SUCH A DIRTY GIRL
Read the first three chapters below to meet our main characters.
TROPES
Jealousy | Blackmail | MMF | Step Brothers | Rugby
BLURB
I, Andrew Belmont, am desperately in love with the one man I can’t have.
We’re rugby teammates.
Our parents are married.
And worst of all? He’s madly in love with his girlfriend.
I’ve sat on the sidelines long enough watching their picture-perfect relationship, but I’ve seen things others miss. The cracks in their adoration. The sticking plasters they use to hide their discontent. And when Jake confides in me, I can’t help but take my chance. My opportunity to insert myself between them in the guise of helping him keep Sarah.
But I’m playing with fire. The closer I grow to him, the more I fall for them both. My world’s going to blow up in my face and I risk losing them both.
Such a Dirty Girl is a dark and spice-filled MMF romance with cheating, blackmail and dark themes.
CHAPTER ONE
Sarah
The wet pitch was a mud-coated battlefield, slick with rain and testosterone. Sliding bodies. Deep grunts. Thick thighs flexing beneath clinging mud. Shorts barely recognisable as once-white.
Not for the first time, I thanked the universe that the team had a laundering service for their strips.
A glance at the clock had me gripping the railing as heated yells punctuated the air. The Otters needed to win the game to go through, and tensions bubbled in the VIP box overlooking the pitch.
I followed the flash of golden-blond hair, wincing as my boyfriend, Jake, got slammed from the side.
‘Fuckers,’ I muttered.
‘Don’t worry, doll,’ the woman sitting closest to me said, reaching over to rub my arm. I slid further along the bench seat while eyeing her.
Not one of the usual WAGs, though the team had a regular rotation of partners from certain players. I’d long gotten used to not getting too attached to any until they’d stuck around for at least six months.
‘He’s your man, right?’ She said before taking a sip of a canned gin and tonic.
‘Yeah. Jake is. Who are you with?’ Jake was back on his feet already, the pointed ball tucked in his arms, barrelling down the field. It still sent tingles through me watching those thick thighs tense with every long step. Yet, while Jake looked great on the field, some days it felt like he was a comfy old sweater I’d started to outgrow. Reliable. Sweet. Dependable.
Predictable.
‘Oh. No-one. Yet.’ The woman gave me a conspiratorial grin. ‘My sister is dating Graham, but I’ve got my eye on Andrew Belmont.’
It took a great deal of restraint to fight my eye roll. Andrew-fucking-Belmont. May as well be the team bike for the amount of rides he gives out. There was little doubt the woman could probably climb aboard and have a wild night in Drew’s bed, but taming him beyond that? No way. Plenty had tried. All had failed.
Because Drew was a grade-A commitment phobe. And a royal pain in the arse. Sharing a rugby club with him was bad enough, but the fact I had to share a home with him? Diabolical.
It’s only for a few weeks, I reminded myself. Just until the end of the season. Then Jake and I would be spending a few months abroad before getting married.
I hoped.
And the saving up for our perfect home would be a long forgotten memory. It was all going fine until Drew’s apartment building closed for repairs and he had to go back to his Dad’s house. Which just so happened to be Jake’s Mum’s house.
The woman next to me snapped her fingers, and I startled out of my reverie.
‘Isn’t he just delicious? That floppy hair. The tattoos. Gawd, the way his ass muscles move as he runs. I’d love to sink my teeth into those.’
‘Mmm.’ My noise was non-committal. Obviously I was aware of the general hotness of my boyfriend’s step-brother, but up close he was just an idiot. Self-confident, overly sure of himself, and convinced everyone else needed to worship him. Yet, still incapable of forming a real connection above rugby-bro tomfoolery. Even his stupid smirk had its own gravitational pull. One I’d gladly kick into the next century if it meant I didn’t constantly have to notice it.
‘Your boyfriend is his brother, right?’ She continued.
‘Step.’
‘So… like you could get me close to him?’ She asked.
The crowd rose up, teetering on the edge of excitement. All around us volume increased. Shouts both positive and negative from fans of both sides pelted over the pitch. I stood as Jake got the ball, storming toward the try line, dodging barrel-chested men as he ran.
‘Come on, Jake,’ I screamed, adding my voice to the din. ‘You’ve got it, babe!’
An opposing player shoulder-checked him, and Jake dropped to one knee to a collective groan from our end of the stands.
‘No,’ I groaned.
Jake wasn’t giving up that easy. Without dropping the ball, he pulled himself upright and tore toward the try line. A rapturous cheer filled the air as he made it across, slamming the ball into the dirt.
Within seconds, the final whistle sounded.
They’d done it.
Pride filled my chest as the team surrounded Jake, roughing up his hair and slapping him on the back. Another step closer to the end stages of the tournament. To getting scouted by one of the premiership teams. If whispers were to be believed, two London clubs had their eye on him.
If he could keep playing strong over the remainder of the season, Jake could get everything he’d worked so hard for.
And me? Well, I could finally stop having to see Drew every morning.
Because the way he infuriated me had begun to get under my skin. In ways that were becoming hard to ignore.
CHAPTER TWO
Drew
Steam billowed out of the shower room into the changing area. The patter of water mingled with my teammates’ voices as we celebrated our win.
Celebrated Jake.
Always the good one. The better player. The better boyfriend. The better son.
Who could blame them? Not me. I’d been worshipping the ground he walked on since the day we met. Jake Belmont. The rich bitch from the good side of town. His mum married down when she fell for my father, and while she may have loved him, I was nothing but a scruffy tagalong.
Too rough. Too unkempt. Too much of a bad influence.
Never good enough to live up to her standards. And in the shadow of my stepbrother’s glow, I’d lingered in the dark. Spent my days watching the world fawn over Jake. The praise hoisted upon him pushed my sorry ass further into the dirt.
Still, I never blamed Jake. The sun truly shone out of his perfectly sculpted ass. An ass I’d spent years dreaming about. Craving.
Stripping off, I threw my muddied clothing into the bin next to the shower room and gave myself to the hot water. Let it wash away the dirt and the rage. Jake never looked at me the way I looked at him. He reserved all of that for his darling little girlfriend, Sarah. They’re sickly sweet together. All trying to outdo one another with kindness. Forever suggesting they watch the others favourite movies and bringing their favourite snacks. Complimentary outfits and matching perfectly angelic smiles. To the outside world, they’re a power couple, but I knew better.
My bedroom sat right next to Jake’s.
The hole I’d made years ago, covered by a picture on my end and half-concealed on his side by a bookshelf, let me see the side of them that no-one else got to. A hole I’d made when I was still dumb enough to believe he might want me too.
The boredom on her face while he so tenderly made love to her. The way she’d grip her own throat out of his sight just to finish. The rough porn when he wasn’t there as she fucked herself on his bed.
Sarah loved him, no doubt, but their compatibility was off. The eventual death knell for most relationships. Only she didn’t leave.
Nearly four years, they’d been entwined. And my desperation was growing. I needed Jake like I needed to breathe. He’d fucked around with other guys before her, just not me.
I soaped up as the shower room filled with a sea of naked men. Rugby blokes were rarely shy. Individual shower stalls were rare at our level in the league. You just averted your eyes and got the job done.
‘Good game, huh?’ Jake said, ducking under the shower head immediately next to me. My pulse quickened, and I hoped that any visible flush in my cheeks could be put down to the steam.
‘Yeah. You were great out there.’ The tight valley down the centre of his abs was impossible to ignore. It screamed: Cum in here and drink it like a fucking shot.
‘We were great! Take the team to win.’
Gorgeous and humble to boot. No wonder I was doomed the day we met.
‘The tackle you made on Fry was killer; he’ll be feeling that tomorrow,’ Jake said, slapping me on the back and sending a spray of water droplets onto his chest. His delicious, solid chest. He cracked a smile that melted my soul before slapping shampoo onto his head, his blond hair darkened by the running water.
Then it happened.
A thickening between my thighs. Heat rushed and filled my cock with need.
Oh shit. Not here.
Turning away from Jake, I screwed my eyes shut and let the water fall over my face.
Go away. Go away. Go away.
My dick ignored my command, rising from a half-chub to full mast.
Boners in the showers were common when we were hormone-crazed youths, but as grown men? Not so much.
My towel hung out of reach. Could I get to it before anyone noticed? It was that or stay in the shower covering myself until everyone left. Which would look even weirder seeing as I was one of the first in there.
Shit.
I’d have to make a break for it.
Trying to look nonplussed, I turned, relaxing a hand over my cock. Not enough to look like I was hiding anything, just enough to deflect a quick glance.
Only a few steps to go...
Reaching out, I grasped the rough towel, grinning as I lowered it around my waist.
‘Drew’s got a boner!’ Elliot said, laughing.
‘Shut up,’ I groaned, wrapping the material around me.
‘A right fucking tent,’ Greg added.
Showers turned off around the room and guys surrounded me, towels in hand.
‘Hey, we’re not kids anymore.’ I backed away.
‘If you can’t control your cock, you know the price.’ Elliot pulled his towel tight, angling it at me.
A snap from the right had me cursing as a towel caught my calf.
‘Fuck, ow.’ I grabbed the end of the offending towel and yanked it, dropping my own.
Sharp snaps had me practically dancing on the spot while the guys whooped and laughed, and after a moment of rage, I laughed along with them. The towel punishment worked like a charm, my dick softening under the barrage of light pain.
Good thing I’m not a masochist. My punishment would’ve been someone’s ultimate fantasy.
I had eyes only for one man, and he’d left the room without partaking in my teammates’ game.
Probably going to see her.
CHAPTER THREE
Jake
I’d stepped into the Greasy Otter when Elliott shoved a pint glass into my hand. The pale yellow liquid sloshed over my fingers, foam chasing the drops to the floor.
‘Thanks, mate,’ I said with a smile.
Post-match pints were such a tradition that the Greasy Otter kept four tables near the back of the room permanently cordoned off for us. It was sweet that the owner, Jim, treated us like VIPs when we weren’t exactly a major team. Still, he never missed a game and thrived on welcoming us back after.
All I really wanted was to grab my girl and head home. Throw on a movie. Cuddle her close. Run my fingers through her hair until she whimpered. I had more chance of morphing into a badger than getting out of there before I’d consumed at least three pints.
Which meant keeping the act up.
Smile. Joke. Console.
Shmooze. Lie.
With each passing day, my life felt more like one giant lie. I’d become a people pleaser at a young age. First I’d tried to smooth my parents’ rocky marriage by being the perfect son, before letting it spill into every area of my life. The dog never ate my homework. Shoes always clean. No elbows on the table. Always being fair on the rugby field. Just the right amount of aggression for a rugby player. Never losing my temper.
It was exhausting.
Sarah had been my one reprieve from perfection. The place I felt most myself was by her side. Yet, even with her, I strived to be the best boyfriend who ever boyfriended. Bought her the ideal gifts. Gave her just the right attention, for every situation. For years—it worked.
Recently, something had changed. Outwardly, Sarah was still the same sweet, darling partner, but she’d occasionally freeze when I touched her. Or pretend to sleep when I got into bed. Something had crept into those quiet moments between us, subtle yet undeniable, and started to wedge us apart. Whenever I tried to prod her gently for a reason, she dismissed it with reassurances of her love. I never doubted her love, but something was bothering her. I needed to figure out what.
‘Hello, love,’ I said as I approached the table, beer in hand.
‘Jake!’ Sarah stood and slid her arm around my waist, pulling me into a kiss. Cherry lip balm and prosecco tingled on my lips, and before she could pull back I deepened the kiss, revelling in the deliciousness . Until she turned her face away, blushing. Her cheeks pinked, and warmth flooded my chest.
God, I love her.
‘Well done on the match, you were something else,’ she said, her voice breathy.
‘Wasn’t he just?’
I didn’t know the woman who spoke, another transient member of our team’s other halves most likely. With a few of the younger guys, I lost track entirely of who belonged to whom. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure they remembered from week to week.
Sarah tightened her grip on my waist, pulling me closer. I adored it when she got territorial. Claim me, baby.
‘So kind of you to say,’ I replied. Just enough not to be rude, but in a way that didn’t encourage further conversation. I’d long gotten used to the art of sticking to polite conversation with hungry-looking women who hung around the team. While some fancied a particular guy, more often than not they just wanted to date a rugby player. Which one didn’t matter.
Lord knew why. Sure, we got paid decently for running around with a ball and tussling in the mud, but it wasn’t premiership money. And off the pitch we were training, drinking, or strapped up from injuries. Hardly a glamorous life.
‘How are you?’ I asked Sarah, placing my pint on the table and focusing all my attention on her.
‘Good. Missed you today.’ The way her left cheek broke into a dimple had me melting every time. She was a work of art.
‘Not too long until the season’s done and we can bugger off somewhere sunny for a few weeks.’ Every year we’d jump on a plane the morning after the last game, usually groggy-headed and feeling half alive. But recovery next to a pool with the sun beating down on my skin and my girl by my side was worth it. Miles from expectation. I could turn my phone off, and it was like the world didn’t exist until I turned it back on.
‘With cocktails?’ Sarah trailed a hand over my abs, my shirt tugging beneath her fingers.
‘You know it.’ I leaned in and winked. ‘Heavy on the cock.’
There it was. That barely there twitch in her eyes. Her lips pursed before she caught herself and reset her face into a smile. I furrowed my brow. She never used to respond like that. We’d always joked around together and used ridiculous innuendo to make one another laugh. Had she matured out of it?
‘Sorry,’ I added, a seed of panic rooting deep in my stomach.
‘No need to be,’ Sarah said. It was like the blip hadn’t happened. Her face was a picture of glowing adoration again.
And I recognised it for what it was.
A mask.
One I’d worn for years.
Before I could dig further, a muscled arm gripped me around the shoulders, all masculine saltiness and aftershave. Drew pulled me into a rough side hug before ruffling a hand through my hair.
‘You’re doing a shit job of drinking your pint, bro. Too busy throwing heart eyes at Sarah again?’ Drew released me and shoved my pint back into my hand. Sarah scowled at him, and when I made to protest, Drew hopped up on the empty chair beside us. ‘Three cheers for our man of the match! Jake Belmont! The indomitable otter.’
The grotty old pub filled with a raucous din, cheers and shouts deafening around me. Still, I couldn’t help but grin as the energy in the room increased a dozen-fold. My team. My boys. I fucking loved them.
If I got scouted, I’d miss the hell out of them all.
Especially my twat of a stepbrother, who never stopped pushing forward despite often feeling like the underdog.
But I couldn’t bring them all with me.
And staying wouldn’t be making the most of potential, which everyone expected me to fulfil. It wouldn’t get Sarah the dream home she deserved. It wouldn’t make six figures of private education worth it. She did it just to get me into the most competitive junior rugby school—so I could live, breathe, and bleed the sport.
We all need to make sacrifices. I told myself.
Being enveloped in everyone’s appreciation and excitement made the prospect ever the more difficult though.
Pushing down another wave of panic, I downed my pint to rapturous applause before wrapping one arm around Sarah, and the other around Drew.
The two people I couldn’t live without.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the sense that everything was about to change.
