Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)(40)

“Oh, God,” I moaned.

“Do me a favor, Georgie. When you come, don’t hold back. I need to hear your sounds.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chanted, too consumed with the orgasm about to pull me under. Hell, he could’ve asked me to put on a top hat and sing the “Star Spangled Banner” when I came. I would’ve agreed to anything in that moment. Though, that might have made things a little more awkward.

He grabbed my breasts, caressing the pliant flesh possessively, while his mouth pushed me toward the edge.

My eyes rolled back, gasping breaths escaping my lungs.

“Say it,” he demanded.

I moaned, moving my hands to his hair and gripping the strands for leverage. My hips had a mind of their own, grinding into this face with reckless abandon.

“Fucking say it, sweet girl.” The sexy growl to his voice was enough to push me over.

“Yes! Kline! I’m coming!” My body lost control—legs shaking, lungs gasping for breaths. My pulse roared in my ears.

I didn’t just melt. I dissolved. And I gave him my sounds. I’m not sure what sounds, but I remember shouting, “This is the best orgasm of my life!” at some point.

I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness for a moment, only to be stirred when strong hands cradled my body, adjusting me on the bed so my head rested comfortably on the pillows.

My eyelids fluttered opened to find a smirking Kline staring down at me.

He pressed a kiss to my mouth. “Thank you. That was the best orgasm of my life too,” he said softly against my lips.

His mouth crested into a wry grin as he stood, adjusting himself in his briefs. He was hard and standing at attention, making his appearance the hottest, most obscene thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Now, I think it’s time for breakfast. Eggs and bacon sound good to you?”

I glanced down at his crotch, shocked by the nonchalant tone of his voice. His dick was saluting me, yet he didn’t seem the least bit affected by his current situation.

“But you’re, uh, hard.” And I mean f*cking hard. That soldier was ready for all-out war.

“Seems to be a common occurrence when you’re around.” He winked and walked toward the doorway, only to shout, “Meet me in the kitchen, Benny girl!” over his shoulder as he strode out of the bedroom.

Did he just…? He did, didn’t he?

Orgasms never helped my eloquence with words, but Kline Brooks was a giver.

Like whoa.

This wasn’t the norm. We’d all been with the norm. The guys who would only go down on you because they were expecting some sort of oral exchange. Once you’d gotten your rocks off, they were flashing slanty-eyed glances toward their dicks, waiting for you to return the favor. They’d do everything just short of shoving their crotch in your face. They’d rattle off options like an auctioneer: Blow job? Hand job? Just hold it for a minute? Let me hold your tit while I jerk off?

They might as well have had flashing neon arrows pointing to their pants or, better yet, taken out a piece of paper and drawn a “here is my dick” treasure map, just in case we might have forgotten where the male member was located.

But Kline hadn’t done that.

He’d straight up licked me into an orgasm and then said, “Thank you.”

He had thanked me for letting him go down on me.

I’d never claimed to be a genius, but I was pretty sure Kline Brooks had just wham, bam, and you can thank me, ma’amed me.

It was the sexiest f*cking thing I’d ever experienced.





Uncomfortable was too cushy a word to describe the kind of hell I was in right now. Hard and engorged, my ax was ready to chop some f*cking wood, and because of the redistribution of blood flow, my brain was having a hard time explaining why it couldn’t.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, that was for goddamn sure. But Georgie’s overall discomfort was easy enough to read. I knew she’d enjoyed my mouth on her—I doubted as much as I had—but she would have reciprocated out of duty or expectation. And honestly, the first time she sucked my cock, I wanted it to be because she wanted to. Because she couldn’t f*cking stand not to.

Gripping the base tight through my underwear, I fought to stop the pulsing and bring it even a little bit of relief.

When the fiery depths of hell felt more like the heat of Death Valley, I rearranged myself into the best position and got to work digging out a skillet to make some omelets.

Eggs, turkey bacon, and cheese, I lined the basic ingredients up on the counter and put some cooking spray in the bottom of the skillet. Poised to crack the first egg directly into the waiting heat, I had a flashing memory of Georgia’s swollen face last night and panicked. The egg nearly slipped from my hand, a completely graceless juggle the only thing that saved it.

I needed to do an allergy rundown with her before I even considered preparing any kind of food products.

I rounded the counter to ask her, but stopped abruptly in my tracks when she came sauntering out of my bedroom naked. She was like a new woman, confidence and determination fueling her stride as she ate up the distance between us.

My dick backtracked, immediately swelling with the excitement I’d spent the last several minutes trying to calm.

“Georgie?” I asked as she beared down on me, wondering what was on her mind while my dick prayed whatever it was would end in some form of attention.