Dirty Money Book Novels & Stories

I was enjoying myself as well. There was something excitingly degrading about it. It's hard to explain. I was not sexually attracted to this relative stranger, but I was letting him fuck me...essentially for money. I was letting him used me all night long for whatever pleasure, because he was wealthy and he could afford to. It is crazy, but it made me hotter than I ever imagined it would. I came...more than once thinking about it. Not really powerful orgasms, but I was building up to it.

A thick stack of parenting books sat on top. I glanced over them casually. The titles were: Newborn Parenting Guide The Science of Early Childhood Education A Complete Guide to Pregnancy and Infant Care Damian: Baby, I've been reading these books all day. Damian: What did you do today? That day, I went to the bank. I converted all the money in my accounts into cash. Then I closed every financial account registered under Elena Blackwood's name. From that moment on, there would be no place left in this world that carried my name.

He must have kept the evidence of his dirty secrets in a place where it won't be discovered easily. My eyes fell on a bookshelf at the back of the room. I’d seen it hundreds of times, but only now did I really see it. The books were not old novels but instead about sports, football magazines, and even a few on gambling. “Motherfucker,” I hissed as I crossed the room. It took a few seconds of pulling books and magazines down before I found it. A thick manila folder tucked behind Sports Betting for Beginners. With a heavy heart, I took it over to the desk and opened the folder. A few seconds in, a cold knot formed in my stomach.

I said softly, “from a man who has over three million dollars in secret gambling debts. A man whose wife has no idea he’s been borrowing from dangerous loan sharks to hide his addiction.” Franklin’s face went deathly pale. His mouth opened, then closed. His hands started shaking visibly. “How did you—?” He stopped himself and swallowed hard. “Those could be fake. Anyone can fabricate documents these days.” I slid a thick folder across the table. It landed in front of him with a soft thud. “Open it.” He stared at the folder like it was a bomb. “I said open it, Franklin.” His trembling hands finally reached for it. He opened the folder slowly.

Don’s mouth shaped them too, sloppy, half-conscious, like his body remembered even when his head did not. The blood ran together in the dish. The lock gave a sound like something old waking up. The door opened. Bars of gold stacked in rows that went back farther than the light wanted to reach. Then cases. Files bound in dark leather. Stones that caught what little light there was and threw it back mean. Paper that smelled like rooms no one was supposed to enter. Enough to buy cities. Enough to bury names. I stood there with my pulse in my throat and my hands hanging useless at my sides. The cold on my face felt far away.

Dirty money smells like copper, stale sweat, and fear. It has a texture—gritty, used, passed from desperate hand to desperate hand in the dark. Clean money has no smell. It is digital. It is a stream of zeros and ones flowing through fiber optic cables buried deep beneath the ocean. It is invisible, weightless, and absolute.

He muttered to himself. The next day, the story was printed with a large picture of Theodore. Theodore was in Portugal when he received the news. Natalie was having breakfast when the news was broken to her that Theodore was on Page Six. She opened the newspaper and read the headline “The Forbidden Billionaire’s Dirty Little Secret” Maybe the world can learn new synonyms now. For Mr. Theodore Gilbert is the forbidden billionaire and Miss Natalie Greene is his dirty secret.

“I know that you have some money, but it’s not enough to cover the costs of my treatment! Mom, I don’t want to spend my entire life being so useless! I want to wait for Grandpa, Dad, and Gideon to be released; I believe that they’ll be released!” “Come with me, Gemma!” Shelly pulled Gemma harder. Only she knew what money laundering meant. Moreover, the Walton Family wasn’t clean at all. Once the dirty money was discovered, other clues would be found soon after that. Eventually, the two of them would only be brought into trouble. Besides, I have taken part in this… At the thought of this, Shelly dragged Gemma upstairs even harder no matter whether she tried to resist or not.

“Don’t you dare shut me out again. I carried your broken body out of that club. I saw what they did to you. Tell me the truth. Who is controlling you? Because I know it’s more than money. More than the stripping.” I looked into his eyes—those intense, beautiful eyes that saw too much—and something inside me cracked. “Someone from my past,” I whispered, the half-truth tasting like ash. “He’s controlling me with blackmail and threats. If you get involved, it’ll destroy you too, your mom. Everything will be destroyed and I can't let that happen.”

We stayed joined against the counter until our breathing slowed, and then he eased out, and the warm slide of his come leaking onto the tile made my stomach tighten with filthy satisfaction. That same night, after my mother had returned and gone to bed, he came to my room again in the dark. The visit was quieter and more desperate, the risk of her waking only a few doors away making every thrust sharper. He pushed into me from behind while I stayed on my side and the slow deep strokes built until I came with my face pressed into the pillow to muffle the sounds. He filled me again and then stayed inside me until his cock softened, and only then did he ease out and leave me with the evidence o