Scoring Her (Billionaire Bad Boys 3.5)

Georgia laughed. “Pretty sure it was Cassie’s dining offer that flustered him a bit.”

“A bit?” Winnie laughed. “How about next time you refrain from offering to breastfeed the staff?”

“Does this rule only apply to massages?” I asked.

“You are deranged.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Wheorgie. I love you too. Make sure Kline slicks down his rain jacket before heading out into the backwoods.”

She groaned. “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“Nope,” Winnie and I both responded without a second thought.

The door closed with a slam that startled me awake from dreams that were part nightmare. My eyes searched the panes of the ceiling as I tried to get my bearings and figure out where the fuck I was and what I was doing there.

After Winnie and Georgia had left and the pageant started, things turned pretty quickly to my version of hell.

Thatch, with his mini-me strapped to his chest, mocked every single one of my players as they tried to turn themselves into dancers in the name of the opening number of the pageant. Rollins had rhythm, and Sean Phillips looked like you could drop him right in the middle of anything—preparation that was no doubt at least in part thanks to his sister—but Jeremy Overshaw and Deshaun Littleton were the complete opposite of okay.

They swayed to the music and shuffled their feet, but their timing was off, and every time they had to do anything to actually lead their partner, they ended up hindering them. It was a spectacle that had the audience laughing instead of watching in awe, and Thatch didn’t waste the opportunity to run his mouth constantly.

“Oh, sneakers,” he’d announced, leaning down to Ace to point out Overshaw’s flaws. “Did you see that? I think he almost decapitated her.”

I’d tried to tune him out, but when amusing bumbles turned to anarchy, the difficult task became impossible.

“He’s down!” Thatch had nearly yelled as Littleton and the girl he was escorting hit the stage floor with a thud. He dropped his voice to that of a sports announcer and ran down the play-by-play helpfully as I jumped to my feet in fear that one of my best players had gone down during the Miss Teen USA pageant rather than in a fucking game. “He steps back out of the pocket and shuffles, but oh, here she comes out of the backfield, Little Miss Muffet breaking through the line and bringing him down for a loss of five yards and just about all of his pride.” Ace, an apple picked right from his father’s tree, apparently, even squealed in agreement, a giggle of glee piercing the air.

The kid couldn’t even hold his fucking head up, and already he was helping Thatch mock my players—and by extension, me.

I was already pulling out my phone to dial Winnie, but Thatch had reached over to stop me when Littleton jumped back to his feet with no injury other than his pink-tinged cheeks, courtesy of embarrassment.

And then the music had picked right back up where it left off like nothing even happened. Thanks to taping delays, when it aired on TV, they’d probably plan to edit it together, and no one would ever be the wiser.

And if not, I’d have Georgia see that they did, whether it was part of the plan or not. Littleton would be forever grateful.

Another smash from the main room made me push up to my elbows and pay attention. I knew Lexi could sleep through almost anything, so I wasn’t too worried about her.

And I do mean that literally. The fire alarm went off during some late-night cookie baking just before coming here—apparently, Winnie had promised them to Quinn for the trip, and yes, I’m rolling my eyes too.

I took off at a sprint headed for Lexi’s room, but she never even fucking shifted. And trust me, that thing is fucking loud.

But it wasn’t like Winnie to come in so noisily—she had a kid, after all—and I’d completely lost track of the time.

I caught a glimpse of the clock just as she came stumbling through the door of our bedroom, heels dangling precariously from one finger.

Three a.m.

“God, sweetheart,” I said as I sat halfway up and rubbed at my eyes. “You’re just getting back?”

She dropped her shoes to the floor and pulled her dress directly over her head, and I decided it was time to stop talking. There’d be plenty of time for questions later, when she wasn’t stripping her clothes off and crawling toward me and—goddamn—she was drunk.

Sweet merciful heaven, drunk sex with Winnie Winslow was going to be amazing.

She bit her lip and climbed up the bed until her hips straddled mine, her hair cascading wildly down and around her shoulders.

She reached behind herself to unhook her bra and pulled it down before tossing it to the side. Nipples peaked and pink, her skin seemed to glow in the low light of the moon reflecting off of the ocean that poured through the window.

Her hands came to my cheeks as she spoke in a cheeky whisper. “You don’t look like an Irritated Owl right now.” I pushed my fingertips deeper into the exposed skin at her hips and swallowed.

“No,” I agreed roughly. “I am not even a little bit irritated.”

“Me either,” she replied, her eyes lighting up. My heart tripped inside my chest at the brightness inside of them. It was much more potent than it used to be and rooted far deeper.

She looked like a different woman than she had just months ago, and I felt like maybe I was at least a little responsible for that. Loving her, loving Lexi, being the best support system I could be for both of them. I put the emphasis of all my efforts on one simple question. “Good massage, baby?”

She nodded and bit minutely into her lip, her forehead falling easily against mine. Her cheek pulled up and a mini dimple formed like an extension of the corner of her mouth. Like her lips weren’t quite big enough to contain her whole smile.

“The best. There was a minor snafu with Cassie almost breastfeeding the masseuse, but all ended well and we decided to go dancing.” She sat up and undulated back and forth to imaginary music, her breasts swaying magically with every move.

I didn’t even bother questioning the Cassie scenario. Nothing surprised me when it came to her level of insanity.

But good God. My gorgeous girl and her delicious fucking tits.

My hands slid up the sides of her ribcage almost without permission. Not that I didn’t want them to, but I really no longer had any control. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed with a nod, closing her eyes and letting her head drop back.

“Do you love me?” she asked softly.

“Oh, Win. You have no idea.”

Her head came forward, and her playful eyes found mine. “Are you tired?”

Back and forth, I forced my head to shake slowly. “No, baby,” I whispered softly, finally filling my palm with the flesh of her breast and rubbing a soft thumb across her responsive nipple.

“Do you want to make me feel good?”

She gasped as I sat up quickly and pulled her hips tight to mine and our chests skin-to-skin. “Always.”

Each point on the trail of her jaw felt like silk under my lips, and the smell of her arousal taunted me from below. I followed its suggested path, hitting all of Winnie’s most sensitive spots as I went, down the line of her jaw, right to the spot behind her ear, around the side of her throat, along the bone at her collar and right to the center of her chest, pushing her to lean back and give me access as I went.

She didn’t contest anything, moaning and closing her eyes at the first hit of my lips to her throat.

“You are the most amazing woman,” I murmured to the space in between her breasts, a place I would happily live if she let me.

“Wes,” she whined, and I smiled, nibbling at the inside of both mounds of supple flesh.

“You want me to be sweet or rough, sweetheart?” I asked, and her already arched back flared more.

“Both.”

Perfect answer.

I picked her body up from my lap and swung my legs out of the way, before setting her back down on the bed. She gasped, far too impressed with the maneuver thanks to the help of the alcohol, and I nearly wept in excitement.

She pushed up on her elbows to look at me, but I stopped her progress with a soft hand on her chest and a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Lie back and spread your legs.”

A shiver wracked her body as I went on. “I’m absolutely dying to eat your pussy.”

She whimpered and I smiled, climbing from the bed, much to her confusion.

Worry creased her forehead, but I put a finger to my lips in command as she opened her mouth. “Lie back,” I repeated. “And spread those beautiful legs. I’m just closing the door.”

She rotated around to face me as I moved and did as I asked, dropping to her back with a soft bounce and settling her heels into the comforter about three feet apart.

Hands to her knees and my own knee to the bed, I commanded, “Wider.”

She moaned with the effort to do what I asked and jumped as I grabbed the sides of her sheer panties and ripped them apart.

“Oh, God,” she cried.

“Are you wet, Win?”

Her head bounced up and down, and her eyes closed with heaviness. “Touch me.”

Powerless to deny her, I sank to my elbows, face in front of heaven, and ran two fingers from right above her clit all the way to the sensitive skin right above her asshole.

She loved when I played with her ass just a little, an obviously untapped area from her previous lovers, and I felt nearly high from her reaction every time.