by HJ Bellus
DIRTY
HJ Bellus
DIRTY
Copyright © 2016 by HJ Bellus.Small Town Girl Books, LLC.
Edited by: Kellie Montgomery
Formatting: HJ Bellus
Cover Designer: Dana @Designs by Dana
Photographer: Golden Czermak @FuriousFotog
Cover Model: Adam Spahn
Paperback Formatted by: Scarlett Metal
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of HJ Bellus.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication-
To one of my best friends…the one & only, Rail God!
-To Underdogs
-The Fighters
-And Champions
This book is for you, Adam Spahn.
“Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up anyway.” -John Wayne
1
Zane
Her smell is sweet. The sweat pours off me as I pleasure her one pounding motion at a time. Her dark brown curls glide up and down her leather backseat. Her need grows by bounds as she locks her ankles low, right above my ass cheeks.
I fuck for a living. It’s my job, but with this client I actually enjoy it, finding it hard not to relish in my release before hers. But like a well-trained dog, I know the routine and what my glorious reward will be.
She’ll suck my cock clean, lapping up any evidence of our out of control, carnal sex. Shelia devours each drop of my cum when she wraps her lips around my thick cock claiming it’s the sweetest candy on Earth. And like I said, this is my job and I’m the best at it. The perks aren’t half shabby either.
I pull out quickly knowing between the mixtures of her moans and our sweat slicked bodies that I won’t last much longer. Shelia pays me two thousand each night I’m with her and it’s always on her terms. Tonight the backseat of her BMW with strict instructions on fucking, making her squirt, and being rough as hell on her. She made it clear that she wants every single muscle in her body to ache tomorrow, reminding her of how well I fucked her. Her body is primed and ready for my magic.
I know this is her favorite part and the tip will be good once I have her screaming and releasing all over my hand. The back of the car is cramped, but I put one knee on the floor and keep the other pressed against her bent leg. Sheila’s wet when I begin moving two fingers in and out of her.
Her hips become needier as they buck up and down finding the rhythm with my now wet two fingers. My thumb curves around her sensitive bud, strumming her like a well-played guitar.
My cock bobs up and down, rubbing the smooth interior of the car. I fight like hell to hold back and not be greedy.
“Zane.”
My name rolls off her tongue in an erotic melody, making it nearly impossible not to blow my load all over her backseat.
I make quick work and curl my fingers, ensuring I hit the spot and it only takes seconds before Sheila’s taut nerve bundles melt under my touch, bathing my hands in her own release.
Her body goes limp into the backseat with her wild brown curls masking her face that’s highlighted by the full moon.
“Jesus Zane, you are going to be the death of me.”
Each of her words flow from her with satisfaction. Sheila reaches down between her own legs and begins gently stroking herself, pulling each erotic pulse from her body.
Sheila sits up slightly, perched on one elbow while still strumming herself. Her flushed cheeks signal me that she’s not done yet. My cock aches, longing for lips to wrap tightly around it. I ache for fistfuls of her hair forcing her faster and harder down to the base of my cock.
“Patience, Zane, I can read your thoughts as if you were yelling them out.” Sheila moans lightly between words, picking up speed with her hand. “I want you to take me out of the car, bend me over and fuck my ass on the hood.”
I groan out loud with just the thought of being inside her tight ass. We’ve only done that a few times and it was fucking heaven.
“And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you sleep over, and I’ll suck you off in the morning and send you home.”
My cock drilling her tight ass, her lips around it in the morning, but all I hear and comprehend in this moment is overtime, baby. Sleepovers equal overtime as in Benjamins and lots of them. Do fucking re mi. Sheila is a rare exception; I’ll fuck her over and over because she makes it worth my time. Happy cock and full wallet…life doesn’t get much better.
I push open the door and stand out in the dark alleyway; it only takes one tug on the back of Sheila’s head until she’s slid all the way to the edge of the seat. She wants to be sore in the morning and wants it rough, I’ll fucking fulfill that need.
“Suck my cock first,” I grit out between clenched teeth. I don’t give her the chance to respond before both of my hands are twined in her hair and forcing her to take all of me. Her tongue dances on the underside of my cock as she takes me. When the tip of my dick hits the back of her throat, I have to pull all the way out, causing an echoing popping sound as her lips part.
And this is where she’s going to get it rough and treated like an average whore. It’s not my choice, but her demand and money talks! I don’t give her the option of asking any questions as I rip her from the car and press her against the cold, black metal of her BMW until her fake tits are smashed and my fingertips dig into the flesh of her hips.
My cock bobs one time at her entrance and I don’t waste time getting her ready and playing with her. Instead, I sink balls deep into that sweet little ass of hers. Her cries into the night are my indicator that I’m doing my job. She’ll feel me in the morning. I pump hard and fast into her, relishing each movement, but remain controlled knowing I don’t get my release until she says.
I watch her wedge her greedy little hand between her front and the car. She begins screaming as her fingers dive in and out of her. I know she’s testing me, but I won’t fail. I need her more than just satisfying my cock, I need the money.
Beads of sweat waterfall down onto her back as I drive in and out of her.
“Zane, oh my God, Zane!” Sheila screams between her moans. “Fucking cum, baby. Cover me in you.”
Two more punishing pumps and I pull out of her, gripping my cock in my hand, guiding my hot release all over her back. She melts under my touch, falling back against my chest, mixing everything we’ve shared.
And all I know that’s certain in life is that my dick will be sucked in the morning and I’ll be 5K richer.
2
Zane
“Late night.”
The familiar voice spooks me when I try to shut the front squeaky door.
“Grandpa.” My voice is full of surprise. “You okay?”
I make my way to him in five short steps. After a quick examination, nothing seems to be out of place. He’s in his favorite recliner with his medication surrounding him along with his current Western paperback book.
“Settle down, boy, I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Pain?” I ask, knowing he’ll never admit it if it were.
“No, just restless.” His shaky hand reaches for his coffee mug. “Where have you been? That’s what I should be asking.”
“Worked overtime and crashed at Rhett’s place.”
“You work too much, boy.”
I relax back on the couch with tired bones and eyes. He’s all I have in this world that I truly love and I�
��m committed to him never losing his place. The day my grandpa was diagnosed with kidney cancer, my world stopped spinning. He’s the man who put a roof over my head, fed me, and made sure I graduated high school. The last two years I’ve worked my ass off to ensure he receives the best medical care and never loses his small farm.
This small farm may look minuscule to others, but it’s the place his soul is buried deep in the rich soil. And it’s also the one thing that can be sold to help with his bills. And that won’t happen on my watch even if I get the money in a non-regular fashion. The dollar bills all spend the same no matter what.
“Nah.” I wave my grandpa off. “Just doing what you’ve taught me.”
“You need to live your life like a young man, not a dying one like me.”
I despise when he uses any word associated with his impending death. There’s no way in hell I can lose this man.
“You’re not going anywhere you grumpy old man.” I pick up one of his medication bottles and shake it, counting the pink pills rattling around in it. “What time is Sally coming today?”
“One o’clock.”
“Good, I’m going to go shower, fix you a quick breakfast then head out to the job site.”
“You own that company yet?” Grandpa asks.
“Shit no. Just a peon working,” I mumble.
“You need to be your own boss. Zane, you really need to think about starting your own construction company.”
“One day, Grandpa, one day.” I pat his shoulder as I waltz by him.
Pushing open the door to my room, I finally relax, letting out all my frustrations that life has dealt. This is the only room that’s ever been mine, same with the house. It’s all my childhood in one humble three-bedroom ranch house.
The sin from last night is still fragrant on my skin. I pull the wads of bills from my pocket and toss them on the bed. The money is filthy, but I’ve learned it all spends the same way. It will all go to bills.
My phone goes off with a shower of texts, but I ignore them and pad across the hall to the bathroom. I know it’s just people hitting me up for work. The hot water punishes my skin as I wash off all the sex from the night before. My cock is raw from Sheila. That damn woman made good on all of her promises. If that woman is half as sore as me this morning, then I did my fucking job.
I let tears roll down my cheeks and disappear into the streaming water. As each day ticks by I know it’s one less day my grandpa will live. He’s refused his next round of treatment and is now on borrowed time. He still goes in everyday for dialysis, but said no more chemo. The skeleton of the man who saved me, haunts me.
I’ve never prayed in my life or believed in a higher being and now find myself on my knees begging and pleading for a miracle. I’m exhausted to the point of falling apart at any moment. Sometimes I know I avoid reality and fall into the vicious cycle of making money, hoping it will somehow fucking fix everything.
My eyes squeeze shut tight as I relish the feel of the hot water. Most of my buddies are hitched and beginning to have babies, starting a new chapter in their lives. I’m here struggling step-by-step every second of my life, but nobody would ever know it.
“Enough of your pity party Zane, get back to life,” I mumble to myself as I turn off the shower. I take my time drying off every single inch of my skin. It’s my own way of washing away my nightly sin.
“Fuck,” I growl, spotting a large bruise on the inside of my thigh. I’ll have to get that shit covered up before my show tonight.
When I check myself, I groan with all the texts ranging from my buddies, boss, and a few women that want me tonight. I have twenty minutes to be at my day job, so I pull up my blue work jeans, toss on a white t-shirt, and lace up my boots.
I make my way to the kitchen and can see Grandpa sleeping in his recliner. That’s what he does most of the day. I slap together a sandwich lunch for him and me. I leave a note on his instructing the in home nurse to serve it to him before his next round of meds. It’s useless information to her, but makes me feel better.
I’m quiet when I creep over to him, making no noise at all. I lean down on both knees even though I’m already late for work, bow my head, and close my eyes.
“Dear God, Please watch over my grandpa today. Lay your hands on him and heal him from the inside. Take away the pain and replace it with youth and energy. Give him the days he deserves. I need this man in my life. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
Rising up slightly, I place a kiss on the top of his head. The man used to tower over me when he was healthy, and now I could cradle him in my arms like a newborn baby. Watching your hero melt away into nothingness is a pain like no other. It’s so powerful, it not only destroys and devastates you, but also sucks your soul out.
The roar of my old truck soothes my nerves a bit while I drive to the job site. I’ve worked for Cross Four Construction since graduating high school, working my way up. It’s been good money and I’ve always loved running heavy machinery since the first day Grandpa taught me how to drive on the farm.
When I pull onto the job site, I first spot Rhett pissing on his tire while talking to a guy I don’t recognize. Crazy fucker, I think to myself.
“’Bout time, Casanova,” he jokes when I jump from the truck.
“Fuck off,” I growl.
“Good time last night?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. He’s the only one who knows I sleep with customers after hours. Hell, everyone knows I strip, but no one knows the whole story, but my best friend.
“Easy money.” I smile at him, while fetching my toolbox from the bed of my truck.
“Crazy bastard.” Rhett grabs his toolbox too. “Hey, this is Oliver. New guy.”
I nod to him, not making much effort to be friendly or give him a handshake. I’ve seen over fifty different men come and go. We live in a small town where it seems people easily move on, leaving nothing behind. I have my close circle of friends and keep that shit tight.
“Tonight is going to be jumping at the club. All the college girls will be coming home for the summer,” Rhett says.
“What it would be like to be a spoiled ass rich kid coming home for the summer to relax on the beach,” I growl.
“No shit.”
I look over to Oliver who’s following us and he looks like a nice enough guy and the definite build to be perfect for the club.
“You dance?” I ask him.
“Me?” Oliver points at himself.
“No the fucking turd in your pocket.”
Rhett roars at my comment.
“I can dance,” Oliver finally replies.
“If you need side money, I can hook you up if you don’t mind dancing on the stage.”
“Sounds good,” he responds.
I climb up into my excavator and watch Rhett and Oliver head over to the pipeline. Rhett’s hands go up and down talking to the new employee. Thank fuck, I don’t have to train anyone. My boss, Keven, has realized I’m not a people person. I’ve seen too much in my short life to fuck around with small talk and others’ feelings.
Shit, just growing up in the small town of Preston has done that to me. It’s a shore town with a clear divide in economic population. Most of the damn spoiled ass rich kids who come home for summer weren’t even raised here. They’re spending the summer being assholes at their parents’ summer mansions.
The roar of the excavator numbs all my senses just like the sound of my truck engine does. And I go to work only thinking about dollar signs and buying my grandpa another day here on Earth.
3
Ava
“Your mom can’t be that bad, Ava.”
“Oh, you just wait.” My knuckles grow whiter as I grip the wheel.
“I mean, she’s been nice enough to let you throw my bridal shower at her place and to host my wedding at the end of the summer,” Chloe finger braids her hair as she talks.
“She likes the attention. She’s all about it. It’s just another venue where she’ll be able t
o prance around like a queen.”
“Ava, stop it. Our summer will be epic. We have three months to be us before I get married. We will make it our best.”
I roll my eyes, but keep my vision on the road so she won’t see it. “Yes, it will be fun.”
“Hell yes,” she squeals. “Then that will mean we have the house to ourselves.”
“Until Zack thinks he needs to come bone you.”
“I doubt that, he’ll be busy all summer.”
“Chloe, I’ve had to listen to you two screw the last four years.”
“We do get loud,” she admits.
A normal person would blush, but not Chloe. We met our freshman year as roommates in the dorm and have never parted. The both of us just graduated from Weston University, Chloe with her graphic design degree and me with a master’s in journalism.
All the other students my age graduated with bachelor’s except for me, the only privileged child of a senator. My parents expect nothing but the best since I was born. It’s all about looks and money with them. I only knew the ways of private schools and online courses until college. I graduated high school with my general associate’s degree.
My parents threatened to disown me when I chose a university that wasn’t on their level. Thank God, it was election year that year. Daddy was very flexible and Mom had to follow suit or they could be potentially blasted in the media. So I took ripe advantage of election year and picked my dream career. Writing has been and always will be my first love. From the age of scribbling letters in a pink notebook to my mounds of journals from over the years, writing is something no one can take from me nor tell me how to do.
The cold house, lonely nights, and miserable hours of having to put on a façade for the public disappeared when I’d crack open a notebook and let the real Ava Livingston flow on the pages. Sometimes it came out in the form of a wild adventure set deep in the heart of South America and other times it was just records and records of how I felt and how the real Ava was dying to live.