DirtyBeautiful (24 page)

Everyone chuckled.

“Women, who understands them anyway?” Charlie held up his
mug.

They all toasted, then continued on with the game. Bill
shifted beside him, his rheumy eyes narrowed in thought. “So, that’s it huh?”

Dylan frowned. “What?”

“You just gonna throw it all away because you hit a rough
spot.”

The table fell silent under the weight of Bill’s censure.
“What is there to throw away, Bill? She chucked me out and hasn’t spoken to me
since.”

Bill grunted. “You think none of us have been thrown out of
our own houses before? We sure have.”

Men grumbled in assent.

“Women are prickly pears and you gotta grovel and I’m
telling you, I’ve done it a fair few times in my life. Sometimes even when I
didn’t know what the hell I did wrong. But if you love her, then you’ll do
everything you can do get her back. There ain’t no science to it.”

Dylan shook his head. “She’s a primary school teacher and
I’m a… I had sex with women for cash.”

“So you slept with more women than usual before you met
her.” He shrugged. “Ain’t nothing you can overcome.”

“And what about the women here?”

Bill eyed him shrewdly. “What of ’em?”

“You think they’re just gonna be okay with me walking down
the street? They already cross the road whenever they see me.”

Bill waved his hands. “Those old biddies don’t know you.
Besides, they’ll come around, just let me put on my good old charm and
everything will be right as rain.”

Dylan fiddled with a chip in his hand and contemplated his
words as the game carried on. Bill hadn’t seen the disbelief and torment on her
face. Hadn’t watched helplessly as the woman he cared about turned her back on
him. Pain throbbed through his chest and he rubbed a hand over it in hopes of
easing the agony there. He was an idiot to think he could leave all that crap
behind so he could live a normal life.

Rather than listen to the voice of misery, Dylan ordered
another beer, determined to drown it out. After a while, the cards started to
blur together and he steadily lost the money he’d won. As he lost his last
chip, he threw down his cards and stood.

“I’m done.”

Bill peered up at him and his shoulders dropped a fraction
as though he sensed Dylan had accepted more than defeat at the tables. Dylan
walked from the bar, his thoughts focused on decisions he needed to make. It
wasn’t until he collided into someone that his attention turned outward. His
hands grasped at soft flesh and he found Mary-Mae in his arms. Her heavily
done-up face stared up at him, a lustful gleam in her eyes.

“Why hello, Dylan.”

He stepped back from her, his nose assaulted by the heavy
floral aroma of her perfume. Unlike Erica, Mary-Mae liked to pound her presence
in like a sledgehammer. There was nothing subtle about her. Not her skintight
clothes, her unusually long nails or her stiff hairstyle.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, then stepped around her.

Mary-Mae grabbed his arm, nails digging into his flesh. “I
heard it didn’t work out between you and Erica.”

A knife ripped his rib cage apart. Damn, he didn’t need
another reminder.

“Yeah.” He shrugged and spread his legs to keep his balance.

“Perhaps I could interest you in a nightcap?”

It didn’t take an intellectual to understand her meaning.
Here it was, a woman willing to spread her legs for him and he didn’t feel the
inclination to act on it. God, he hoped this didn’t last long. For years he’d
been able to fuck whomever without a qualm and now he hesitated. He needed to
get over Erica and the only way he saw was in the arms of another. He stepped
toward her and cupped her cheek. Maybe he’d feel something if he kissed her? He
ran his thumb along her lip and across her cheek, smudging her lipstick. He
leaned forward, swallowing back his reluctance and hesitated. Her ragged breath
heated his lips.

He’d never kissed anyone unless he cared about them. It was
the only part of himself he didn’t give away freely. He wrapped his fingers
through her perfectly coiffed hair and jerked her head back to nip at her
shoulder. “You’d get down on your knees and suck me off if I asked?”

She whimpered and managed a small nod. A feral grin kicked
up his lips. Maybe he should take her back to his place and fuck her. If Erica
thought he was some sex-crazed maniac, then why not? Somewhere in the back of
his mind something niggled at his alcohol-soaked reasoning, but he brushed it
aside.

“You okay to drive?” Mary-Mae asked.

Dylan released her and tottered a bit. “Prob’ly not. You got
somewhere nearby we can do this thing?”

Mary-Mae winked. “I came with a couple of girls. How about I
drive us back to my place?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He followed her to her car and slipped inside. As she pulled
out and drove down the street, Dylan rubbed a hand over her thigh. It was toned
and tan, not like Erica’s soft milky whiteness. Damn, he wished he could stop
thinking about her. Maybe a hard fuck was all he needed to close the door to
that failed relationship for good.

Finally, they pulled to a stop and Dylan stared bleary eyed
up at the house. Ah, the time had come. He followed after Mary-Mae as she
hurried him up the stairs. A sense of déjà vu overcame him. He’d done this
thing before. This time he’d follow through. He was Drake Van Wulf and he liked
to fuck pussy.

The moment the door shut he pulled her into his arms and
kissed her neck. He tasted powder and the bitter flavor of heavily applied
perfume. “I want to fuck you now.”

She laughed and led him into the living room. Leather
lounges. Not as smooth or sensual as suede or velvet, but it’d do. He fondled
her breasts through the tight fabric and pinched the peaking nipples. She
gasped and sighed as he licked the rise of her boobs. Damn, he had to get her
naked. His fingers felt like large sausages as he hooked them over the stretch
cotton and pulled down to reveal the pinkened tips of her areolas. He knew
breast implants when he saw them. They were far too perky, unlike the natural
weight of Erica’s.
Don’t think about her!

Determinedly he suckled on one nipple, scraped his teeth
over it and cupped her ass to bring her into his flagging erection. He pulled
her thigh over his hip and they tumbled onto the lounge. Mary-Mae squealed then
giggled at the cool leather on her back. Yeah, leather might look good, but it
was a pain to fuck on. Oh well.

He traced a hand up her inner thigh and tested her wetness.
Her canal tightened. Hell yeah, he could do this. He jerked on her underwear,
pulling it to one side so he could dip into her. She fumbled with his pants and
cool air hit his dick. Her fingers wrapped around him and he groaned. Something
didn’t feel right about this. Sure it felt good, but he just couldn’t find
pleasure
in it.

Mary-Mae peered up at him. “Is something bothering you?”

Dylan cursed his deadened cock. “No. No, just give me a
sec.”

She grinned. “Oh all right.”

He leaned back to masturbate, forcing his cock to attention.
He imagined Erica’s hot body and the sounds she made when he made love to her.
Jesus, she was so soft.

“Need me to help?”

Dylan gritted his teeth as his erection threatened to wane
at the sound of Mary-Mae’s voice and the intrusion of reality. “Don’t fucking
speak.”

He shoved her legs apart, ready to give the best performance
of his life. “Erica,” he whispered.

* * * * *

Dylan woke to pots clanging and he swore as pain ricocheted
through his skull. He tried to stretch but his booted foot hit an obstruction.
What the hell? Dylan opened his eyes and stared at the strange surroundings.
Damask pillows and curtains filled his vision. The place looked familiar but he
struggled to remember where he’d seen it before. At least one thing was
certain. He wasn’t home. He pushed upright and clasped his head. Cool air
skimmed over his lower back and he sat ramrod straight. His fly was undone.
What the hell happened last night?

“Good morning.”

Dylan turned toward the voice and couldn’t hold back a groan
of dismay. Mary-Mae stood within the entryway, a frying pan in one hand, a
spatula in another. “I hope you’re hungry. I made eggs.”

As she sauntered off, leaving a heavy floral scent in the
room, Dylan’s first instinct was to run. Run and never look back. He couldn’t
remember what he did last night. He buttoned his jeans and tried to recall
something. Anything. But all he could remember was the gasping sounds of her
desire. Shit, he fucked Mary-Mae. Any thought of reconciliation with Erica died
with that realization. Another thought shot through his brain. Did he use
protection?

Only one way to find out. Heaving out a resigned breath, he
stood and walked into the kitchen. Mary-Mae shoveled some scrambled eggs onto a
plate that sat on a breakfast bench, but he didn’t feel like eating. Instead he
accepted the coffee she poured for him.

After he swallowed several mouthfuls he spoke. “What
happened last night?”

Mary-Mae arched one manicured eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

“No. I hate to ask, but did I use a condom?”

“No.”

His gut dropped. “Fuck,” he mumbled, dropping his head
forward.

“You didn’t use a condom because we didn’t do anything.”

His head popped up, his brain shooting agony through his
skull. Did he hear her right? “We didn’t?”

A wry grin pulled at her lips. “No. You were so drunk you
couldn’t…you know. Plus you did mumble ‘Erica’ a few times.”

Damn. Guess he was a dipshit after all.

Mary-Mae patted his hand. “Don’t look so glum. You really
were quite nice about it all. Erica doesn’t know what she’s throwing away. And
trust me, I know a lot about regret.”

As she turned away to pour herself a cup, Dylan eyed her in
bafflement. He always perceived Mary-Mae to be a man-eater. Get what she wanted
at all costs. “What do you mean?”

Mary-Mae flicked back a lock of hair and gave a one-shoulder
shrug. “You make a sad kind of drunk. It’s not exactly a turn-on. Guess we all
have things we regret.”

A chill ran down his spine. “What did I say?”

“Nothing much. Just moaned a lot about how you lost the best
thing that ever happened to you.” She smiled sadly. “If your previous
performance didn’t kill off my need to get laid, then that certainly did.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Hey, you win some you lose some. It happens.”

An awkward silence filled the room. “Well, I guess I better
head home. Thanks for the coffee.”

Dylan beat a hasty retreat out the door and grimaced as the
light hit him directly in the face. Ignoring the steady pounding in his head he
trudged back home. As the sun rose steadily, Dylan wondered if he was holding
out on a hope that wouldn’t come to pass. He contemplated his future and the
possible paths open to him. Every day for the last few weeks had been pure
torture for him. The very thing he wanted in life was there for his taking and yet
so far out of his reach.

Finally, he trudged into his yard, but faltered at the sound
of a door closing. He looked toward the noise and the breath left his lungs at
the sight of Erica on her porch. The sun bounced off her hair and highlighted
her milky-white complexion. She looked different somehow, but he couldn’t place
it. She walked toward the car, fumbling for something in her bag.

“Hi,” he said.

She stopped, keys in hand, eyes wide as saucers. Like a deer
in headlights.

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck to work out a twinge. “How
have you been?”

Erica licked her lips. “Good. You?”

“Had better days.”

Jeez, they were talking like strangers. Like they never
experienced the sharing of souls or held each other through the night. “I can
see that. You just coming home?”

Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets as dread filled his
chest. Damn it to hell. He didn’t want to lie to her. “Yeah.”

“Bill called me last night. Wanted to know if you got home
all right.”

Dylan shrugged. “Well I guess I did.”

“Where were you?”

His stomach churned. “At Mary-Mae’s.”

Color leached from her face. “You…you slept with Mary-Mae?”

“I was drunk. Nothing happened.”

“You seem to say that a lot.”

Fury fired in his gut. He’d spent over a month dealing with
the town acting as if he had some type of disease and now the woman he wanted
most thought he was lower than dirt. “What do you have a problem with anyway?
Does my career before meeting you instantly put me in the sleezeball category?
Does that nullify what we shared? You would rather throw me to the wolves and
believe I’d fuck everything in a skirt rather than think for a minute that I’d
be faithful. That I had any depth of feeling.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” he snarled. “Your ex-boyfriend, who I might add
was the one who cheated and lied to you, came here and showed you some DVDs and
I’m out the door with no chance to explain my side.”

“What was there to explain? You did lie to me. You didn’t
tell me the woman in your house was more than just a bed partner, was a woman
you did things to. You didn’t tell me you were a porn actor.”

“Because I knew this would happen!”

Silence reigned through the yard.

Erica’s lips trembled and Dylan felt like shit. But they’d
passed the point of no return. He couldn’t take back anything and if they were
going to have it all out, he may as well go for broke. “Whatever my reasons for
doing adult films have nothing to do with you. My reasons for leaving are
equally less important to our relationship. What should’ve mattered to you is
what I am now. Who I am now. But you didn’t want to look deeper, did you,
Erica? At the first sign of trouble you wanted out. You are so insulated in
this town you fail to see that the world isn’t just black and white. It’s
fucking gray.”