Dirty Boy (2 page)

Kayleigh Sherwood watched her four-year-old son as he slept in his room. She was awaiting his father,
her
husband, who’d spent another day on set. Another day fucking another woman.

She hated Max. She so wanted to hurt him as he continually hurt her. Nothing she did deterred him. Not giving birth. Not threatening suicide and divorce. Not swearing retribution.

She considered Simon again. She’d bet the millions she was entitled to as a Sherwood wife that losing his son would get Max’s attention. No matter the cost, Kayleigh intended to have the last laugh. She even had photos where the magic of makeup made her appear so badly beaten, she could become the poster child for abuse.

The robotic alarm voice announcing her front door was opened told her he’d arrived home. She glanced at the clock on Simon’s wall. 9PM.

Max was such an asshole.

Lips tightening, Kayleigh left Simon’s room, making her way down the winding staircase and heading to the kitchen. As expected, she found Max at the stove, uncovering the dinner she’d left.

“Max.”

She hated her shrill tone but enjoyed seeing him jump. She was honing her stealth, readying for an attack or some form of revenge. Maybe, she’d maim him, have him depend upon her for the rest of his life. She’d control his body, his schedule, and his finances.

She could always blackmail him with the photos to get the control she wanted. Right now, her best friend had possession of them, for use at the most opportune time.

“Kayleigh,” Max greeted warily, swallowing a bit of the cold stuffed flank she’d cooked. Unease filled his eyes.

Holding back a grin, she rushed to him and kissed him, sinking against him. If only he did what she told him to do.

For a moment, she reveled in the feel of his mouth against her own. The intensity of the kisses surprised both of them. She stepped back, controlling the urge to swipe her hand across her mouth in disgust.

He’d eaten some whore’s pussy today. He smelled fresh and clean now, and tasted of mint, but his job revolted her. She forced a smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Once, she might’ve been. Now, she dreaded the time he spent at their house. She despised looking into his blue eyes, remembering the way he’d talked her into marrying him, swearing he’d retire at thirty. He had five more years. Well, four, since his 26
th
birthday was in a week.

Four years, or five, was entirely too long to live with the knowledge that
her
pussy wasn’t enough for him. How dare he believe her agreement to his retirement age. What kind of an idiot thought a woman would be happy being hidden and kept a secret in consideration of his porn fans? Who fucked every woman they came across, said
all in a day’s work
, then expected his wife to be happy?

So what if she’d lied and
said
she was fine? One look at Max’s beautiful face and tall physique with ocean blue eyes and she’d be forgiven for the deception. They’d known each other since high school. She’d been the most popular girl around so it was logical to get with the most admired guy. She hadn’t been a virgin by the time she slept with Max their junior year. He hadn’t cared, though.

Kayleigh had been beside herself. The Sherwood name was legendary and
she
got to have one of the brothers. Something strange happened, however. The more she got to know Max, the more in love she fell with him.

Of course, he’d resisted because he dreamed down. He wanted to be a porn star. A. Porn. Star. Who did that? He was a rich man’s son who had a big trust coming to him, due out in payments upon his 18
th
, 21st, 25
th
, and 30
th
birthdays.

Max had asked Kayleigh to star in a movie with him. She’d declined, almost spitting in his face for the mere suggestion. To get him, though, she had to “accept” what he de-spired to be.

For the first year, she grinned and bared it but then she thought if she sucked his cock often enough and well enough; if she gave him her ass; or opened her pussy to him whenever he wanted in, he’d stop.

That wasn’t the case. He continued to enjoy sticking his dick in every orifice in every woman he co-starred with, in the name of his career. She’d agreed to his porn star career but she’d overestimated the power she thought she had over him.

Tonight, when Max looked like sex and smelled of bourbon as he awaited her next move, Kayleigh decided to get the upper hand in a way he’d appreciate. Her “acceptance”. Tomorrow, she’d once again demand he stop.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” she cooed.

He inched away from her, then halted and threw aside the foil he still held. “No, sweetheart. I’m just surprised at your good mood.”

Kayleigh stiffened, and was rewarded with a wince.

“I mean…uh, how’s Simon?”

She shrugged. “Asleep.”

“After I eat, I’ll look in on him.”

She refused to respond, hating the fact that he gave his attention to everyone but her. She stalked him, then pressed her body against his. He didn’t touch her and her anger rose another inch, but she kept a smile plastered on her face. She had a gun hidden between the mattress on her side of the bed. Max was so pussy-crazed that she could get him upstairs to fuck him, encourage him to take a shower and get her revolver while he was in the bathroom. Then, as they were fucking, she could shoot him in his neck or his spine. Her aim wasn’t to kill him but to paralyze him.

“I’m happy you’re awake, Kayleigh.

Who did you fuck
? The question drummed through her head but died on her lips.

“I waited up for you,” she said instead. “I knew you intended to visit Winston before you went to the set. How did that go?”

“Fine. Even though my fan base is big, we’re trying to make it grow. He thinks my ideas are good and says, if I keep it up, I’ll be a huge name in porn in no time.”

Not only did Max have brawn but he had brain. As much as she hated him, she also admired him.

Asshole
.

“I met my new stepsister.”

Three months ago, Winston had shocked his sons when he’d brought a new wife home. Worse, the slut had a mini-slut that no one wanted to meet.

“The gold-digger’s little whore?” Kayleigh scoffed.

Or so Eric, her brother-in-law, referred to them. She just called them trailer-trash, ignorant sluts.

“Story seems like a sweet girl. It’s her mother I don’t like. She’s the opportunist.

“Her daughter isn’t?”

“No.”

Bitterness swept through Kayleigh that Max seemed to like the little bitch. Maybe, she
should
shoot him in the head.

Still smiling, she trailed a finger down his chest. “Oh, Max, for a man who makes women his business, you’re naïve. Like mother, like daughter. Don’t you know that, love?”

Conversation would allow him to relax. Her goal was to unbalance him, so she didn’t wait for his answer.

Stealing a quick kiss, she dropped to her knees and kissed his hidden cock.

“Kayleigh?” Max asked with uncertainty.

She had power over him, after all. His bemusement was her doing. She hid a smile. She hadn’t fucked him or sucked him in weeks.

Gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t go to the drawer, get a knife, and stab him in the throat, she freed his cock. She stroked her tongue along the underside.

Max sucked in a breath and placed a hand on her head. “What about Simon?”

Simon, huh? He considered everyone except her. She forced another smile. “He’s asleep.” Courtesy of Tylenol and Benadryl. She drugged him most nights. She hadn’t wanted him in the first place, so she definitely didn’t want him to bother her.

“This is our time,” she said, stuffing his cock in her mouth again and sucking.

Max loved to have his cock sucked. He was so easy to figure out, a fact Kayleigh would keep in mind as she put her plans into motion.

Five Months Later

Story twirled in her cheval mirror, unable to believe she was looking at herself. Today was her 16
th
birthday and her mom insisted she choose the outfit Story would wear to celebrate at dinner.

Babs had gone all out on the burnt orange skort dress and high strappy black sandals. She loaned Story her onyx choker with the teardrop diamond, matching teardrop earrings, and an onyx and diamond bracelet, straight from her jewelry chest. Babs had even hired a stylist. Story’s normally straight hair was now wild and curly. The smoky eye with black kohl and orange-red lipstick made her feel grown. Adding in the black glittery nail polish and contoured cheeks sexed her up a little more.

She giggled. Her mom had demanded she girl herself up today as opposed to her usual jeans and T-shirts. On days like this, Story appreciated that Babs was more of a friend to her than a mom. Sometimes, she wondered if it had anything to do with her young age at giving birth. It was as if they’d grown up together.

Twirling again, Story covered her mouth with a hand to contain her happiness.

“Knock, knock,” Babs greeted, opening the door, wearing the midnight-colored version of Story’s dress.

Story turned, intending to thank her mom, but catching sight of Max killed her words. She hadn’t seen him since the day they’d met, although she often thought about him. Sometimes, she even touched herself, pretending he was fingering her clit.

She
had
watched Max in a flick or three, though she’d never admit that to him because it added another layer of mortification.

Heat rushed through her body and she flushed. Having him near her coupled with her thoughts—her knowledge of his naked body—embarrassed her.

“Look who’s joining us for your birthday dinner,” Babs announced. “Max.”

Story had told her mom all about her meeting with Max, the day after it happened. Babs’ had given her an indulgent smile, kissed her cheek and changed the subject.

“Hello, Story,” Max said, sipping from a highball glass, dressed in all black. His suit jacket and shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. Stubble dusted the tanned skin of his jaw. He seemed so out of place in a room filled with
Hello Kitty
décor.

Babs beamed between them. “I have to check on Winston. Can you escort Story down when it’s time?”

“Mom!” Being alone with Max by accident had almost been too much for Story. Her heart couldn’t take being thrown together with him. “I’ll come down with you.”

Max winked at Story, and she almost puddled at his feet. “I bought her two bottles of champagne. Why don’t I make sure they’re being chilled as I requested?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Story rushed out. “If you have to check on Winston, I can walk to the dining room on my own.”

“No, you don’t,” Babs said with a shake of her head. “If I walk away without you, you’ll stay in here and undress, leaving us to celebrate your birthday without you, while you’re locked in your room alone, frolicking around naked.”

If the ground could suck Story in then and there, never to cough her up again, she would’ve been grateful. The sparkle of amusement in Max’s blue eyes increased her humiliation.

Before she recovered, her mom turned on her heel. “I’ll have one of the bottles sent up for you two to enjoy.”

Max’s contained laughter turned into a frown, and they shared a look. Bewilderment slid into Story. If she didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Babs was playing matchmaker. No, that couldn’t be, for too many reasons to count.

Alone with her crush, she rocked on her heels. “I’m so sorry,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded. Inside, her heart pounded and her blood raced. “I’m perfectly fine getting to the table or the den myself. Or wherever,” she babbled, undone by his scrutiny. By
him.
She wanted him to do to her what she’d seen him do to those other girls. Use his hands and mouth on her. Bury himself inside of her, despite that fact that she was a virgin and didn’t have the smallest chance with him.

Between her legs heated and she cleared her throat.

“What new songs have you added to your playlist?” he asked, unaware of her dirty thoughts.

The question eased her nerves and burst her fantasy. “Oh, um, I’ve added some “old” new songs. Mom was listening to
Iris
by the Goo Goo Dolls, so I added that. Let’s see,
Suicide Blonde
, too.”

“INXS?”

His taste in music impressed her. She nodded. “Yes. I’ve also been listening to
Twist and Shout
.”

He grinned, showing deep dimples. “Another Beatles song?”

“Yep.”

“You have quite the collection.”

Pleasure settled into her at his compliment. “I can play something for you. It’ll just take me a second to plug up my speaker.”

“Why not?” he said, more to himself than to her. “A birthday dance.”

Not
. “I don’t dance in front of people.” She used music to workout. One time her mom walked in and told her she’d do well on a stripper pole. From that moment on, Story danced in the sanctuary of her room with the door locked.

“A slow dance,” he amended. “You have several slow songs on your MP3.”

“I’ve never danced with someone else.”

“Get the player, Story,” Max ordered, not responding to the comment.

The command in his tone made Story obey without question. She hurried to her sitting room and took the thing out of her desk drawer, along with the portable speaker, then brought it to where Max stood at her nightstand, her sketchbook in his hand.

He flipped the pages. “These are yours?”

Drawing in a breath, Story nodded. She didn’t show even her mother her drawings. Max acted as if he owned the world, so, of course, he would look through her things without her permission. “Yes,” she answered, irritated.

“You design clothes,” he stated, his look unreadable.

Marching to him, she snatched her sketchbook and shoved her MP3 player and portable speaker into his hands. “I would like to. But Momma has already told me those dreams are unrealistic, so I don’t need you to tell me the same.”

“I’d never tell you that. Your drawings are excellent as are your creativity. I can see you being a designer to the stars someday. Just remember me when you’re rich and famous.”

Max’s charm and charisma was bar none. His words turned her annoyance to delight in a heartbeat.

She hugged her sketchbook close to her chest. “I’m going to be a teacher,” she said quietly. “I’m…I need a stable profession, one that’s always in demand, so I can always take care of myself.”

As much as she loved her mother, she didn’t want to be dependent on a wealthy man to support her.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Come in,” she called.

“Mrs. Sherwood asked me to deliver this,” one of the maids said, carrying a silver bucket filled with ice and a bottle of rose champagne. Behind her, another maid carried a tray with crystal flutes, cheese, fruit, and crackers.

Story’s brow creased. She should’ve known her mom had been serious about Story and Max toasting. Still, it left her at a loss for words. What was her mom thinking? That was it right there. She
wasn’t
thinking. “Um…”

“Place everything on the dining table in her sitting room,” Max instructed.

“Yes, sir,” the woman said.

Once the two staff members cleared out, Max set the music player and speaker next to the trays. “Favorite romantic song?”

“R-romantic?”

“For your dance,” he reminded her. “I don’t dance to fast songs. For that matter, I don’t remember the last time I danced in
any
capacity.”

She wasn’t sure if she should tell him or not. Realizing guilt made her hesitate, she bit down on her lip. It would be so easy to announce she wanted to dance to
Love Me Tender
or
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me
if she wasn’t crushing on Max so badly.

“You have three seconds to tell me before I choose a song myself.”

She shored up her courage and drew in a deep breath. “
Love Me Tender
,” she said timidly.

He nodded toward the table. “Find it.”

“O-okay.” She couldn’t believe he didn’t bat an eye when, to her ears, the song choice sounded ridiculous. Fingers shaking, she scrolled through her playlist until she got to Elvis.

“Your ring is very pretty,” he said as Story agonized on whether or not to press play.

Her crush would turn into love in a heartbeat if he took her in his arms. Babs said it was all right to fall in love with him. It would be puppy love and she’d get over it. But Story spent so much time alone. Mainly, she studied. In her free time, however, she sketched her designs and daydreamed. At night, thoughts of Max turned to fantasy and—

The first notes of the song filled the air. Max held out a hand to her. Swallowing, Story placed her hand in his, butterflies swooping in her stomach as he pulled her against him.

She was dancing with Max Sherwood in her bedroom to
Love Me Tender.
Wait until she told her mom! Bringing Max to her room was the coolest thing ever. Better than her stylish clothes, pretty hair and makeup, and the expensive jewelry.

Hadn’t Max commented on the diamond ‘X’ with the gold band? He had.

“Mom lent me all the jewelry I’m wearing,” she admitted, swaying to Max’s rhythm, on the verge of hyperventilating she was so excited and nervous.

“It figures,” he said with distaste. “My mother received her first diamond when she turned sixteen. Certainly, you’ll get one tonight.”

She didn’t want to be lured by the temptation of this beautiful man. One, she was only sixteen and he was being a nice stepbrother. That was more than she could say for Eric, Win, and Alan. The jury was still out on Ryker. Two, she had a plan for her own money. Three, if she even thought of a diamond, out-of-reach dreams would take flight. If Babs thought her fashion designer aspirations were impossible than finding true love with a man like Max was, too.

“Diamonds aren’t in my future,” she said as the song ended and Max released her.

She lifted her music player.

“Let it play.” He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her back to the chair closest to her, before taking the bottle from the bucket and opening the champagne. The cork popped out.

“Special occasions wouldn’t be the same without a pop.”

Not thinking of a reply, Story nodded.

After Max poured their champagne, he sat in the chair nearest to her and raised his glass.

“Happy birthday, Story.”

“Thanks, Max,” she said shyly.

They clinked their glasses together and sipped. The bubbles tingled against Story’s tongue and she giggled.

“First taste of bubbly,” he guessed.

“First taste of alcohol.”

Max’s look threatened to have Story slide to the floor in a quivering mass of hormones.

“You look very pretty tonight.”

She lowered her lashes. She’d never gotten a compliment from a hot guy before.
Any
guy. “Thank you.”

He drained his glass. “What do you know about me?”

Just the basics—he was the most beautiful, sexiest man on earth, who made her feel as if she was the only girl alive. Perfect for him. His soulmate. “I know you’re a Sherwood and grew up in this area.”

“What’s my net worth?”

The hard question burst her bubble. “I’m not sure.” Nor did it matter.

“You can’t say you don’t see dollar signs when you look at me. All women do.”

He was selling himself so short. “I don’t. I see a charismatic, gorgeous man.”

She clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified at what she let slip. Not that it mattered to Max. Instead of taking it as a compliment, he scowled. She didn’t want him angry with her, especially at her birthday dinner, so she opted for a topic he might like.