Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(18)

But I could only take so much teasing before I started to get frustrated. I gripped his hair, pulling his eyes to mine. “Get naked. Get a condom. I need your cock inside me.”

Thatch didn’t think twice about my demands, flipping me onto my back and removing my yoga pants and panties like a goddamn magician. His briefs were gone, and he was sliding a condom on between one blink and the next.

Before he could take control, I pushed him back down onto the bed, straddling his hips and guiding him inside me.

“Well, f*ck,” I moaned the second his dick was buried to the hilt. “God, your cock feels so good,” I said as I started a smooth up-and-down rhythm, my * clenching against him every time he was pressed deep. The heat of his chest seeped into the palms of my hands, and it felt like being zapped back to life by defibrillator paddles.

“I’m feeling all kinds of things about your *, honey. If you weren’t sitting on my dick, I’d be worshiping this perfect cunt with my tongue.” He grabbed my breasts again, his thumb flicking against my nipples and spurring tremors to roll down my spine.

“By all means,” I said as I moved off of him and straddled his face. He started to disagree with the change in position until I gripped his hair in one hand and spread myself with the other. “Eat it, Thatch. Make me come on your face.”





Surely I was having a stroke.

I mean…were these the symptoms of a stroke? Maybe not for everyone, but certainly for a guy like me, having a stroke would be something like this.

Cassie’s creamy thighs rubbed against my cheeks, forcing my short beard to pull the other way and tug at the nerves.

God. Okay. Jesus, I needed to relax. My heart was beating unbearably fast, and there was no way I could maintain the pace for more than a minute.

But f*ck. The smell of her * as she literally rode my face was goddamn indescribable. It didn’t smell like anything else I’d ever smelled before—even other pussies—but whatever pheromones it housed must have been specially programmed for me. Like Miracle-Gro for my dick. I couldn’t see it at the moment, because I couldn’t see anything other than this wild woman’s f*cking perfect *, but it was bigger than it’d ever been. A wager of fifteen grand on that very fact wouldn’t have even made me blink.

Not to mention, how the f*ck had we gotten here? How in the hell was I having sex with Cassie Phillips right now? My head was obviously too round and thick to wrap around the unexpected concept.

When she ground down harder on my mouth and whimpered, I recognized the need to forget all the details and just concentrate on what I knew. And I knew how to eat a f*cking *.

The secret was simple.

It was never, ever the same.

It could be the same woman, the same day, the same f*cking session, but a woman’s * is a special kind of woman. She’s picky but f*cking generous, and she gets off on all kinds of wicked shit, but her biggest turn-on is variety and a good sense of mood.

I did my best to listen for Cassie’s cues, her moans and whimpers and the speed of her breath. Did she need it faster or slower, and was the pressure just right? The answer was never consistent, and I f*cking loved it. Every time I earned a reward through the curl of her toes or a squeeze of her knees, it made me work harder.

I licked and sucked, and she writhed her slick heat against my face. Her skin flushed the color of her nipples from her toes to her nose, and my dick jumped in response.

“God, yes. Lick it, Thatch,” she commanded, and I hummed into her soft, bare skin. Never in my life had I had a woman order me around and take control like this, but I didn’t mind—far from it.

When she came, it would be because I had gotten her there, and that was all the incentive I’d ever need. This wild woman was a f*cking goddess, and anytime she wanted her * licked, I’d do it—no questions asked.

Come on, honey. Come on my face.

Just when I was ready, she robbed me of it, jumping from my face with a moan and scooting quickly back down my body and onto my dick.

“Fuck me,” I breathed.

“No, baby,” she corrected with a shake of her head. “Not this time. This time, I’m f*cking me.”

And by God, she did, up and down, she f*cked herself on my dick, never even giving me an opportunity to show any of my moves. I was an instrument, and she didn’t mind doing all the goddamn work. It wasn’t an impossibility, but I had to admit it was rare I encountered a woman with this much sexual work ethic.

I reached for her tits as they swung in front of me, and I smiled internally when no hands slapped mine away. They were heavy and heaving, and when I rubbed the tips with my thumbs, she licked her lips and fell over the edge.

Her head shot back, her eyes closed, and the taut muscles in her thighs squeezed harder at my hips.

When she fell forward onto my chest with long, even breaths, I let my hands settle on her hips and rubbed gently to give her a minute to get her strength and energy back. She’d been tired when we came in here, and now she’d done enough work for both of us.

“You okay, honey?” I asked, touching my lips to the side of her face and breathing in the scent of her skin. God, she smelled delicious. Like oranges and us. I licked at the curve of her shoulder.

She didn’t move or speak.

“Cassie?” I questioned.

Soft snores tickled my inner ear, and I knew in an instant.