Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1) (19 page)

“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.

I’ll let you in on the fucking secret—
absolutely nothing
I could ask her to do would be as good as letting her surprise me.

She slid her mouth down as far as it would go and back, leaving a coat of moisture behind. The chilled air tingled the skin she unsheathed and shot straight to my tightening balls.

Her hand must have sensed it or something, shooting out to cup them at the perfect pressure, just between timid and crushing, rolling each of them between her fingers like a goddamn sac expert.

My legs started to shake, but I fought it, scared she’d stop to ask if I was okay or if I needed to change positions.

A swirl of her tongue at the tip later, she took me inside again, pushing the flat of her tongue against the underside and tapping it in a rapid rhythm. Up and down she worked me, adding her free hand at the base and mesmerizing me with a frenzy-inducing twist.

My mind raced and blanked at once, knowing the cum was coming and working overtime to find the faculties to actually tell her.

“Baby,” I groaned, finally letting my hand shoot out to grip her hair. I pulled it up with a jerk, but took care not to be too rough or startle her.

Her eyes fucking destroyed me when they met mine, eating me alive with the same intensity as her mouth. She was swallowing my fucking dick like it was her last meal and she’d had a goddamn choice of the whole menu.

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Oh shit. Oh
fuck
. I’m gonna come.
Ahhh
, God.”

She sucked harder instead of letting go, pushing me to get there faster with a strum of her fingers at my balls.

I didn’t think I usually came that fast, but the surprise had everything fucked. My stamina, my mind—my ability to form complete sentences. Gone.

When the last jerk subsided, she soothed me with her tongue, sliding her loose hand up and down the shaft slowly.

“Mmm,” she moaned again, nearly knocking me on my ass. “You taste good too.”

I would never,
ever
be able to look at this woman without remembering this moment. Not for my entire life. I was fucking sure of it.

I was equally sure, as one of her greatest fears centered around being able to maintain a professional relationship with me in a work environment, she would
not
want to hear that.

She got to her feet slowly, but I sped up the process, grabbing her by the hips and slamming her naked body directly into mine. My slowly softening cock rested between our bellies, and my lips sought hers.

I fought the primal urge to eat her alive, though, teasing her tongue with mine in a sweet dance of thank-you instead.

I wanted her to feel cherished and fucking appreciated. Her bottom lip swelled in my mouth with the pressure of my suction, so I soothed it with my tongue immediately upon its release.

She moaned in my mouth, hard and deep and needy, and I took it as my completely ass backwards cue to break the kiss. My hands had already found their way to her ass, and I knew if I didn’t stop now, I’d end up pushing her into something she really
wasn’t
ready for.

“Go put on a shirt, baby,” I ordered softly, and then offered, “Take a shower if you want to.”

The shy girl was just under the surface, clearing the fog of lust, and I knew she’d much rather succumb to it in the privacy of my room or the shower than have to live through it in front of me.

I pressed a soft peck to the corner of her lips and inhaled the smell of the skin of her cheek with my nose.
Subtly sweet like a rose surrounded by apples
.

“I’ll finish making breakfast,” I said into her skin before pulling away. “You’re not allergic to anything other than lime juice, are you?”

She smiled slightly before shaking her head.

“Good. I’ll turn the bacon and eggs into omelets, then.”

“Kline?” she asked, ignoring my rundown and sliding her hand up my neck to the juncture of my jaw. My throat tightened and my pulse beat double time as her thumb brushed the line of it.

“Yeah, Benny?”

“Thanks.” One soft kiss to my lips later, she turned and retreated to my bedroom and all I could do was watch as she went, my boxer briefs still twisted around my ankles.

I was fucked—really and truly fucked—when it came to Georgia Cummings.

“Omelet’s ready,” I called through the closed bathroom door after making a quick stop in my closet to put on a pair of jersey shorts until I showered. I was still sticky with the evidence of Georgia’s performance, so I opted to go commando underneath them until I could rectify it—this billionaire’s apartment only had one bathroom.

I expected her to call something back through the door, but she opened it instead, stepping into the doorway and nearly into me with wet hair, a towel around her body.

With a mind of its own, my hand reached out to wipe away the lingering drop of water on the top swell of her breast. She shivered.

I felt downright needy for more contact. Hugs, hand holding—I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to touch her, and I wanted to do it all day.

“Spend the day with me,” I blurted.

“Kline—”

“No,” I interrupted. “Don’t say no.”

She smiled, a tiny laugh coating my skin as she tilted her head to the side just slightly. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good,” I breathed in relief.

“But I do need to go home first. I need clothes. Preferably ones that fit and don’t smell like you.” She held up a hand before I got defensive, admitting softly, “It’s distracting.”

“Fine,” I agreed easily, countering, “But I’m going with you. Last time I let you arrive separately, you were forty-five minutes late.”

Her face pinched in annoyance.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, smoothing it away just as fast. Without moving back, I spoke my parting words right against her lips. “Any other time I’d be patient, baby, but today, when it comes to spending time with you, I find I’m a little less willing to wait.”

“C
okes from a vending machine? Hot dogs from a vendor? What’s next, Mr. Spontaneity?” I nudged him with my shoulder.

He shrugged, taking the last bite of his mustard and relish-covered dog. “I didn’t really have a plan. I just wanted to make sure you spent the day with me.”

Night was settling over the city, streetlights glittering the pavement with their soft glow. We had spent the day riding the subway and making stops at random. Kline would ask me a question and my answer was what decided our next stop.

Favorite place to relax? A stroll through Central Park.

Favorite childhood memory? Feeding ducks at the Brooklyn zoo.

Dinner was outside of MoMA, after we had spent most of the evening browsing Picasso’s sculptures and Jackson Pollock’s beautiful landscapes. He had kissed me slow and deep, fogging my brain with memories of this morning. Kline waited until he had me good and turned on, then pulled away, nonchalantly asking what sounded good for dinner.

The horny side of me quickly responded, “Well, I
really
enjoyed breakfast this morning.”

“You want bacon and eggs again?”

“No,” I answered, standing on my tiptoes and kissing a sensual path along his jaw. Using my teeth to tug at his earlobe, I whispered, “That wasn’t my favorite part of breakfast.”

And that’s how we ended up at a street vendor outside of MoMA, ordering hot dogs. The cheeky bastard had made sure to order us footlongs, adding, “Just trying to get the size right.”

He found a bench, pulling me down into his lap. “Let’s eat, Benny girl,” he said, kissing my forehead and setting dinner in my hands.

I ate my footlong, enjoying every second of being in his company. Pedestrians meandered past us. Taxis sped by in their usual hurry. But the world didn’t exist in that moment. I was too busy savoring every soft kiss to my cheek and handsome smile flashed in my direction.

“This might have been better than breakfast.” I took my last bite, moaning.

He tickled my ribs with his free hand. “I never pegged you as a liar, Ms. Cummings.”

“Who said I was lying?” I winked.

“You got a little something, right here.” He wiped a drop of ketchup from the corner of my mouth, sucking it off his finger and waggling his brows. “Always so fucking good.”

I laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “All right, dirty boy, what’s next on the agenda?”

Helping me to my feet, he grinned. “I’ve got an idea, but I need to know if you’re ready to be a little wild.”

“How wild?” I questioned, a sassy hand on my hip.

He tossed our empty bottles and napkins in the trash.

“Crazy, insane kind of wild.” His eyes turned serious. He grabbed my hips, guiding me toward a vacant alley and gently pushing my back against a brick wall. “Can you handle getting a little crazy with me?”

I nodded, smiling up at him.

He pressed a kiss to mouth. “Are you sure, Benny girl? Because I can’t have you chickening out last minute.”

“Are you calling me out?”

“Are you too scared to take the challenge?”

I bit his bottom lip, my teeth tugging playfully. “I’ll take any challenge you throw my way.”

“Is that so?”

“You bet your tight ass it is.”

“I’ve got fifteen dollars
and
a striptease that says you’ll chicken out.”

“I’ll see your bet and raise you an orgasm.”

His mouth met mine again, his tongue slipping past my lips. He kissed me passionately, sliding his hands into my hair and taking control. His lips coaxed a moan from my throat, only to leave me disappointed when he pulled away, smirking like the devil.

“Game on, baby.” He grabbed my hand, leading me back onto the sidewalk. “Oh, and I want you wearing heels. Sexy fucking heels that’ll blow my mind.”

I giggled, shaking my head. “You better prepare yourself because I’m demanding Channing Tatum-like dance moves. I’m talking pelvic thrusts and lots of grinding action.”