Page 130 of Dirty Like Dylan

Johnny had really gotten the worst of it. I’d seen him briefly at the front door of the bar before we left. He was pretty pissed that Dylan had given him a black eye; apparently, he was playing a show tomorrow night.

“I’ve never seen you like that before, man,” Ashley said, grinning just a little. “I’ve never seen you cold-cock a guy.”

“Because I never have.” Dylan hissed a bit as I pressed the cloth with the bag of frozen strawberries to the swollen bruise over his eye. “And I didn’t actually knock him out.”

“Dude. You had him reeling. There were definitely a few seconds there where Johnny O was trippin’ the light fantastic in outer fucking space.”

I cringed, recalling it. I’d definitely seen Johnny’s head kinda bounce off the table. And as much as I’d almost convinced myself, once upon a time, that I hated the guy, I didn’t actually want to see harm come to him.

“Well, thank you for coming to my rescue,” I said, with only slight sarcasm.

“He grabbed at you,” Dylan said. “Didn’t like that.”

“I think he was trying to get me out of the way of the two giant bodyguards going at it.”

“Hard to know, from where I was standing.” Dylan’s green eyes met mine, his warm hand settling gently on my bare thigh. “You had him pretty riled up. Sitting in Con’s lap like that.”

Oops. “You saw that?”

“Yup,” Ashley said.

“That was just for Johnny,” I explained, in my defense. “He was being a douche. I don’t care if we were only married for sixteen days. It’s poor form to have another woman in your lap while you’re having a conversation with your ex-wife.”

“Yup,” Dylan agreed.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Ashley said. “I’m pretty sure Johnny O had it coming.”

“Still.” I lifted Dylan’s hand and kind of winced at the sight of his knuckles; raw and slightly swollen. He’d need ice on those, too. Maybe we’d have to send Ashley out to get some. “I’m sorry you hurt your hand,” I said, kissing Dylan’s unbruised cheek. “And your face.”

“It’s okay.” He looked at me under lowered eyelids; despite whatever pain he might’ve been in, he was clearly thinking about other things. “Long as you’re here to kiss it better…”

So I kissed him, tilting his head back and going in deep and slow, kinda loving that he was in a vulnerable state and I could take care of him a bit. Actually, it was turning me on; my pussy was starting to throb…

“Hmm. Always thought of myself as a pacifist…” I murmured, nibbling at his full bottom lip as I wriggled a bit in his lap. “Who knew violence could be so… exciting?”

Dylan chuckled.

“Jesus,” Ashley said. “Get a room.”

“Have one,” Dylan murmured in-between kisses. I could feel his dick getting hard under my ass. “Upstairs. You might have to help me out, though…”

I did help.

I led him upstairs and since his right hand was sore, I helped him out of his clothes. Then I laid him back on the bed. And since he said his head was pounding too much to fuck, but his dick didn’t seem to agree with that, I went down on him.

While I did that, Ashley helped himself to shoving up my little yellow dress and fucking me from behind.

He also asked Dylan if he was okay—a couple of times—in a soft, concerned voice, while he fucked me. Dylan said yes, and groaned as I cranked up the intensity of the blow job, sucking him harder, faster, rolling my mouth over his swollen head and tonging his slit… kind of weirded out that they were talking to each other while I was doing this.

I kept trying not to ask myself the questions that were now nagging at the back of my mind every time the three of us ended up in bed together. The fact was, I was pretty busy down here, what with Dylan’s giant dick in my mouth, so I had no idea if they were looking at each other while they enjoyed me.

And either way, I’d probably never know what they were really thinking.

Out of nowhere, I thought of that dumb joke some of my guy friends in high school used to say to crack each other up. It’s not gay unless there’s eye contact.

When Dylan came in the back of my throat, and Ashley came deep in my pussy, only seconds later, I didn’t even want to know where they were both looking.

As Ashley slipped himself out of me and I kissed Dylan’s hip before rolling away, I just told myself to keep playing along, playing within whatever carefully-laid boundaries they’d arranged between themselves.

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