Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)(40)

Cassie laughed and then verbalized, “Yeah,” as she wrapped her arm around Christin’s shoulders and turned her away from the bar. “I’d say it’s time for a girls’ pow-wow. C’mon, Georgia.”

Georgia glanced at Kline, then at me, and then shrugged, before following the girls toward the bathroom.





“Feel better?” I asked Christin once we were inside the bathroom.

She nodded as her lips crested into an amused grin.

“Well, I don’t feel better,” Georgia interjected with an irritated scowl. “I gotta say, Christin, I’m not too thrilled about your grabby hands touching my husband’s dick.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t cool, Christin,” I partially agreed, “but I get it.”

“Wait. What do you mean you get it?” Georgia asked in outrage.

“Well, Christin here was on a date with someone she thought was a handsome Scottish dude. But her date ended up being a chick, no dick.”

“What?” Georgia exclaimed and her eyes damn near bugged out of her head.

“Yeah,” Chrisin chimed in. “Talk about a shitty f*cking night.”

“Jesus, that’s awful,” Georgia said and her irritation dissipated in a matter of seconds as she pulled Christin in for a tight hug. “I take back what I said. If you need to grab Kline’s dick again, please feel free.”

Mother Brooks’, ladies and gentleman, the patron saint of dicks.

“Honestly, I think the two dick grabs really helped me find my happy place,” Christin said with a giggle. “My faith in humanity is restored, and both dicks gave me hope that the right man is out there for me—and packing a pipe.”

“No one tell Thatch you had that kind of revelation from touching his cock. He’ll think it needs a f*cking cape and a tattooed ‘S’ on his shaft.”

Both Christin and Georgia laughed.

“What do you want to do tonight, honey?” I asked. “No way we’re letting you go home to eat Ben & Jerry’s and watch porn.”

“Yeah, that’s strictly for Tuesdays,” Georgia teased.

“I want to drink all of the alcohol in New York,” Christin announced as she freshened up her lip gloss.

“What do you think, Wheorgie? Should we leave the men for the night?”

Georgia nodded. “Yeah, let’s f*cking do it. No way we’re letting our girl drink by herself.”

Fifteen minutes and two promises of blow jobs later, Georgia, Christin, and I were headed to Barcelona Bar. The second we arrived, I ordered three Harry Potter shots and convinced the house band to play Boys by Britney Spears. We downed the shots and hopped on stage, dancing and singing our asses off.

Homegirl was a bit of a freak on the floor, dropping it real low and bringing it back with a hypnotic shake of her hips. She was getting looks from all sides of the room, but the drummer behind her seemed to be showing the most interest. He was hot by all accounts—defined arms, chiseled jawline and a pair of sexy-as-hell green eyes that would’ve had me licking my lips and fluffing my boobs back in the day.

Yeah, he was all man, and it was safe to say, Christin’s night was about to take a huge change for the better.

I glanced at Georgia and nodded toward the drummer’s eyes. Eyes that were locked on our friend’s ass-ets.

Georgia grinned and danced with Christin while simultaneously leading her closer and closer to the drummer. The second the backs of her thighs hit the side of the drummer’s legs, Georgia went in for the kill, bumping Christin with her hips and forcing her to fall into his lap. He barely missed a beat, adjusting her between his thighs and drumming around her body.

She glanced up into his hypnotizing green eyes and he smirked, offering a sexy wink in her direction.

Christin stayed like that—perched right between the drummer’s thighs—while Georgia and I were content to watch from the bar. Between sets he’d whisper into her ear and she’d reciprocate with a flirty giggle and grin. By the last few songs of the night, his strong hands were wrapped around hers as he taught her how to bang it out on the drums.

I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the only banging before the night was through.

And that feeling was made truth when they announced last call and Christin met us at the bar as we gathered our purses and called a cab.

“So, I’m going to go home with Channing,” she whispered.

“Excuse me?” I asked. “That drummer’s name is Channing?”

Christin nodded and a wicked smile curved her pretty lips upward.

Georgia burst into laughter.

“You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me,” I muttered.

Christin’s expression changed to confused.

“You’ll have to excuse Cassie, but she has a thing for names, and well, Channing is like her name if you know what I’m sayin’.”

Christin giggled. “It’s a hot name.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You get to go bang the hot drummer named Channing and I have to head home to deal with the Jolly Green Giant.”

“Who also happens to be named Thatch and has a dick the size of my forearm,” Christin added.

I thought it over for a few seconds.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just re-name his dick Channing and I’ll be set for the night.”