Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(24)

     



 

"Fuck," I breathed as one hand traced the crack of her ass all the way  to her pussy. She was wet and wild and bucked at the intrusion of one of  my thick fingers.

My tie came over my head with a few solid yanks from her, and she worked  at the buttons of my shirt, nibbling at the skin as she exposed it.

Each pinch of her teeth made my already hard dick harder. Forcing her up  when my shins hit the comforter, I unwrapped her legs and stood her up  on the edge of the bed in front of me. She was breathing hard as I  pulled her shorts down roughly and shoved up her shirt to put my mouth  to her tit. Her legs shook as I released her nipple with a pop, and I  cut her legs right out from under her with a yank.

"Holy shit!" she yelled as her back hit the bed with a bounce.

Up and over, I flipped her on a roll, yanked her hips to mine and forced  her knees into the bed. When her pussy glistened at me from between the  cheeks of her ass, I reddened the skin with one sharp slap.

She yelped and shoved her ass back at me harder. My blood pounded.

"Go ahead, baby. Fall asleep on me now," I taunted. "I dare you."





Thatch kneeled on the bed while I straddled his thighs. He had one arm  wrapped around my waist, while the other skimmed up my back and into the  messy locks at the nape of my neck. Soft moans fell from my lips with  each upward thrust of his hips.

"Come with me," he demanded as his heady gaze stayed locked with mine.

Two bouts of giving him the Come Coma, and he wasn't taking no for an  answer this time. We'd been at it for a while, but I had no fucking  concept of time. Thatch ensured I couldn't focus on anything but him,  holding my eyes with an intensity I'd never experienced.

My hands slid across this skin of his chest, his arms, until they found  their way into his hair. I gripped the strands and pulled his mouth  closer to mine as the initial sensations of my orgasm started to course  through my veins. "Thatch, I'm there. I'm there," I chanted. My lips  brushed against his as panting breaths started to fall from my lungs.

He growled. "God, you're gripping my cock so tight, honey." His rhythm  turned wild and reckless as he followed my lead, but he wasn't taking  any chances. As my release pulsed inside of me and my eyes wanted to  roll closed, he slapped my ass hard. The sting faded straight to  pleasure and rolled into another orgasm. I had to admit it was a smart  move. Even I couldn't fall asleep while his big hand was reddening my  ass.

"Yes. Fuck," he groaned as his long-awaited orgasm finally came to  fruition. He wrapped both arms around my body, holding me tightly to his  chest, as he rode out his climax inside me.

The sound of ragged air overwhelmed the space for several long moments.

Once we caught our breath, Thatch lay back on the bed, stretching out  and maneuvering my body so that I was sprawled across his chest.

Holy hell. I was convinced this man had the stamina of a fucking  superhero. Every past sexual experience paled in comparison to the  workout he had given me. I had been fucked in every position possible. I  glanced at the clock, and my eyes nearly bugged out. For three hours  straight, my body had been flipped, turned, and sexed on just about  every surface of his apartment.

He had taken me slow and deep in his bed. Rough and quick against the  tile wall of his shower. Spread out across his kitchen table, where he  literally ate me for breakfast.

He'd even fucked me against the terrace doors, with the sounds of the city below us.

But he'd brought it home in his bed, and goddamn, I had to admire the  confidence it took to bring me there, to the scene of the crime, after  putting me through the paces for hours on end. But then, maybe proving  he could do it was the whole point.

His fingers ran through my damp hair. "You still awake, honey?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

I rested my chin on his chest and gazed into his big, brown eyes. "As a  matter of fact, I am." The corners of his mouth nearly touched his ears.  "You're looking awfully pleased with yourself right now."

"Oh, believe me, I am. You were offering up some pretty sweet declarations of love for my cock."

I shook my head in denial. "I can't be held accountable for anything I say during sex."

But he was right. I had pretty much waxed poetic for his penis. At one  point, I'd told him I was going to buy a bigger purse so I could carry  it around with me all day, every day. Even announced that I would find a  new TSA-approved carry-on for air travel.



Honestly, I don't normally have the urge to carry dudes' dicks around in my bag.

But in my defense, Thatch is a fucking fantasy in the sack.         

     



 

His good points?

1. Insatiable endurance.

2. Sexy as fuck body.

3. Huge and thick schlong.

4. Delicious dirty-talker.

5. His PhD in oral.

See what I mean?

You'd be trolling Amazon for a dick carry-on too.



"It was definitely the first time someone has offered to carry my dick  in a bouquet as they walked down the aisle. Honestly, I'm flattered," he  teased.

I shrugged. "Well, he does send me flowers. I'd say it's a normal progression for him to become the flowers."

And motivate you to marry him, my pussy screamed.

Whoa. Slow down there, Pussy Promiser.

He chuckled in response, causing his chest to vibrate against mine.

I couldn't stop myself from smiling and laughing along with him. Hands  down, Thatch had the best laugh. It was husky and deep and downright  infectious.

To his core, he was a happy, carefree guy. He went with the flow, and  most importantly, he enjoyed his life. He wasn't the type of man who  would spend his weekends holed up in his apartment. No. Thatch lived. He  experienced. He was more alive than anyone I had ever met.

He was a bright light I wanted to reach out and catch in my hands.

And I found myself craving more of him-his laughter, his smiles, his  stupid winks, and witty retorts. I couldn't deny that I genuinely wanted  to get lost in all of it.

He tapped my nose with his index finger. "You know, when you're not  going narcoleptic after getting off, you're a bit wild, honey."

I quirked a brow. "A bit wild?"

"Real fucking wild." He smirked and pressed a flirty kiss to my mouth.  "I'm a fan of your brand of wild," his whispered against my lips.

"I'm a fan of your stamina."

"And my cock," he added, and one of his signature winks followed suit.

I laughed. "Yeah, that too."

"Rule number ten," he announced. "Don't hold back your girlish giggles."

At some point, we'd started a list of ridiculous roommate rules. Most of  them were so outlandish, I had to keep a list in the notes on my phone  to remember what they were.



I know I'd be fucking curious if I were you.

Here's the rundown of The Rules of Thatch & Cass thus far.

#1. If someone forgets to run the dishwasher, they have to walk around the apartment shirtless for one hour.

#2. Thatch is always the big spoon in bed.

#3. Cassie isn't allowed to go to strip clubs without Thatch. Ever.

#4. Never delete an episode of America's Next Top Model before Thatch  sees it. (See Rule #1's punishment, but add stilettos and Cass  reenacting the episode in her underwear.)

#5. Thatch has to watch a Lifetime movie with Cass once a week.

#6. Cass isn't allowed to drink diet soda. Only regular.

#7. Thatch isn't allowed to mention ice cream unless it's in the freezer. Otherwise, consider himself dick slapped.

#8. Cass has to hit a minimum daily word count of fifteen fucks in front of Thatch.

#9. Pinkie promises aren't for pussies. If you hook that finger, it's as good as a blood oath, but less messy.

And now, Rule #10. Cass can't hide her girlish giggle.



I rolled my eyes. "I do not giggle."

"Yeah, honey, you do." He nodded slowly. "Not often, but you do."

I groaned and buried my face in his chest.

"Don't be embarrassed. I love seeing tough as nails Cassie all girly and soft."

My eyes met his again. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm annoyed. There's a difference."

"Oh, so you blush when you get annoyed? My bad," he teased.

"I'm not blushing!" I smacked his chest.

"Ow. Fuck," he responded through a laugh as he flipped me onto my back  before I could stop him. His hands held my arms above my head as his  mouth brushed across my lips. "Spend the day with me today," he  demanded, his eyes gazing into mine.

"Pretty sure I've been spending the day letting you fuck me senseless."

He smirked. "Yeah, but I want you to actually spend the whole day with  me. No last-minute shoots for you. No work meetings for me. Just me and  you, fucking and laughing and occasionally taking breaks for food."

"I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow."

He waggled his eyebrows. "That's what I'm hoping for."

I smiled. "Okay. Count me in."

"Fantastic." He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "Now, Mistress Cassie, I  need to order us some lunch." He hopped off the bed and tossed on a  pair of boxer briefs. "Anything in particular sound good?" he asked as  he moved toward the doorway.