And then they called me a liar. But it’s not me who’s lying, it’s them.
Our story isn’t for everyone. It’s not even for us.
So if you’re looking for the fairy tale and the stupid prince on his dumb white horse, move along. You’ve got a hold of the wrong book.
This is not your story, this is not your life, and this is not your opportunity to dip your frightened little toe into the dark pool of water and “try new things” and then pull it out and decide… #NotForMe.
When you go in with us you go all in. So make a decision before you turn this page.
Because I’m making one promise with this book.
Just one.
We are The Dirty Ones and this is our truth.
The Dirty Ones is a brand new dark romance about the secret world of erotica authors.
Kiera’s room is dark, so I force myself to be still for a few seconds, allowing my eyes to adjust. When the crack of light leaking in from under the door goes from barely visible to a golden haze rising up from the floor I step forward towards the edge of the four-poster bed, unknotting my tie and pulling it through my collar as I walk.
“Kiera?” I ask, pulling my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoning my shirt. “You awake?”
She moans, rolling over, one of her pale breasts exposed from her top, one long leg bare as it sneaks out from under the covers. Her hair is wild, splayed out on the pillow and half covering her beautiful face.
I want to turn the lights on. Want to see her better. See all of her. Never take my eyes off this woman. I want to make this whole nightmare go away. Give her something better. Leave behind my old life with all its expectations and just steal away with her to some far-away tropical island. Stay naked with her forever and raise babies on the beach.
God, what the fuck is wrong with me? We’ve been back in each other’s lives for less than forty-eight hours and all I can think about is throwing everything away?
You’re in love, Con.
I hear the words in her voice inside my head.
You’re in love.
Maybe I am.
I unbuckle my belt and unfasten my pants. Drag my zipper down, trying to be quiet.
I don’t want to wake her. I want to ease into bed, slip my fingers between her legs, and kiss her mouth as she dreams. Make her come in her sleep.
I am one sick fuck and I don’t care.
When I’m naked I place one knee on the bed and carefully swing my other leg over hers. She twists, flat on her back now. That one exposed breast caught in some stray ray of light that shouldn’t be there, but is. Like a spotlight just for my own sick, hedonistic pleasure.
Thinking back on the party at Camille’s house has turned back time for me. Taken me to the place I was, the person I used to be. The one who fucked her and Sofia—and sometimes Camille too. The one who didn’t mind sharing with Hayes or Bennett because they didn’t mind sharing with me.
It was an orgy. Group sex or whatever.
It was sick, and twisted, and very fucking erotic.
It was heavy breathing, and sweaty, naked bodies, and never enough.
It was never enough that year.
We fucked them all. Together.
It was sensuous, and uninhibited, and lecherous.
How did I ever walk away from these people? How did I ever live a day without them?
I place my hand on her one exposed leg and slowly slide it up to her thigh.
She moans again, mouth parted like she’s waiting for my cock.
I picture those nights long ago. At the parties. How Camille would always be the one to invite us in. And how Hayes would be the first to take her up on those offers. How Sofia was meek, and afraid, and shy. And how she changed. How we all changed.
How Kiera used to whimper and moan as she came.
I want to hear that sound now. Right now.
I lean forward, crawling up her body, my rock-hard cock dragging across the sheets. Aching to be inside her.
“Kiera?” I ask, pulling my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoning my shirt. “You awake?”
She moans, rolling over, one of her pale breasts exposed from her top, one long leg bare as it sneaks out from under the covers. Her hair is wild, splayed out on the pillow and half covering her beautiful face.
I want to turn the lights on. Want to see her better. See all of her. Never take my eyes off this woman. I want to make this whole nightmare go away. Give her something better. Leave behind my old life with all its expectations and just steal away with her to some far-away tropical island. Stay naked with her forever and raise babies on the beach.
God, what the fuck is wrong with me? We’ve been back in each other’s lives for less than forty-eight hours and all I can think about is throwing everything away?
You’re in love, Con.
I hear the words in her voice inside my head.
You’re in love.
Maybe I am.
I unbuckle my belt and unfasten my pants. Drag my zipper down, trying to be quiet.
I don’t want to wake her. I want to ease into bed, slip my fingers between her legs, and kiss her mouth as she dreams. Make her come in her sleep.
I am one sick fuck and I don’t care.
When I’m naked I place one knee on the bed and carefully swing my other leg over hers. She twists, flat on her back now. That one exposed breast caught in some stray ray of light that shouldn’t be there, but is. Like a spotlight just for my own sick, hedonistic pleasure.
Thinking back on the party at Camille’s house has turned back time for me. Taken me to the place I was, the person I used to be. The one who fucked her and Sofia—and sometimes Camille too. The one who didn’t mind sharing with Hayes or Bennett because they didn’t mind sharing with me.
It was an orgy. Group sex or whatever.
It was sick, and twisted, and very fucking erotic.
It was heavy breathing, and sweaty, naked bodies, and never enough.
It was never enough that year.
We fucked them all. Together.
It was sensuous, and uninhibited, and lecherous.
How did I ever walk away from these people? How did I ever live a day without them?
I place my hand on her one exposed leg and slowly slide it up to her thigh.
She moans again, mouth parted like she’s waiting for my cock.
I picture those nights long ago. At the parties. How Camille would always be the one to invite us in. And how Hayes would be the first to take her up on those offers. How Sofia was meek, and afraid, and shy. And how she changed. How we all changed.
How Kiera used to whimper and moan as she came.
I want to hear that sound now. Right now.
I lean forward, crawling up her body, my rock-hard cock dragging across the sheets. Aching to be inside her.
💕 Click on the images to enlarge 💕
Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively, her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017, and her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018.
She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.
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I am pretty sure many of the fiction books may relate to different people in their lives so it could be true for many.
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