Dirty Money(37)

"You're so fucking wet," he tells me between wild kisses. "You like sucking my cock, baby girl?"

"I love touching you, Boone," I tell him, feeling shy at admitting such a bold thing. "I wasn't ready to stop."

"I don't have the stamina," he tells me, pressing his face against my  neck and kissing me even as he fucks me with his hand. His beard  prickles and rasps against my skin, softer when wet. "But I'm more than  willing to let you practice on me over and over again, Ivy. But right  now? Right now, I need you."

His fingers leave my body and I whimper at the loss, clinging to his wet  shoulders. He takes one of my thighs and hooks it around his hips, and  before I realize what he's doing, he grabs me by my hips and hoists me  up the wall, pinning me against the tile, my breasts pressing against  his chest. I feel the heat of his cock push between my thighs and then  I'm sinking down on his length. I moan, my nails digging into Boone's  back, because it feels so deep like this. Like gravity is shoving me  down on his length and all I can do is hold on to him for dear life.

"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing kisses against my skin. "Wrap your legs around me tight, Ivy. I won't let you fall."

I do as he commands and then he thrusts into me, my body jolting against  the slick tile. It feels as if our bodies are barely moving, but I can  feel . . . everything. And the angle he's pushing into me? I . . . it's  rubbing something deep inside me that is making me crazy. When he  thrusts again, a keening cry escapes my throat and I squirm wildly  against him, needing more.

"That hit the spot, Ivy?" He presses more frantic kisses to my face and  then thrusts into me again, and I claw at his back, crying out his name.  "Yup," he chuckles, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I'm about to  burst from my skin with need. "Found the spot."

Again, he thrusts into me. Over and over, Boone pumps into me with  quick, shallow bursts, and oh god, it feels like I'm a volcano erupting.  Orgasm after orgasm crashes through me, my legs like Jell-O. I'm making  all kinds of little cries and mewing noises and I can't find that I  give a damn, because he's fucking any cares I might have had right out  of my brain. It's one endless orgasm positioned like this, and I think  he's coming, too, a moment later, because he presses my body against the  tile, hard, and I bite down on his shoulder, trying desperately to  unleash some of the madness that's ripping through me with gale-force  pleasure.         

     



 

All I know is that I feel amazing.

I'm barely aware as he carries me, still clinging to him like a baby  monkey, from the shower back to the hotel bed. He lies on top of my wet  body for a few moments, tenderly kissing me. I cry out in a small  protest as he gets up to turn off the shower, because I feel so empty  without his body piercing mine.

It's madness, how much I've come to crave him in such a short time.

I get under the covers and pull a sheet over my body by the time he  returns with a towel for me. The hot, smoky look is still on his face,  as if he's ready to grab me and go for another round, and I feel an  excited flutter all through my body in response. It's insane, just how  addicted I am to him. "We're insane," I murmur as he sits down on the  bed next to me.

He slides under the blankets and pulls me against him. We're still damp  and the sheets stick to both of us, my skin to his. Boone just brushes  the wet hair off of my face and shoulders and studies me, curious.  "Insane, how?"

I laugh, tilting my head back. "All of this. All of this is insane. We  can't be in the same room without clawing at each other and orgasming  about a dozen times."

"I don't see how this is a problem," he drawls, teasing. "You seem to like the orgasms I give you-"

"Of course I do!" I trace a finger along his big arm. "I just worry  about how fast we're going, don't you? It's only been a few weeks."

He shrugs.

"And you keep introducing me to everyone as your fiancée." I arch an eyebrow at him. "We're not engaged."

"Not yet, but only because you still aren't used to the idea."

"And you are?" I ask, amused.

The look on his face is utterly serious as he gazes down at me. "Ivy, I  knew you were the one for me the moment I laid eyes on you. For me,  there's no one else. Not now, not ever. I knew the second I saw you that  you were everything I wanted. Nothing about that has changed." His big  leg tangles with mine under the sheets, and I feel his knee go between  my thighs. "Nothing, baby."

But I'm a little surprised at this admission. "The moment you saw me in the brochure?"

"The moment I saw you face-to-face." He leans in and rubs his nose  against mine, then presses a quick kiss to my mouth. "I thought you were  pretty when I saw you in the ad, of course. Thought you'd be a good  trophy wife. Some nice, classy piece to fuck every now and then and not  think about twice."

"Gee-"

"But then I saw you in person, and it was like . . . like my whole world  lit up." He grins down at me. "I saw you and thought, yeah, that's the  woman I'm going to marry. That's the woman I'm going to fall in love  with."

I go very still under him, my heart pounding. "Love?" We've played at a  relationship for weeks now-played hard-but this is the first I'm hearing  of the L-word.

He nods, looking down at me thoughtfully. "Thought you knew. I've loved you from the moment you smiled at me."

I don't know whether to cry or smile. "Boone, I-" Somewhere across the  room, my phone rings with Wynonna's ringtone. "Oh, hell. I should get  that."

Boone chuckles and begins to slide down my body, pressing hot kisses on my shoulder and then my breast. "Must you?"

"It's my sister-" I lose track of things when his lips close over my  nipple and he drags his tongue over the tip. Oh god, it's sinful how  good that feels. He nips at my skin and toys with my breast as I cling  to him, my hands in his hair, my phone going off endlessly. Wynonna can  just leave me a voicemail. I'll talk to her later. I'll-

There's a moment of quiet, and then my phone starts to ring again.  Wynonna. She's not leaving a message. Damn it. Boone's mouth is doing  scorchingly delicious things to my breast, and I'm torn. The last thing I  want to do is interrupt him. His teeth scrape over my nipple and his  hand goes between my legs, and I forget all about the phone-

Until it begins to ring for a third time.         

     



 

I groan aloud. My annoyance over my sister's terrible timing is ebbing  away and worry is taking its place. "I need to get that, Boone. If she's  not leaving a message, something's wrong."

He shrugs, but when I tap his shoulder, he rolls to the side so I can  get up. I cross the room and fish my phone out of my purse just as the  next call comes through. "Hello? Wynonna?"

"Reba?" My sister's sobbing. "Where are you? I've been calling and calling!"

"I'm visiting a friend," I tell her, glancing over at the bed. Boone's  sprawled in the mess of damp covers, gazing at me with scorching eyes.  "Is something wrong? Did you blow another tire?"

"I went and visited D-D-D-Dad in Huntsv-v-ille," she sobs.

Oh god, was that today? I'm the worst sister. I've totally forgotten  about it. I turn away from Boone, because I don't want him to see the  stress on my face. "Oh? And how was it?"

"They denied him parole," she wails.

"Oh no. Why?" I keep my voice modulated and calm, though I'm secretly  torn. Our father's a deadbeat drunk and the last thing I want is him  coming home to live with me and Wynonna again. But my sister adores him  and is convinced that he's innocent, and that when he comes home, we'll  be a family again.

"They s-said he hasn't learned his lesson." Her brittle sobs are tearing  at me through the phone, and I feel tears of sympathy creeping into my  eyes. "Said that because of his priors, they don't think he's a good  parole candidate. He can reapply for parole in twenty-four months." She  chokes the words out. "Two years, Reba! Two years is forever! He's  already been gone six-"

"I know, honey. I know. It's going to be okay, I promise." Wynonna's  racking sobs are breaking my heart. "Please, just calm down, okay?  You're going to make yourself sick."

"W-w-where are you?" She hiccups into the phone. "Are you coming home?"

"Absolutely," I say firmly. "Give me a few hours and I will be right there."

"A few hours?" She sounds shocked, and another sob chokes from her  throat. "Reba, I need you here. I feel so alone." She starts to cry even  harder, and sounds so much younger than her barely eighteen years. "I  miss my daddy."

"I know, Wynonna. I know. I promise I'll be home as soon as I can," I  tell her. I don't look over at the bed, because if I do, I'm going to  see sexy, warm Boone still sprawled in the blankets, waiting for me to  crawl back into the covers with him for another round of lovemaking.  Except I can't, because real life is crashing in and I have to rescue my  sister before she cries herself sick, or worse, tries to go back to the  prison. Or something even worse than that. "Look, I've got twenty  dollars on my dresser, all right? Order a pizza and eat something, and  I'm going to be home a little while after that. You stuff your face and  then I'll come home and we'll talk, okay?"