Dirty Money

by Jessica Clare

  “You still not sure about my intentions?” Boone asks. “Because I thought I’ve been pretty clear about what I want, all along.”

  Me. He wants me.

  I blink and gaze at his full mouth, then back up to his eyes. “I’m a little worried.”

  “About?”

  I feel like I’m about to become unraveled. It’s maddening, this intense attraction between us. He’s so close that he’s making my nerves go haywire. “That there’s too much business involved in between us. That my attraction to you is based purely on your wallet.”

  Boone laughs and leans a bit closer, his mouth nearing mine. “Only one way to find out.”

  Oh god, he’s going to kiss me. He inches in, his gaze flicking back to mine as if waiting to see how I react. Suddenly, it feels like it’s taking too long. Impulsive, I grab the front of his shirt with one hand and pull his mouth to my own. Our lips clash, hard and fierce, and I practically orgasm right then and there.

  Boone groans and presses his chest against mine. I’m pinned against the car, clutching the keys in my hand, my other knotted in his clothing. His wild beard feels prickly and thick, but his lips feel somehow firm and like velvet against my own mouth. The contrast makes me even crazier, and I bite at his lower lip, obsessed with this man. His breathing grows harsh and his hand grabs at my bun, and I don’t know if he’s holding me close or trying to free my hair.

  All rational thought has gone out the window. I hike my leg up, rubbing my thigh against his denim-clad one, even as he snags my mouth and begins to kiss me again. His mouth is open, hot, and seeking, and when his tongue thrusts into my mouth, I feel it between my thighs. I let the car keys drop, and wrap my arms around his neck, sucking on his tongue as he fucks my mouth with it.

  I want this more than I’ve wanted anything, ever. He’s consuming my senses, until there’s nothing but heat and sweat between us, bodies pressed together. It’s still not enough. I moan into his mouth and rub my breasts against his chest, desperate for more. I want him to pinch my nipples. I want his hand between my thighs. I want to feel everything he has to give me.

  “Good god, baby. You are hot as sin.” His hand slides to my ass and grips it, hard, and I moan against his mouth because it feels amazing. “I need this. Need you.” His mouth claims me again in a demanding kiss. “Need to claim what’s mine.”

  “Boone,” I whisper, utterly lost in him. I’ve never felt this maddeningly wild about another man. Ever. My few dating experiences didn’t even come close to this.

  He pulls me forward, and I gasp, clinging to him. He opens the back door of the car and then steps forward. “Lie back, baby. I need to taste you.”

  “T-taste me?” I stammer.

  “All of you,” he agrees, voice heated. “I’m going to put my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours and lick it until you cream on my tongue.”

  It’s a good thing he’s holding me, because my legs suddenly can’t seem to support my weight. Dazed, I sit down on the edge of the seat and glance around. We’re in the driveway of this house—”

  “It’s abandoned,” he says, dropping to his knees in front of me, and his movements are slow and assured . . . and dangerous. Like a predator. His hands go to my thighs, and then he pushes them apart, my short skirt hiking up. “Ain’t nobody here but you and me, darlin’.”

  He’s right. Part of me thinks that I should protest. Put a stop to this. Tell him that we need to keep things professional.

  Instead, I watch as he runs his face along the inside of my knee, rubbing his beard over my sensitive skin. My entire body prickles in response.

  He looks up at me a moment later, and there’s raw need in his eyes. “Lie back for me, Ivy.”

  I should say no. I should sell him this house and just walk away.

  Instead, I moan and lie back, my thighs quivering in anticipation.

  “Your skin’s so fuckin’ soft,” he murmurs, and I feel him kiss my knee again. I close my eyes and press a hand to my forehead, because it feels like that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from coming out of my own skin. I’m a bundle of nerves—part excitement and part skittishness. His mouth on my knee? That’s the furthest I’ve ever gone. I can’t stop thinking about where his mouth is going to go next.

  Boone’s hands go up my skirt, and I feel him tug on my panties. I freeze, because I can’t remember if I’m wearing sexy panties or if they’re granny panties. Now’s a hell of a time to be wondering. “Boone . . .”

  “Shh. I’m just taking myself a souvenir.”

  That makes me prop up on my elbows to look at him. “You can’t take my panties as a souvenir!”

  He arches an eyebrow at me even as he slides the underwear in question down my legs. “Can’t I?”

  “They’re mine,” I protest weakly, watching even as he lifts them to his face and rubs the fabric over his mouth, then tucks it into his pocket. That was the most . . . insane and erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Dear lord. I stare as he turns back toward me with a predatory look in his eye.

  His hands move back up my skirt again, and he grabs my hips and then hauls me down the seat toward him. “Put those pretty feet over my shoulders, Ivy, and I’ll lick you until you scream.”

  Oh god.

  Oh, god.

  I’m trembling with nervousness and need. There’s a naughty edge to all of this, because we’re in the driveway of someone else’s house. Granted, the house is abandoned and there’s a gate, but we’re still outside. In the open. Everything about that screams that we shouldn’t be doing this . . . which is probably why it feels so wicked.

  And yet, I can’t find the courage to do as he says. I’m paralyzed.

  Boone seems to realize this, because he takes one of my thighs and casually drapes it over his shoulder. Like it’s no big deal. His eyes meet mine for a brief, electric moment, and then he gives me one of those gorgeously cocky smiles . . . and dives under my skirt. All I can see is the tangle of his hair and then his mouth is on me.

  And then it’s hard to think about . . . anything.

  I can feel the tickle of his beard on the inside of my thighs. I can feel his mouth brushing over the curls of my pussy and then I feel the drag of his tongue as he licks the entire length of my folds. I gasp, but he’s not done. In the next moment his tongue sweeps deeper and then I feel him press it against my core. It feels . . . shocking. And intensely amazing.

  A whimper escapes my throat, and I have to fight the urge to raise my hips. When he pushes his tongue against that spot again, I feel this intense need to be filled, my insides aching and hollow.

  “Knew you’d taste this fucking sweet,” he murmurs, and he shrugs my other leg over his other shoulder, and now I’m practically straddling his face. “Been waiting forever to taste you.”

  “We just met,” I stammer, even as he gives me another lick that sends shudders through my body. Ooooh.

  He shoots me a scorching look over my skirt. “And every moment I’ve had to wait to put my mouth on you has been a thousand years. So I’m gonna savor this right now.” His hand flattens on my hip and he drops his head again, and I feel his lips brush over my clit.

  A little cry escapes. That feels so incredible. His lips feel soft and yet firm as he sucks gently at my clit, and I can’t help but undulate against him as he does that. The breath is hissing from my lungs each time he licks or sucks at my flesh, until I’m practically riding his face, and intense tension is ratcheting up through my body. I’m going to scream. I’m going to explode. I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces and no one will ever be able to put me back together again.

  Instead, I come, and come hard and wet, all over his tongue. I’m a little shocked at how intensely my body has reacted, because this is the first time I’ve ever, well, had a liquid rush. But this has also been my most intense sexual experience to date . . .

  And i
t’s still going. He hasn’t let up, even though I’m quivering with rolling wave after rolling wave of orgasm. “Boone,” I gasp, and my hand goes to his hair, to try and pull his head up and away from my thighs so I can catch a break.

  He’s not stopping, though. That beard’s rubbing all over my most sensitive parts and his tongue and lips won’t stop working my clit over. I yank on his hair to try and pull him up, but in the next moment, I knot my fingers in his thick mane and hold him against my pussy because I’m coming hard and fast again, choking his name out as I do.

  This time, as I gasp for air, he eases up slowly, giving me one last possessive lick before raising his head. His lips and his beard are wet from my juices, and as I watch, he rubs a hand over his mouth like a savage. “Mine, Ivy,” he growls. “That pussy’s all fucking mine. You hear me?”

  All I can do is gasp for breath and gaze up at him, utterly spent.

  Chapter Seven

  Boone

  Ivy’s flustered and silent on the way back to her office, but I’m feeling smug. I’ve still got the sweet taste of her on my mouth, and there’s a big wet spot on the backseat that tells me just how hard I made her come. Of course, Ivy’s embarrassed by it, but that’s because she’s a lady.

  Me? I ain’t no gentleman. Maybe a gentleman wouldn’t have claimed his woman in the driveway of a stranger’s house, but I couldn’t resist her for any longer. The way she looked at me through her lashes? Made me absolutely fucking crazy. Touching her as we went through the house, her small hand on my arm? It felt like heaven and hell both at once—because she was near, but my mouth wasn’t on her.

  And now that I’ve tasted her? I’m going to need her, and often. She came hard for me, and so pretty and flushed as she did, too. I made her wetter than the ocean. Ain’t no faking that.

  I’ll let her be a little shy for now if it makes her more comfortable. I’m claiming her again, though, and soon. I didn’t come, myself. Even though my cock is hard and aching with need for her, I can wait. Ivy’s skittish. She needs me to go a bit slower. She needs a bed for her first time with me so I can take my time and do everything I want to her sweet body. I can jerk off for one more night or two.

  After that, though, I want her in my bed. I want my hands buried in her hair, my mouth on her tits, my cock in her cunt. That’s what I want. I think that’s what she wants, too; she’s just too shy to admit it.

  Lucky for her, I ain’t shy.

  Ivy parks the car at the curb. She doesn’t turn it off, just smooths her hair like it’s going to somehow get all proper in its bun again. There’s strands escaping everywhere and she’s licked all of her lipstick off. Her mouth is swollen from my kisses and she looks like she’s been well fucked, even if my dick hasn’t been inside her yet. And I like seeing her like that. Makes me all possessive and hungry for her.

  “You ain’t gonna fix it perfect again,” I tell her. “Everyone’s going to know you’ve been fooling around with me.” Of course, I like that. I like branding her as mine.

  She shoots me a cool look and then turns her attention back to the rearview mirror. “I think you should pass on that house,” Ivy says after a moment. “You can do much better.”

  “I know. But if you liked it, I wanted to see it.” She’s got a strand of hair at her nape that’s touching her neck, and I reach out and brush it away. Then, because I like touching her, I drag my finger along her soft skin.

  She shivers and a little moan escapes her. Then, she gives herself a little shake, like she’s focusing, and turns to me. “Boone, we can’t do things like that.”

  “It was a bit of a risk in the driveway, I admit, but I thought it added a fun element to things.” She has the tiniest earlobes, and I can’t resist stroking one of them, too.

  “Not that part, though it’s definitely on the list of things we shouldn’t have done, either. I mean me and you, together.” She bites her lip and then gives me a sad look. “You’re my client—”

  “Then I’m firin’ you.”

  Her eyes go wide and she pales immediately. Her hand presses to her mouth, and her fingers are almost as white as her face.

  Fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. “I’m kiddin’, darlin’. I ain’t firing you.”

  She takes a long, slow breath and nods.

  Damn. I really fucked up just then. I put my hand on the back of her neck and squeeze it, just a little. “Here’s the thing. I want you. I want a house. I plan on getting both. Does it matter if you’re the one that sells me the house or not?”

  “It’s not professional—”

  “Baby, no one can say that you are anything but professional.”

  A little color returns to her cheeks. “Can we . . . can we keep things private for a bit between us? It’d make me more comfortable.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You mean you wanna hide your dirty roughneck boyfriend from your hoity-toity coworkers?”

  “No,” she says firmly, and her hand goes to my knee. She gives it a little squeeze that I swear I can feel right in my groin. “It’s because I don’t want them giving me lip for dating a client, and I could get fired.”

  The look on her face tells me that this is important to her, maybe as important to her as she is to me. Fair enough. “We’ll do it your way for now, then.”

  She nods slowly. “Since my boss already thinks you are my boyfriend, we just won’t let him know that I’m also selling you a house. In the meantime, I’ll look for other places we can check out.”

  “That’s fine with me, but I want you to keep one thing in mind.” I stroke my thumb on her neck, just behind her ear, and love that she shivers from that small touch.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t pick out a place you think I would like. Pick out a place you would like. Not me. And spare no expense. Let’s not go cheap on this next one.”

  Her brows go up. “Cheap? That was a two-million-dollar house.”

  “Yeah, and it looked like ass. If we have to go twenty million or fifty million, then that’s what we do. My only request is that it look impressive and that it makes you mad wet.”

  Ivy’s blush tells me that my command probably isn’t far from the truth. “You’re terrible.”

  “No, I’m bold.” I lean in closer. “I know you said you thought you liked me for my wallet, but we both know that’s a lie.”

  “It is?” There’s a fragile note to her voice and her gaze flicks to my mouth, over and over again.

  I bet she’s all wet for me right now, and the thought makes me salivate. “You like me because I know what I want and I take it. I don’t worry about being nice. I don’t worry about being proper. I don’t give a damn about any of that shit. All I give a damn about is you and making you come on my tongue.”

  Her lips part and she’s breathing hard now. I wish she wasn’t wearing a jacket, because I’d love to see her little nipples straining against her shirt. I’m tempted to put my hand under her skirt again and finger-fuck her until she comes again, but we’re in front of her office.

  And while I plan on pushing Ivy past several of her limits, that’s one I don’t think she’d appreciate.

  “Boone,” she whispers, and I can hear the ache in her voice. “We shouldn’t do this in front of my job.”

  “I know, baby. That’s the only reason I don’t have your legs over my shoulders again.” At her sexy little moan, my cock strains against my jeans. They’re tight as fuck at the moment and I’m dying for release.

  Not right now, though. Time has to be right.

  She watches me, dazed and breathless, before removing my hand from its possessive clasp on her neck. She’s pulling back. For now, I’ll let her. Ivy smooths a hand over her hair again. “Can I have my panties back now?”

  “Those are mine. Spoils of war.”

  Her eyes widen. “You can’t keep them.”

&nbs
p; “Oh, I plan on jerking off with them tonight while thinking of you.”

  “Boone!”

  “Unless you wanna come over to my place and do me the honors.”

  She hesitates, and hot damn, she’s actually thinking about it. Hot damn. Ivy Smithfield is every wet dream I’ve ever had come to life. I love this fuckin’ woman. “I shouldn’t,” she says after a long moment. “My sister is expecting me home for dinner.”

  She lives with her sister? For some reason, I’ve always pictured her in one of those sterile-yet-modern apartments filled with three pieces of gray furniture and nothing else. The ones that are too “highbrow” for a guy like me to comprehend why you’d want only three pieces of furniture, and uncomfortable ones to boot. “We could go out, all three of us. I don’t mind if you bring her along to dinner. Family’s important.”

  After all, she’s gonna be my in-law soon enough. Might as well say hello.

  But Ivy is silent. Her mouth thins and she gives a small shake of her head. “Tonight’s not a good night.”

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  No answer. Ivy starts rummaging through her purse and pulls out a small bottle of hairspray, determined to fix the loose strands of her hair.

  I watch her, curious. She’s shutting down on me. Now, is it because of her sister or because of something going on tonight? “I got four brothers. Think I told you that. Enough for a roughneck drilling team.”

  Her smile is quick, polite, as she glances over at me. “You told me.”

  “We’re real close. Family’s important.”

  Her expression goes soft. “It is.”

  “Your sister older? Younger?”

  Ivy’s gaze flicks to the rearview mirror and she turns off the car, shoving her hairspray back in her purse. “I should go, Boone.”