Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 2)

But really, I’d had a blast lounging all over his apartment this morning. If I didn’t love Georgie so much, I’d probably still be there, drowning hours in bacon and DVR and anything else I could get my hands on.

Georgia laughed, loud and boisterous. “Holy shit, that’s awesome! I love that you did that. He’s the ultimate prankster. It’s about time he got a taste of his own medicine.”

I smirked. “I know. I wish I would’ve recorded it.”

“The only other thing he told Kline was that…well…” She paused, eyeing me with an amused look. “The sleep-fucking worked. Like it really worked.”

I thought over her words for a good thirty seconds until I finally caught what she was putting down. “Oh, fuck,” I said through a laugh. “Definitely not Sleepless in Seattle.”

“Nope. More like Comatose in New York,” she agreed.

I replayed the sex in my head and realized I had actually passed out—on his cock—and I did this before he finished. “Man, talk about a bitch move.”

“Yep. It was like something out of How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days,” she agreed again.

I cringed before asking, “Are we speaking only in movie-isms now?”

She shrugged, but she didn’t look like she thought it was the worst idea in the world.

My usual devil-may-care attitude had up and gone hiking. “In my defense, I was running on two hours of sleep from the night before. But still, I kind of feel like an asshole.” Doing the ole dine and dash on someone’s dick was almost never called for.

Georgia let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you probably should.”

The ogre was right; I did owe him. Because, let’s face it, if Thatch had done that to me, I would’ve been fucking pissed. I honestly had to give the guy props for handling it so well, seeing as I was still alive and everything.

I had always lived my life by one motto: I couldn’t please everyone, I didn’t care to please everyone, but I could motherfucking please myself. Which I did, often.

But for some odd reason, I found myself actually caring about what Thatch thought and trying to find a way to make it right. And the more I thought about it, the worse I felt. It was a foreign concept to me, but even I couldn’t deny I had pulled a big-time bitch move last night.

Maybe there’s some way I can make it right?

Georgia pointed at my face. “I know that look. What are you planning?”

Man, those cheese fries are really wreaking havoc on my stomach. It was in turmoil.

When I shrugged my uncertainty, she made a suggestion of her own. “Maybe he’s finally getting a little glimpse into what he puts everyone else through.”

“Little Wheorgie is encouraging my scheming ways?”

Georgia nodded, and a devilish smile consumed her lips.

“Is it safe to assume this has everything to do with Thatch including the gargoyle dick in his best man speech?”

“You bet that prankster’s ass it does.”

Thatcher had finally met his match in me.

His match.

At pranking, I told myself. But the seed was already planted, and there was no way I’d be able to keep it from growing.

I strode through Thatch’s building and straight for his assistant’s desk.

“Hi, I’ve got a last-minute meeting with Thatcher Kelly.”

She looked up from her computer, and hesitance etched her face. “Uh…he’s in the middle of a conference call right now.”

“Oh, I know.” I played it off. “That’s why he asked me to come.”

She squinted in confusion and took in my not-exactly-business attire. I was pretty sure the waistband of Thatch’s underwear was sticking out of the top of my skirt like a rapper, for fuck’s sake. But people were always hesitant to deny you if you acted self-assured enough. “And you’re supposed to be on that conference call?”

“Yep,” I said, tapping her desk and walking toward his office door. “He’ll be happy I was able to make it in time.”

“But…wait…let me…” She stuttered over her words as she stood up from her desk. “I should probably let him know you’re here.”

“No worries. I got it from here.” I waved her off and proceeded to open his office door.

Thatch sat behind his big mahogany desk. His brown eyes rested behind a pair of sexy glasses and were lacking their playful edge. He was obviously concerned and very distracted with whatever was being said on the other end of the call. He didn’t look up from his desk until he heard the door close and the lock being flipped with a quiet click.

His hair was rough and unkempt as though he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and it made me want his hands in my hair. Tugging, pulling, you name it.

Oh, yeah.

My arousal was plain to see, and those brown eyes switched from serious to intrigued in a matter of seconds.

“Hi,” I mouthed, holding up a bag of “I’m sorry for falling asleep on your dick” fries. I moved around his desk until I was standing beside his chair.

He turned to face me and held up one finger, responding into the phone, “Unless you want your balls handed to you on a silver platter, I strongly suggest rethinking those investments.”

I smirked at the way Thatcher Kelly did business. I doubted many other people threatened their clients’ balls and got away with it.

I set the bag on his desk and went about my ogling. A sleek gray suit covered his huge, masculine body, and I wanted it uncovered. My pussy was pounding thanks to his all-motherfucking-business expression and its enhancement of his strong features.

He oozed power and authority, and I was getting all kinds of sexy-as-hell alpha vibes.

Oh yeah, Thatcher Kelly was a stud, and I was about to show him how sorry I was for falling asleep on his dick. The fries wouldn’t be the only meal consumed in the name of forgiveness.

I grabbed a pen and notepad off his desk as I heard him rattle off a few investment figures into the phone. I scribbled out a quick note and held it up for him to see.

Will there be anyone coming by your office in the next ten minutes?

He read the note and then met my eyes, shaking his head.

I flashed a smirk and a wink as I got down on my knees and placed my hands on his thick thighs, pushing them apart to make room. His eyebrows rose to his forehead as I undid his belt and slid down his zipper.

The second I slipped his cock out of his pants, he placed his hand over the receiver, whispering, “Cass, honey, what are you doing?”

“Telling you I’m sorry,” I responded as I stroked him in my hand. “Is that okay?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for a response, grazing my lips around his crown. Slowly, inch by inch, I slid him into my mouth as his eyes stayed fixated on what I was doing.

“Fuck,” he muttered and then cleared his throat. “No, I’m still here, Mike.”

He tasted delicious, and I loved the feel of him against my tongue—velvety smooth and hard, really fucking hard. It was all I could do to pull it out of my mouth for a little more teasing. I used my hand to outline my lips with the tip of his thick cock, alternating that move with sucking the head into my mouth. Every time his cock jumped, I sucked harder.

“I already told you what I…I…th-thought about that,” he stammered as I tortured the underside with the flat of my tongue.

My gaze locked with his as I pumped my mouth quickly up and down his shaft. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob with a swallowed groan when I tapped the end of him to the very back of my throat.

Then he swallowed another.

And…another.

It was safe to say he was thoroughly enjoying the blow job, maybe even a little too much for a conference call. But turned-on Cassie had absolutely no consideration. Even less than the normal me.

Seconds later, he mumbled a near-incoherent “I’ll call you back” to Mike and tossed his phone onto his desk with reckless abandon as he started to move his hips in rhythm with my mouth and hand.

“I have no idea why you’re doing this, but please don’t fucking stop.” His hands were in my hair, just like I wanted, encouraging me to continue with gentle yet firm movements.

The soft hum of the fluorescent lights was the only noise that wasn’t a distinct result of him and me and sex. I released him with a loud pop and continued to stroke his length as I gazed up at him. My chest heaved and my voice was nothing more than a sexy rasp. “Don’t worry, Thatcher. I won’t stop until you come in my mouth.”

A deep, throaty groan left his lips. “Keep talking like that, and I won’t last another thirty seconds.”

I lapped up a few drops of precome and moaned. “You taste good, Thatch,” I said with a smirk before wrapping my lips around him again and sucking down his shaft.

“God, your mouth is heaven, honey.”

As I continued to work him over, the ache of arousal became too much. I needed just a little relief. I slid my shirt and bra up and over my breasts, baring them to his greedy gaze. “Baby, play with my tits while I suck you off.”

I didn’t have to ask him twice. He grabbed my breasts with his large hands and rubbed his thumbs across both nipples. I throbbed between my legs from his expert touch and had to fight the urge to turn the situation into an outcome where we both found release.