All Chapters of Dirty (short stories): Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The rain came down in sheets the morning Mara first met him. She slid into the back of the black Range Rover at 7:12 a.m., already on a call, voice low and lethal as she tore into her COO about missed deadlines. The car didn’t move. She glanced up, annoyed. “Seatbelt,” the driver said in a deep voice with no apology in his voice nor rush. Mara blinked. The man in the front seat was new, he had broad shoulders straining the seams of a black suit, short dark hair still damp from the rain, jawline sharp enough to make you second guess staring too long. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, ver steady and unreadable, the color of dark espresso. She clicked the belt without breaking eye contact. “You’re not Marcus.” “Marcus is out sick. I’m Jax. Started today.” “Jax.” She let the name hang for a second. “Drive. I need to be at the tower in twenty-five minutes.” He pulled away from the curb with driving as smooth as silk, Just clean acceleration that pressed her back into t

Morning light cut through the half-closed blinds of Mara’s penthouse like it was trying to cut the tension in half. She woke first, sprawled across her king bed, sheets tangled around her hips, the faint ache between her legs a delicious reminder of last night. Jax was still there. Face down, one arm slung over her waist, breathing slow and deep against her shoulder. His back rose and fell, muscles shifting under skin marked with faint scars she hadn’t noticed in the dark car. Military, probably. She traced one with her fingertip, lightly, in a curious way and he stirred. Didn’t open his eyes yet. Just tightened his arm, pulling her closer until her bare breasts pressed against his chest. “Morning,” he murmured, voice wrecked from sleep and everything else they’d done after the car. Mara smiled into his neck. “You snore.” “Liar.” He nipped her earlobe. “You were the one making all the noise.” Heat pooled low in her belly at the memory...him bending her over the hood of the

Jax’s apartment was nothing like hers, it was a small, industrial, one big open room with exposed brick and a king bed shoved against the far wall under a single skylight. It smelled like him: leather, faint cologne, and the sharp edge of rain from the open window. Mara had barely made it through the door before he had her pinned against it, his mouth on hers, hands everywhere, like he’d been starving for her all day. “Been thinking about this since the office,” he growled, yanking her blouse open. Buttons popped and scattered across the hardwood. “You in that skirt, bent over your desk. My cock buried in you while the city watched.” Mara’s laugh was breathless. “Show me.” He spun her, pressed her chest to the door, hiked her skirt up to her waist. No panties again, she’d stopped wearing them around him. His fingers found her soaked, swollen, ready. He didn’t tease. Just freed his cock, thick and hard, and thrust in deep, one brutal stroke that made her gasp and arch. “Fuck..

Nadia spotted Kai across the terrace the moment she stepped out of the shuttle, and it felt like someone had punched the air out of her lungs. Two years. Two full years since he’d walked out mid-sentence, suitcase already in hand, voice flat as he said, “I can’t keep pretending this is enough for me.” She’d screamed after him until her throat burned, until the door slammed and the hallway echoed with silence. She’d spent the next twenty-four months rebuilding—new apartment , promotion at the agency, dates with men who were polite and safe and forgettable by morning. She told herself she was over it. She told herself she didn’t care. But seeing him now—leaning against the railing in that stupid white linen shirt, sleeves rolled to show the forearms she used to trace with her tongue, laughing low at something Tom said—made every lie she’d told herself crack open. He looked good. Too good. Like the last two years had only sharpened him. Hair a little longer, curling a

Nadia woke slowly, sunlight filtering through the shutters in soft golden lines across the bed. Her body felt heavy and tender, especially between her legs, where the ache from last night lingered like a secret she couldn’t ignore. Kai was still asleep beside her, one strong arm thrown across her waist, his breathing deep and even. His skin was warm against hers, and she could smell the faint mix of rain, salt, and sex on him. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the dried stickiness on her thighs and the faint bruises his fingers had left on her hips. Part of her wanted to slip out quietly and pretend last night hadn’t happened. Another part—the louder part—wanted to roll over and wake him with her mouth. She chose the middle path. She slid out from under his arm, careful not to disturb him, and reached for his discarded linen shirt on the floor. It was too big, the sleeves falling past her hands, the hem barely covering her ass. She buttoned only two button