Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(19)

She’d just f*cked herself to sleep. She’d f*cked herself to sleep.

Jesus.

My overexcited dick wasn’t getting his happy ending tonight. No, this f*cker was doomed by the cliffhanger, and I was the messenger who had to break the news.

Sorry, buddy. No full eight-second ride this time.

Up and off my dick, I moved Sleeping Beauty as gently as possible. But when I shook her arm to get her attention without any kind of response, I knew I shouldn’t have bothered.

“Goddammit,” I grumbled, picking myself up off the bed and walking bowlegged into the bathroom. I may not have been happy, but my cock was spitting mad. Yanking off the condom, I found just a tiny bit of precome at the tip but absolutely no relief.

Don’t be mad at me, *, I told my dick. This is not my fault…I don’t think.

The whole thing was confusing. I didn’t understand how it’d happened or why it’d stopped before it was over. None of it made one f*cking lick of sense.

The taps to the shower squealed slightly as I turned them and stepped into the not yet warm spray.

My fist was a horrendously poor substitute for the grip of Cassie’s *, but it would have to do. I worked myself while picturing the motion of her tits and the weight of each one in my palms. She’d looked me in the eye on more than one occasion, even studied my face with a closeness that made it damn near impossible to forget who she f*cked.

And she wasn’t the only one. After tonight, I’d be able to picture every part of her body for the rest of my life.

A mediocre climax brought practically the opposite of relief, but I took it for what it was, did a half-assed job of drying off, and climbed into the bed next to my new favorite woman.

She was deep in sleep, but that didn’t stop me from watching the way her chest rose and fell with each breath or noticing the absence of intensity her face normally carried.

She was beautiful in the way all women were, but she was also different. All this individuality that she never apologized for. It consumed her, and if I was honest, it was starting to consume me.




The bleating reminder of work blared from the alarm on my phone the next morning. I reached to shut it off, but instead of finding it in its normal place on my nightstand, it was across the room in the pocket of my pants, long forgotten thanks to the naked woman in my bed.

Tossing the covers off, I crossed the room in a hurry and shut it off, looking back over my shoulder to the bed, but Cassie never even stirred.

She was obviously a sound sleeper.

Venturing into the bathroom again, I took a quick shower since I’d just had one last night, and I dressed for work quickly enough. Out into the main room, I walked with my suit jacket in hand and laid it over the back of the couch before setting a pot of coffee to brew.

I was used to going without sleep. Having a stake in so many companies and putting extra time into the tattoo shop whenever I could, I spent a lot of extra hours awake. But this was different. Because I was sleepy and sexually frustrated, and I may have been proficient in the first, but I wasn’t a frequent victim of the last. Getting off often was the tension release I needed to keep me moving, and I knew all that frustration, combined with the memory of Cassie’s body, was going to make this workday one of the longest in my history.

As the time to leave approached, I went back into the bedroom and rounded the bed to Cassie’s side. I settled a hip into the crook of hers and wiped a clump of untamed hair from her face.

“Cassie,” I whispered, shaking her hip. “Wake up, honey.”

She didn’t move until I shook harder, and when she did, it wasn’t nice and easy.

A right hook came for my head that I just barely dodged, and then up and out of the bed she jumped until her wild eyes found mine.

“You don’t do anything easy, huh?” I asked with a laugh.

Her eyes pinched together as she looked around, but it must have all come back to her quick enough. She strolled to my dresser, yanked out a T-shirt, and pulled it over her head without a word.

“Is there coffee?” she asked, pointing out the door in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I answered and followed her as she walked down the hall. “Sorry to wake you up, but I have to leave for work.”

“No worries,” she said with a wave as she poured the fresh brew into her cup.

I smiled and started to open my mouth, but as soon as she was finished pouring, she turned on her foot and headed back toward my room.

I followed again, expecting to find her gathering her clothes, but she climbed into the bed and pulled the down comforter and her cup up to her nose.

“I, uh…” I started. “I have to leave for work.”

“I know,” she confirmed with a nod. “Have a good day.”

What the…?

“Oh—okay. I’ll, uh, see you later?” I said with the lilt of a question.

“Yeah, sure thing,” she agreed, gulping down a slurp of coffee and reaching to the nightstand for my remote.

“Do you get the Bravo network?”

“I…” I shook my head. “What?”

“I missed the latest episode of Vanderpump Rules, and Georgie’s got me hooked on that shit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed without being able to understand why. “I’m pretty sure I get all the channels there are to get.”