Page 133 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

Jaw-droppingly good.

And that tongue of his? That tongue that’s licked every inch of my naked body. Well, it’s almost hanging out of his mouth right now at the sight of me clothed head to toe in skintight black leather.

I step off the hog. My four-inch black stiletto boots making me the same height as both Ty and Dylan.

Removing my full helmet, I shake my long blonde hair free as they both watch on.

“Ty.” I nod at him, and he nods back. I take in the man I’ve been spending a lot of time with lately. The jury’s still out on whether I want to go back for seconds given what he plated up first time around. His hair is pulled back at the nape of his neck, and his black eyes pierce into my blue ones. He looks good in black jeans and a black Henley with his prez cut thrown over the top.

“Dyl.”

I nod at him, and he nods back.

I walk across and stand in front of both, letting them have their fill before speaking further.

“I figure you two boys will have been introduced formally, so let me do the informal introductions.”

I smirk at Dylan. “I gave Ty here my virginity when I was sweet sixteen. He dumped me the very next day, then proceeded to fuck his way through the rest of the girls in Colton that he’d also led on.”

I then smirk at Ty. “I fucked Dyl for the last time three months ago, give or take. He then remembered he clean forgot to mention he’d been entered into an arranged marriage to take the vows with the love of his life. Convenient or not? I’ll leave that up to you boys to decide. Me? Well, I’ve already reached my own conclusions. Oh, and feel free to compare notes. You both already know that I like to be the center of attention, and that my aim in life is never to be forgotten.”

I smile widely, patting each on the shoulder as I walk past.

“I’ll see you boys inside,” I shout out as I enter the clubhouse, fully aware I have two sets of eyes trained on my ass.

CHAPTERFIFTY-SIX

DYLAN

The Ghost Whisperers’ Clubhouse, Colton, Nevada

I have never seenanything so perfect as Jessie O’Brien riding that hog of hers into the compound then parking up.

Actually. No. I take that back. What happened next topped that.

Knowing full well she was being admired, Ghost and I watched as she slowly dismounted, took off her helmet, shook her long blonde hair free, then walked over to us like she was on a Paris catwalk, all the while dressed head to toe in skintight black leather.

I’m not ashamed to say I was rocking a hard-on at having witnessed such a spectacle.

Now I get it.

Now I understand how my siblings feel. I’ve never seen Jaine or Sarah dressed in all their biker finery, but if they look anything like Jessie does, then it’s no wonder my brothers are hook, line, and sinkered for these dominatrix-looking females.

If Jessie asked me to lick her boots right now, I’d be on my hands and knees in a flash.

I’m not sure what I want more. Her asking me to strip bollock naked so she can walk all over me in her stiletto heels or me stripping her of everything save those fucking boots, throwing her face down on my bed, tilting up her slim hips, and sinking my dick in to the hilt.

I’ll take any of the above. Even better. All of it.

It had an almost dream-like quality about it until she opened that mouth of hers, reminding me that she thinks I’m a louse for not telling her about the arranged marriage. Then letting me know that the man standing beside me was her first ever fuck, and that he too was a louse for dumping her the very next day.

The only saving grace is we’re each of us a louse in our own unique way. So, he’s deemed no better than me.

Still, the easy camaraderie he and I instantly shared vanished. We immediately became each other’s competition. But then I’m in no position to compete because the woman I love who may or may not love me back can’t ever be mine. Why? Because my ma and da say so, that’s why. Because all of us siblings have to toe the Duster line.

It still doesn’t stop jealousy from coursing through me as I watch her walk away, staring at her perfect backside caressed in tight-fitting black leather and with a Glock shoved in the waistband, knowing that Ghost’s doing the same thing.

He’s been there. And first. Not that being her first matters. I’d much rather be her last. But I can’t have that either.

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