Dirty. Sexy. Love.[*Complete*]

Chapter One -- Jez

My mother always said, "Don't shit where you eat." I never understood what she meant until I stood in the executive level conference room opposite the five members of the rock phenomenon Unusual Things. They dressed like rockstars in tight ripped jeans, expensive t-shirts, jackets, and sunglasses—even though they were inside and outside the grey clouds threatened rain.

Last night their vocalist, Asher Prince, didn't dress like someone who had made it...which led to us tearing at each other's clothes in the green room at La Rogue. Of course the one time I slack off I end up fucking my client. That makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

If I did the pre-signing footwork myself, as per usual, I might have recognized the tattoos on his biceps. Not to mention the glint of those killer hazel-green eyes—even if half obscured by black-rimmed glasses.

What made everything so much worse...we fucked before, years ago when we were eighteen—maybe he was nineteen. My band opened for his, we both showed up early to La Rogue and ended up spending the day together, hanging out like normal teens who thought they were grown. Our night a decade ago ended the same as the night before, with us naked and sweaty.

Why didn't I recognize him?

Even as I had the thought, I knew why. I didn't care the guy under me was Asher from Unusual Things the first time, and I still didn't—beyond the possible professional implications. He kind of looked similar—his hair was shorter now—but there were age lines, a lack of facial piercings and six buckets of makeup in both our cases.

Most would have wondered if he recognized me, I hoped he didn't. My luck, however, wasn't that great. I had no doubt he knew I was the woman from the night before. But there's a huge difference between the look of an eighteen-year-old who thinks she's the sexiest thing in heels and a twenty-eight-year-old Public Relations Executive. I dropped the Hot Topic ensemble long ago—he only evolved his.

Oh, he was still distractingly sexy with his high, to die for cheekbones and angular facial features. Not to mention how the clothes clung to his lithe, powerful body—but that was on purpose.

Anyone who thought a Rockstar's job was only to make music didn't pay close enough attention. Sex sells. One of those unspoken requirements for bands to get as big as Unusual Things was at least having a front man who was hella sexy. Lucky for them, they all were. Each of them would have been attractive enough on their own, but thanks to their label they dressed to be attention-getting. Manufactured boy bands had nothing on them.

After taking my seat at the head of the large volcanic ash table, I opened their file. If not for Ricky D's impending departure in some last-ditch attempt to save her failing marriage, I wouldn't be there. In another universe, I could have gone back to my regularly scheduled programming, assuming I screwed some wanna-be Rockstar last night instead of the real deal.

"I don't do things like Ricky," I started, speaking to the file without looking at them. "You guys might be famous long enough to assume you know how to behave, but working with child stars over the last six years taught me one thing. You famous fucks don't know shit." I glanced over the file and beamed at them. Asher smirked, rubbing the short black stubble on the back of his head—stubble I could easily recall the feel of as it scrapped against my inner thighs.

"Different how?" he asked in that cool melodic tenor, the one that won them Grammy after Grammy.

"For starters, I'm going to take each of you into my office one at a time, and you're going to tell me everything you've done in the last five years that might cause a scandal if it gets out. If it makes a priest blush, I need to hear it. I need to know what I'm getting into." All five of them started opening their mouths to speak, and I silenced them with a quick, harsh, loud whistle. "Don't. No one is squeaky clean. If I can anticipate what might pop out, I can have things in place to counteract any vicious fallout. If you don't want to tell me, there's the door. I'm sure there's a bunch of others who would bend over backward to say they rep you." I closed the thick manila folder and snatched the others from the table. "Send someone into the office at the end of the hall if you decide you want me. If you don't. Again, see the door."

Hugging the files to my chest, I went into my office and set the stack of folders on the corner of my glass desk. Reaching under my desktop, I hit the little button to shutter the blinds. If I was totally honest, I really couldn't have cared less if they decided they wanted me to represent them or not. I ran out of fucks to give on the matter about three seconds after they walked through the door.
Less than five minutes passed between the time I kicked my feet up on my desk and Asher walking in. The look of determination in his smoldering green gaze made gooseflesh break out over my skin. Clearing my throat, I crossed my ankles and lifted my chin a little as he sat down in the leather sling chair opposite me.
"I fuck a lot." He folded his hands in his lap. "Lots of one-night stands, nothing permanent."
You don't say. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Gotcha. Anyone underage?"
"No. I don't go after anyone unless I see them order their own drinks first."
"So, you don't fuck groupies?"
"No."
"Hear that?" I cupped my ear. "You just broke the hearts of millions of horny, desperate teenagers the world over."
The smirk that tugged at his small lips was slightly lopsided and entirely too endearing.
"Yeah, well haven't you heard? I severely lack in the heart department."
"No, but you certainly have a dick. Surprisingly enough you know how to use it." I sighed. "See there's the problem. You write love songs. Fuck, Unusual Things is known for that cheesy piece of shit. What's it called... 'Should have said'?"
"'Should have told you'. I had a moment." He chuckled before his eyes darted to the desk. For that instant he looked somewhat hurt and definitely introspective. "Everyone gets one"—his gaze raised to mine—"and either they seize that moment, or they let it go."

I snorted. "Spare me the forlorn bullshit. You didn't seem too put out while trying to fuck me into the wall last night. Or when you had your face between my thighs."
"I'm not saying I don't enjoy sex. I just can't do anything beyond that, so I don't try."

"Gotcha. So, you're a narcissist who thinks they have it all figured out. Just like every other client." I opened my desk drawer and took out my card. "Here, you're going to need this when you snap and 'accidentally'"—I air quoted 'accidentally'—"kill that one-nightstand some night during choke sex."

"Shit." He chortled. "You're really as ballsy as Ricky said."

"That's because I'm just that good, Princess." I winked at him.

"You know if you want to do last night again..." He grabbed a post-it note off my desk and wrote his number down before sticking it in front of me. "Give me a call."

"Oh, Princess, that was a pity fuck. I was bored." I balled up the sticky note and tossed it into the trash. "You can send the next one in." I beamed at him, and he nodded slowly before leaving.

When the door shut, I collapsed against my blotter and let out a long ragged breath. Getting over Asher would take a good week at the very least—the sex was too good. But no matter how appealing a repeat of the night before seemed, I wasn't going to let it happen.

Guaranteed double orgasm or not, rememberJez we don't shit where we eat.

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Author's Note: Sorry it's late! I slept through my alarm this morning so I'm super behind on everything. I hope you guys like the chapter. What do you think about Jez and Asher? I know they're definitely no Noah or Rosaline. Would you have taken Asher's number? I probably would have... no, strike that I definitely would have.