No Im Dirty Dan Novels & Stories

If someone asked me why I hate Mateo Carter, I’d probably say it’s for a lot of reasons, but the truth is it all comes down to how easy it is for him to ruin everything without caring, because he plays dirty, on and off the ice, because he’s always smiling like nothing has consequences, because he never loses, because he always gets what he wants and people follow him even when they shouldn’t, because he has that reputation as a player, a heartbreaker, like it’s something to be proud of, and still no one seems to see him for what he really is, and what pisses me off the most is that someone like him, someone exactly like that, is the one who’s with Sofi now, like it wasn’t enough having him

I'm a mess – a perfect, filthy, destroyed, worshipped mess. "Don't clean up yet," Ethan says. He grabs his phone. Photographs me – covered in cum, spread on the sheets, the bowl of unused condoms visible on the nightstand, evidence of a night that exceeded every fantasy I've ever had. "Now," he says, setting the phone down. "Who wants to go again?" Round two is dirtier than round one.

We went at it like that for a long time and dirty talk flew between us. “You act cocky on the field but you open up so easily to take your quarterback’s cock,” I said. “Only because your dick is decent,” he replied, grinning through moans. My eyes rolled into my head in between my hard thrusts. “Now fill me again.” I did as he asked. “Damon,” he breathed. “I want your thick load dripping down my legs tomorrow at practice. Breed me like you own this ass Quarterback.” I lost control and railed him faster.

Danny said coldly. “That day will never come, but I'll give you some free advice in the name of our old days, Jamima is mine. She is my mate, and anyone who dares to look at her or her family with dirty eyes will be killed. So, you should teach this to your loyal dogs as well,” Daniel, said solemnly.

Then one name stopped my thumb cold. Dan. No last name. Just Dan. Thirty-one. Clean profile photo: dark hair, strong jaw, that half-smirk that looked like he already knew something funny the rest of us hadn’t figured out yet. The message was short. “Last call of the night. Room 214. 2 hours, full service. Cash upfront. No rush.” I stared at the photo for a long second. Something about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made my chest feel lighter than it had all evening. I typed back before I could overthink it.

My legs tremble from the intensity. Immi pulls away as soon as I release her head and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then takes the tip of my cock and wipes it all over her cheeks, down to her lips, across her lips, her chin and down some of her neck. “Fuck, darlin’ you are so damn sexy and dirty.” I watch as she dries me up by using her body and face as the towel, it’s the sexiest and dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen, except of course on a porno when I was about sixteen or something. She’s like my very own little porno queen, maybe I should give her a new nickname. She laps the last of me up from the tip of my cock. I extend my hand to help her get off her knees which must be damn

“Damian, it’s me. I’m real.” I held his head in my hands, so his focus was on me. “No, no. You are not real. I want her too much that my mind plays a trick on me. I’m dirty. I’m sticky. She doesn’t want me. Those bastards.. always left me sticky. I need to get clean..” He kept on mumbling and scrubbing himself. Bastards.. Men? What kind of activity could he be in involved in that left him sticky? Could it be he was involved in fights and got himself bloodied? The thought sent shivers down my spine. I shouldn't think about it now.

CARA I return. Gently, I bend and start to clean up the mess. It takes a while, but I finally get all the glass shards and the remaining unmelted pills into the trash bag. Then, I go back and retrieve the cleaning mop from the open box to use it in wiping off the pool of whiskey on the floor. The door of the bathroom opens, and I turn around. Dane comes out, fully clothed in a light sleeveless gray shirt and deep burgundy jogger pants.

Dan started. "Quiet Dan, a grown-up is talking. You see, you'd get to know me. But I wouldn't get anything, because I already know you. I knew you the instant you interrupted me from closing down my computer so I could go home. I looked up at saw an overweight man-child with tit-magnets in his eyes. But I saw more than that. I saw that you don't know that you can't wear black shoes with a brown belt. I saw that you put your clothes on for the day before you brush your teeth and then don't check to see if you drool all over yourself. I saw that you don't shave the corners of your mouth, giving you strange little whiskers. And I saw that you are an idiot, like most of the people who work here.