Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #2)(14)

by Max Monroe

“Shit,” he groaned as I rotated my hips. “Fuck. What is happening?”

“I don’t know, but I’m really liking it.”

“Are you even awake right now?” He gripped my hips, stopping my movements. His eyes stared into mine, a heady mix of concern and raging lust.

I shook my head and laughed at Dream Thatch’s attempts to trick me, and I bit into my bottom lip.

“You’re awake.” I rotated my hips again—despite his efforts to stop me—to punctuate my meaning. Thatch’s dick was wide awake and raring to go. Oh, yeah.

“And I’m fucking loving the feel of you between my legs.”

“Christ,” he groaned again.

I leaned down and pressed my lips against his. I slipped my tongue inside his mouth and kissed him deep. He stopped questioning me then, and he tangled his hands into my hair as he took control of the kiss. Groping intensified, and the race to get as close as possible turned into an all-out wrestling match. We were both moaning into each other’s mouths, our bodies instinctively moving and grinding in a perfect pleasure-inducing rhythm.

When it felt like a spark lit a fire between my legs, everything started to become a lot less fuzzy dream and more lust-fueled reality. Surprised, I sat up, breaking the kiss and staring down at him. This feeling and the rapid rise and fall of my chest were not the results of a dream. Nope, I was definitely awake and about two seconds away from fucking Thatch.

Well, this is unexpected.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, blinking past the fog, and looked at the man beneath me. Thatch appeared utterly confused, but I could still see that layer of need beneath his pupils.

“Cass?” he asked, gauging my face.

I thought it over for a good thirty seconds. I could stop this before it went any further fairly easily. I knew he wouldn’t push the issue. But the only problem was I didn’t have any good reasoning to back that option up. I was now wide awake, Thatch’s cock was still hard, and hell if my pussy wasn’t begging for a ride.

And if we’re really looking at the situation objectively, he woke me up. This meant Thatch had to take responsibility for his actions and help me fall back asleep.

Yeah, we’re definitely going to finish this. I was going to ride the Jolly Green Giant until he lulled me into a mind-numbing orgasm and right back to motherfucking sleep.

“Guess what, Thatch?” I asked, smirking down at him. I’d paused for who knew how long, but he seemed perfectly content to rub his hands everywhere within reach to keep occupied.

“What?” He tilted his head to the side as said greedy hands rubbed across the tops of my thighs.

I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his again, slipping my tongue between his lips and getting a taste of him before sucking on his tongue and spurring an intoxicating groan from his throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” I told him as I moved my mouth down his jaw to his neck and then, his tattoo-covered chest.

“You are?” he asked, shock and surprise and a whole lot of “what the fuck is happening right now?” evident in his voice.

“Oh, yeah. I’m about to get your boner out and have a fan-fucking-tastic time.” I grinned when I found something shiny and metal for my tongue to play with. My lips caressed his pierced nipple, sucking the metal into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue. My mouth tortured a few “fucks” from his lips until I sat up on my knees.

Holy hell, Thatch’s long body made for some kind of view.

“You owe me an orgasm after waking me up. And I always collect on payment.”

“I—what?” he asked through a half laugh and moan. But I guess a girl grinding herself on you would get that kind of incredulous response.

“You. Owe. Me,” I repeated as I took off my shirt and bra, tossing them to the side of the bed.

He stopped asking questions then, eyes too distracted by my chest. Gripping my breasts with both hands, I rolled my nipples between my fingers and watched him watch me.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He licked his bottom lip as he continued to watch, seemingly unable to look anywhere other than my tits.

“Do you want a taste?”

“I won’t be satisfied with just a taste,” he said, sitting up and taking my mouth in a toe-curling kiss. His tongue danced with mine as he gripped my ass, sliding me against his cock. “I want it all, honey,” he whispered against my lips before leaning down and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue was devious, I knew that much as it flitted across my nipple with two short flicks and a deliciously long drag. My hips ground against him as I threaded my fingers into his hair, encouraging him to give the other nipple just as much attention. And he did. The man was nothing if not thorough.

But I could only take so much teasing before I started to get frustrated. I gripped his hair, pulling his eyes to mine. “Get naked. Get a condom. I need your cock inside me.”

Thatch didn’t think twice about my demands, flipping me onto my back and removing my yoga pants and panties like a goddamn magician. His briefs were gone, and he was sliding a condom on between one blink and the next.

Before he could take control, I pushed him back down onto the bed, straddling his hips and guiding him inside me.

“Well, fuck,” I moaned the second his dick was buried to the hilt. “God, your cock feels so good,” I said as I started a smooth up-and-down rhythm, my pussy clenching against him every time he was pressed deep. The heat of his chest seeped into the palms of my hands, and it felt like being zapped back to life by defibrillator paddles.

“I’m feeling all kinds of things about your pussy, honey. If you weren’t sitting on my dick, I’d be worshiping this perfect cunt with my tongue.” He grabbed my breasts again, his thumb flicking against my nipples and spurring tremors to roll down my spine.

“By all means,” I said as I moved off of him and straddled his face. He started to disagree with the change in position until I gripped his hair in one hand and spread myself with the other. “Eat it, Thatch. Make me come on your face.”

Surely I was having a stroke.

I mean…were these the symptoms of a stroke? Maybe not for everyone, but certainly for a guy like me, having a stroke would be something like this.

Cassie’s creamy thighs rubbed against my cheeks, forcing my short beard to pull the other way and tug at the nerves.