Bad Boys After Dark: Dylan (Bad Billionaires After Dark Book 2)

by Melissa Foster

  He gathered her in his arms, once again unguarded and so painfully beautiful he could barely stand it. She worked so hard to be tough, which he understood. She worked in a competitive field and needed to have a spine of steel. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she worked just as hard to hide this feminine, vulnerable side, and he sensed he might be the only man in the world lucky enough to see both.

  He kissed her forehead, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “I don’t listen well,” she said with a sultry smile.

  “You are a naughty, naughty girl.” He kissed her softly. “And I happen to like naughty a whole hell of a lot.”

  She reached for his cock, and he groaned at the feel of her fingers claiming him. She leaned back, as if she were going to lie on the floor again, and he shook his head.

  “We’re not going there, summer girl. I’m a man of my word.” He smiled as understanding dawned in the knitting of her brows.

  “But I want you,” she said breathlessly, totally killing him in the very hottest way possible.

  “Oh, you can have me, just not like that.” He’d taken control, drawn a line he intended not to cross, and now he was ready to give her a little control back, because he knew she needed it.

  She eyed his cock, and it twitched with anticipation. Then her beautiful green eyes narrowed and turned deadly serious. “Have you been tested?”

  “Every year, and I don’t ride bareback.” He gathered her hair in his fist, angling her mouth beneath his. He’d thought of nothing but Tiffany all day, and if she hadn’t appeared at his door when she had, he would have appeared at hers at 12:01. He’d seen fire in her eyes when he’d opened the door. She needed control the way he was beginning to need her, and he was ready to hand her the reins.

  He brushed his lips over hers and said, “But I won’t come in this pretty little mouth of yours unless you want me to.”

  He recaptured her lips, more demanding this time, and she gave herself over to him. Man, he loved that, too, when she stopped fighting herself and surrendered to their passion. When he drew away, her eyelids were heavy, and even though he was aching to have her mouth around him, he really liked this moment when she let him hold her.

  She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, and when she met his gaze again, there was an intensity in her eyes that made his blood heat up.

  “Sit on the couch, big boy.”

  Oh, hell yes. He moved to the couch, and she sank down to her knees between his legs. She licked her lips and wrapped her hand around his cock. Holy fucking hell, that image burned into his brain.

  And then it got a hundred times hotter.

  She held his gaze as she lowered her mouth and swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, ripping a groan from his lungs.

  “Ah, you like that.” Teasing him as he had teased her last night, she did it again.

  The pleasure in her eyes had him throbbing to his core. She took one of his hands, licked his entire palm until it glistened, and wrapped it around the base of his cock.

  “Stroke,” she demanded, and right then there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

  Her eyes darkened as she watched his hand slide up his length, curl over the top, and glide back down.

  “Don’t come,” she said sternly, and sank down on her heels.

  She dragged her tongue over his balls, and he inhaled through gritted teeth against her exquisite touch. She licked and teased, and when she sucked one of his balls into her mouth, he squeezed the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. When she released him, the air rushed from his lungs.

  “Don’t come, big boy,” she said seductively, and covered his hand with hers. “I love seeing you touch yourself. It’s so hot.” She pressed a kiss to the head of his cock. “And watching your big, strong hand circling what I want.”

  “Fuck,” he ground out as she lowered her mouth around the broad head.

  She didn’t move, just held the head in her mouth, her lips clinging to the sensitive glans, and then her tongue moved over, around, and into the slit. Dylan’s hips jerked up, fucking her mouth deeper, and she moaned. The deep vibration traveled along his shaft, straight to his balls. She gripped his hips, holding them to the couch as she took him to the back of her throat. His hand fell away, and she released his cock and shook her head.

  “This is a joint effort. You stroke, I’ll suck. But if you come”—she pressed a kiss to his inner thigh, sending shivers through him—“I’ll never do this again.” She arched a brow. “Your choice.”

  He swallowed tightly, willing his self-control into place as she lowered her mouth over him again, her lips sliding up with his hand, then chasing it back down to the base. She watched him watching her, so fucking hot he felt his control slipping away. She unlatched those glorious lips and wrapped her hand around his, then licked him like a lollipop, one upward stroke after another, then swirled around the head. A glistening bead formed at the tip and she licked it slowly, then climbed over him, her mouth hanging open, and she grabbed his head with both hands and kissed him. His essence burst over their tongues, mingling with the heady taste of her sex still lingering in his mouth. He fisted his hand in her hair and ate at her mouth.

  “God, I fucking like you, Summers.”

  She smiled in response and kissed her way down his chest, stopping to suck his nipple. He rocked his hips, sliding his cock along her taut stomach. She grinned up at him, openly licking his nipple, then clamped her teeth down over it.

  “Ow! Holy shit.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back as she laughed.

  “Too much?” she asked innocently.

  “Fuck no. Never.” He kissed her infinitely harder. “Suck my cock, baby. I want all the fierceness you have to give.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t come.” She bit his lower lip hard enough for him to wince. “Or do. Your choice.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  As she sank back down on her knees and guided his hand to his cock, she said, “You know my rules. Come and I’ll never do this again. I’m a woman of my word.”

  Holy fuck. He believed her. “You mean don’t come in your mouth, right? Because there’s no way I’m going to not come at all with your luscious lips around me.”

  She pressed a finger to her lip in feigned innocence. Then her hands moved lower and she fondled her breasts. More snapshots burned into his mind.

  “You could come here.” She ran her finger between her breasts. “Or here.” She leaned down and kissed his belly button. “Or here.” She opened his hand and kissed his palm. “But if you come in my mouth, you’ll never hear another word from me.”

  I knew you weren’t done with us. He grinned, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say what he was thinking. “Where do you want it, baby? I’ll come anywhere you desire.”

  She slicked her tongue along his hard length, then wrapped his hand around it again. “Surprise me.”

  He tangled his hands in her hair and she stopped cold.

  “I lead, you follow.”

  He laughed, and willingly obeyed, loosening his hold. “I just want to feel you, baby.”

  “I’m not your baby,” she said softly as she took him in her mouth and worked him into a groaning, rocking, needy man so tightly wound he struggled for control.

  “Summers,” he panted out, but she continued her oral assault, sucking harder, stroking over his hand faster, tighter, until he was on the very brink of release. “Summers!”

  He grabbed her head and yanked her off of his cock as the first jet shot free, nailing her chest. She leaned in to him, holding his gaze and allowing him to come between her breasts. His heart did a double take at the sight of Tiffany, so beautiful and so unexpectedly trusting, with the proof of their connection dripping down her creamy skin. He cupped the back of her head, bringing her mouth gently to his.

  “Summers,” was all he could manage, before kissing her like he’d never kissed another woman, with emotions he’d never experi
enced bringing rise to more. He touched his forehead to hers, breathing in the scents of sex and ownership. She had let him in. She might not know it, but he felt it deep in his heart. This was different. This was real.

  Chapter Nine

  TIFFANY LEANED OVER Dylan’s bathroom sink, trembling, her head hanging between her shoulders, Dylan’s come dripping down her chest. Her limbs felt like rubber, and her mind wasn’t far behind. He’d offered to get a washcloth and clean her up, had even tried to coax her into showering together. And he wasn’t being lecherous or pervy. He was thoughtful and sweet and all the things that were dangerous and easy to fake. She hated her ex for making her question the validity of Dylan’s actions. Lord. She hadn’t even been thinking out there. She’d gotten totally swept up in him, in the moment, in how amazing it felt to be touched and focused on for more than a quick fuck. Dylan had made her feel, the way he had the previous night, and feeling was terrifying, because it led to getting hurt. She closed her eyes, telling herself to pull her shit together. A knock at the bathroom door startled her.

  “There are washcloths in the linen closet,” Dylan said through the door. “Feel free to shower, take a bath, climb into my bed…”

  “Dylan.” She tried to sound as if those were the last things she’d want to do, but she laughed at the same time. He had that way about him, making her feel special and playful, and she not only wasn’t used to it, but she had no defenses against it.

  “Just trying to be nice. Hey, I have pizza and beer. Stick around for a few?”

  She glanced up at the mirror. The woman looking back at her was flushed, her eyes soft and sated. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she looked a lot like Tiffany’s younger self. The self that got hurt so badly it nearly ruined me.

  “Summer girl?” he said through the door.

  She closed her eyes, reveling in the sound of his voice. “Yeah?”

  “No pressure.”

  She sighed. Why couldn’t he be a dick? That would make it easier for her to walk out the front door and never look back. She heard him walk toward the master bedroom. Then a door closed and the sound of running water came through the wall. His bathrooms, like hers, were back to back. She stared at the wall. He was a few inches away, naked. Her sex clenched with the thought. She looked down at her betraying body and said, “No. Stop it. Just stop.”

  After washing up, she opened the bathroom door and found her clothing folded at her feet. Her heart squeezed. Thankful, and touched, she glanced around but didn’t see Dylan, so she dressed quickly and hurried into the living room, knowing if she saw him it would be even harder to leave. But staying would mean she was letting him get to know her. Letting him in. The boxes of chocolate she’d dropped by the door were stacked neatly on the coffee table beside the rest of her belongings. He’d turned down the stereo, which was playing softly now. He was so thoughtful, and being intimate with him was incredible. She felt her resolve chipping away. This is dangerous. I have to leave.

  She picked up her belongings and held them against her chest, wanting one last minute to revel in the room where he’d made her forget her fears—and her work, which was a first. No man had ever made her that mindless.

  “Hey there.”

  She startled at Dylan’s voice and spun around. He had on his cargo shorts. His hair was wet from his quick shower. A few droplets of water clung to his chest. God she loved his chest. The urge to run her fingers through his chest hair was so strong she fisted them in her belongings to keep from reaching out.

  “Hi.” Her heart hammered against her ribs as she tried to pull her mind from the depths of lust, but she couldn’t stop looking at him. She was used to seeing impressive physiques. Heck, she was surrounded by them at every event. But Dylan wasn’t built like the athletes she represented. He was big and broad but not overly bulky. His muscles were defined and well proportioned, like the rest of him. And boy do I like the rest of him. But to Tiffany, the most alluring things about Dylan were the ones that weren’t visible to the naked eye. He was kind and generous, funny and thoughtful.

  Clearing her throat to try once again to get control of her emotions, she said, “Thanks for bringing me my clothes.”

  He opened his palm, revealing her phone. “You dropped it with your purse when you attacked me.”

  She snagged her phone, feeling her cheeks flush. “I can’t believe I didn’t…”

  “Miss it?” He stepped closer as she scrolled through her messages. “You were a little preoccupied with getting into my pants.”

  She cringed inwardly. There was no denying it. She mustered all the confidence she could, which was still not nearly the necessary cold-as-ice level, and met his gaze. “I had to get you out of my head once and for all.”

  His lips lifted into a smile as his hands circled her waist, drawing her against him. “And how’s that working out for you?”

  Considering my heart is doing a happy dance, not very well.

  “Great. I’m done. You’re totally out of my system.” She pressed her lips together and took a step back, but he held her prisoner. “Dylan, look.” She held up her phone, showing him a list of messages she had to respond to.

  “All I see is your gorgeous eyes telling me you want to stay and eat pizza and have a beer with me. No sex. Just two people eating dinner together.”

  She sighed. “I have a contract to go through, and—”

  “So do it here.”

  She dropped her eyes to her phone, weighing the possibilities. With a gentle touch beneath her chin, he lifted her face so she had no choice but to look at him.

  “You can work. We can get to know each other better. I just want to spend some time with you.”

  Her heart told her to stay, but her brain was smarter than her heart, and remembered the pain of being hurt. It took all of her willpower to say, “I told you we were done.” Her hands were shaking again. Even she didn’t believe the lie.

  His gaze softened. “We’re not nearly done, pretty girl, but I’m not asking you to stay so we can fool around.”

  He cradled her face in his hands, and she liked the feel of his big, warm palms on her so much, she forgot she shouldn’t. He was solely focused on her, making her feel special and wanted. Anyone could send flowers and candy, but no one could fake the look in his eyes.

  “I have work to do, too,” he assured her. “I was supposed to paint my kitchen tonight, but you had your wicked way with me instead. You work, I’ll paint. We’ll eat and talk.” When he lowered his lips to hers and brushed a kiss over them, her remaining resolve slipped away. “Please? Our first date.”

  “Okay.” She relented so breathlessly she didn’t recognize her own voice. “But it’s not a date. And you have to let me work.”

  “Absolutely.” He laced his fingers with hers and led her past the construction site that had taken over his kitchen, to a beautiful dark wood dining room table, where there was an open pizza box and two bottles of beer.

  “A little overly confident?” She liked that confidence more than she should.

  “I like to call it hopeful.” He took two slices of pizza from the box and set them on plates. “It’s cold pizza, which probably brings me down from a ten to a nine tonight, right? As you can see, my oven’s out of commission.”

  “Ten? What makes you think you hit a ten?” More like a twenty. She bit into the pizza to keep from revealing the tease, and watched his smile go flat. “Eight point nine, tops.” She held up the slice of delicious mushroom and black olive pizza. “But this? This is a ten for sure. My favorite.”

  He snagged a piece of pizza, bit off a hunk with a manly growl, which she found adorable, and smacked her ass on his way into the kitchen.

  She had no idea why she gave in and stayed, but as he painted and she read through the contract, it was nice not to be alone, and even nicer to be with Dylan. Of course, she kept getting distracted, which meant she was getting little work done. Watching Dylan do anything was yummy, but watching his muscles bunch and
his long body stretch as he painted—his cargo shorts slipped down to the curve of his ass, revealing his lack of underwear—was a million times better than staring at a contract.

  “Tell me about opening your own agency.” Dylan painted with long, even strokes. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

  “I’ve run my own agency for the past three years in Los Angeles, but it was small, just me and Miranda. She applied for an internship I had listed online, and we clicked. Miranda has always worked from home here in New York, but when my dad got sick, I started thinking about moving back. And, well, now I’m here, trying to find office space and get things going. It is a lot of work, but I don’t like anyone telling me what to do, who I should represent, or what endorsement deals to go after.”

  “Ah, the control thing,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “I guess.”

  He laughed.

  “Okay, yes. But I have big plans for the agency. I have a great reputation, and I want to hire another agent to work with me, and maybe next year hire another, and make Tiffany Winters Enterprises, TWE, a household name among sports figures.”

  “From what I hear, it already is.” He dipped his brush in the paint again, all fluid movements and sleek, flexing muscles.

  “True, but there’s always more of the marketplace to capture. I’d love to sign someone as big as Ramsey “Razor” Sharpe, but he’s been with his agent for years, who’s a real piece of work, by the way. He’s all about the money, sending Ramsey on endorsements every free second, which is why Ramsey never sees his family. Someone of his caliber would put me at the head of the industry. A real career changer.” Ramsey was the number-one MLB pitcher. He wasn’t married, but he had elderly parents, and everyone knew he hated being away from them in the off-season. Signing him would be a dream come true. “He’s one of Rocco’s best friends and was already tied up with his agent when I came into the business, so I can’t snag him, even though I know I could do a much better job for him.”