Page 117 of Dirty Like Dylan

But I shoved aside those bullshit thoughts. I didn’t want to listen to them anymore.

I wanted this.

I pulled out and shifted down, sealing my mouth over Amber’s pussy. She gasped and squirmed, but I pressed her thighs apart and went to town. I worshipped her with my tongue, rolling the smooth steel ball of my piercing around her clit until she came with a helpless little scream, clawing at my hair.

When I came up for air, they were making out. Dylan was kissing the fuck out of her, and his dick was hard, thick and heavy against his thigh, inches from my face.

I rolled away.

Rationally, I knew as I looked at them entwined in my bed, kissing in the aftermath of what we’d all just done, looking perfect as fuck, that I’d never be able to keep them both.

No matter whatever happened between me and Dylan that one time… I’d never be able to have them both.

No matter how much I wanted them.

We’d promised Amber: everything out in the open. We’d all promised each other. Everything.

Everything except my secret love for my best friend.

* * *

Late in the night, Dylan woke up. I was already awake. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, by the window, smoking a joint, looking out at the water through the trees. I could feel him stirring, knew he wasn’t sleeping. I knew the sound of his breathing, awake or asleep. Usually the dude slept like the dead, especially after he’d been laid.

I looked over at him in the dark. He looked back at me, met my gaze briefly, but I already saw what he was doing.

He was watching Amber sleep.

“You’re gonna fall for her,” I said quietly. Just like I’d told him before. But it was worse than that; he was already falling.

And just like he did before, he laughed. But he didn’t look me in the eye when he did it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Amber

It was a beautiful day. Cool, but nice enough that we could hunker down behind the windshield in our jackets, with the cover off the Falcon Silver Sparrow, as Ashley drove me into the city. The skies were a brilliant blue without a trace of cloud, a rare sapphire-clear day in autumn as we sped toward Vancouver.

True to my word, I was staying. It had been a week ago that I’d promised Ashley, in this boat, that I would stick around. And I’d officially put my travel plans on hold, at least temporarily.

No more hitting up Google to research Thailand. No more watching airline ticket prices in case there was a price drop.

I put out feelers around Vancouver again, in case any work came up. And I’d picked up a couple of gigs this week, as assistant to an old friend from college on some shoots she was doing. Not exactly high pay or high prestige, but at least it kept me working. My pay for the Underlayer shoot had come through, too. Plus, Katie had given my number to that art promoter she’d told me about, and he’d called; said he had some events coming up that I might be able to shoot, and that he wanted to see my work. So I was planning to follow up on that.

Meanwhile, I’d insisted that I start paying at least some token rent. I wasn’t about to take a free ride from anyone, even from two guys I happened to be fucking.

The guys didn’t like it, but they’d finally agreed when they could tell I wasn’t going to budge.

I was still living at Ashley’s house, technically, in his guest room, but I spent pretty much every night in Dylan’s bed—with Dylan and Ashley.

When I didn’t spend the night in Dylan’s bed, it was because we’d all spent the night in Ashley’s bed instead or, occasionally, in Ashley’s bed in the city.

We’d also headed over to the big island—Vancouver Island—for a couple of days, and driven up to the very end of the highway at Tofino to rent a cabin and surf. According to Dylan, Ashley got twitchy when he went too long without surfing.

It wasn’t exactly California, but the waves were pretty good, just coming off of a storm. It was cold as shit, and we had to wear wetsuits. Ashley had his own, and Dylan and I rented from a shop in the little town. I’d learned to surf while I was in Australia a few years ago, which meant that I could actually get up on the board, but that only lasted about three seconds. After I’d bailed and swallowed cold saltwater for the third time, I called it a day and headed back up to the cabin to lounge by the fire.

Dylan didn’t last much longer; he’d come to find me and took me for a walk on the beach, and we’d sat on the rocks watching Ashley do his thing. Even in a wetsuit, with not a slice of skin showing, he looked sexy on that board.

I’d taken some photos, and afterwards, we’d spent the night in front of the fire, having sex. Slow, passionate sex that somehow had me feeling like I was in this incredible dream I never wanted to wake up from.

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