Dirty Boy
Authors: Kathryn Kelly
Kathryn Kelly
Dirty Boy
Dirty Boys Series #1
By Kathryn Kelly
Copyright 2016 Kathryn Kelly
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Formatting by
Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Crystal Cuffley
Recipe: 1 Porn Star, 1 Step Sister, 1 Wealthy Father, 1 Flighty Stepmother
Take one trust fund baby porn star, a stepsister in need of money, and a wealthy father the flighty stepmother stole from. Add in a lot of sex, a huge dose of tragedy, a load of betrayal, a pinch of revenge and a heap of arrogance. Mix them together and shake shit up for a few weeks.
The result?
One VERY Dirty Boy.
Max should’ve kept walking.
He didn’t know what possessed him to stop when he noticed the girl lounging on the library sofa, tapping her foot to an internal beat. This wing of his father’s house was usually deserted, which was the very reason
he
was there.
As he’d passed the door, he’d noticed her.
Instead of continuing down the hallway, he lagged in the doorway. She was small, a spinner, with a head of luxuriant brown hair that hid her face because the strands fell forward as she tipped her chin down. Her
Hello Kitty
bikini revealed creamy skin that Max longed to touch.
Before he backed away, she raised her head. Green eyes widened and her pink lips formed an ‘o’ of surprise. She yanked an earbud out of her ear. Max hadn’t noticed the things. He’d been too busy studying her tight curves.
“May I help you?” she asked.
He lifted a brow. Her question should’ve irked him. She lounged in
his
father’s house, as if she belonged there. But the light sound of her voice brought wicked images to his mind.
“What type of help are you offering?”
A blush crept into her cheeks, yet she grinned. Mischief lit her eyes. Her stunning face would work as well on-camera as her perfect body.
She held out her hand. “I’m Story. Babs’ daughter.”
Fuck! This girl wasn’t a servant’s daughter, taking advantage of his father’s generosity and liberalism. She was his stepsister.
Believing her mother to be an opportunist, he wanted to resent her. For some reason, he walked forward and took her hand into his. “Max,” he introduced.
“Max,” she breathed, her friendliness turning wary. “Winston’s son? The porn star,” she giggled out nervously.
His reputation preceded him. His career wasn’t a secret, but it shocked him that she brought it up. Most people refused to admit they liked porn.
He nodded, enjoying the blush creeping over her entire body. “The same.”
“Richard Head.”
She was still giggling. He waited for his annoyance at the grating sound. It didn’t come. Once again, he nodded.
“Or is it Dick Head?” she asked around peals of laughter that drew a chuckle from him.
“Have you watched me?”
That shut her up. She snapped her mouth shut and offered him an under-eyed look. “Maybe,” she responded in a sing-song tone.
Deciding to steer the conversation away from this inappropriate conversation, Max changed the subject.
He pointed to her tiny music device. “May I?”
She held it out to him. He snatched her earbuds away from her, pressing play on her MP3.
Don’t Be Cruel
started, but it wasn’t Elvis’ version.
“That’s Billy Swan,” she informed him as if she knew he’d never heard this rendition before.
“I like it,” he said in truth.
Her grin returned. His cock twitched.
Women were no longer his pastime thanks to his marriage, but they were his source of income. Or rather fucking them onscreen was.
He sighed. Thinking of his marriage always brought to mind his lovely wife. Kayleigh knew what he’d wanted to do when he proposed and when they finally wed. He refused to bow to her pressure to give his career up before the time they’d agreed upon.
Story cleared her throat. “I have other songs, too. Buckcherry. Elvis. The Goo Goo Dolls. Creed. Duran Duran. INXS. The Beatles. Do you like
Rocky Raccoon
?”
He handed her player back, impressed by her repertoire. “I do, though I prefer
Bungalow Bill
.”
“
The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill
,” she corrected.
Max needed to slow her down. Himself, too. He didn’t appreciate the connection he was feeling to her. Sappiness wasn’t his style. Only a sap felt such an immediate attraction. Of course, music was a universal language, but so was gold-digging. He was sure a woman just six years older than him—Babs—
younger
than his two older brothers was here for the Sherwood money. Now, her little wench was trying to tempt him. If she wanted to fuck with him, then game on.
As soon as he got his thoughts together to speak to his father, he’d revisit Story.
“Where’s my father?”
“In the pool with my mother. I was with them, until I decided to hide out here.”
He roamed his eyes down her body. Her hair smelled of citrus, not chlorine. Nor was it damp. However, she wore a bathing suit. If this hadn’t been a surprise visit, he might’ve suspected she was lying in wait for him. Still, he didn’t want to feel so at ease with her—something he’d never had with Kayleigh. Story needed to be somewhere else. “Shouldn’t you be at the pool with them? Why hide out?”
She wrinkled her little nose, then tugged at her ear. “I snuck away as soon as I could. It’s kind of gross watching my mom make-out with your dad. When she decided to go topless, that was it.”
Max grunted. That scenario was a pass for him, too. He much preferred keeping company with Story.
He brushed some of her hair over her shoulder. Her breath caught and she startled, as if his touch surprised her.
She blushed again.
Fuck, a virgin…Shit! Babs was thirty-one years old. Unless she’d had a baby at thirteen, Story was under aged.
“How old are you?” he decided to ask.
She licked her lips. “Fifteen.”
Shit, again. He had a hard cock for a teenager. Kayleigh would fucking love this.
Max grimaced. So much for returning to fuck with Story after he met with his father. Besides, he
liked
her.
Fuck, he’d liked Kayleigh at one time, too. Story, however, was now his little sister. When he’d come from a family of five boys, a girl was a novelty. Someone to protect.
“If you’re hiding from the parents, you should’ve gone to your room.”
“My suite is lonesome.”
The words reminded him that she and her mother were there because of money. Little by little, he was discovering that’s also why Kayleigh married him. She’d thought to change him, have him give up a profession he loved
now
rather than later.
Kayleigh.
Did he even love her anymore? Had he ever?
“It was nice meeting you,” Story broke in, holding out her hand again. “I’m going to the kitchen for lunch. Momma takes it by the pool. I find it more interesting with the staff. I learn a lot.”
Only how to cook, as opposed to snaring rich men.
“Maybe, if you invited your friends over you’d have backup against the parents’ make-out sessions.”
She started for the door. “I don’t have friends.”
“Everyone has friends,” he countered.
“Not me. I’ve learned not to bother. The moment I get close to someone, Mom packs us up and we’re leaving.”
He squinted at her explanation. Despite her calm words, he detected her loneliness. He was lonely, too. Not that he’d ever admit such a travesty. He was Max Sherwood. Porn star, Richard Head. He fucked for a living. He had been born into money. Smack in the middle of the Sherwood boys, he looked up to his two older brothers and was close friends with his two younger ones. His wife was smart and beautiful. His son was the most adorable kid ever.
Max’s life was perfect.
While he’d been categorizing his wonderful world, Story had slipped away, stealing the moment of sunshine she’d brought to him.