Dirty Money (Roughneck Billionaires 1)

“It’ll go great with your silky panties.” He winks at me as he puts the truck in reverse.

That it might.

The motel is across the street from a truck stop diner, which, Boone tells me, makes incredible hamburgers. It’s a tiny place but the lady at the front desk knows Boone and beams a friendly smile at me as she hands him the keys. The room is small and dark, but the sheets look clean and there’s fluffy towels and a shower that’s practically screaming my name. I pry off my heels and it feels as if a shower of dirt emerges from my shoe even though I wore boots most of the afternoon. “Good god, how is it I got so dirty?”

“It’s the wind. It carries the grit and it just gets into everything.” Boone pulls off his cap and tosses it on the king-size bed then glances speculatively over at me. “Thought you liked being my dirty girl.”

I giggle and give a small shake of my head, shrugging off my jacket. “It’s amazing how you can manage to make everything sound completely filthy.”

“Ain’t it?” He wiggles his brows at me as I toss my jacket onto the bed. “So what’s your plan now?”

“Shower? Then sleep?” I’m exhausted from the day, and I think some of that has to do with all the plasma donations I’ve been giving. I can’t say that, of course. Boone will flip his lid if he finds out, and my story will go bust. He’ll want to know why, and someone giving plasma is downright suspicious, so I know he’d see through it. And . . . I don’t know if I’m ready to be done yet. I keep telling myself it’s a bad idea to be with him, because once he finds out the truth, he won’t want me. But I can’t seem to help myself.

“That sounds good,” he says, and pulls his shirt off. “I’ll wash your back.”

“You . . . you want to shower with me?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He grins, all white teeth and gorgeous, smiling face.

The idea of a shower is suddenly taking on an entirely new meaning, and I mentally picture Boone naked, his big body towering over mine and his hands moving over my skin. I shiver, rubbing my arms. Why is it that just thinking about the man touching me makes me go crazy with need? “I do need my back scrubbed,” I lie. I need something, all right, but it has nothing to do with soap.

He just gives me another one of those lazy, gorgeous smiles, and his gaze sweeps over my body appreciatively. “You show me what you need done, baby girl, and I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Mmmhmm.” I need him to want me for who I truly am, not who he imagines me to be. But maybe, over time, that won’t matter. Maybe it won’t be a big deal if he finds out that although I’m doing my best to reinvent myself, I still grew up in a trailer, my mom’s a deadbeat, and my dad’s in prison. It won’t matter that I’m uneducated and know more about how to run a fry machine than how to host a dinner party. Because he’ll love me and will understand that I’ve worked hard to change who I am, just like he has.

But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie. Boone hasn’t changed who he is, one bit. He’s got money, but I suspect that if I went back in time five years, Boone Price would be the same then as he is now—stubborn, strong-willed, and utterly determined to get what he wants.

“You look troubled,” Boone says to me, moving to my side. “What’s botherin’ you?” His rough hand smooths the hair back from my face in a caress.

I . . . can’t tell him. So I undo my skirt and let it fall to the floor, and cock my head as I gaze up at him. “I was just thinking about when you wanted that blow job.”

His eyes gleam. “You offering, baby girl?”

“Would I bring it up if I wasn’t?” I arch a brow at him, trying to be coy instead of sad.

Boone rubs his knuckles along my jaw, studying my face. “You’re not too tired? I didn’t bring you here for the blow job, you know.”

I laugh. “A turnabout? That’s not what you told me earlier.”

“That’s because I play dirty.” He winks at me and then leans in to brush his lips gently across mine. “Doesn’t mean I’m heartless. You’re tired and not feeling well, and the last thing I wanna do is push you to do something you ain’t interested in.”

“Why wouldn’t I be interested?” I slowly pull my silk camisole off, and then I’m only in my panties and bra. “Why wouldn’t I want to touch you as much as you touch me?” I smile. “Actually, you’ve gone down on me plenty of times and I haven’t even returned the favor.”

“That’s because I like the feel of your pussy on my lips, and I like the taste of you even more.” His hand drops and he cups the front of my panties, rubbing my folds through them. “Actually wouldn’t mind going down on you right about now, baby girl.”

“We are going to shower,” I tell him in my sweetest voice. “And then I am going to give you a blow job. Don’t distract me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, a grin on his face.

I unhook my bra and turn away, removing it with a flourish before shimmying out of my panties. I saunter toward the bathroom, naked, and turn on the shower. The water’s cold, so I wait by the tub a moment, feeling a little nervous and a lot excited as I hear Boone stripping off his clothing in the other room.

Then he appears in the doorway, all tanned skin and rippling muscle, and I lose my breath. The man eats up a room when he enters, and I feel small and fragile as he comes to stand next to me. He drags his hand through my hair, then rubs a handful of it against his face, and for some reason, that’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I gasp at the sight, my nipples hardening immediately.

He’s completely naked, his cock thick and erect. I want to touch him all over. It’s my turn to explore. I crook a finger and saunter into the bathroom, toward the spray of hot water. Bathing him might be a pretense, but I’m excited just thinking about running my soapy hands all over him. He’s had his hands on me, pleasured me, kissed every inch of my skin, and now I get to return the favor. The shower is one of those plastic, boxy ones with a rippled door instead of a curtain, and for a moment, I wish it was a sexier, more open shower. It’ll have to do, though. I push the door aside, step under the hot water, and glance over at him, soaking my hair.

Boone is two steps behind me, and his hand skates down my back even as he shuts the shower door behind him. “You are perfection, you know that?”

I turn, then slide one wet hand up his chest. “You get under the spray and I’ll wash your back.”

“You do know I’d be just fine with dropping to my knees and licking you until you come on my face, don’t you?” Boone strokes a gentle knuckle down my cheek. “There’s no need for being reciprocal or anything, because making you come is entirely my pleasure.”

“Not entirely,” I tease. “And this isn’t entirely about you, either.” I let my hand trail down his chest, heading toward his cock. “I want to do this. I want to see how you react when I touch you, when I put my mouth on you.” I press my hands on his hips and then slowly lower to my knees. His back blocks the spray from raining down on me, and I gaze up at him, feeling powerful and in control despite my vulnerable position. “I might be touching you, but this is most definitely for me.”

He groans and his hand moves over my wet hair. “That so?”

“It is.” My sassy words fade in favor of a low, tingling excitement that pools between my thighs at the sight of his cock just inches from my face. I examine him before I touch him, just because this is my first time up close and personal with a dick. His skin is a darker shade here, almost plum-colored on the head of his cock, and ruddy along the shaft. A dark nest of curls shields his balls. There’s a vein that dances along the length of his shaft, zigzagging under his skin, and I trace one finger along its path.

Boone sucks in a breath, and his hand tangles in my wet hair. For a moment, I think he’s going to force my head down toward his cock, but he doesn’t. He’s determined not to push me farther than I want to go.

Luckily for him, I want to go all the way.

I curl my fingers around his length, feeling how thick he is. My fingers can’t quite meet around his shaft, and I squeeze him just to see his reaction. A tremor rushes through his body at my touch, and as I glance up at him, I see his nostrils flare, and his jaw clenches, like it’s taking everything in his power not to disturb me in my exploration.

But . . . I kind of want to be disturbed. Not that I want him to pull me away, just that I want him to be so turned on by what I’m doing that he can’t help but intervene. So I decide that is my new goal—I’m going to make him so crazy with lust that he’s going to lose control. I want him as wild as he makes me.

So I continue my exploration, letting my wet fingers glide from the head of his cock to the underside of it, tracing along his skin. I caress his shaft as I move my fingertips over it, and then go further down and explore his balls. They’re not the prettiest of body parts, but I like that his skin is incredibly soft here, and when I touch him, I can hear him suck in a breath.

His skin is scorching hot against my hand, the scent of him muskier here, and I can’t wait to put my mouth on him. I extend the tip of my tongue and give him a cautious lick, catching a few beads of water off the side of his cock shaft.

“That is the best damn thing I have ever seen,” Boone says hoarsely above me, and I look up to see he’s holding on to the lip of the plastic wall of the shower with white-knuckled strain.

“You like it?” I ask, a playful note in my voice. I repeat the action, this time tracing the tip of my tongue all around the head of his cock. Not all of the beads here are water, and I can taste a salty tang of pre-cum. I flick my tongue over the divot to get more of his taste, and I can feel his entire body shudder in response.

“Fuckin’ love it,” he grits out.

Encouraged, I wrap my hand tight around his length and focus on pleasuring him with my tongue. I try different things to see what he likes and what he doesn’t. The slow drag of the tip of my tongue over his skin makes his body twitch, but when I lick him like an ice cream cone, he groans and murmurs filthy things under his breath. My lips brushing over his cock make him exhale sharply, and when I pump him with my hand? He ducks his head and the hand on my head leaves my hair and clenches into a fist that he presses against one thigh.