Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(16)

"At home, jackhole. My home. I swear to God, Kline, she's moving in with  me. I don't know what happened, but I think she's suffering from some  kind of psychotic break. With Georgia in the middle, you and I probably  won't be able to be friends anymore."

The sounds of two varying degrees of laughter filled my ear.

"This isn't funny! One sleepy bone, and this chick thinks she lives with me!"

Wes stopped trying to soften his laughter and dove into it full out. "This is fucking hilarious."

Kline finally took pity on me. He found compassion through his laughter,  but he found it. He was definitely above Wes on my list of friendship  today. "Relax, man. She's probably fucking with you."

My elbows went to the surface of my desk as I leaned forward quickly. "Why would she do that?"

"Would you fuck with you right now?"

Obviously, I would. He took my silence as an affirmative.

"Exactly."

"Shit." I hadn't even considered how similar we were.

"Plus," he went on, "I told Georgie about your freak-out this morning,  and she may have been getting ready to leave for lunch with Cassie when I  did."

"Fuck! Kline, I told you not to spread this shit around."

"And I told you I was going to tell Georgie. I'm not even sorry."

Wes continued to laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

"Listen," Wes said, just barely softening his chuckles enough so that he  could speak. "If she's gonna fuck with you, why don't you fuck with  her?"

My eyes narrowed at the empty spot on my office floor. "What do you mean?"

"She's obviously expecting you to squirm. Turn it around on her."

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Kline agreed.

I pondered to myself and decided I could do that. I was way more  comfortable as the messer than I was as the messee. "Fine. I'll text her  something."

"Make sure you tell us what it is," Wes demanded.

"Didn't you guys call me for fucking reasons?"

"Mine can wait," Wes said just as Kline murmured, "This is suddenly more important."

"Fuck you guys."

"Bye, Princess Peach," Kline said in dismissal through his chuckles.

Wes's laugh trailed on after Kline hung up.

"You seriously don't have questions for me?" I asked.

"We'll talk about it all when I get back. But you better fucking tell me how this plays out."

"Don't worry, Samantha. I'll fill you in on all the happenings of Sex and the City."

Slamming the phone into the cradle before he could say more, I picked up  my cell phone off the corner of the desk and pulled up her number to  text.



Me: Thanks for "lunch." I need to stop by the drugstore on my way home. Need me to pick you up anything, honey?



Sent. Think you can mess with me? Think again, honey.

Student, meet teacher.





I reread the text and triple-checked that the message was in fact from Thatch.

Did he just send me a goddamn kissy-face emoji?

I opened and closed my eyes a few times, just to be sure what I was seeing was real.         

     



 

For the love of freaks, he really sent that.

I knew I was a talented cocksucker, but I had told him I would see him  at home after putting him back into his pants. Home, meaning his home,  meaning he should've thought I was off my rocker and actually trying to  move in with him, meaning that text message should've been him freaking  the hell out. Not all kissy-faced and asking me if I needed anything  from the store.

Why wasn't he losing his shit over this?

I grabbed my phone off my coffee table and called Georgia.

"Hell-" she started to answer, but I immediately interrupted.

"I think he's fucking crazy."

"-o," she finished with too much amusement in her voice.

"I'm being serious, Wheorgie. I think Thatch might be crazier than me, and believe me, I know that's a fuckload of crazy."

She laughed. "Why do you think he's crazy?"

"He just texted me after I gave him an ‘I'm sorry for falling asleep on  your dick before you blew your load' blow job in his office and asked me  if I needed anything from the store on his way home. Not to mention he  sent me a goddamn kissy-face emoji. He's nuts, that's all there is to  it. A total whack-job with a Supercock."

Yeah, no doubt about it, that kissy-face-emoji-sending-motherfucker  needed to spend some time in a padded room and reevaluate his life  choices. At least, that's what I needed Georgie to think I was thinking.

"Hold up. Please repeat that because I'm not sure my brain was able to process what you just said."

"I know," I said as I stood up from the couch and started pacing my  living room. "I had to check that text message fifteen times to believe  he sent that. What grown-ass man even uses emojis?"

"That's not the part I'm having a hard time processing."

I sighed, shaking my head. "I hear you, G. The store part threw me for a loop too."

"No," she voiced. "I'm talking about the blow job, Casshead."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry, I didn't go narcoleptic on his dick this  time. He got the full-service treatment, if you know what I'm saying.  Came right in my-"

"That's not the part either! Jesus," she said through a laugh. "You went  to his office after we had lunch and sucked him off? Are you fucking  with me right now?"

I scrunched up my face in annoyance. "Please explain what you're trying  to get at here. I'm not seeing where the confusion is coming from on  your end."

"Cassie!" she exclaimed, bursting into full-belly laughs. "You told me  you were going to tell him you were sorry. I thought that meant bringing  him lunch, not using his dick as your second lunch."

I'd thought that too. But goddamn, he'd looked like a culinary delight when I got there. A woman can only be so strong.

"Actions speak louder than words, G."

It'd been a deviation from the flight plan, but there was no doubt in my  mind Thatch appreciated a blow job way more than lunch and a Hallmark  card. Hell, I'd much rather a guy show me he was sorry by tonguing my  puss-ay than sending me flowers. Flowers died, but fantastic orgasms?  Yeah, those fuckers lived on forever by fueling fantasies and becoming  priceless spank-bank material.

"Please tell me this without giving too much detail. How does one start  off the whole ‘I'm going to apologize by putting your penis in my mouth'  conversation?"

"What conversation? There wasn't one. I went in, locked the door, got on my knees, and unzipped his pants."

"Like a drive-by blow job?"

"Exactly like that."

"Wow. I still don't understand how you can manage to shock me after all these years."

"You've never blown Kline in his office?"

"Um. No, I have not."

"You need to do that," I recommended.

"Brilliant idea, Cass!" Kline's voice filled my ears. "I'm on board with this plan, Benny."

"Well, hey there, Big Dick. I see I'm on speaker phone."

"Sorry, Cass," Georgia chimed in. "We're heading home from taking the  boys to the park. And you didn't exactly give me a chance to give you a  heads-up."

And by "boys" she meant their asshole cat, Walter, and his boyfriend,  Stan-who also happened to be a one-hundred-pound Great Dane that was  still growing by the day. They were star-crossed lovers who had happened  to meet in a vet's office when Thatch had lost Walter.

It only took one sniff of Stan's asshole, and Walter had found his soul  mate. Well, life mate. I was pretty sure that cat didn't have a soul. He  was Satan in feline form.         

     



 

"No worries," I responded. "So, Kline, how should we handle this?"

"Handle this?" he asked, voice equal parts amused and uncertain. "What are we handling?"

"Thatch. I mean, isn't it obvious? He's fucking lost it. He thinks I'm  moving in with him, and he's actually okay with that. Not freaking out  in the least."

Kline chuckled a few times and paused before offering, "Don't you think  it's odd that loud-obnoxious most of the time-Thatch seems very reserved  about all of this?"

"Yeah, that's why-" I started to respond, but I stopped when my brain  started to process his words. "Wait … no way … no way. You think he's  calling my bluff?"

"I'm not saying I think that, but I'm not saying I don't think that either."

"Oh, that devious bastard. He's good, but he's not that good." I headed  straight into my bedroom and started pulling shit out of my closet.

"What are you doing?" Georgia asked.

"Obviously, moving on to Plan B."

"And what's Plan B, exactly? Isn't that the name of the morning-after pill? Tell me you're not pregnant."

"No, I'm not pregnant! There's been no completion in this tank, remember?"

Big-brained Brooks felt it was important to take me back to sex ed. "A guy doesn't have to finish to get you pregnant."

"So true," Georgia agreed.