Page 96 of Dirty Like Dylan

So I’d stopped her, because I had to. Because if she put her hand on my dick with that look in her eyes, I didn’t want to be responsible for what I might do. Truth was, I was kinda drunk, too. And it had been long enough since I’d sank my dick into a warm, wet pussy… I didn’t trust myself.

The next day, I suggested she take photos of Dylan on his back deck because I knew that would put her directly in his naked path. I needed to stoke the fire between them. Make it combust. Because as of that moment in Zane’s kitchen, when I realized I could have her… I also realized I’d been missing out on an opportunity.

An opportunity to have a piece of something that might actually have a chance at holding Dylan’s attention. To get my hooks into this girl, who also had a chance of hooking Dylan.

Maybe Amber Paige Malone would be the fucking sexy glue between us.

Stupid, maybe. Desperate thoughts. But what could I say? Since Dylan and I had started taking chicks to bed together, I’d never met one with the potential to keep a good thing going. Someone who could potentially deepen the fucking tenuous intimate connection between Dylan and me.

When I saw the opportunity to fuck Amber in my dining room, when she was drooling over the photos she’d taken of Dylan, hell yeah, I took it. At that point, I was probably scared as shit that he was gonna fuck her first, and I’d be fucked right out of the equation. I suddenly needed to know, like now, if I could really have her.

If she really wanted me, even half as much as she wanted him.

And when I slid my hand up her skirt and felt her heat, her dampness through her panties… I knew. I fucked her to make sure that as much as she might be Dylan’s, she’d also be mine.

Then the girl surprised the shit out of me.

Minutes after I’d made her come, she went down on me like a fucking Hoover.

She did it again in my bed in the night.

And then the next morning, she ran the fuck away.

And it bothered me. A fucking lot.

I knew Dylan had to step in or we might lose her. The girl was skittish as a deer at a hunting convention.

I’d told him what happened, that I’d fucked her. And as soon as he heard those words, I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t jealous. Dylan never got jealous. But it was like he now had permission to go after her himself—hard.

Just like I’d suspected, he’d been waiting, holding back. He really was gonna let me have her.

At least, have her first.

But now that I’d made the first move, I’d had my chance with her… all fucking bets were off.

He’d dropped me off at my place so fast my head kinda spun. Then he went to collect her from Liv’s.

For a couple of hours, I feared I’d made a huge fucking mistake.

Then his text came in.

Meet us at the Back Door.

I’d never walked those ten blocks into Gastown so fucking fast—with my fists jammed into the pockets of my jeans the whole fucking way, because I had the hard-on from hell. And when I got to the bar, I just tried not to blow it by getting drunk while I waited for them.

When Dylan walked in, hand-in-hand with Amber, carrying her backpack for her, and she was wearing those skin-tight jeans with the fuzzy little pink sweater that hugged her perky tits, and they walked right over to my table… I was as relieved to see her as I was to see Dylan.

I liked her.

I liked the way she and Dylan liked each other.

I wanted her to like me.

So it was official, then.

This girl was doing something to my head. Sparking ideas of the three of us, together.

Which, of course, was dangerous.