Tapping The Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 1)

Did he just…? He did, didn’t he?

Orgasms never helped my eloquence with words, but Kline Brooks was a giver.

Like whoa.

This wasn’t the norm. We’d all been with the norm. The guys who would only go down on you because they were expecting some sort of oral exchange. Once you’d gotten your rocks off, they were flashing slanty-eyed glances toward their dicks, waiting for you to return the favor. They’d do everything just short of shoving their crotch in your face. They’d rattle off options like an auctioneer: Blow job? Hand job? Just hold it for a minute? Let me hold your tit while I jerk off?

They might as well have had flashing neon arrows pointing to their pants or, better yet, taken out a piece of paper and drawn a “here is my dick” treasure map, just in case we might have forgotten where the male member was located.

But Kline hadn’t done that.

He’d straight up licked me into an orgasm and then said, “Thank you.”

He had thanked me for letting him go down on me.

I’d never claimed to be a genius, but I was pretty sure Kline Brooks had just wham, bam, and you can thank me, ma’amed me.

It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever experienced.

Uncomfortable was too cushy a word to describe the kind of hell I was in right now. Hard and engorged, my ax was ready to chop some fucking wood, and because of the redistribution of blood flow, my brain was having a hard time explaining why it couldn’t.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, that was for goddamn sure. But Georgie’s overall discomfort was easy enough to read. I knew she’d enjoyed my mouth on her—I doubted as much as I had—but she would have reciprocated out of duty or expectation. And honestly, the first time she sucked my cock, I wanted it to be because she wanted to. Because she couldn’t fucking stand not to.

Gripping the base tight through my underwear, I fought to stop the pulsing and bring it even a little bit of relief.

When the fiery depths of hell felt more like the heat of Death Valley, I rearranged myself into the best position and got to work digging out a skillet to make some omelets.

Eggs, turkey bacon, and cheese, I lined the basic ingredients up on the counter and put some cooking spray in the bottom of the skillet. Poised to crack the first egg directly into the waiting heat, I had a flashing memory of Georgia’s swollen face last night and panicked. The egg nearly slipped from my hand, a completely graceless juggle the only thing that saved it.

I needed to do an allergy rundown with her before I even considered preparing any kind of food products.

I rounded the counter to ask her, but stopped abruptly in my tracks when she came sauntering out of my bedroom naked. She was like a new woman, confidence and determination fueling her stride as she ate up the distance between us.

My dick backtracked, immediately swelling with the excitement I’d spent the last several minutes trying to calm.

“Georgie?” I asked as she beared down on me, wondering what was on her mind while my dick prayed whatever it was would end in some form of attention.

She didn’t say anything as she planted a hand on my naked chest and pushed me back until the top of my ass hit the edge of the island counter.

The heat of her palm scorched my skin and the look of her body did the same to my eyes. I couldn’t focus on one place, my eyes bouncing and bounding from one glorious part of her to the next.

Everything lost focus when she sank to her knees, the room around me blurring so badly I nearly passed out.

“Georgie,” I called again, hoping she’d give me something to ease my mind. A look, a comment—anything to put my racing thoughts at ease enough that I could do nothing but enjoy whatever she intended to do. I didn’t want to be the guy who said the standard, “You don’t have to,” at the same time that I was thinking, Oh yeah, you do inside—because that was how it worked. But I did want some kind of reassurance that neither of us would regret this.

Finally, her eyes met mine, and she licked her lips as she shoved her hands into the waistband of my boxer briefs, sliding them down with her palms flat against my skin the whole way.

Fuckkkk. Me.

“Mmm,” she hummed in anticipation, leaning forward and taking the whole head in her mouth. Just like that. Right in her fucking mouth.

Gun to my head, that moment, my cock would have been known as The Grinch. Because that fucker up and swelled to twice its size in the matter of a heartbeat.

“Good God,” I breathed, my neck craning back in ecstasy.

She hummed at that, the vibration in her throat coating my skin along with the wet and warmth. I put my hands on the counter to stop from gripping her hair.

This ride was hers, and I was merely a passenger. So many times, women play to what they think a man wants, defaulting to him rather than owning their ability.