Dirty (Uncensored Series)

by Quinn

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Title

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Afterword

  About the Authors

  Also by Wilder Quinn

  Dirty

  Uncensored Series Book One

  Wilder Quinn

  Copyright © 2016 by Wilder Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The stories in this anthology are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, dream, place, or event is purely coincidental and not the intention of this collection.

  Cover Design by: Clarise Tan of C.T. Cover Creation

  https://www.facebook.com/CTcovercreations/

  Contents

  Title

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Afterword

  About the Authors

  Also by Wilder Quinn

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  AINSLEY

  The sudden plummet of the helicopter as it hits a pocket of turbulence had my stomach churning and roiling. You’d think as the only daughter of an oil magnate, I’d be used to them. Newsflash, I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. I spent the majority of my life avoiding these flights, thoroughly convinced I was going to be one of those fatal statistics that randomly crashed out in the Gulf.

  The shudder that rattled through the helicopter had me slamming my hands down onto the arm rests and locking into a white-knuckle grip. This was it. It was finally going to happen. I was going to die. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip, holding my breath. I hope my father was pleased with himself for making me do this. As I bounced around in my seat, sweating, I made a mental note to move him up to the number one spot on my ‘People to Haunt’ list.

  “Miss Montgomery? Ainsley, are you all right?”

  The worry in the voice punched through the gut-wrenching fear of death, and I pried open an eyelid and peered at the man across from me. Steve Jones, the main engineer of the Meridian, eyed me with concern. I grimaced a tight smile.

  “Sorry, Steve. I’m fine,” I managed to grit out. It was obvious he didn’t buy my pathetic attempt at lying when he glanced where I maintained my death grip on the armrests. Despite my best efforts, it wasn’t loosening.

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “The trips in and out are always a little choppy here in the Gulf.”

  A little choppy? That’s what he considered this? The idea of what he considered threat of fiery death didn’t bear contemplation.

  He cleared his throat and reached over into his nylon bag and pulled out a stack of folders. He flipped through them for a moment before he leaned over and handed them to me. “Here. Why don’t you look through these, get familiar with your new crew members before we get there? It’ll keep you distracted for a few minutes at least.”

  With a deep breath, I forced my grip to loosen from the seat and held out a shaking hand to take the folders. It was with some surprise I didn’t see finger grooves in the rests from where I’d held on for dear life. Almost dropping the files, they managed to safely land in my lap where I could look through them. Steve was right; I could use something to keep my mind off the fact we could crash at any instant.

  I began leafing through the papers—standard personnel files every safety officer was provided: background information on employees, identification photos and all infractions or incidents that affected safety standards. It wasn’t very stimulating reading, but it passed the time. Although, I was surprised and awed at the accomplishments some of the employees listed on the files, and wondered how they’d decided to work far off into the sea, living on a metal island, away from their families. They couldn’t have had the same deal with their fathers. One in particular stood out and I had to do a double take at the murderous glare on his company photo. Some guy named Reed Darcy Anderson did not like getting his pictures taken apparently. Too bad, he could have been good looking.

  The next thing I noticed was the Meridian being probably the most safety-conscious rig ever. While there were a few incidents, most were minor oversights. There hadn’t been a major safety violation in over four years. Color me impressed.

  I spent the remainder of the flight going over the files, making notes and asking Steve questions about some of the employees. I was determined to prove I could do this job. My father had sent me to work for his company with the full intention of my failing on an epic scale. The understanding was if I couldn’t do this, I’d come home and marry Bradford King III without question, spread my legs and pop out two point five kids, preferably boys.

  The kids I could take…on my own damn time. But I wasn’t marrying Brad King. No power on earth would make that happen. I’d already sworn to join a convent before I’d let that man touch me. Just the thought of it had my skin crawling. It wasn’t that Brad was a bad…oh, who the hell was I kidding? He was an asshole–a smarmy, smug, condescending douche nozzle asshole–who expected me to sit at home, have his children and run his social calendar. In short, Brad King was a trust fund baby with no concept of equal rights.

  Therefore, I had no choice but to succeed in this position. And since Carlos Martinez never learned his lesson about sexual harassment and not to do it in an executive setting, a brand new spot opened for me to prove myself. I was going to take this opportunity and soar. It was going to be an R. Kelly song level of achievement.

  Provided I didn’t crash on the way there.

  I had several files remaining when the the helicopter slowed and began making its descent. I looked out the window beside me and saw the brilliant blue of the Gulf of Mexico’s water, topped with white caps as we made our way to the massive oil rig. The Meridian might be one of our older platforms, but it was one of the largest in the Gulf. It rose up out of the water like an iron giant.

  Before the helicopter made its way over to the landing site and hovered. A quick glance around showed that everyone was now in the process of gathering their things to get off. I scooped up the files and tossed them into my work bag, frowning at the expensive leather. It was hardly what anyone would take on an oil rig, but the trip had been decided at the last minute. I was violating all sorts of safety regulations wearing my favorite Louboutin’s and skirt suit. I was going to stand out like a sore thumb. My day was definitely not going as I’d planned and I wished for a hard hat and a pair of steel-toed boots.

  With a soft bump, the helicopter landed and the next rotation of workers heading back to shore waited to climb on. Everyone stood up and started talking loudly as they began to make their way off the helicopter. The nerves made themselves known once again and my stomach churned. It was time to put up or shut up. I took off the headgear, got up, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath and forced myself to make that walk out onto the platform.

  The unexpected brightness of the Gulf sun had me frantically blinking in order to overcome to sudden bout of blindness. The wind whipped my hair around, causing it to catch in my mouth. The blades of the helicopter compounded the chaos with its steady thumping as they rotated around loud. I jumped when Steve reached a hand out to my shoulder to usher me off the open area where we landed. I hurried after him, following him onto the grated walkway that led us
across to the main rig.

  I took the final step onto the walkway and promptly stumbled to a halt. In confusion, I looked down to see what was keeping me from moving forward and felt my face go up in flames. This wasn’t happening to me right now. I tried to lift my foot and was again met with resistance. Great, wonderful. This was just my luck.

  One of my favorite shoes was firmly stuck into the grated walkway. What a fabulous way to make a first impression.

  Chapter Two

  REED

  Legs…

  Her legs caught my eye from the moment she stepped out of the helicopter. Damn fine legs that went on for miles, made to look even toner and longer by a pair of impractical high heels. What the fuck a pair of legs like those were doing on the rig was anyone’s guess. So I stayed put, crossing my arms over my orange suit, keeping my mouth shut and my opinions to myself while I looked over my shoulder and saw the guys hooting and hollering, then I faced forward and took all of her in.

  Fuck me any day. The rest of her could keep a man hard as a steel rod for weeks—curves in all the right places, tits that would spill out of my hands, red pouty lips made for kissing and sucking. She kept brushing her fiery red hair flying wildly around her face, while she walked away from the chopper. One of the engineers from HQ who came with her led her down the walkway, shouting over the rotors of the helicopter. Her face pinched, and she nodded. My guess from her tight skirt and high heels—she was another of Martinez’s executive assistants. He couldn’t seem to keep any of them around. Maybe if he stopped groping them, they’d work for him longer.

  This one was different though. There was an air of confidence about her. It was in the way she walked—with a purpose, like she was someone important…until one of her heels got stuck in the grates. She twisted around, dropped the bag she was carrying, and bent down, showing me a half-view of her fantastic ass. But the responsible man in me burst out. I brushed a hand over my face in frustration. It had been a long time since we’d had any accidents here. It would piss me off if some chick came and ruined that record. Not on my watch.

  I took off in a jog to help her out. Wouldn’t want her to ruin those expensive shoes—from their red soles, I knew they cost more than some of the guys on the island made in a week—or, God forbid, she break a leg trying to pry her shoe out of the grate. As I neared, I nodded at the senior engineer, Steve Jones, who stood awkwardly beside her, just in time for the mystery woman to get herself free, and promptly stumble toward me. My hands flew out to grab hold of her before her ass hit the walkway. One of them splayed over her shapely assets, and the other I used to hold onto her arm. She smelled like flowers and sunshine.

  “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath as I helped her straighten.

  The single word sent a jolt straight to my crotch, and had me growing hard against her softness. I chuckled, not expecting someone like her to say such a crude word, or for it to have that kind of effect on me since it was part of regular vocabulary on the rig. After hearing her say it though, I bet my entire bank account she talked dirty in bed.

  “You can let go of me now.” It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me, her head cocked to one side, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised at me.

  “You sure? Maybe you sprained your ankle,” I said, not moving a muscle except for the grin that spread on my face as I inhaled her intoxicating scent.

  “I’m positive you can take your hand off my butt now.” I didn’t particularly like her tone. She might as well have called me ‘pervert’. My hand landing on her ass was pure accident, but since she seemed to think I was, in fact, a sick perv, I kept it there for a second longer, pressing harder before letting her go with a bit more force than I intended.

  She stumbled forward, but she didn’t fall. Thank God.

  “Ugh!” When she turned around to face me, her blue eyes narrowed. “Thanks,” she gritted out. Her tone flat out told me she didn’t mean it. She bent slightly to slip her foot back in her shoe, but she kept her sneer targeted at me.

  I looked down at her, seeing the top of her black lace bra peeking out of her shirt, and letting a dangerous smirk curve at the end of my lips. “Anytime, sugar lips.” Her jaw dropped, but before she could call me all sorts of lovely words that no doubt formed in her mind, I offered my hand to Steve, who was laughing quietly beside us. “How you doin’? Didn’t know you were coming in today.”

  He shook my hand. “Well HQ wanted you to meet the new Health and Safety Officer.”

  “New?” I asked, continuing to ignore the woman, although I could see her anger rising in the corner of my eye. When she picked up her bag again, I thought she’d fling it at me. “What happened to Martinez?” I threw the chick a curious glance. “He finally got sued for harassment?”

  Steve shook his head, sending an uncomfortable look toward her. “Early retirement.”

  I scoffed. Lazy ass overpaid fucker. Truth be told, I never liked Martinez. Each time he came in for inspection, he’d poked and prodded at everything on the rig despite an increase in production since I became project manager. My men worked hard, and we had a great camaraderie, but he would always find some nit-picky shit. Here’s hoping the new inspector wouldn’t be as much of an ass as he was.

  “When’s the guy coming?” I asked Steve, but immediately turned to the redhead. “You here as fluffer?”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyebrow rose again. Steam practically billowed around her ears.

  Arms folded over my chest, I turned my body to her, and got the chance to observe her more as she fumed. Shit. The angrier she got, the more beautiful she became. I bet she didn’t know her lips became fuller, redder even, and the sparkles in her eyes brightened. If she kept this up, I’d have to find a way to get her to my room and do whatever was necessary to contain the anaconda in my pants.

  “Ah…Reed…” Steve began, but I kept my eyes on Miss Expensive Shoes. She copied my stance and crossed her arms over her chest, making her cleavage spill over her top. To mess with her head, I flicked my gaze down her tits and up again then stuck the tip of my tongue out. “Reed, this is Miss Montgomery. She’s your new Health and Safety Officer.”

  Fuck. Tension knotted on my back and shoulders. I was screwed and not in the way I’d wanted. What I’d just done was unacceptable, and I’d never thought of flirting with any woman who stepped on the rig before. Off-rig was a different matter altogether. There was something about her that pushed me to do it. Not knowing how to react, I threw my head back and laughed.

  “Mind telling us what exactly is so funny?” she spat.

  I wiped a hand over my face and hid my mouth behind it. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  “Pardon me?” She pursed her lips then flattened them. Her chin tilted up, and she held her head high. “You must not like your job very much. I could report you for sexual harassment and discrimination.”

  “Harassment? Discrimination? Honey, you’re one to talk. You don’t come on an oil rig in your designer clothes and Prada shoes talking about shit you don’t know about. I bet you don’t even know half the things we do here.”

  She scoffed. “For your information, I graduated summa cum laude in Chemical Engineering from Stanford.”

  “Doesn’t mean shit here, Ivy League.”

  “My name is Ainsley Montgomery, not Ivy League or sugar lips or honey. And these are Louboutins, not Prada.” She unfolded her arms and pointed at her shoes.

  I looked down at them, then to Steve. If he didn’t look visibly afraid, I would have kept arguing with Miss High and Mighty. One thing I knew, women like her, who most likely didn’t owe student debts, who thought they knew more than a roughneck like me because I didn’t mind getting my hands literally dirty to make a living, served one purpose in my life—a thorn in my side.

  Clearing the space between us in one long stride, I ducked my head down, so we were seeing eye to eye, in more ways than one. She wanted equality. Here it was. “For your information,” I started, my voice low and
guttural, “a true Health and Safety Officer wouldn’t come in those shoes—whatever overpriced shoes they are—you need a hard hat and steel-toed boots here, hon-ey. Safety is our first and foremost concern. Now, why don’t you turn around, get back on the chopper and come back when you’re properly dressed.”

  This close I could almost hear her gritting her teeth as her jaw moved from side to side. She squinted, and her nostrils flared. But for the life of me, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d love to bend her over my desk with her skirt pushed up her hips, her ass in the air and my cock deep inside her. Before I lost my mind, I threw my hands up in a silent surrender. She could think whatever she wanted, but for me, this was self-preservation. She was the type of woman who’d cause a man to go insane. For once in my twenty-nine years, I had to walk away from a challenge. And I didn’t like it one bit.

  Chapter Three

  AINSLEY

  My jaw dropped as the rudest man I’d ever met turned and stalked away from us. I couldn’t even form a response to what he’d just said. A look over at Steve revealed he was just as shocked as I was. He shot me a rueful smile.

  “You’ll have to excuse Reed,” he said with a shrug.

  I shot him an exasperated look, rolling my eyes. “Why?” The guy was rude as hell. I wasn’t excusing anything.

  “Reed’s Reed,” he said like it would be enough to snuff out my anger. “He puts the ‘rough’ in ‘roughneck’.” He huffed a laugh then continued. “But he’s good at what he does.”

  The way he said roughneck, a common name for oil rig workers, niggled in the back of my mind. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it reminded me of something. I had more important things to deal with right now, however, and shoved it to the side. “What exactly does he do?”