Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 2)

But this wasn’t about me. This was about him.

I lightly glided the surface of my teeth down his length, trailing it with my tongue.

“God, you’re good. Too goddamn good.”

“Oh, just wait, baby. I’m going to make you come…hard.”

As I watched him slowly unravel, I felt empowered by having this much control over his pleasure. And every thrust of his hips, every deep, heady groan, only spurred me on more. Hell, I was getting all kinds of good blo-jo vibes from Thatch, damn near getting off on it as much as he was.

I sucked him deeper and stroked him harder as I flicked my tongue against him in rhythmic movements.

“Fuck. Yes,” he hissed, and then groaned in a staccato rhythm. “Keep doing that.”

That’s it, baby. Come in my mouth.

When I knew he was close, I gently tugged on his balls and watched that little move push him right over the edge.

“Oh, fuck,” he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls of his office. He gripped my hair as his head fell back, and then Thatch growled the sexiest fucking sound my ears had ever heard as he finished in my mouth.

I gave him a minute to catch his breath, and to talk myself out of spreading out on his desk and finger-fucking myself while he watched, and then gently tucked him back into his pants.

Carefully, I got to my feet and placed a soft kiss to his shocked lips. “Have a good rest of the day at work, honey,” I said, grabbing my purse off the floor and tossing it over my shoulder and walking toward the door.

“Cass?” he asked, voice filled with surprise and awe and utter confusion.

My mind was a mess of unsatisfied arousal and surprising affection, and I knew I had to do something to get my head back in the game.

Before leaving his office, I glanced over my shoulder and left him with the only defense I had against the way my emotions were fucking with me—fucking with him.

“Oh, and enjoy the fries. They’re from the Shake Shack.” I waved with a little wiggle of my fingers. “See you at home, Thatch.”

Boom. Suck on that, prankster, I thought to myself as I strode down the hall.

But the elation over screwing with him only lasted a few seconds, and as I got on the elevator, I found myself touching my lips and grinning over what I had just done.

And I wasn’t completely sure it had anything to do with a declaration of a prank war.

Cassie winked and closed the door to my office with a soft click, but I still hadn’t moved a muscle.

Behind the solid wood of my desk, my wood was fading in the still-open fly of my pants. Shock didn’t really fucking cover what I was feeling at that moment—the surprise visit, the bag of takeout, the blow job, and the way she left things as soon as my dick left her mouth.

I’d done a lot of shit in my life, but I’d never been sucked off behind my desk. The whole showing up at work without warning thing was a boundary only crossed in serious, long-term relationships or between involved coworkers, and I’d never really had either.

I’d been in love with Margo, but the love had been young. Still a teenager, I’d been naïve and self-centered and completely focused on what she could do for me rather than the other way around. It’d probably have been a fleeting memory of adolescent hormones and mistakes had it not ended the way it had. But that was the kind of thing that never left you, was never forgotten. After all these years, all that was left of her in my day-to-day life were Frankie, Claire, and Mila—and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Mr. Kelly?” Madeline’s voice called, freaking me the fuck out and jump-starting the rush to zip up my pants.

I pushed the tails of my shirt in, zipped the fly, buttoned my pants, and then fastened my belt, all before taking a deep breath, running a hand through my hair, and pushing the button to respond to her call.

“Yeah, Mad?”

“Wes Lancaster is on the phone for you.”

Jesus. I wasn’t sure now was the best time to talk to him, but he was on a recruiting trip, so I’d expected him to call at some point wanting to run numbers. He didn’t have me on staff, but as much as we teased each other, he trusted me more than anyone else when it came to money. Thus, he brought me in to consult from time to time.

A puff of air left me as I fought for quick composure.

“Hey, Wes. What’s up?” I said as I answered, trying my best to sound casual.

That was my first mistake.

“No jokes?” he asked cautiously without even saying hello. “Something’s wrong. What’s wrong?”

I rolled my eyes. “I can be serious on occasion, you know.”

“Not with me. Not ever. Not in the history of our friendship.”

Pushing my back firmly into my chair, I rubbed at my facial hair. “God, you’re fucking dramatic, Whitney.”

“That’s better. But, yeah, you’re not getting off the hook. What’s going on?”

“I just got my dick sucked, how’s that?” I asked when no other explanation came to mind, trying to put him off by oversharing.

“Nope. I’d say that’s pretty normal too. What’s abnormal, T-Rex?”

“You’re a pain in my goddamn ass.”

“I’ve heard. I’m waiting.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Mr. Kelly?” Mad buzzed in on the intercom. “Kline Brooks is on line two.”

“Hold on, Wes,” I said into the phone and pushed the button to answer her. “You might as well conference him in, Mad.”

She didn’t answer, but in a matter of moments, Kline was in on our call.

“Thatch.”

“Wes is on the line too, Kline.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Kline asked suspiciously.

Fucking hell. I didn’t crack jokes all the time. I could answer a call normally, for fuck’s sake.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing!” Wes exclaimed, fucking victorious.

“I hate you both.”

“You love me,” they both said at the same time.

I rubbed at the pinched center of my forehead.

“Does this have anything to do with Cassie?” Kline asked astutely. The clever fuck. I’d be murdering him later for bringing this up now.

“What? What about Cassie?” Wes asked like a teenage girl hungry for gossip.

“He fucked her last night,” Kline supplied helpfully, and I sighed.

“Holy shit!” Wes exclaimed.

“Then she fell asleep on his dick before he came,” fucking asshole Brooks went on. Wes guffawed.

“She just blew me in my office, thank you very much,” I told him as though I had something to prove. I regretted it the minute the words left my lips.

Kline’s voice vibrated with glee. “There it is!” That asshole had baited me, and I’d gulped that shit down without hesitation.

“So you were serious,” Wes put in.

“And what did Crazy Cassie do after she blew you?” Kline asked way more sincerely than I’d ever heard anyone deliver those words before.

I dropped my head back, and I pulled at the choking tie at my neck. “She said to enjoy the bag of French fries she’d brought me and that she’d see me at fucking home.”

“Fucking home?” Wes replied like a smartass. “What’s that?”

“At home, jackhole. My home. I swear to God, Kline, she’s moving in with me. I don’t know what happened, but I think she’s suffering from some kind of psychotic break. With Georgia in the middle, you and I probably won’t be able to be friends anymore.”

The sounds of two varying degrees of laughter filled my ear.

“This isn’t funny! One sleepy bone, and this chick thinks she lives with me!”

Wes stopped trying to soften his laughter and dove into it full out. “This is fucking hilarious.”

Kline finally took pity on me. He found compassion through his laughter, but he found it. He was definitely above Wes on my list of friendship today. “Relax, man. She’s probably fucking with you.”

My elbows went to the surface of my desk as I leaned forward quickly. “Why would she do that?”

“Would you fuck with you right now?”

Obviously, I would. He took my silence as an affirmative.

“Exactly.”

“Shit.” I hadn’t even considered how similar we were.

“Plus,” he went on, “I told Georgie about your freak-out this morning, and she may have been getting ready to leave for lunch with Cassie when I did.”

“Fuck! Kline, I told you not to spread this shit around.”

“And I told you I was going to tell Georgie. I’m not even sorry.”

Wes continued to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Listen,” Wes said, just barely softening his chuckles enough so that he could speak. “If she’s gonna fuck with you, why don’t you fuck with her?”

My eyes narrowed at the empty spot on my office floor. “What do you mean?”

“She’s obviously expecting you to squirm. Turn it around on her.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Kline agreed.

I pondered to myself and decided I could do that. I was way more comfortable as the messer than I was as the messee. “Fine. I’ll text her something.”

“Make sure you tell us what it is,” Wes demanded.

“Didn’t you guys call me for fucking reasons?”