Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)

by Max Monroe

  Oh, yeah.

  “That’s it, baby. Take us both there,” I whispered into the skin of her chest. She tightened around me and cried out, throwing her head back until the ends of her hair tickled the sensitive skin of my thighs and pushed me right over the edge with her.

  Our breaths came out in a ragged rhythm, one following the other, until the air around us filled the capacity of our lungs.

  I kissed the skin of her neck and sucked a sweet spot into the hollow at the center while she breathed out every ounce of hoarded air at once.

  “You ready to play now, Benny?”

  “Huh?” She laughed, blue eyes blazing through her backlit shadow. “Play now? I thought that was the play.”

  “Uh-uh,” I denied. “That was me making love to my wife.”

  A smile belied the shake of her head as she leaned forward and sealed her rosy lips to mine. “I love you,” she said before rubbing her nose along the line of mine.

  “I know,” I whispered. “Now come gallivant in the ocean with me.”

  Her nose scrunched up in denial. “You had me until in the ocean.”

  I picked her up and set her on her feet before climbing to my own. “Put your bikini back on and wait for me right here. I’m going to grab some trunks, and I don’t want to fucking lose you again,” I instructed, completely ignoring her aversion to all things sea life. She’d come around once we were in.

  “Goddammit,” she grumbled under her breath, scooping up the bottom of her bathing suit as she did.

  “Don’t worry, Benny. It’s gonna be fun.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she agreed, tying the sides closed.

  One gentle kiss to the corner of her lips and I pulled her to my chest. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh, no worries there. I won’t be in the ocean without you, that’s for sure.”

  I gave her another kiss and chuckled as I turned to run up the stairs and grab a swimsuit. When I came back, she was standing in the same spot, unfortunately un-naked, and the red-painted toes of her bare foot tapped nervously on the wood planks of the deck.

  “Let’s go,” I said, spinning her around and pushing her forward with a gentle but insistent hand on her back. She paused at the edge, scanning the water for lurking creatures of terror.

  “I’ll go in first,” I offered, stepping to the side and making my way down the ladder next to her. “See?” I asked, when water submerged the lower half of my body. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she moved to the ladder, making her way down it tentatively and tapping a toe on the sandy bottom.

  “Baby,” I said through a laugh. “You can see the bottom. The water is crystal clear. What are you worried about?”

  “It doesn’t matter that the water is clear! This is a game of volume, Kline, and there’s a fucking lot of water here. Something could sneak up on me.”

  “I won’t let it,” I pledged, crossing an X over my heart to seal the promise. She shook her head and worried her lip, but I pulled her off the ladder and into my arms anyway.

  She wrapped her legs around my waist easily, and my hands found a comfortable home on her ass. I’d take frightened Georgia any day of the week if it meant she held on this tight.

  When I started to rub at the soft flesh, she caught wind of my enjoyment. It probably had something to do with my inability to stop fucking smiling.

  “You like that I’m scared, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say I like it…” I said in an attempt to avoid ruining my perfectly crafted plan.

  Her eyes narrowed, and a hand slapped at the skin of my back. “You’re right. You don’t like it. You love it!” she accused.

  “Okay, yeah,” I agreed with a telling smirk. “Your body is basically fused to mine, and your ass is in my hands. Of course, I love it.”

  Her lips met mine actively, aggression and acceptance all at once. My mouth fought back until it won dominance, taking so much that it started to give.

  Foreheads together, we stood there, the sound of our breathing and each other the only thing to keep us company in the emptiness of endless ocean.

  Or so I thought.

  Behind her back, I saw it approach, but I kept a careful watch on the state of my body in order to keep her unaware. A lone stingray swooped and swept its way along the bottom, cruising beautifully straight for us. I watched, glancing at Georgia briefly and waiting for her to notice.

  Stepping to the side as the friendly ray drew near, I craned my neck as he circled behind us.

  “Oh, sweet fucking Jesus!” Georgie shouted as soon as she saw it, climbing even higher up my body with the agility of a monkey. “Oh, my God!” she yelled. “Kline! Oh, Jesus!”

  I started to laugh, but my Benny wasn’t laughing at all.

  “Help! Help us!”

  Shit.

  “Georgie, calm down,” I cooed softly in an attempt to soothe her. But yeah, I also laughed again, and I knew that didn’t help. Limbs flailed, and her eyes grew to twice their original size.

  “You calm down, you fucking honeymoon murderer! This is all a ploy, right? I’ve seen those movies on Lifetime!”

  “Oh, my God,” I said through my laughter. “Baby, it’s just a stingray.”

  “A fucking death ray!” she screeched from atop my shoulders. I wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten there, but I was pretty sure it would end in a black eye. My face already throbbed. “You don’t use your money for much, but that’s because you saved it all up for an untraceable way to kill me, didn’t you?”

  “Ben—”

  “Oh, my God! Help us! Call the fucking Coast Guard!”

  We were in the middle of nowhere, but not that in the middle of nowhere. Fuck. Officials and hotel staff would be descending on us in no time.

  “Georgie—”

  “Shit! Oh, shit, Kline! He’s circling. This is what they do before they strike!” she screamed, and I was reasonably certain my eardrums were bleeding.

  “Baby,” I said through a grimace. “It’s a stingray, not a shark.”

  Sure, stingrays weren’t completely benign, but I’d read all about their frequent tendency to swim among tourists without incident before I’d booked our honeymoon. As long as we were watchful, I didn’t see the harm.

  “THERE. ARE. SHARKS?!”

  So much for calming her down…

  “Your plan is fucked! He’s going to kill us both!” Her hands were in my hair by that point, yanking the strands with a strength I had no idea she possessed. “Get me the fuck out of here before I end you!”

  Unwilling to torture her until both of my eyes were bloodied, I laughed and waded my way to the ladder. I’d thought being close to safety would bring her some comfort, that the idea of an escape route would be enough, but she jumped from my shoulders to the deck without even touching a rung before I could stop her.

  “That’s it!” she said, pointing at me. “That’s the last time I go in the water.”

  “We’re in an over-water bungalow for another week and a half! What do you mean that’s the last time?”

  “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen. If you want me dead, you’re just going to have to figure out another way.”

  I pressed my hand against my chest, and my heart pounded against my fingertips, wild and erratic, all thanks to my husband who was still in the water, watching me have a minor—okay, huge—freak-out on the deck above him. His eyes were amused, mouth set in a tickled grin.

  His crystal-blue gaze turned heated in a flash as it made a circuit of my dripping wet, bikini-clad body.

  If I hadn’t almost died, I might’ve been turned on.

  But I had been mere moments from sleeping with the fishes rather than swimming with them, and my otherwise sweet husband found it nothing but comical.

  No matter how brutally I stared at him, his smirk never diminished, playful eyes branding me as his and threatening to hump me in broad daylight.

  “Don’t smolder at me!” I shoute
d down to him, my feet still firmly planted on our deck.

  No way in hell would I ever let him coax me into the sea of death again.

  I enjoyed the view of the ocean, but savoring it from the sand or the pool was as far as I preferred to go. Sea creatures of all kinds creeped me the fuck out. Small ones flitted and flaunted, nibbling at your legs when you least expected it, and anything bigger could swallow you whole. No fucking thanks. No man, orgasm expert or not, was going to talk me into seeing it a different way.

  “I’m not smoldering, baby.” He held up both hands, an irritating display of the exact opposite of innocent. “I’m just enjoying the view that is my beautiful, riled up wife.”

  How could he smile when I had just been three seconds away from seeing the light?

  With annoyance, I watched Kline run a hand through his hair. Droplets of water slipped from those wet locks down his chest, until they disappeared south of his belly and back into the ocean.

  Okay, so I wasn’t that annoyed. But I was doing my best to keep up appearances.

  “I’m going inside to make some lunch.” I grabbed a towel off one of the lounge chairs on the deck. “You can stay out here and risk your life, but I’m not going to be a part of it,” I huffed over my shoulder as I strode toward the interior of our bungalow. Well, I should say, sashayed, because yeah, my ass was a superpower when it came to my husband.

  “Bring that sexy ass back here.”

  “Not a chance!”

  “But I love you, Benny! You and your ass. I really love your ass.”

  “Trying to off me is an odd way of showing it!”

  “Baby, don’t be mad,” he called from behind me in that tone he knew usually worked like a charm. It was annoyingly sweet yet husky in a way that only Kline could pull off.

  Not gonna work this time, buddy.

  I flipped him off over my shoulder, and his chuckles followed me inside.

  “Save me some food!”

  I turned around and peeked out the deck doors. His back was to me as he stretched his arms for a swim. The muscles in his arms, legs, hell, everywhere, were as defined as ever. God bless his aptitude for keeping his body in tip-top shape.

  He wasn’t the kind of guy who “worked out” at the gym. He liked to do things to keep his physique, whether it was rugby or running or fucking his wife into a goddamn coma. His energy was endless, and he’d already spent hours on our honeymoon swimming laps in the pool while I slept myself back to fighting form in the sun. If my ass was my superpower in our relationship, my husband’s stamina was its match.

  Well, that and his cock. Because, yeah…Big-dicked Brooks.

  “If I make you lunch, I need at least an hour of you eating dessert in return,” I demanded while continuing to take in the sight of his ogle-worthy body.

  He turned toward my voice, and his mouth curled up at the corners. “Promise?”

  I shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to see how persuasive that mouth of yours is.”

  “Mmm, I can’t wait. I think I’ll just live off your pussy for the rest of our honeymoon.”

  That comment had me smiling and blushing at once.

  “Draft the contract, Brooks. I’ll be back in a few,” he said with a wink, rapping on the wood of the deck with his knuckles.

  I watched as he turned and dove into the sea. His arms sliced through the calm waters in precise movements as he headed for the horizon. Man, he was almost as good at swimming as he was at fucking my brains out. And let’s face it, Kline Brooks could work it.

  I stood there for a good five minutes, stupid smile still intact, until my growling stomach forced my focus to food. Heading into the kitchen, I turned on my laptop and set the mood with a little Bob Marley on my Spotify. And then I got to work, rummaging through the stocked fridge for ingredients. In the mood for something light and savory, I began making a chicken Caesar salad. Sure, we could have had room service delivered on a regular basis, but both me and Kline preferred to keep our honeymoon mostly to ourselves without the threat of even tiny interruptions.

  Once the food was ready, and I had changed into a yellow cotton sundress, I stood at the breakfast bar and dug into the crisp salad while going through some emails.

  The only one that needed an urgent reply was another one from Wes. I was starting to wonder if he was doing this on purpose, attempting to distract me, his best friend’s wife, while on my honeymoon. It wouldn’t surprise me if that was his game. The trio, aptly nicknamed Billionaire Bad Boys, tended to give each other shit as often as possible. It was a wonder they had time to do anything else. At least everyone else seemed to be getting the Leave Georgia Alone memo.

  I promptly read through the newly drafted contract for VITAsteel. It looked a hell of a lot better than the original proposed deal, but I still wasn’t thrilled with it. I wanted our players to get as much out of this endorsement as they could, but I didn’t want them to have to sign their lives away either.

  I didn’t care how fantastic the numbers looked on paper. No one should be handcuffed into exclusivity with one sponsor. That type of situation had no way to go but down. Yet another lesson I’d learned from my clever husband. He knew how to see the shit hidden within a field of flowers.

  Our players needed and deserved to have the freedom to accept other endorsements while playing in the NFL. Most of them had families to provide for, and let’s face it, their careers as professional athletes wouldn’t last forever.

  The music switched over to one of my favorite Marley songs, “Is This Love.” As my hips swayed to the music and my lips hummed the beat, I rested my elbows on the kitchen island and started drafting an email with my suggestions.

  To: Wes.Lancaster@Mavericks.com

  From: Georgia.Brooks@Mavericks.com

  Wes,

  Honestly, their offer—numbers-wise—looks great, but I’m not pleased with the exclusivity for two years bit. Our guys deserve better. I dkmlfjiortwu4389

  “Eeeeeeep!” I shouted, fingers thumping against the keys.

  Large, cool hands already had my dress up to my waist, leaving my bare ass exposed.

  “No panties? I approve, Mrs. Brooks,” Kline whispered against my skin as his lips peppered kisses down my body. “I swear, your ass is like a gun to my head. There aren’t any other possibilities. I have to please it for my own survival.”

  “Kline,” I said as I attempted to turn around, but his hands gripped my hips, holding me in place.

  “Shh,” he admonished, lips still on my skin. “This conversation doesn’t involve you.” He kneeled behind me, hands gripping my legs and nudging them apart. “It involves my mouth,” he murmured, tongue sliding up my inner thigh. “And your delicious pussy.” He emphasized the statement by grabbing my ass cheeks and burying his face against me. “And payment for lunch services rendered.”

  “Oh. Fuck. Me,” I moaned, head falling back as Kline ate my pussy from behind. My hips bucked forward once his mouth latched on to my clit, tongue swirling my nerves into a frenzy.

  “If you want my cock, baby, you’re going to have to wait,” he instructed while slipping a finger inside of me. “Because, for the next hour, by your demand, I’m only interested in fucking this perfect cunt with my tongue.” I could feel him smile against the skin of my ass. “Or until you come. Which one do you think will happen first?”

  “Good God,” I whimpered. My body trembled from the intense sensations, tingling and suction and the most delicious burn. And then my hips started rotating with his movements, my climax building at an insanely fast pace. My hands tried to find leverage, fingers banging across the keys of my laptop until I found the edge of the counter to hold on for dear life.

  Because holy hell, this was one crazy fucking ride, and my husband wasn’t slowing down for anything. Nothing would keep him from getting his fill.

  His devious mouth got me off quickly as he knelt on the floor and ate me out from behind.

  It wasn’t until he was standing, chest pressed against
my back, cock hard and already a few inches deep, that I finally remembered I was supposed to be pissed at him.

  “I’m mad at you,” I breathed, glancing over my shoulder to meet his hooded eyes.

  “Still?” he asked, sliding in the rest of the way with one hard, deep thrust.

  I moaned.

  Fuck, that feels so good. But you’re outraged, remember?

  You’re so mad…ohhhhh…yessssss…

  He started to pick up the pace, and my moans grew with each drive of his hips forward.

  “Benny?”

  “Hmmmm,” I mumbled, brain too scrambled to form actual words.

  “You still mad at me?”

  “Yes,” I said in a raspy, damn near porn-y voice. If I wasn’t so fucking close to getting off again, I would’ve been disappointed in my lack of control. But my mind was too focused on reaching that body-shaking moment of perfect horny bliss.

  “You mind if we fight about it later, baby?” he asked, slowing his pace to a near stop. “Or did you want to do it now?”

  “If you stop fucking me, I’ll kill you,” I threatened as I drove myself fully onto his cock to emphasize the point.

  “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, picking up speed again. “I love it when you get like this. So fucking greedy to get off.”

  Kline’s hands slid up my sides and pulled down the front of my dress, leaving my breasts bared to his skilled touch. The second his fingers pinched my nipples, tugging them in rhythm with his thrusts, I lost all sense of time, space, volume. My moans turned guttural, and I just about screamed the whole place down with each pulsing wave of my orgasm.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck,” Kline growled as he fell over the edge. His movements turned wild and uncontrolled as he rode out his climax.

  My lips to God’s ears, my husband might actually fuck me to death before this honeymoon is over. Oh, and thank you, God. Thank you for sending me this perfect specimen of a man.