Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(69)

He tried to gently disentangle my hands from his face, but I stayed resolute in our literal nose-to-nose position.

“Cass,” he said, and his brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s that f*cking time of year when everything is blooming. I’m all stuffy and snorty.”

“Stuffy and snorty?”

“Yeah, you know, allergy season. It kicks my ass.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard you complain about allergies.”

“Well, they usually don’t bother me, but…” I paused, searching for a reason. “But, I went for a run today in Central Park, and they were cutting the grass, and I think it just triggered the snorts.”

He raised a curious brow. “You went for a run today?”

“Um, yeah. I love to run.”

His eyes squinted in disbelief. “You love to run?”

Fuck, this hole felt deep. “All the time.”

“Considering the last time I tried to wake you up for a run, you told me you’d bite my dick off, I’d say that seems a little farfetched, honey.”

Before I could offer a retort, the soundtrack of snorts and rustling started to play again, which meant I had to snort along and, obviously, come up with a quick plan. Because, yeah, this was not going to work for any substantial amount of time. Christ, I had brought Phil home to help me mess with Thatch, not cockblock me from f*cking the prankster. I’d just wanted to live through the high of another one of Thatch’s unexpected reactions. They made me feel good.

My gaze found the tie loosened around Thatch’s neck, and I quickly unfastened the Windsor knot the rest of the way. “Let’s play, baby,” I purred and held the tie in front of him.

His expression remained skeptical, but his cock showed a biological reaction a little suspicion couldn’t deny, hardening instantly between my thighs.

“We’re going to play,” I instructed as I secured the makeshift blindfold over his eyes, “What part of Cassie’s body are you touching.”

“I’ll only play if by touching you actually mean your lips, *, or tits touching my mouth.”

“Deal,” I agreed, removing myself from his lap and turning around to find Phil face-deep in a bag of plain tortilla chips that had come inside the takeout bag.

“Shit,” I muttered and silently prayed to the heavens above that the little piggy hadn’t managed to reach the nachos. I wasn’t an animal expert, but my general knowledge of Mexican food and digestive tracts told me that would have been the opposite of good.

“Wait, where’d you go?” Thatch asked behind me.

“Uh…I just wanted to freshen up my * and tits for you,” I said, and even though I realized how gross that sounded, I was too determined to care.

I had to hide the porcine chastity belt so I could resume the sex bubble.

“Stay right there, baby. Don’t move that big cock from the couch. I’ll be right back.”



It should be noted here that I do not have a tuna twat or hairy nipples.

I’m groomed and fresh as a motherf*cking daisy in those goddamn Irish Spring commercials.

Seriously, my * smells like a meadow full of flowers.

Well, the meadow with a hint of *.

Because let’s face it, pussies smell like pussies.

And there’s no avoiding that fact unless you want a yeast infection.



I picked up Phil and carried him down the hallway, muttering, “I gave you one f*cking responsibility. Be. Cool. That was all you had to do, and you pretty much f*cked it up.”

Phil snorted, and his tail wiggled back and forth when I set him down on the bed.

“You’re being a bit of a cockblock, dude,” I chastised, but he didn’t mind, seemingly more concerned with rooting through the comforter.

“Who’s a cockblock?” Thatch’s voice filled the room.

I turned to find his large frame—still clad in a sexy charcoal-gray suit—standing in the doorway, sans blindfold.

His jaw dropped the second his eyes met the tiny, teacup pig snorting and nudging his nose against the bed.

“What in the ever-loving f*ck?”

Well, shit. So much for waiting until after we boned.

And since the cat—well, pig—was out of the bag, I did the only thing I could…

“Surprise!” I exclaimed and did jazz hands to punctuate the statement. “I bought you a pig!”

“You…” His gaze moved back and forth between Phil and me. “What?”

I picked Phil up from the bed, cuddled him close to my chest, and walked over toward Thatch, who appeared to be frozen in the doorway to his bedroom.

“I bought you this little guy,” I explained. “I wanted to do something thoughtful for you.”

“I brought home nachos for you, and you bought me a pig?”

I tried not to smile. God, this was almost as good as sex.

“Aw, babe, we aren’t keeping score. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll repay me with something even more thoughtful.”

He just stared back at me. “I never said I wanted a pig, Cassie. I live in the city, for f*ck’s sake. What in the hell am I going to do with a pig? Fuck. I’m pretty sure they’re illegal in New York.”