Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)

“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 fucking goddess, and anytime she wanted her pussy 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 fucking me.”

And by God, she did, up and down, she fucked 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.

She’d just fucked herself to sleep. She’d fucked herself to sleep.

Jesus.

My overexcited dick wasn’t getting his happy ending tonight. No, this fucker 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, asshole, 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 fucking 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 pussy, 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 fucked.

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.