Dirty Girl

by Rory Reynolds

  DIRTY GIRL

  RORY REYNOLDS

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Rory Reyonlds

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Rory Reynolds. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email authorroryreynolds@gmail.com.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  for the romance lovers who like it dirty…

  Prologue

  Three Years Ago

  Jenson

  The house is completely dark when the cab drops me off. I let out a sigh of relief knowing that I’ve bought at least a few hours before I’ll be forced to socialize. This is the first time I’ve been home since I left for college two years ago. If it weren’t for my parents twenty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration being this weekend, I wouldn’t be here now.

  Originally, the plan was to get my bachelors at Columbia and then come home to work with my father while I finished out my master’s degree at Stanford, but that’s impossible now. The temptation is too much. I can’t be here. Not yet.

  I’ve avoided coming home at all costs. School holidays have been spent travelling with friends. Because I’m in an accelerated program, I’m taking summer classes—completing my business degree in three years instead of four.

  My new plan is getting an internship after graduation and working while I pursue my masters at Columbia. Of course, my dad was disappointed, but mom was so proud that her joy overshadowed any of his objections.

  Beyond that, my only plan revolves around claiming my girl once and for all. Staying away has been torture, but being close to her and not being able to have her is worse.

  My little sister’s best friend… the girl I crave like my next breath. She’s the reason I graduated high school a year early. Why I went across the country to attend Columbia University instead of staying close to home and going to my father’s alma mater. She’s the star of my every fantasy and keeper of my heart, yet she doesn’t even know.

  She can’t know.

  Ever since my sister, Jackie, befriended Dylan, I’ve had an uncontrollable need to protect her. She’s pure and innocent, walking around thinking the very best of everyone around her. Even the bullies who picked on her at school, couldn’t smash that candy-coated innocence.

  My sister is larger than life. She’s been that way since she came screaming into our family. I’ll admit, my five-year-old self hated the crying bundle. As soon as she could crawl, she started following me around everywhere and I finally felt that brotherly surge of protectiveness my dad told me about. When Dylan came into the picture that protectiveness naturally encompassed her.

  I’m not sure when things started to change, but my feelings for Dylan morphed into something I didn’t quite understand. As she grew up, blossoming into a young woman, I began to get jealous of the boys hanging around her. It wasn’t just wanting to kick their asses if they hurt her—it was wanting to kick their asses for even thinking about looking at her.

  Not that she noticed them looking, with her cute little nose always stuck in a book.

  How her and Jackie remain such close friends I’ll never know. They are the epitome of opposites attracting. Over-the-top, outgoing Jackie being best friends with the shyest, most soft-spoken girl in school is laughable, but somehow they fit. Dylan grounds Jackie and Jackie pushes Dylan out of her shell. They’re good for each other.

  The house is blessedly silent when I walk in the front door, but I still find myself holding my breath as I head toward my bedroom. I say a small prayer of thanks when I get to the door without incident. I want nothing more than to hide myself away. It was a long as hell flight with an unscheduled layover in Chicago due to engine troubles. I’m ready to collapse in bed and sleep until lunch.

  The door quietly snicks shut and I rest my head on the cool wood heaving out a sigh of relief. I drop my bag to the floor and relax for the first time since I got the call to come home. My dad let me know in no uncertain terms that it was unacceptable to miss the party. That mom would be crushed and he wouldn’t tolerate it. So here I am—home.

  I flick on the light, and come up short when laying in my bed is the very reason why I snuck through the house like a thief in the night.

  Taking her in, I allow myself this one moment to admire the woman she’s growing into—even if it is wrong. I should turn on my heels and leave. I shouldn’t be looking at her the way I am. She’s still too young, but I give in to temptation anyway.

  Curled on her side with her hands tucked under her face, Dylan’s long lashes rest against her cheeks. Her pert nose is both delicate and strong. Her lips a perfect cupid’s bow. She radiates innocence—so soft and trusting. That innocent look stops with her perfect heart-shaped face though.

  With her knees curled up close to her body, the tiny little boy cut panties she’s wearing are tight around her curvy ass. Her cheeks peek out underneath the cotton and lace. What’s really killing me though, is the tight pink tank top stretched across her tiny breasts showcasing her nipples. The very nipples I long to worship with my mouth.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I have my cell phone in hand, snapping a picture of the vision in front of me—something to torture myself once I’m gone again. I know I should go crash in one of the many guest rooms, but I can’t make myself leave. Not with my girl sleeping so prettily in my bed. I would give anything to crawl in bed with her, but instead I settle into the chair on the opposite side of the room. I can’t have her, but I can still give myself this moment where I sit and watch over her as she sleeps. It’s wrong and a little creepy, but I can’t help myself. I’m in love with her.

  It took me a long time to figure out she was the one, but once I did it was like my whole world clicked into place. I tried to date other girls in high school—girls my age—but they couldn’t keep my attention. My ex, Emily, has proven time and again that dating is a bad choice. She tried to seduce me for months, but I repeatedly pushed her away. One too many drinks at a party and I finally gave in and slept with her. It’s a lame excuse and a bad choice that I will regret for the rest of my life. I should have saved myself for Dylan and I hope that she’ll save herself for me. I know that’s ridiculous. She has no clue how I feel about her, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping that I’ll be the only one to have her when the time comes.

  I’m not sure how long I watch Dylan before I fall asleep, but eventually the long night wears on me and I dose off. The sun is shining brightly through the window when I’m roused from sleep by Dylan’s soft gasp. My eyes pop open and instantly land on her. She’s still laying in the bed, eyes closed, but she’s now on her back. Her legs are parted and her hand is buried in her panties.

 
; Holy fucking shit.

  Dylan’s other hand cups her small breast and she squeezes gently. Her hand works beneath her panties, her delicate fingers rubbing slow circles. My cock is hard as a rock behind my zipper and my heart is a frozen lump of muscle in my chest. My lungs burn from the need to breathe, but I’m terrified of what will happen if I do. Like maybe she’ll stop and this dream will be over. Or that she won’t stop and I’ll lose control and take something that can’t be mine—yet.

  When she gasps and my name whispers from her lips like a prayer, I’m lost. I groan as if my name on her lips was a physical blow to my body. Her eyes fly open and she pulls her hand from her panties like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. If I weren’t having to use every ounce of my self-control to keep my ass in this chair, I would have laughed at the analogy, but as it is I’m barely holding onto my restraint.

  “Oh my God,” Dylan whimpers as she takes me in. Her cheeks turn bright red in embarrassment and she buries her face in her hands. She’s mumbling to herself and even though I can’t make out what she’s saying, I’m getting agitated by how upset she is. My girl should never feel embarrassed by her sexuality—especially when it’s me that’s fueling her desires.

  If I were a lesser man, I’d be strutting around the room like the cock of the walk knowing that sweet little Dylan Thomas touches her virgin pussy while thinking about me. But I’m not a lesser man. I’m the man who moved across the country to give her a chance to grow up before making my intentions known. I’m the man who will give her the whole world on a silver platter when the time is right. I’m the man who will love her from afar because it’s the right thing to do.

  I rise from the chair, careful to make noise so she knows I’m crossing the room to her. I gently set my hand on her shoulder and wince when she flinches away from my touch. I school my expression before she looks up at me and hold my hands up in surrender. “It’s okay, Dylan…”

  “No. Oh God, please don’t… don’t say another word.” She stumbles over her words and it’s a fight to not smile at how adorable she is when embarrassed. “I… I should go.”

  She jumps out of the bed so quickly she stumbles. I catch her before she falls flat on her face. She pulls away from my hands like my touch burns her and practically runs for the door. She turns to look at me one last time before fleeing down the hall.

  Dylan

  I bang my head against the closed bathroom door. Did I just get caught masturbating in Jenson’s bed—moaning Jenson’s name—by Jenson himself? How the hell did I let myself fall asleep in his bed? It’s all Jackie’s fault. Last night, I was lonely after she snuck out to meet a boy.

  Not that I need an excuse to want to be in Jenson’s space—I end up in his room almost every time I stay here. I’m like a moth to flame when it comes to him. It’s been that way since the first time I laid eyes on him.

  I was ten years old and had just moved to California. The move was hard for me. I’m painfully shy and don’t make friends easily. Not to mention the fact that I don’t do well in new situations. I’m incredibly awkward. I attracted the attention of the mean girls right away and they encouraged the rest of the popular crowd to torment me. It was hell.

  I’ll never forget the day I met Jackie. I’d been at school for two weeks and every day seemed worse than the last. Adam Swartz was throwing rocks at me while I sat under a tree reading at recess. I ignored him because if there was one thing I had learned, standing up to him and the others only made matters that much worse. When I ignored them, they eventually got tired of not getting a reaction and left me alone.

  I had just turned the page of my book when it was snatched out of my hands and tossed into a mud puddle. I’d love to say that it was the final straw and I punched stupid Adam Swartz in the mouth, but I didn’t. Though, I didn’t get the chance to react because a little dark haired firecracker jumped between us and shoved Adam right into the mud puddle he had tossed my book into.

  She looked down her nose at him and snarled like an animal. I stood there in shock, watching the most popular girl in the whole school stand up for me. It had been her first day back in class after having her tonsils out and I hadn’t had a chance to meet her, but I’d been hearing about her for days. The other kids were all excited to have her back in class. I was nervous because the popular kids were the ones that picked on me the most—they were the ringleaders. I sort of expected her to be the worst of all.

  “I’m going to tell your mom that you are a big ole bully,” Jackie snarled. “You’re not allowed to pick on my best friend.” Her words shocked me and I looked around wondering who she was talking about. She looked around the playground at all the kids who had stopped playing to stare at us. “None of you can pick on my best friend or I’ll tell Jenson.”

  I had no clue who Jenson was, but that got their attention. They all scampered off to play, including Adam, leaving Jackie standing in front of me.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Let’s go play, bestie!”

  And that was that.

  Jackie Johns had claimed the meek little mouse for her friend. It didn’t stop all the bullying, but anytime Jackie caught wind of it she put a stop to it instantly. I have a feeling the threat of her brother being told was what really stopped the bulk of the bullying.

  Even now, Jackie is constantly trying to get me to stand up for myself. Bless her heart, but it’s in my nature to avoid confrontation. I’m not a complete pushover—I can stand up for myself when necessary—I just choose not to unless it’s important.

  Like the time I punched a boy in the eye for kissing me without my permission. I felt so bad about it when I saw the black eye I’d given him that I cried. Jackie thought it was hilarious and called me slugger for months. It took Jenson telling her to knock it off for her to stop.

  Jenson always stood up for me, too. It was nice. A little too nice. I had a crush the size of the Grand Canyon on him. It all started as hero worship. Whenever I stayed at Jackie’s house, we followed him and his friends around like lost puppies. Normal big brothers would have gotten annoyed, but Jenson just laughed and let us be a part of the action.

  I loved spending time with both him and Jackie. I always ate up their attention. They were my best friends… until Jenson changed. I’m not sure what happened, but one day he no longer wanted to spend time with us. Jackie just chalked it up to him being a moody teenager—something she overheard her mother say—but to me it was devastating.

  When he started openly avoiding me, I tried to not let it bother me. It broke my heart each time he left at the sight of me, but it didn’t stop me from crushing on him. In fact, it made things worse. I found myself sneaking into his room just to feel close to him again. I’ve been doing it for years now without getting caught. It was so stupid of me to be in there knowing he was on his way home.

  Putting my ear to the door, I listen for any sounds of movement in the hallway. Not hearing anything, I exit the bathroom and go to Jackie’s room. She’s still not home and I’m relieved. I dress in my clothes from yesterday and jot a quick note to her apologizing for leaving. Telling her I don’t feel well and that I don’t want to risk getting anyone sick at the big anniversary party tomorrow night should appease her.

  I sneak out of the house, practically running to my car. I click on my seatbelt and put the car in gear when movement at the front door catches my attention.

  Jenson.

  He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed against his wide, naked chest. My mouth goes dry as my eyes devour his silhouette. My panties are still wet from touching myself to thoughts of him. The man himself is so much more than my mind could ever give justice.

  I shake myself out of my Jenson inspired trance and drive away.

  1

  Dylan

  “You’re a little cock tease, aren’t you?” The low growl of Jenson’s voice is full of desire as he hungrily rakes his eyes over my body. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as if he
’s anticipating a delicious treat.

  I take a step back bumping into the kitchen counter. I can’t seem to find my words as I take him in. “I… uhm… no?”

  He takes a step closer, crowding me against the counter and leaving me no room for escape. I turn my face away from him reflexively as he runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek. He leans in close and inhales my scent. The plumpness of his lips coasts down the side of my neck, raising goose bumps on my skin. “How does such a dirty girl smell so fucking sweet?”

  His voice is smooth, like perfectly aged whiskey, and a complete contrast to the rough scrape of his beard on my skin. The wet heat of his tongue flicks over the sensitive spot where my pulse is beating an erratic rhythm, before he sinks his teeth into my tender skin. My breath catches at the pain, but then his tongue is licking while his lips suck at the abused flesh causing that pain to morph into pleasure. Unable to hold back, I moan at the overwhelming sensation.

  Holy crap on a cracker. Is this really happening?

  My nipples pebble and ache behind the confines of my shirt. As if he predicted my body’s reactions to him, his hand cups my breast and his thumb rubs across my nipple, teasing the sensitive peak. Distracting me from that enticing touch, he kisses his way back up my neck, then sucks at my earlobe.

  My body is on fire. I’ve craved this moment for as long as I can remember and having him touching me is short-circuiting my brain. I’m frozen in place. My body sensitized to every touch.

  “Is your cunt wet for me?”

  The thrill of his dirty words cause my pussy to clench and wetness to coat my panties. His fingers pinch and pull at my nipple as his lips come down on mine in a harsh kiss. I can’t hold back my moan of approval. He’s wreaking havoc on my body, but in all the best ways. Without wasting a moment of opportunity, he pushes his tongue past my parted lips taking full advantage. He continues pinching my nipple between his fingers as his mouth devours mine.