Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(116)

“No,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Baby, I—”

“No,” he repeated before I could finish.

“But—”

“No, Cass,” he refuted. “I think you actually broke my dick. We’ve f*cked no less than ten times in the past twenty-four hours. It’s physically impossible for me to get hard right now. It’s just a prop at this point.”

God, his voice sounded so f*cking hot all raspy and thick with sleep.

“But what if I—”

“You have literally f*cked me dry. I really hope you’re okay with adoption, honey, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure my balls are empty.”

I grinned into the crook of his neck. “You want to have babies with me?”

“I feel like this is a trick question. Last time I told you I wanted to see you pregnant with my kid, you slapped my dick. Not that it would matter at this point. I’m numb from the waist down.”

I sat back on my heels and stared down at his handsome face. His eyes were still closed, but a small smile rested on his lips. I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I swear, it’s not a trick question, baby.”

He chuckled softly. “If it isn’t a trick question, then it’s you trying to goad me into sex. I know your game, Crazy. And we both know you’re still on the pill, so it’s a moot point anyway.”

I sighed in annoyance. Damn him for being so smart. Even though he couldn’t see it, I flipped him off and then rested my back against the headboard in defeat. I had thought the whole baby thing would’ve helped plead my “let’s bone” case because, despite the fact that we had yet to get married, Thatch had been bringing up the whole “let’s have kids” conversation more and more these days. If he didn’t have a giant snake tucked inside his pants, I’d probably wonder if he was a woman.

His biological cock is definitely ticking. Wait. Clock. Not cock.

But seriously, his cock. His perfect, long, thick cock. I want it so f*cking bad.

I sighed again and crossed my arms over my chest. Was it really too much to ask for a little morning sex, even though I hadn’t let him go to bed until two in the morning because after our first night f*ck session, I had demanded a second time and a third time and then a fourth time before bed? I didn’t think so.

He sensed my annoyance and finally opened his eyes, meeting my frustrated gaze. “Honey, I’m not saying no because I don’t want you. I want you all the f*cking time. I’m literally saying no because I can’t physically get it up.” He lifted up the sheet and gestured down to his boxers with a nod of his head. “You’ve literally f*cked my morning wood away. And that’s saying something considering every morning for the last twenty-plus years, I’ve woken up with a hard-on.”

He was right. His boner wasn’t giving me his usual hello, and that was very unlike him. He always greeted me in the morning.

I rested my head against the headboard and groaned. “I’m just so horny right now. I feel like I will go crazy if I don’t come in the next five minutes. Do you want to shoulder that, Thatch? Knowing you’re the one who pushed me over the edge.”

He glanced over at me and smirked. “We’ve already established you’re crazy, honey. Beautiful but crazy. Sexy as f*ck but crazy.”

“You love my crazy.”

“Obviously. I let you break my dick.”

“I did not break your dick,” I said, even though my eyes were now fixated on his crotch. Did I break his dick? I started to wonder if we needed to take him to the hospital.

He snorted. “Yeah, honey, you did.”

“What if I suck on you for a little bit?”

He shut his eyes again and seemed content to fall back asleep. “My cock needs a break. You could shove your tits in my face, and I wouldn’t care at this point.”

Why didn’t I think of that? He could never resist my boobs.

He peeked out of one eye and added, “That’s not a challenge.”

I groaned again. “You’re turning into an old man.”

“You weren’t saying that last night when you were begging me to put my mouth on you.”

“Yes, please. Do that.”

Both of his eyes opened to meet my unsatisfied and sex-consumed gaze. “You’re that riled, honey?”

I nodded. “I need to get off. So f*cking bad.”

He moved over top of me and caged me in with his thick arms. “You want my mouth?”

“Yes.”

His fingers brushed aside the strap of my tank top as his tongue licked a path from my shoulder to my neck. “You need to come?” he breathed into my ear.

My nipples hardened. “More than I need to breathe.”

His mouth sucked at my neck, hitting that spot below my ear that had moans slipping past my lips. He slid his fingers into my hair and tilted my head to give him more room. And God, he used that extra space—his lips and tongue, sucking and licking along my skin, moving down to my shoulder and then back up again.

My back arched and my hips lifted, seeking relief from the pulsing ache building below my belly. “Please,” I begged. I needed more, I needed his mouth, his lips, his hands, his cock. I needed him on me, in me, all f*cking over me. I wanted everything, and I wanted it all at the same time.