Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)(14)

“Which you obviously do. So no problem there.”

“You wish.”

“I don’t wish, honey. Ever. I do, and I get—always. If you continue to do that around me, I will propose marriage to your tits, and you can bet your sweet pussy they’ll accept.”

“They accept nothing less than eight inches and a four-carat pink diamond engagement ring.”

He winked. “Good thing I’m packing more than eight, then.”

More than eight? I tilted my head as my eyes moved to the crotch of his slacks. I wanted to call bullshit, but I wasn’t actually sure I could call bullshit.

Fuck it. No use wondering. I reached my hand out toward his lap until it met his zipper. My fingers wrapped around his dick in a viselike grip, assessing the size and girth through his pants. “Is he a show-er or a grower?” I silently wondered, but I was quickly denied any further exploration when Thatch shrieked the cabbie’s and my ears off.

“What the fuck?” he asked, covering his thick, semi-aroused cock with his large hand.



And just FYI, it was most definitely thick, and he wasn’t lying. That man had a lot of inches, and judging by the half-chub state I managed to get him in, he still had more inches to go.



“First off, that was payback for the boob grab from earlier. Secondly, you can’t say shit like that and not expect me to ask questions.”

“Ask questions?” he said through an incredulous laugh. “Cass, you didn’t ask shit. You fucking grabbed my dick and—.” He stopped midsentence and then quickly changed his tune. With both hands held away from his lap, he nodded toward the crotch of his pants. “You know what? Go ahead, honey. Ask all the questions you want.”

I laughed at his forwardness. This man could give me a run for my money in the over-sharer department. “You’re practically gagging over the possibility of grabbing my tits again.”

“You have no fucking idea how much.”

“Don’t mind me,” the cabbie interjected with a thick, New York accent. “I won’t even charge extra, dollface,” he offered with a smirk in the rearview mirror.

I glanced toward the front of the cab, finding the laminated copy of our driver’s New York license displayed on the dashboard, and just barely saw Thatch’s eyes narrow in my peripheral vision. “Maybe next time, Paul,” I teased before hooking a thumb right in front of my giant companion’s face. “I got naked in front of this guy once, and I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Take it back,” Thatch demanded, his nosiness over my cab-driver relations forgotten.

“Consider my curiosity curbed, Thatcher. You can go ahead and put your boner away.”

“I can’t wait for the day when you eat those words.” His grin was all cocky and self-assured.

“Don’t hold your breath,” I taunted.

I was so totally full of shit, by the way. My curiosity wasn’t curbed; it was at an all-time high after getting my grope on. Thatcher Kelly was packing, and my puss-ay was practically begging for a ride on his baloney pony.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Your words are going to continue to feel hollow until you actually take your hand off my dick, Pinocchio.”

I looked down to see he was right. My small hand sat firm and full in the crotch of his pants.

How the fuck did that thing get back there?




“Do you think they have one of those microchips on Walter?” Thatch asked as we got off the elevator and moved toward my apartment door.

“Micro-whats? What are you talking about?” I slid the key in the lock and opened the door.

“Microchips,” he answered, following me inside and shutting the door with a quiet click. “You know, when the vet uses a needle to place a little chip under your pet’s skin. The chip has a unique number on it, and if your pet gets lost—” He stopped, assessing the confused look on my face. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a clue.” I shook my head, walking down the hall and into my bedroom. “I did hear the words if your pet gets lost, though, so I’m kind of hoping you’re on to something.”

“You’ve never heard of microchips before?” Thatch stayed hot on my heels, seemingly making himself right at home and plopping his fine ass onto my bed.

“Um, no. But that’s probably because I don’t have any pets that would require one,” I muttered, rummaging through my armoire and pulling a white lace bra out of the drawer.

“Have you ever owned a pet?”

I turned to face him, hand on my hip. “What does that have to do with anything?”