Play Dirty By Sandra Brown Novels & Stories

“I saw it… this woman… in pigtails… and this guy… being her daddy…” “Did it make you wet?” She nods again. “I went to bed and touched myself, and it felt… icky… but nice…” “Dirty,” I tell her. “The word is dirty.” “Dirty…” she repeats. “It felt dirty… but nice… I couldn’t stop.” “You don’t have to stop. We can play that game forever, Violet. You can be my dirty little girl forever.” “Forever…” Dainty fingers reach out and stroke my hand on the gearstick.

It had been a horrible week for Emma but the bleeding was finally done with and even though she was not in the right mental state to get back to work, she had run out of all excuses. She grabbed a bucket and her cleaning towels and began heading down the stairs, keeping her free hand on the railings. Whatever Carol had given to her had been very effective, but also possibly very dangerous. She still felt dizzy, and she still felt the jolting pain occasionally, it was as if her insides were burning.

she moaned softly, “fuck me, fill me up. I love being your dirty little whore.” He groaned as the tip of his cock nestled, creating soft friction, and then he drove into her in one deep thrust. He pulled out and pounded her ruthlessly. This wasnt lovemaking, or growing closer. This was a dirty fuck in a dingy carpark. The kind of fuck that Remy knew well and the kind of scene that made men like Ethan lose their minds. She took it all and let her arse push back against his cock as he stayed buried deep in her.

I nodded, lost, knowing I’d follow him anywhere, even if it meant burning. He helped me into a fresh dress, fingers lingering on my skin, lips finding every place he’d marked. By the time I stepped back into the sunlight, I knew I’d never be clean again—not really. Not for him. And I didn’t want to be.

That's when I got dirty. I stuck my middle finger, slicken by her juice, into her puckered ass, and began working it. In. Out. In. Add a second finger. In. Out. In. Out. Add a third finger. In. Out. In. Spit on the fingers. In. Out. In. Out. The effect was immediate.

Piss on my body adds to the mess-droplets flying off with every movement. Hit her tits and face. Jade's eyes are half-closed. mouth open. I lean down, my wet chest sliding over her breasts, rubbing my piss-skin all over her. She arches up, Rubbing against it, loving the filth. I quicken my pace, pounding into her harder. Her pussy clenches, Milking my cock. I can feel her getting wetter, juices flowing out around me. mixing with what's left of her piss.

My hands tightened around the clothes I was holding. The fabric still smelled like us , faint traces of sweat, something warmer and more intimate, and the soft floral body wash we had shared in the shower. It clung stubbornly to the material, like the memory itself refused to fade. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as that scent wrapped around me, pulling me backward into moments I wasn’t ready to relive. I felt dirty all over again. Not just in the physical sense, but deeper, somewhere under my skin, in the quiet corners of my thoughts. Dirty for wanting him even now, when I knew what kind of people he worked with. Dirty for the way my body still responded to him, traitorous and alive,

Sandra gasped dramatically, her eyes wide in mock innocence. Before Dino could react, she was already moving. She reached into her small designer purse, pulled out a delicate white handkerchief, and without hesitation, knelt in front of him. Eloise’s breath caught. Sandra dabbed at the stain, pressing the fabric against the expensive material, her hands lingering... too familiar, too intentional. Dino tensed, clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t immediately push her away. That was all Sandra needed. She glanced up at him through her lashes, a coy smile playing on her lips, knowing full well what she was doing. “Let me take care of it,” she murmured. “You know I don’t mind.”

“I already did. I might have tasted just a tiny bit of one too. Like, not even a sip but more like stuck my tongue into it.” I wrinkle my nose. “Hopefully not mine.” “Nah,” Scarlet says, twisting around in a bar stool. “It was mine. Doesn’t bother me, though it should, right? I mean, it sounds disgusting.” “You love me.” Quinn wrinkles her nose and smiles, and I catch Danielle watching them. I remember what she said about feeling like an outsider, and suddenly I feel a lot more connected to Danielle than I thought I would.

I stood up on legs that barely felt like mine, knees soft, blood humming. Every inch of my body pulsed with memory, with desire, with that reckless craving that had never really gone quiet since the retreat. Slowly, deliberately, I peeled off my scrubs. Not all at once. I let them slide down my hips with a kind of teasing ease, like my skin was aching to be bared. Underneath, I wore the set I had no business wearing to work. Blood red. Lacy. Practically a sin.