Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)(11)

“No panties? I approve, Mrs. Brooks,” Kline whispered against my skin as his lips peppered kisses down my body. “I swear, your ass is like a gun to my head. There aren’t any other possibilities. I have to please it for my own survival.”

“Kline,” I said as I attempted to turn around, but his hands gripped my hips, holding me in place.

“Shh,” he admonished, lips still on my skin. “This conversation doesn’t involve you.” He kneeled behind me, hands gripping my legs and nudging them apart. “It involves my mouth,” he murmured, tongue sliding up my inner thigh. “And your delicious pussy.” He emphasized the statement by grabbing my ass cheeks and burying his face against me. “And payment for lunch services rendered.”

“Oh. Fuck. Me,” I moaned, head falling back as Kline ate my pussy from behind. My hips bucked forward once his mouth latched on to my clit, tongue swirling my nerves into a frenzy.

“If you want my cock, baby, you’re going to have to wait,” he instructed while slipping a finger inside of me. “Because, for the next hour, by your demand, I’m only interested in fucking this perfect cunt with my tongue.” I could feel him smile against the skin of my ass. “Or until you come. Which one do you think will happen first?”

“Good God,” I whimpered. My body trembled from the intense sensations, tingling and suction and the most delicious burn. And then my hips started rotating with his movements, my climax building at an insanely fast pace. My hands tried to find leverage, fingers banging across the keys of my laptop until I found the edge of the counter to hold on for dear life.

Because holy hell, this was one crazy fucking ride, and my husband wasn’t slowing down for anything. Nothing would keep him from getting his fill.

His devious mouth got me off quickly as he knelt on the floor and ate me out from behind.

It wasn’t until he was standing, chest pressed against my back, cock hard and already a few inches deep, that I finally remembered I was supposed to be pissed at him.

“I’m mad at you,” I breathed, glancing over my shoulder to meet his hooded eyes.

“Still?” he asked, sliding in the rest of the way with one hard, deep thrust.

I moaned.

Fuck, that feels so good. But you’re outraged, remember?

You’re so mad…ohhhhh…yessssss…

He started to pick up the pace, and my moans grew with each drive of his hips forward.

“Benny?”

“Hmmmm,” I mumbled, brain too scrambled to form actual words.

“You still mad at me?”

“Yes,” I said in a raspy, damn near porn-y voice. If I wasn’t so fucking close to getting off again, I would’ve been disappointed in my lack of control. But my mind was too focused on reaching that body-shaking moment of perfect horny bliss.

“You mind if we fight about it later, baby?” he asked, slowing his pace to a near stop. “Or did you want to do it now?”

“If you stop fucking me, I’ll kill you,” I threatened as I drove myself fully onto his cock to emphasize the point.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, picking up speed again. “I love it when you get like this. So fucking greedy to get off.”

Kline’s hands slid up my sides and pulled down the front of my dress, leaving my breasts bared to his skilled touch. The second his fingers pinched my nipples, tugging them in rhythm with his thrusts, I lost all sense of time, space, volume. My moans turned guttural, and I just about screamed the whole place down with each pulsing wave of my orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck,” Kline growled as he fell over the edge. His movements turned wild and uncontrolled as he rode out his climax.

My lips to God’s ears, my husband might actually fuck me to death before this honeymoon is over. Oh, and thank you, God. Thank you for sending me this perfect specimen of a man.

Once my breathing slowed and my mind could finally form coherent thoughts, I realized I was supposed to be peeved at my husband. I started to pull away from him, but his arms were locked around my body like a vise-grip.

“No way, Benny. You’re staying right here.” He leaned forward, kissing a path across my shoulder blades.

My body trembled. “I’m angry with you,” I whispered.

“Liar.” I felt his lips turn up at the corners against my skin.

“I am not lying,” I retorted.

“Yes, you are,” he said, punctuating the statement with a few small thrusts of his hips. His cock was still inside of me, and somehow, still gloriously hard. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “I think you’re just acting like you’re mad at me. I think you’re trying to get me to have crazed-wild-angry sex with you because you’re insatiable. You want to have my cock inside of you this entire honeymoon.”