Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)

by Max Monroe

  “Pretty sure they can hear everything you’re saying, Maur. You’ve never been too good with the inside voice.” His father didn’t even attempt to keep his volume down.

  “Do you think they are, Bob?”

  “By the way they looked when they walked in the door, I’d say they were about two seconds away from s-e-x-ing.”

  If they hadn’t already shown me approval, I’d have been burrowing myself into the floor.

  The second we got into the kitchen, Kline was lifting me onto the counter and standing between my legs. He gripped my thighs.

  “Sorry for the ambush,” he said, his eyes apologetic.

  “It’s not like you planned it. Anyway, I really like Bob and Maureen.”

  A relieved grin covered his lips. “They really do mean well. My mom can be a bit of a meddler, though. I’m sure that was apparent the second we walked into my apartment and found them making themselves at home.”

  I laughed, nodding. “It’s okay. Once you meet my parents, you’ll realize you have nothing to worry about.”

  He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “I look forward to it, baby.”

  “Do you think we’ll have s-e-x tonight?” I teased, waggling my brows.

  “God, I was praying you hadn’t heard them,” he groaned, dropping his head to my chest.

  I laughed, lifting his chin up to meet my eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re finding this hilarious.”

  “I can’t wait until we have s-e-x again,” I whispered.

  Kline’s face cracked, a smile consuming his perfect mouth.

  “I hope you put your mouth on my p-u-s-s-y, too.”

  “If I put my c-o-c-k in your mouth, will you stop spelling shit?”

  I nodded, my mouth twisting into a devious smile.

  He tickled my ribs, urging giggles from my lips.

  “Stop it!” I whisper-yelled, squirming away from him. “Now, stop being so damn ornery and get me something to drink. I’m parched.”

  He rolled his eyes, turning for the fridge.

  I stayed on the counter, swinging my legs and watching him rummage around for refreshments.

  “Hey…psst…” I tried to get his attention.

  Curious blue eyes peeked over the fridge door.

  I cupped my mouth with my hands, whispering, “You have the best c-o-c-k.”

  “I just realized maybe I should have chosen a more professional meal. Something delicate.” Georgia rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating smile and took a sip of wine.

  Professional. Ha. These days, professional felt like nothing more than a fancy name for a distant memory. I was so wrapped up in her, my eyes were practically staring straight down the barrel of my asshole.

  It didn’t feel remotely natural, but it sure as fuck didn’t feel bad either.

  “You’re not a delicate professional. You’re a take-charge, no-bullshit kind of woman. If Glen would rather watch you eat a salad than a steak, he can go fuck himself.”

  “Kline!”

  “Well, he can. Don’t worry about anything other than being yourself and the contract. Fuck the rest.”

  It had been two weeks since our trip to the Hamptons. We were at a dinner meeting with Glen Waters, President and CEO of FlowersFirst, to button up an exclusive contract with them that I hadn’t been crazy about—until Georgia had outlined all of the guaranteed cross-advertising they were contracted to do.

  Full disclosure, I still wasn’t one hundred percent sold. But Georgia Cummings was a smart, efficient employee, and that wasn’t even my dick talking. He got a vote, I supposed—not worth denying it—but that wasn’t the basis of my decision. My confidence in her ability was what had brought us to this meeting.

  But the flower market share on TapNext alone was gargantuan, and I didn’t like giving any one entity the entire pie. Contracts were airtight for a reason, but swearing yourself to one person professionally was just ripe for a fucking.

  Glen better have some real unicorn and rainbow type bullshit planned for ad content or I am going to derail this train before it even gets out of the station.

  “Sorry about that,” Glen apologized as he approached the table. He’d left to take an “important” phone call. It happened from time to time, so I understood, but he rubbed me as one of those people who thinks he’s hot shit and irreplaceable. Everyone is replaceable in business.

  Some people like me, or Georgia, or maybe even Glen, could be an asset, but we sure as fuck weren’t necessities. Businesses needed competence, patience, and drive, and plenty of people had those qualities.

  “No problem,” Georgia appeased easily, obviously feeling like telling him to go fuck himself a little less than I did.

  “Now, we were just starting to dive into the specifics when you got pulled away,” she began, steering Glen back to the prize. I sat back to watch.

  “We’d be looking at a twelve-month exclusivity in exchange for majority placement in each of your ads: television, radio, and print. In general, our website makes up twenty percent of the online daily flower market alone. Brooks Media would contractually reserve the right to approve any and all ad content that references or deals with us.”

  God, she was something.

  Every word she spoke made it clear—business didn’t need specific people, but love and relationships sure did. I was starting to realize my specific person was her.

  I checked back into reality just in time to find Georgia looking to me in question. Of course, I’d missed the question.

  Glen, the helpful bastard, filled me in, though. “Don’t you think she’d look sexy in one of the ads, Brooks?”

  “No,” I answered simply, hoping he’d drop it. We’d just gotten started, and I wanted to believe he was just trying to get into her good graces by complimenting her—inappropriate in both context and manner, but a compliment all the same.

  He laughed and gestured at my girlfriend.

  “Sex sells. You know this.”

  I did. Sex was a huge share of marketing in the U.S. specifically. But there was a whole slew of creative ways to use it, and they didn’t include Georgia.

  “Your whole market is sex, and this girl would sell.”

  I clenched my hand into a fist under the table but worked to keep my voice and demeanor steady. I even managed a completely unfriendly smile. “No, Glen. Georgia is an executive and an asset within the company. What she isn’t, is sex to sell.”

  “Kline,” Georgia whispered. My anger was building and she wasn’t oblivious to it.

  “Oh, I see,” Glen said with a nod. “Her sex isn’t for sale because she’s already sexing the boss.” He reached out to brush the loose hair off of her shoulder. “Good move, sweetheart.”

  My mind raced with a thousand scenarios of how I could strangle this motherfucker from across the table. Shit. I shoved back my chair and fished in my pocket for money at the same time. Rage bubbled and boiled under the surface, singeing the lining of my veins, but I didn’t give in to the scene. He wanted that. He’d pushed the last straw to try to get a rise out of me and draw attention to himself because he knew the contract was already swirling the drain.

  Guys like Glen were snakes, slithering around until they found the perfect opportunity to pounce. He wanted a physical reaction, one that would land me in handcuffs and balls deep in lawyer’s fees. But I wouldn’t be a party to it.

  He was the coward, not me. Instead of facing his poor, pathetic, unintelligible business decisions head-on, like a man, he’d sexually harassed my girlfriend.

  “The deal’s dead, Glen,” I declared, throwing the money down on the white linen tablecloth. “Contract’s destroyed. Any future opportunity to do business with Brooks Media and any of its subsidiaries extinguished. And you’ve lost a powerful business ally, and instead, gained an enemy.”

  I pulled out Georgia’s chair and forced her to stand.

  “Kline—”

  “Georgia, let’s go.”

  She nodded, grabbed her c
lutch, and followed, but I could tell she wasn’t happy.

  And that made fucking two of us.

  Frank sat at the curb waiting, and I opened the door and ushered Georgia in without delay.

  “Mr. Brooks,” Frank said as he jumped to attention in the driver seat.

  “My apartment, Frank.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Georgia tried several times to meet my eyes, but I couldn’t return the favor. I was too goddamn angry. At Glen, at myself, and a little at her. I hated the last most of all.

  I expected her to call to me. Tell me to look at her. Something.

  But the more my anger stewed, the more her own built. When I glanced her way, she was staring out the window and grinding her teeth, the curves of her nails cutting into the skin of her palms every few seconds.

  The ride remained silent and tense and didn’t break until the door to my apartment slammed shut behind us.

  I tossed my wallet and keys onto the counter and pulled the tails of my shirt out of my pants. As I loosened my tie, Georgia geared up for battle, turning to face me and slamming her tiny purse down on the kitchen table with force.

  “I can’t believe you!” she seethed.

  “Me?” I asked in disbelief, four fingers pointing to the outside of my chest and raging heart pumping under the surface.

  “Yes, you! That was a multi-million dollar deal. Access to ads we don’t have to pay for for twelve months!” She shook her head. “I’ve been working on it for the better part of six months! And you threw in the towel because you were a jealous boyfriend.”

  “Fuck that, Georgia!” I yelled, and she jumped. It was the first time I’d ever raised my voice at her, and it felt just awful enough that I hoped it was the last. But she needed to hear this. “I didn’t screw shit. That deal was menial at best from the beginning, signing away our lives to him for an entire year. And the way Glen conducts business is bullshit.”

  “I’m a woman, Kline! Sometimes I have to play the game a little differently than you.”

  “That’s horseshit.”

  She jerked back, and her face flushed red with anger.

  “The moment you lower yourself to playing into fuckwits like Glen is the moment you’ve already shot yourself in the goddamn foot and leg.”

  “I had it under control.”

  “You didn’t have shit,” I spat. “He was touching you. There is nowhere, not one single place, where that’s appropriate in business, man or woman.”

  “Kline—”

  It would be bad enough that I’d interrupted her, so I forced my voice to calm. “You are a brilliant woman. When someone notices your beauty and belittles it like that, you tell them to fuck off, and you do it immediately.”

  “I was trying to—”

  “No,” I interrupted again, pulling my tie from my neck and tossing it next to my keys, softening my voice even further. “You’re right about a lot of things, a lot of the time, baby, but about this, you. Are. Wrong.”

  Anger lined every angle of her body, the way she stood, and the expression on her face. But she didn’t say anything. She knew I was right. She knew she hadn’t been on her A-game, and she was fucking pissed about it.

  Pissed that women had to be in that position in the first place.

  Infuriated that she hadn’t held her ground when he’d pushed.

  She could carry that anger for the whole night for all I cared. In fact, I hoped she did. Stewed on it. Learned from it.

  I didn’t mind one fucking bit as long as she got the hell into my arms.

  “Be angry,” I told her. “But, please, for the love of God, do it while you’re touching me.”

  Two fuming steps ate half the distance between us, and I closed the rest, pulling her face to mine with a clutch of her jaw.

  Buttons scattered as she ripped my shirt wide open and pushed the destroyed fabric from my shoulders. Heat ran down my spine like a bullet out of a gun, burning a track all the way down and gripping my balls at the bottom.

  I could feel them tighten in excitement, and an aggressiveness I didn’t know I possessed surged through my veins in accompaniment.

  As soon as the tattered fabric cleared my fingertips, my hands went straight for her ass and around, down the backs of her thighs and back up the inside, bringing her skirt with them. Scratching lightly, my fingernails tested her skin before the urge to grab overwhelmed me. Skin bunched and moved with the pressure before forming a perfect shelf below her ass where my hands could live.

  I lifted her with ease, forcing her legs up and around my hips with pressure at my pinkies, and strode for the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders to ease the pressure on my own and redistribute it perfectly to my hard-as-fuck cock.

  Uninhibited, she ate at my lips, sucking one and then the other between her own and running her tongue along the seam of them.

  A groan rumbled in my chest and her breath came out in pants, but that didn’t slow either of us. Time versus pleasure was a race, the culmination of both right on the edge with no chance of stopping. I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe, and when she threw her head back, let go of my shoulders, and ripped her shirt over her head, she confirmed I wasn’t the only one.

  “Suck on them,” she ordered, thrusting her tits in my face and reaching behind her back to unhook her bra.

  With my hands at her lower back to hold her steady, I didn’t delay or disappoint, pulling one cup down with my teeth before she could find the clasp.

  Little nibbles and sucking kisses, I tortured every inch of skin, burrowing my face in the bottom swell and biting it enough to make a mark.

  She yelped slightly, but it morphed into a moan as she pulled the scrap of fabric down her arms in between us and threw it to the floor of my bedroom.

  With my back to the bed, I fell to my ass, unwilling to abandon our current position or circumstances. Her knees sank naturally into the mattress at my sides, and the newfound freedom of my hands made me test the weight of her perfect tits in each one.

  “God, Kline,” she whimpered. “They ache.” She let out two short pants as my tongue swirled the tip and sucked it deep into the warmth of my mouth. “I ache.”

  “Make it better, Georgie,” I dared after releasing her pink nipple with a pop.

  Always up for a challenge, she didn’t hesitate, backing off of my lap in an instant and unbuckling the belt at my waist. Her tongue flashed out and tasted her own lips as she did, heady arousal running so hot in her blood that she couldn’t stop. I nearly lost my fucking mind.

  Belt undone, she made quick work of the button and zipper and shoved her hands inside before I could make a move to reciprocate with her skirt.

  Jesus Christ.

  The feel of her hand diving in to grab my dick without remorse or hesitation nearly made me come in my pants.

  “Georgia,” I whispered, and her bright, fiery eyes jumped to mine with desperation.

  She’d been pouring all of her angst and uncertainty from the meeting into this—into us—and I didn’t mind. But at the same time, I wanted her to feel what was coming from me. My jealousy, my rage—sure—but mostly my fucking disgust at listening to someone treat her like anything less than the smart, beautiful, goddamn goddess of a woman she was.

  “Come on, baby. Climb on. Fuck me until it only hurts good.”

  She finally shucked her skirt and I did the same with my pants, toeing off my shoes in the process. She didn’t bother, keeping her heels on her feet and climbing on top of me again.

  I reached to grab a condom from my pants, but she slid down on my dick before my fingers even met the fabric.

  “Fuuuuuck.”

  “Oh yeah,” she agreed, emphatic. “I’m going to.”

  “Condom,” I reminded her, grabbing her hips to slow her already building speed.

  She just shook her head with a smile, a halfway distant look in her eyes suggesting she didn’t even understand what the fuck she was doing.

  If I thought
for even a second there was a chance I’d hurt her in some way or give her some kind of a disease by taking her without a condom, I would have stopped her.

  But I knew for a fact I wouldn’t, and if there were other consequences, like an unplanned pregnancy, I’d literally run myself ragged to make it worth it for all of us.

  Because good God, I did not want to interrupt or ruin this show.

  I eased my grip on her hips just enough that she could move freely and she took advantage.

  She found her rhythm quickly, her tits swinging deliciously and the plump cheeks of her ass cradling my thighs and balls with every stroke down.

  Her hair fell down and around her face, and her breath came out in staccato pants. I’d never seen a woman take hold of her pleasure so thoroughly. She squeezed me internally with every stroke, touched the skin on my chest like she couldn’t get enough—connected—and yet, she worked me with the focus of someone doing nothing but chasing their own pleasure.

  A smile swallowed my face as her pussy did the same to my cock. Up and down she went, her thighs shaking more and more with each stroke.

  “That’s it, sweetheart.”

  She was getting close now, and her fingernails were digging half-moons into the skin at my chest. I grabbed a handful of flesh at the sides of her hips and held on, saddling up and getting ready for what was to come.

  When a moan exploded from her chest, I lost any pretense of control. A clap of sound cracked the heavy, sex-filled air as I reddened the skin of her ass with one hand and plucked at one of her perfect nipples with the other.

  “Ride that cock, Georgia.”

  Her pussy clenched.

  Fuck yes.

  “Make it yours,” I demanded, pushing her to take it to the next level. With an ab curl, my mouth lunged for her untortured nipple and sucked it with a pop. Her pussy grabbed me again, and this time was slow to let go. “Fuckkkkk. God, this cunt. It’s gonna make me yours for fucking ever.”

  And it was. That and her mind and her single-minded determination to redefine herself—to redefine her evening’s decisions—in one dominating ride on my cock.

  If this was how we fought, I’d fight with her forever.