Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(15)

My gaze locked with his as I pumped my mouth quickly up and down his  shaft. He couldn't take his eyes off of me, and I watched his Adam's  apple bob with a swallowed groan when I tapped the end of him to the  very back of my throat.

Then he swallowed another.

And … another.

It was safe to say he was thoroughly enjoying the blow job, maybe even a  little too much for a conference call. But turned-on Cassie had  absolutely no consideration. Even less than the normal me.

Seconds later, he mumbled a near-incoherent "I'll call you back" to Mike  and tossed his phone onto his desk with reckless abandon as he started  to move his hips in rhythm with my mouth and hand.

"I have no idea why you're doing this, but please don't fucking stop."  His hands were in my hair, just like I wanted, encouraging me to  continue with gentle yet firm movements.

The soft hum of the fluorescent lights was the only noise that wasn't a  distinct result of him and me and sex. I released him with a loud pop  and continued to stroke his length as I gazed up at him. My chest heaved  and my voice was nothing more than a sexy rasp. "Don't worry, Thatcher.  I won't stop until you come in my mouth."

A deep, throaty groan left his lips. "Keep talking like that, and I won't last another thirty seconds."

I lapped up a few drops of precome and moaned. "You taste good, Thatch,"  I said with a smirk before wrapping my lips around him again and  sucking down his shaft.

"God, your mouth is heaven, honey."

As I continued to work him over, the ache of arousal became too much. I  needed just a little relief. I slid my shirt and bra up and over my  breasts, baring them to his greedy gaze. "Baby, play with my tits while I  suck you off."

I didn't have to ask him twice. He grabbed my breasts with his large  hands and rubbed his thumbs across both nipples. I throbbed between my  legs from his expert touch and had to fight the urge to turn the  situation into an outcome where we both found release.

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?"