Dirty Money (Roughneck Billionaires 1)

“Does the luckiest woman alive wanna go find a nice boardroom and get my beard between her thighs?”

“Oh god, does she ever.”

He picks me up and carries me like a princess, heading up the elegant marble stairs to the upper offices. I’ve only been up here a few times in the entire span of my employment with Three Jacks. There’s a private bathroom, the three exclusive, swanky offices of the Jacks, and a small boardroom that they liked to hold their meetings in. I point at the door as Boone carries me upstairs, and he kicks it open.

“Nice table,” he comments as he sets me down on the beveled wooden edge of it. “Expensive.”

“For them, it’s all about looking the best,” I agree, scooting back a few inches to get comfortable.

“Maybe I’ll take it with me,” he says, a devilish look on his face. “So every time I lay you down on it, he’s getting fucked over by me.”

“Ew. I vote burn it.”

“Burn it, it is,” he agrees, his hands going to my nylon work belt and tugging at it. “And let’s get these off you. My mouth misses your sweet pussy something fierce.”

I moan at his filthy words, tearing at my belt. The clasp pops off and clinks to the floor, but I don’t even care. I miss him terribly and I want him more than anything I can imagine.

He stands between my spread thighs. His hands drag over my breasts, rubbing them through the thick weave of my cheap shirt, finding my nipples under the layers of fabric and coaxing them into aching little points. My hands tear at my pants, and I manage to work them down my hips, along with my panties.

“Look at how sexy and hot you are, Ivy,” he breathes, his hand sliding down my front to caress my smooth pussy. “God, I love touching you.”

“Then touch me more,” I encourage, pushing at the fabric of my slacks that’s gathered at my hips. “Get these off of me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He helps me slide them off my legs entirely, and then I’m bare from the waist down. He groans at the sight and puts his hands on my hips, tugging me toward him.

I wrap my legs around his hips and reach for his belt. “Your turn.”

He undoes his zipper and belt, and then shoves his pants down his hips. His cock thrusts out at me, thick and beautiful and gorgeous. It makes my mouth water just to look at it. I reach between us and stroke the head, beads of pre-cum wetting my fingers. “Condom?”

Boone shakes his head. “Didn’t bring one. Didn’t hope for this.” His hand goes between my thighs and he rubs his thumb over my clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “I’m committed if you are.”

“Oh, I’m committed,” he tells me, and then drags one of the chairs over and sits down. The moment he does, he pulls me to the edge of the table and his face descends between my legs. “I won’t come inside you, Ivy. I want the time to be right for our family.”

“Sounds good to me,” I breathe, and a moment later his mouth is on my pussy and I cry out, arching my hips because he’s not playing around today. This isn’t a gentle tease—this is an all-out assault with tongue and lips determined to make me come fast, and come hard. He strokes a finger into my core even as he sucks on my clit, and then kisses it. “Already wet as hell for me, baby.”

“Always for you, Boone.”

He groans and plants another kiss on my pussy, leaving me quivering and aching for more, and then gets to his feet again. A moment later, I feel the head of his cock pushing against my core, and then he’s seated inside me. He leans over me, his body pressing mine to the table. His hand fists in my hair and he kisses me, and then begins to slowly pump inside me.

It feels incredibly wicked to be lying on a boardroom table in the place I used to work at, naked from the waist down and being fucked by my lover with no condom. I’m wet and underneath me the wooden table’s getting slippery, my hips moving across the table with every slam of Boone’s hips against mine. There’s something about the shamelessness of it that turns me on, and I moan and writhe under Boone’s heavy body as he pushes into me.

“Come for me, baby,” he demands, and his hand goes to my breast. “Let me feel you squeezing tight around me.”

Another moan escapes my throat, and I raise my hips to meet his next thrust. His fingers pinch my nipple hard, and I’m shocked at the tweak of pain—and the rush of pleasure that ripples through me in the next instant.

“That’s right,” Boone drawls, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes. “You wiggle that ass for me, baby girl. Come for me.”

And when he teases my nipple again, at the same time he pounds into me? I do come, and I come hard. I scream out his name, arching on the table.

“Ivy,” he rasps, and then he pulls out of me. I watch, fascinated, as he takes his cock in hand, slick with the juices from my body, and strokes it hard. A few pumps and then he spatters my stomach with hot liquid, his eyes closed, face contorted with the force of his pleasure.

I fight to catch my breath, panting, as he milks his cock over my belly and thighs. It’s obscene, filthy, and erotic all at once.

“Damn,” he breathes when he’s finished. He opens his eyes and gazes down at me. “You are the most beautiful mess right now, covered in my cum.”

I sit up on my elbows, giving him my best saucy look. “Want me to roll over and get your leavings all over the boss man’s table?”

“You filthy little thing,” he says with a chuckle, and leans down to kiss me. “But then we’ll really have to burn the damn table.”

I giggle, because it is filthy and I like the idea far too much. I’m turning into some sort of deviant around him . . . and I love it. “You still want to burn this place down?”

“Unless you want it?”

I shake my head. “I think it will make a lovely park.”

His eyes gleam with amusement. “You wanna light the first match?”

“Love to.” I sit up and he pulls off his shirt and begins to towel me off with it, a look of intense concentration on his face. He’s so tender and yet . . . I’m worried. “Boone?”

“Hm?” He glances up at me.

“Where do we go from here? You and me?”

He finishes cleaning me off and tosses his shirt into a wastebasket, leaving me with a lovely view of nothing but deeply tanned muscle. He caresses my jaw and gazes at me thoughtfully. “Well, I thought tomorrow I’d rent out that helicopter again and find us another black-tie party to go crash. Because I still want to show my woman off.”

There’s a lump in my throat. “There’s not much to show off, Boone.”

He shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ivy. I’d show you off because you’re the thing I’m the most proud of. You’re beautiful, and smart, and funny, and sexy, and way too good for a dumb roughneck like me. I’d show you off because all those other bastards would be insanely jealous they wouldn’t have an Ivy of their own. I want them all to be jealous of my fiancée.”

“You’re the most wonderful, crazy man I’ve ever met, you know that?”

Boone just grins at me. “Long as you love me, baby, I don’t care how crazy that makes me.”

Epilogue

There’s a lovely little park downtown now, where the Three Jacks office used to be.

I like driving past it as I leave my own office, even though it’s several blocks out of the way. I just like seeing it, all sod and baby trees instead of the big glass doors, and Jack Jack’s Viper and Winky Jack’s stupid Lexus that he always parked in the handicap spot even though he wasn’t handicapped. But that’s all in the past. Three Jacks is gone, burned down in a blaze of glory. I’m told that one of the Jacks retired and the others are “working independently,” whatever that means. Don’t know, don’t care. I have my own business now. Price-Smithfield Real Estate is a tiny office, just big enough for me and Farah and an assistant. We don’t need more right now, but I’m hoping in the future we’ll expand to include more people.

Well, after the baby comes, of course.

I pat my rounded belly as I drive to the dorms to go visit my sister. I cried buckets when she left for college, but Boone thought it would be good for both of us. Wynonna could have a little independence, and I could have a lot more Boone-time without my sister hovering like a third wheel. I love my sister, but I also love my alone time with my new husband. Plus, it saves my sister an hour drive each way, which gives her more time to study.

Two semesters in, and I can safely say that she’s loving college, and I’m loving the fact that she’s there and not living with me.

Wynonna’s waiting at the curb for me when I pull up, and she jumps into my Town Car the moment it stops. “There you are! I thought you were going to be late again!”

“Just taking the long, scenic route,” I tell her as I pull out onto the road again. I glance over at her, noting her braided, purple-dyed hair. Wynonna’s changed a lot since she went to college—she’s put on a bit of weight, dyed her hair every color imaginable, and has made a ton of friends. She’s no longer the sad-looking waif sitting on the trailer step. “You look good. Sushi for lunch okay?”

“Sushi is always okay,” Wynonna gushes, and then she reaches over to pat my belly. “Look at how big you’re getting! How many weeks are you now?”

“Thirty-two,” I tell her. “Not too much longer, now.” I rub my stomach and the baby kicks. “Boone’s already decorating the baby’s room. He’s so excited.”

“He’s decorating?” she asks, surprised.

“Well, hunting.” I grimace. “He’s dead set on the baby having a few, uh, trophies in his room. We’re discussing it.”

“Oh, ewww. That’s gonna scare the baby.”

“Or his mommy.”