
He rolled his hips and started stroking in and out a little harder, teasing me as he skimmed his lips over my breast, his breath tickling me… and I totally lost control.
My pussy squeezed around him, my thighs tightening on his hips, and the explosion gripped me… a current of pleasure radiating out from my pussy and up my spine, hitting me in the head with a smack of bliss.
Then I actually came.
My pussy convulsed and I screamed. My body spasmed beneath him.
I saw his face above me, dimly, his eyes on mine, and heard his groan of pleasure. “Fuck… so sexy…” he murmured, as he watched me roll in bliss. My head rolled around on the couch cushion. My pussy fluttered around him as he kept fucking me.
I was lost in bliss.
All I knew was Dylan fucking me… and I never wanted it to stop.
Eventually, he slowed, than stopped his thrusts. But he was still hard, still buried inside me. He was looking down at me, one hand drifting down over my throat, smoothing away the hair that had stuck to my sweat.
When I could speak again, I panted, “That was… the longest orgasm… I’ve ever had…”
And his eyes sparked with golden flame. “Let’s give you another one,” he said.
I was limp, destroyed, but his body was still tense between my legs; he hadn’t come yet, and he started fucking me again, merciless, driving me back up toward that delicious peak, despite my feeble—and quickly abandoned—protests.
“Come, Amber,” he commanded me softly, still watching me. “Yeah… like that…”
And this time, when I came, he sped up his thrusts and drove into me hard, over and again, as I screamed. He groaned and buried his face in my neck, and I felt his cock stiffen, jerking inside me as he joined me, flooding me with his warmth.
I heard him say my name as he dragged his teeth lightly over my skin.
Amber…
He stayed like that, buried inside me, for a long time, as we both lay here, shuddering and panting, gradually floating back down to Earth.
And I felt it.
I felt it.
I wondered, was he feeling it, too?
He was the one who’d removed the camera. Made me come out from behind the lens. He’d had sex with me, alone, without Ashley. Without even mentioning Ashley. And for the first time, I lay here in the aftermath feeling naked and exposed, confronted with my feelings for Dylan Cope.
The feelings I’d been so afraid to face.
I’d had sex with Ashley alone. More than once.
It never felt like this.
Maybe I’d been afraid that whatever was between the two of us—Dylan and I—wasn’t actually real or of any substance. That it was just a kink. Just sex. That he needed Ashley in the room with us.
But when we were alone, w
ithout Ashley… it was very, very real.
Scary real.
If I thought sex with both of them was hot… sex alone with Dylan was off the charts. Not just because he was beautiful and sexy and had a huge cock. Not just because he knew how to fuck. Not just because he knew what to do with his strong hands and his gorgeous mouth and his green-gold eyes to make me melt in bliss.
Because my heart was all wrapped up in him.
I had big, beautiful feelings for this man.
Scary feelings.
And scariest of all… I felt like I could actually depend on him. Trust him. Like when he pushed himself up on shaky arms and looked down at me with those gorgeous eyes of his, I could ask Dylan Cope to do pretty much anything… and he might just do it for me.
Like I might actually be able to count on him to do something that was an incredibly foreign concept in my mind…
Stay.
“Isn’t this civilized,” Liv remarked as she sat down across from me at the vegetarian restaurant where I’d asked her to meet me for dinner.
“I know. Family meals. When have we ever had these?”
“We would. If you were ever in town.”
“Here I am.”
Liv just raised an eyebrow and picked up her menu. She perused it, or pretended to, then asked, “So when do you leave?”
“What?”
A waiter appeared at the table, and my sister said, “I’ll have the butternut squash ravioli, a cup of soup and a martini, Bombay if you have it.” Then she looked at me. “And she’ll have…”
“A house salad.”
“And a martini for her, too,” Liv said. “And get an entree,” she prodded me. “I’m paying.”
I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. “I want the salad. They have a kickass dressing.”
Liv frowned and handed off our menus to the waiter, who gave me a sympathetic smile. Maybe he had an annoying big sister, too.
“And extra olives in the martini, please,” I added, just before he vanished.
“So,” Liv said, “I’m assuming we’re here so you can announce your latest airline ticket purchase and globetrotting plans.”
I just looked at my sister for a long moment, searching her hazel eyes. Then I asked her, “Why don’t you like it when I go away? It’s not like we hang out all the time when I’m here.”
“I never said I didn’t like it.”
“The disapproval is dripping off of you. But I’m happy when I travel. I love traveling, and I love the work I do while I’m traveling.”
“I know you do.”
“So?”
“So…” She hesitated, then sighed. “Every time you come back, you’re just a little less of the Amber I used to know.” Her voice had softened, and I glimpsed something in her eyes. Sadness?
It kind of stunned me.
“What?”
“You change, Amber. Every time you go out there on your own, you come back more… alone. You get more prickly and jaded and more stuck in your ways. And that chip on your shoulder just gets bigger.”
“It does?”
“And I get more and more worried about you.”
I blinked at her. “You’re worried about me?”
“Yes. I’m worried that you’re giving up on the idea of ever not being alone.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Was she right?
After an uncomfortable silence, the waiter returned with our drinks. Liv raised her martini in reluctant toast, sighing again. “Wherever you go this time, I just hope you have fun.”
I touched my glass to hers and sipped. “Me too.” It was tough to swallow around the lump forming in my throat. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask her what I wanted to ask her. And it had nothing to do with leaving.
“You’re twenty-seven,” she went on, “and you should be partying and falling in love, not wandering from hostel to hostel, alone.”
I set my drink down. My heart was beating too hard and my palms were starting to sweat; I was afraid I’d drop the glass. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She stared at me, like what I’d said didn’t compute at all. “Say that again?”
“I’m not going anywhere. That’s not why I asked you to meet me today. I just thought we should have dinner. You know, we’re sisters. And I’m here right now.” I looked away, unable to take that shocked look on her face anymore. “Did you know that Dylan has regular family dinners at his mom’s place? Like all the time, when he’s home from the road. And sometimes, his family even goes to visit him on tour…”
When I glanced at Liv, her eyes had narrowed at me.
“Dylan?” she asked. “As in Dylan Cope?”
As if there were any other Dylan in our lives.
“I went to see Mom,” I told her. “A few days ago.”
Liv’s back straightened; she seemed annoyed by the topic change, but she let it slide. Barely. Her eyes narrowed even more and she asked, “And how did she seem?” like she already knew the answer. Because of course, she did.
“She seemed exactly the same. It’s like a fucking time warp over there. Nothing ever changes.”
“She’s too old to change, maybe.”
“No one’s too old to change, Liv. Growth is always possible, as long as we’re alive.”
She sipped her martini, eying me the entire time, then set the drink down on the table. “What are we talking about here? I’m lost.”
“I think I need some big sister guidance.”
If I thought she looked shocked before, that was nothing. “You do?”
“Yeah.”
I searched for the right words. I knew Liv would understand my fears without me having to explain them to her. She grew up in the same house I did, and she’d always tried to protect me from the things I’d had to see there. But I didn’t want to talk about my fears. For the first time, I wanted to talk to her about getting past them.
So I asked her, “How do I stay in one place for a while and just trust that it’s going to be okay no matter what happens? Like how did you do that with Laura, when there was such a risk?”
“A risk of what?”
“Well… she was straight, before you. You took a risk with her, that she’d stay.”
“She wasn’t straight, Amber. It’s not like she magically transformed into a lesbian because she hooked up with me. More like she figured out who and what she really was. And if you’re seriously considering staying in one place for a while to see how a relationship with someone you care about might pan out, maybe you’ll figure that out, too.”
“Maybe.”
“‘Growth is always possible, as long as we’re alive,’ right?” she said, quoting me.
“Right.”
“Isn’t that what you’re looking for when you’re out there, anyway? With your camera? Who and what you really are…?”
“Maybe I’m avoiding looking for it.”
Liv sat back in her chair and stared at me some more. “Well, damn, Amber Paige. You are figuring some shit out, aren’t you?”
I fucking hope so.
On that note, I went for it.
“Do you think… Is it possible to like cock and pussy in equal amounts?”
Liv stared at me. Then one eyebrow slowly raised above her glasses.
A male throat cleared and the waiter, who was very obviously gay, leaned in to place Liv’s soup in front of her. Before he withdrew, he told me, “I’m thinking the answer to that is a no. Kind of an apples-and-oranges situation, hon.”
I smiled awkwardly and waited for him to depart. My stomach had kinda fallen at his words, but he was a stranger. I needed to hear from my big sister on this.
When he was gone, I looked at Liv. She wasn’t touching her soup; she was still staring at me.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “Those two are doing a fucking number on you, aren’t they.”
“It’s just… it’s Ashley,” I confessed. “You can’t say anything to anyone, okay? This is pri
vate stuff. But I think he’s in love with Dylan.”
“Uh-huh.” If Liv was surprised by that, she didn’t show it. She didn’t show a thing; no judgment, none of her trademark dry humor. “And the only reason that would bother you is if you’re in love with Ashley. Is that it?”
“Not Ashley,” I said. And I watched how her face changed.
I watched as she started to get it. To realize what it would mean if I was in love with either Ashley or Dylan—and not the other. How many hearts stood to break here.
Mine included, very possibly.
“You’re in love with Dylan Cope,” she said, sounding kinda defeated about it. Like she already knew this was a battle she couldn’t possibly win, so she was laying down her sword in advance. “The man you swore, just a few weeks ago, you didn’t even have a crush on.”
“I mean, at what point do you know you’re in love?”
“You know.”
I picked at the olives in my drink, stabbing them with the little toothpick they’d come on, unable to look her in the eye. “I know,” I agreed. “I’m falling for him. I know I am. I want to love him. I don’t even care if I get hurt anymore.”
“I do,” my sister said.
And the tears hit me; I sniffed and held them back as my throat constricted and my chest started to tighten.
“Have you forgotten about Johnny?” Liv asked, like she couldn’t resist making one quick jab, just to make sure I hadn’t totally lost my ever-loving mind.
“You’re the one who told me that Dylan is nothing like Johnny,” I reminded her calmly, still not looking at her.
She sighed, and I decided not to be mad at her for giving me a hard time. I knew she loved me. She really didn’t want me to be hurt.
“And what about Ash?” she asked. “You’re sure you’re not in love with him, too?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
The truth was, I didn’t even want to fathom it. Because I cared about Ashley, a lot. That much I knew, for sure.
“No, Amber,” my sister said. She put her hand on my wrist and squeezed, until I looked up into her eyes. “You know.”
Dirty Like Dylan: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 4) Page 32