Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(14)

"Georgia." I stared at her, unleashing the crazy eyes. It was my biggest  weapon when trying to get her to fess up to something. She called it  the creepy stare, and it generally only took about ten seconds of  half-assed effort to get her to spill her secrets.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Fine!" She gave in, raising both hands in the air. "Cool it on the creepy staring. You know it freaks me out."

Works like a charm. Every time.

"Okay, so maybe I already knew you guys had sex," she confessed.

"Wheorgie!" I admonished, equal parts shocked and impressed she was able  to convince me otherwise for even the short window she had.

"Sorry." She shrugged, her button nose scrunching up in a textbook  gesture of sorry, not sorry. "I just wanted to hear it from you first  before I told you what I actually knew."

"That was way too persuasive." She had almost convinced me. "I think you've been practicing the fake tears on Kline too much."

She laughed. "I know, right?"

"All right, what did Thatcher tell Kline?"

"Well … he called my husband this morning all freaked out that you were actually moving in with him."

That had me smiling big. I loved that my plan to mess with him this  morning actually worked. I didn't usually set a precedent of making  myself at home at someone else's place. I just had a feeling Thatch  wouldn't know what the fuck to do if I made myself comfortable in his  bed while he was getting ready to leave for work.

She pointed at my face. "So, you were screwing with him this morning!"

"Oh, yeah," I said, nodding in confirmation. "I was most definitely  screwing with him. You should have seen his face when I got back in his  bed, turned on the TV, and started asking him what channels he got."

But really, I'd had a blast lounging all over his apartment this  morning. If I didn't love Georgie so much, I'd probably still be there,  drowning hours in bacon and DVR and anything else I could get my hands  on.

Georgia laughed, loud and boisterous. "Holy shit, that's awesome! I love  that you did that. He's the ultimate prankster. It's about time he got a  taste of his own medicine."

I smirked. "I know. I wish I would've recorded it."

"The only other thing he told Kline was that … well … " She paused, eyeing  me with an amused look. "The sleep-fucking worked. Like it really  worked."

I thought over her words for a good thirty seconds until I finally  caught what she was putting down. "Oh, fuck," I said through a laugh.  "Definitely not Sleepless in Seattle."

"Nope. More like Comatose in New York," she agreed.

I replayed the sex in my head and realized I had actually passed out-on  his cock-and I did this before he finished. "Man, talk about a bitch  move."         

     



 

"Yep. It was like something out of How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days," she agreed again.

I cringed before asking, "Are we speaking only in movie-isms now?"

She shrugged, but she didn't look like she thought it was the worst idea in the world.

My usual devil-may-care attitude had up and gone hiking. "In my defense,  I was running on two hours of sleep from the night before. But still, I  kind of feel like an asshole." Doing the ole dine and dash on someone's  dick was almost never called for.

Georgia let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, you probably should."

The ogre was right; I did owe him. Because, let's face it, if Thatch had  done that to me, I would've been fucking pissed. I honestly had to give  the guy props for handling it so well, seeing as I was still alive and  everything.

I had always lived my life by one motto: I couldn't please everyone, I  didn't care to please everyone, but I could motherfucking please myself.  Which I did, often.

But for some odd reason, I found myself actually caring about what  Thatch thought and trying to find a way to make it right. And the more I  thought about it, the worse I felt. It was a foreign concept to me, but  even I couldn't deny I had pulled a big-time bitch move last night.

Maybe there's some way I can make it right?

Georgia pointed at my face. "I know that look. What are you planning?"

Man, those cheese fries are really wreaking havoc on my stomach. It was in turmoil.

When I shrugged my uncertainty, she made a suggestion of her own. "Maybe  he's finally getting a little glimpse into what he puts everyone else  through."

"Little Wheorgie is encouraging my scheming ways?"

Georgia nodded, and a devilish smile consumed her lips.

"Is it safe to assume this has everything to do with Thatch including the gargoyle dick in his best man speech?"

"You bet that prankster's ass it does."

Thatcher had finally met his match in me.

His match.

At pranking, I told myself. But the seed was already planted, and there was no way I'd be able to keep it from growing.




I strode through Thatch's building and straight for his assistant's desk.

"Hi, I've got a last-minute meeting with Thatcher Kelly."

She looked up from her computer, and hesitance etched her face. "Uh … he's in the middle of a conference call right now."

"Oh, I know." I played it off. "That's why he asked me to come."

She squinted in confusion and took in my not-exactly-business attire. I  was pretty sure the waistband of Thatch's underwear was sticking out of  the top of my skirt like a rapper, for fuck's sake. But people were  always hesitant to deny you if you acted self-assured enough. "And  you're supposed to be on that conference call?"

"Yep," I said, tapping her desk and walking toward his office door. "He'll be happy I was able to make it in time."

"But … wait … let me … " She stuttered over her words as she stood up from her desk. "I should probably let him know you're here."

"No worries. I got it from here." I waved her off and proceeded to open his office door.

Thatch sat behind his big mahogany desk. His brown eyes rested behind a  pair of sexy glasses and were lacking their playful edge. He was  obviously concerned and very distracted with whatever was being said on  the other end of the call. He didn't look up from his desk until he  heard the door close and the lock being flipped with a quiet click.

His hair was rough and unkempt as though he'd been running his hands  through it constantly, and it made me want his hands in my hair.  Tugging, pulling, you name it.

Oh, yeah.

My arousal was plain to see, and those brown eyes switched from serious to intrigued in a matter of seconds.

"Hi," I mouthed, holding up a bag of "I'm sorry for falling asleep on  your dick" fries. I moved around his desk until I was standing beside  his chair.

He turned to face me and held up one finger, responding into the phone,  "Unless you want your balls handed to you on a silver platter, I  strongly suggest rethinking those investments."

I smirked at the way Thatcher Kelly did business. I doubted many other  people threatened their clients' balls and got away with it.

I set the bag on his desk and went about my ogling. A sleek gray suit  covered his huge, masculine body, and I wanted it uncovered. My pussy  was pounding thanks to his all-motherfucking-business expression and its  enhancement of his strong features.

He oozed power and authority, and I was getting all kinds of sexy-as-hell alpha vibes.         

     



 

Oh yeah, Thatcher Kelly was a stud, and I was about to show him how  sorry I was for falling asleep on his dick. The fries wouldn't be the  only meal consumed in the name of forgiveness.

I grabbed a pen and notepad off his desk as I heard him rattle off a few  investment figures into the phone. I scribbled out a quick note and  held it up for him to see.



Will there be anyone coming by your office in the next ten minutes?



He read the note and then met my eyes, shaking his head.

I flashed a smirk and a wink as I got down on my knees and placed my  hands on his thick thighs, pushing them apart to make room. His eyebrows  rose to his forehead as I undid his belt and slid down his zipper.

The second I slipped his cock out of his pants, he placed his hand over  the receiver, whispering, "Cass, honey, what are you doing?"

"Telling you I'm sorry," I responded as I stroked him in my hand. "Is  that okay?" I asked, but I didn't wait for a response, grazing my lips  around his crown. Slowly, inch by inch, I slid him into my mouth as his  eyes stayed fixated on what I was doing.

"Fuck," he muttered and then cleared his throat. "No, I'm still here, Mike."

He tasted delicious, and I loved the feel of him against my  tongue-velvety smooth and hard, really fucking hard. It was all I could  do to pull it out of my mouth for a little more teasing. I used my hand  to outline my lips with the tip of his thick cock, alternating that move  with sucking the head into my mouth. Every time his cock jumped, I  sucked harder.

"I already told you what I … I … th-thought about that," he stammered as I tortured the underside with the flat of my tongue.