Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(10)

"Who the fuck is Henry?" The voice turned angry as we continued to move-or maybe we were flying?-to some unknown place.

I blinked my eyes open and came face-to-face with Thatch. His brown eyes  were darker than normal, and his mouth was set in a firm line. I  reached up and let my fingers run across the dark, scruffy, short beard  covering his jaw. "You're not Henry Cavill."

"No," he said with a smirk. "I'm better."

"This dream is different, but hell if I'm not already into it."

The truth was, I'd been here before, but it had been more of a daydream,  a completely conscious exploration of what it'd be like to be close  enough to Thatch that I could feel him, smell him-fuck him until I  couldn't walk. It made complete sense that I'd transitioned into  thinking about it in my sleep too.

A soft chuckle left his lips. "This isn't a dream, honey."

My back was pressed into something soft, maybe a comforter … or maybe we  were about to bang on a cloud? I didn't know, but one thing I did know  was that I was down for it. All of it.

Dream Thatch lay down beside me and pulled blankets over top of us, and  that's when I realized we were in a bed, a huge motherfucker of a bed.  Fantasy or not, it made sense the Jolly Green Giant would need a  California King to accommodate his size.

He got comfortable beside me, stretching out and getting into what I  assumed was his preferred sleeping position-on his back with one beefy  arm stretched over his head. I turned on my side and perused his body,  even lifting up the covers to find that he was only wearing boxer  briefs. Lord, the muscles on this man. He was a buffet, and I was ready  to get my money's worth.         

     



 

"Cass? What are you doing?" He watched me rub my hands across his firm chest.

"I'm horny," I told him. Because, yeah, I was, and why did Dream Thatch  have to be so damn irresistible? I had to squeeze my thighs together  just to curb the pulsing sensation between them. But it wasn't enough. I  needed more.

He laughed softly. "I think you're dreaming, honey. You should probably go back to sleep."

But he didn't make any attempts to stop my hands from taking inventory.  And they kept exploring, sliding past his belly and down to his briefs.  Oh, yeah. Dream Thatch was horny too.

I smirked down at him as I got to my knees and straddled his hips. A  moan left my lips the instant I felt him hard and thick and pressed  against my pussy. "Oh, fuck yes."

His eyebrows rose to his forehead. "Honey-"

"Shh." I pressed my fingers to his lips. "Just lie back and enjoy the  ride, Thatch. I'm gonna make this real fucking good for both of us."

"Shit," he groaned as I rotated my hips. "Fuck. What is happening?"

"I don't know, but I'm really liking it."

"Are you even awake right now?" He gripped my hips, stopping my  movements. His eyes stared into mine, a heady mix of concern and raging  lust.

I shook my head and laughed at Dream Thatch's attempts to trick me, and I bit into my bottom lip.

"You're awake." I rotated my hips again-despite his efforts to stop  me-to punctuate my meaning. Thatch's dick was wide awake and raring to  go. Oh, yeah.

"And I'm fucking loving the feel of you between my legs."

"Christ," he groaned again.

I leaned down and pressed my lips against his. I slipped my tongue  inside his mouth and kissed him deep. He stopped questioning me then,  and he tangled his hands into my hair as he took control of the kiss.  Groping intensified, and the race to get as close as possible turned  into an all-out wrestling match. We were both moaning into each other's  mouths, our bodies instinctively moving and grinding in a perfect  pleasure-inducing rhythm.

When it felt like a spark lit a fire between my legs, everything started  to become a lot less fuzzy dream and more lust-fueled reality.  Surprised, I sat up, breaking the kiss and staring down at him. This  feeling and the rapid rise and fall of my chest were not the results of a  dream. Nope, I was definitely awake and about two seconds away from  fucking Thatch.

Well, this is unexpected.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, blinking past the fog, and looked at the  man beneath me. Thatch appeared utterly confused, but I could still see  that layer of need beneath his pupils.

"Cass?" he asked, gauging my face.

I thought it over for a good thirty seconds. I could stop this before it  went any further fairly easily. I knew he wouldn't push the issue. But  the only problem was I didn't have any good reasoning to back that  option up. I was now wide awake, Thatch's cock was still hard, and hell  if my pussy wasn't begging for a ride.

And if we're really looking at the situation objectively, he woke me up.  This meant Thatch had to take responsibility for his actions and help  me fall back asleep.

Yeah, we're definitely going to finish this. I was going to ride the  Jolly Green Giant until he lulled me into a mind-numbing orgasm and  right back to motherfucking sleep.

"Guess what, Thatch?" I asked, smirking down at him. I'd paused for who  knew how long, but he seemed perfectly content to rub his hands  everywhere within reach to keep occupied.

"What?" He tilted his head to the side as said greedy hands rubbed across the tops of my thighs.

I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his again, slipping my tongue  between his lips and getting a taste of him before sucking on his tongue  and spurring an intoxicating groan from his throat.

"I'm going to fuck you," I told him as I moved my mouth down his jaw to his neck and then, his tattoo-covered chest.

"You are?" he asked, shock and surprise and a whole lot of "what the fuck is happening right now?" evident in his voice.

"Oh, yeah. I'm about to get your boner out and have a fan-fucking-tastic  time." I grinned when I found something shiny and metal for my tongue  to play with. My lips caressed his pierced nipple, sucking the metal  into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue. My mouth tortured a few  "fucks" from his lips until I sat up on my knees.

Holy hell, Thatch's long body made for some kind of view.

"You owe me an orgasm after waking me up. And I always collect on payment."

"I-what?" he asked through a half laugh and moan. But I guess a girl  grinding herself on you would get that kind of incredulous response.         

     



 

"You. Owe. Me," I repeated as I took off my shirt and bra, tossing them to the side of the bed.

He stopped asking questions then, eyes too distracted by my chest.  Gripping my breasts with both hands, I rolled my nipples between my  fingers and watched him watch me.

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He licked his bottom lip as he continued to  watch, seemingly unable to look anywhere other than my tits.

"Do you want a taste?"

"I won't be satisfied with just a taste," he said, sitting up and taking  my mouth in a toe-curling kiss. His tongue danced with mine as he  gripped my ass, sliding me against his cock. "I want it all, honey," he  whispered against my lips before leaning down and sucking a nipple into  his mouth.

His tongue was devious, I knew that much as it flitted across my nipple  with two short flicks and a deliciously long drag. My hips ground  against him as I threaded my fingers into his hair, encouraging him to  give the other nipple just as much attention. And he did. The man was  nothing if not thorough.

But I could only take so much teasing before I started to get  frustrated. I gripped his hair, pulling his eyes to mine. "Get naked.  Get a condom. I need your cock inside me."

Thatch didn't think twice about my demands, flipping me onto my back and  removing my yoga pants and panties like a goddamn magician. His briefs  were gone, and he was sliding a condom on between one blink and the  next.

Before he could take control, I pushed him back down onto the bed, straddling his hips and guiding him inside me.

"Well, fuck," I moaned the second his dick was buried to the hilt. "God,  your cock feels so good," I said as I started a smooth up-and-down  rhythm, my pussy clenching against him every time he was pressed deep.  The heat of his chest seeped into the palms of my hands, and it felt  like being zapped back to life by defibrillator paddles.

"I'm feeling all kinds of things about your pussy, honey. If you weren't  sitting on my dick, I'd be worshiping this perfect cunt with my  tongue." He grabbed my breasts again, his thumb flicking against my  nipples and spurring tremors to roll down my spine.

"By all means," I said as I moved off of him and straddled his face. He  started to disagree with the change in position until I gripped his hair  in one hand and spread myself with the other. "Eat it, Thatch. Make me  come on your face."





Surely I was having a stroke.

I mean … were these the symptoms of a stroke? Maybe not for everyone, but  certainly for a guy like me, having a stroke would be something like  this.