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

by Melissa Foster

“I’m already saluting you, Summers, with a full ten-inch salute.”

  She giggled, and couldn’t help teasing him. “There you go, stretching the numbers again. Eight and a half, maybe.”

  “Christ, woman,” he growled. Then softer, “Lie back on your pillow, and don’t touch yourself.”

  As she obeyed, she said, “Controlling, aren’t we?”

  “No. I just want to picture you spread out on the bed waiting for me. Close your eyes and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

  “This is so embarrassing. You tell me first, but I want you to touch yourself. I like picturing your big hand wrapped around yourself.”

  “Trust me, babe, it’s not wrapped around myself. It’s around my cock, and I want to hear that word coming from your lips.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut, gathering her courage to live out her phone-sex fantasy. “Stroke your cock, Dylan, and imagine me between your legs, licking the head.” Her entire body was shaking now. She slid her fingers between her legs, moving over her wet flesh.

  “Christ,” he ground out. “I have thought of little else since you did that. Talk to me, babe. Tell me what you feel when you think of me doing this. Tell me what you want me to do to you, but don’t touch yourself.”

  “Oops.” Her hand stilled.

  He laughed again. “Seriously? You couldn’t wait?”

  “Take it as a compliment. I’ve thought about you all evening. All day, really. And knowing you’re naked and jerking off because of me makes me hot.”

  “Hard to argue with that, Summers.” He drew in a deep breath, and when he exhaled, she imagined his hot breath washing over her breasts. They instantly tightened.

  “Talk to me or I’ll get embarrassed and hang up.”

  “Don’t hang up, baby. Close your eyes.”

  “’Kay,” she whispered. “You, too.”

  “Okay, babe. My eyes are closed, and my cock is throbbing for you. Are you wet for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Imagine your fingers are mine, and touch yourself how you want me to touch you. One hand on your pussy—is that okay? Or is that too dirty, Summers? I don’t want to lose you.”

  She bit her lower lip at his sweetness. “Not too dirty,” she admitted. “And, Dylan?”

  “Yeah?” he whispered.

  “You’re not going to lose me over dirty talk. I know I’m not easy to get close to, but you’re closer than any man has been in forever.”

  “Damn, Summers. That’s an honor and a turn-on.”

  He went quiet for a beat, but her mind didn’t. Fear tiptoed in with each confession.

  “Dylan? Talk to me. This is…”

  “Scary?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “For me, too.”

  “Really?” He seemed able to conquer anything. But then again, didn’t she?

  “Absolutely. Take a deep breath, babe. This is just us. You can trust me. You might not believe that yet, but it’s true.”

  She was panting now, fear and sinful promises coalescing with something much, much bigger. She didn’t know where these feelings were coming from, but her mind raced through moments—Dylan hugging her in the hospital, holding her after they’d had sex, and tonight, the way he’d looked at her as she walked away from the car—like he wanted her to come back.

  “I do trust you,” tumbled from her lungs without warning, and like a ball of yarn unraveling, she felt the tension in her chest ease.

  “Good, babe. Now relax, close your eyes, and let me make you feel good.”

  She closed her eyes again, every nerve alive, prickling with anticipation of his seductive voice.

  “Move your fingers lightly over your pussy, like I want to do with my tongue. Don’t delve inside, just tease yourself. Feel that wetness, make your pussy swell with need. Touch your nipple with your other hand. Roll it between your finger and thumb.”

  “Hold on.” She put the phone on speaker and set it on the bed, then did as he asked, and bit her lower lip again with the intense pleasure. Her thighs flexed, her hips arched higher, but she didn’t disobey, didn’t push her fingers inside and seek that magical spot that would make her detonate.

  “That’s it, babe. How does it feel?”

  “So good. Are you…Are you touching yourself?”

  “Oh yeah, Summers. Just thinking about your gorgeous face tilted back, your hips arching off the mattress craving more, has got me hard as rock.”

  She pictured him stroking his cock and wanted to see it. “Dylan, would you…? Do you…” Could she really take this to the next level?

  “Tell me, babe. There’s nothing I won’t do for you right now.”

  “FaceTime?” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Oh yeah, babe. Call you right back.”

  Two seconds later the FaceTime call came through. His eyes were so dark and hungry, her body ignited anew.

  “Hey, beautiful.” His tongue swept across his lips, and her fingers moved quicker between her legs, imagining that tongue slicking over her needy flesh.

  “I want to watch you,” she said. “It’s too embarrassing to see your face.”

  “We’ll work on that,” he promised her, and set the phone on his bedside table, angling it so she had a perfect view of his chest to his knees. His big hand stroked along his shaft, and just the sight of him jerking off was enough to make her moan.

  “Fair’s fair,” he said.

  She realized she was still staring into her phone. She set it on the bedside table at roughly the same angle he had.

  “Summers, you make me want to come downstairs right this second and give you what you deserve.”

  “No,” she said quickly. The idea of seeing him face-to-face when he just saw her doing this was even more embarrassing.

  “Well, now, don’t answer so fast. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

  Her heart ached at that. “Sorry!”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think I could walk right now.” He held the base of his cock so it stood straight up.

  “I want to lick it.” She clamped her mouth shut. God, she was such a slut right now.

  “I want that, too. Tell me more.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off of his hand stroking his cock. “I liked feeling your cock touch the back of my throat, and the way your body shook while I teased you. I liked the look on your face as you came all over me. I never let a guy come on my chest before.” Another unbidden confession, but she didn’t care. She never imagined she could open up to anyone, and as much as this scared her, it was also freeing, and Dylan made her feel safe. “I want to taste you, Dylan.”

  “Summers,” he said through clenched teeth, his hand moving faster.

  Hers was moving faster too. She lifted her knees and let them fall wide open.

  “I need more, Dylan,” she pleaded. “I have to—” She pushed two fingers inside herself and moaned with relief.

  “That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself. Pretend it’s me. Squeeze your nipple with your other hand.” When she did, he said, “That’s it. God you’re sexy, Summers. So fucking sexy you’re going to make me come. I wish I could come inside you.”

  She bit down on her lower lip, wanting that so desperately her hips rose up again.

  “Fuck yourself with your fingers, and use your thumb on your clit.”

  She did, groaning and arching again. “Dylan,” she pleaded.

  “Squeeze your nipple harder, baby, until you feel it in your pussy.”

  She stared at the phone, watching his hand fly fast along his shaft. A bead wept from the tip, and his palm rolled over it, spreading the slickness along the root. He cupped his balls with his other hand. He was so uninhibited, she wanted to see his face contorted with pleasure.

  “I want to suck your tits and eat your pussy until you’re begging for more. I want to feel your mouth on me, babe. I want you to suck me, fuck me, and come all over me. And then I want to start all over again, make love to you slowly, look into your eyes and
hold you while I’m buried deep inside you.”

  “Dylan. Oh God,” she pleaded. “I want you inside me, everywhere. In my pussy, in my mouth. I want—” She cried out, shattering at the same time he came in long stringy ribbons over his chest. Her body quaked and shivered. His abs tightened, and his back rose off the bed as each jet spread over his skin.

  Both of their bodies jerked, their chests rising with each heavy breath. He reached over and turned the phone so she could see his face. His gaze was soft with the unmistakable look of a satisfied lover.

  “I need to see you, babe. Turn your phone.”

  The request made her chest feel full. With a trembling hand, she turned the phone.

  “Hi. God, you’re beautiful.”

  She didn’t know what to say or how to act. She was suddenly very nervous and was trying to figure out an easy way to end the call without being rude. Dylan’s eyes moved over her face, and his expression turned even softer.

  “Please don’t, Summers.” He sighed. “Don’t go back to the closed-off place. What we did was hot and sexy, and above all, private.” He looked in the direction of the bathroom. “Please don’t hang up while I clean off.”

  She swallowed hard, debating doing just that.

  “Summers,” he said firmly.

  “Okay, fine. God, how could you possibly know I was even considering it?”

  “Because it’s written all over your face.”

  “Well, don’t look at me so closely.”

  He smiled and it cut straight through her. “I won’t lie to you, Summers. I’ll always look that closely. I like you a lot. You’re fierce and determined, and sexy and shy. Even though I know that word makes you want to punch me in the throat, it’s true.”

  “I’m not shy. You totally don’t know me.” She huffed out a breath with the lie. “I’ll be right back.” She went into the bathroom and cleaned up, mumbling to herself about how rattling it was that he saw that in her. Until tonight, she never would have described herself as shy. But she’d definitely become shy when they were doing all those dirty, sexy things. And he’d noticed. Was it possible to love and hate something at the same time?

  She dressed in her cami and panties, and when she returned to the bed, he was sitting up with the phone in his hand. He smiled. A big, warm, I’m-so-glad-you-didn’t-hang-up smile. And like a needy girl, she wanted to curl up in his arms and thank him.

  DYLAN FELT TIFFANY’S need to flee and her desire to remain on the phone as if she’d said both aloud. He was so thankful she hadn’t ended the call, and he didn’t want to end their conversation until she knew he wasn’t only interested in hot sex. He sensed that she needed more as much as he wanted it, so he went for humor and geared their conversation away from their tryst.

  “Now that you’ve taken complete advantage of me and forced me into my first adult phone sex experience, let’s backtrack.”

  “Forced you?” She arched a brow.

  “Oh, Summers, don’t play coy with me. No man in his right mind could deny you a damn thing. Now, please tell me about your conference. Were you on fire? Did you lead and conquer?”

  She laughed, and he loved that sound so much he silently vowed to find ways to make her do it more often.

  “It wasn’t that type of conference. It seems counterintuitive to network with other agents, because in this business we’re all in competition with each other, only we’re really not.” She pulled the covers over her legs as she spoke and snuggled a little deeper beneath them. “When I decided to open my own agency, I reached out to a few other agents who work on their own. I don’t like to work with certain sports, like snowboarding, for example, so we work together to get referrals to the right agent for them. It’s one of the reasons I left the bigger agency I worked for. They wanted me to handle every sport.”

  She was fascinating as she explained how much she enjoyed certain sports and the reasons she liked to work with athletes in those fields. “I don’t rep MMA fighters because I can’t take the violence. I know that my dislike of the sport would hinder my efforts for my clients, so I don’t do it.”

  “So it’s not all about the money, like Jerry Maguire portrayed?” He was learning a lot about her in the little bit she’d already shared, and he wanted to learn so much more.

  “It’s all about the deals, which is primarily about the money. But it’s also about the package. Is it best for the family? Is it what my client’s wife wants? Is it too limiting to his future endorsements or career goals? There’s a lot to consider.” She yawned, nestling deeper into her pillow, looking adorably relaxed. “Oh, and I reached out to Shea about Anika. I’ll let you know when I hear back.”

  “You’re incredible. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She yawned again. “How was Bethany? Did she like the balloons?”

  “Yeah, she loved them. We played a game of checkers, her favorite, and we laughed a lot.”

  “You have a really big heart,” she said, yawning again. “You run a bar, and you have a kitchen that’s in shambles, and still you made time for me and Bethany.”

  He was quiet for a minute, thinking about what she’d said.

  “No dirty comments about your other big organs? There must be something major going on in that head of yours. Why did you start volunteering?”

  “It’s a long story,” he answered, not wanting to get into a conversation about Lorelei right then. “And it’s late. We can talk about it another time. They delivered my cabinet doors, so get ready to work on Sunday.”

  She stifled another yawn. “Okay. Be ready to help choose office space Saturday.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” He couldn’t believe he was actually excited about being included in that part of her life. She’d really gotten to him.

  After they ended the call, Dylan lay on his back looking up at the ceiling, thinking of Tiffany lying in bed just a few floors below. In the quiet of her apartment was she overthinking what they’d done? Regretting it? He felt closer to her than he’d ever felt to any other woman, and none of it made sense, but that didn’t bother him. It made him want to discover more about her, to see what deeper connections were waiting for them. The way Tiffany revealed her fears, inner conflicts, and even her hopes, reminded Dylan of snowflakes floating to the ground. His chance to see them would disappear if he didn’t catch them before they landed.

  Maybe Winters was the perfect name for her after all.

  As he sent her a good-night text—You’re my ten, summer girl. Sweet dreams—he knew that even if Winters suited her just fine at the moment, she’d always be his summer girl.

  Chapter Twelve

  TIFFANY STEPPED FROM the elevator Thursday evening carrying an armload of packages from her evening shopping trip. If she and Dylan were going to continue whatever it was they were doing, she needed more lingerie, and while she was at it, she picked up a few cute, non-work-related outfits. She traipsed down the hall thinking about her workday, which had begun with a visit to her father, who was doing fine and back to his grumbly self, and ended with a dinner meeting with one of her NBA clients. She really needed an office. She didn’t mind meeting clients at restaurants, but when they were going over contracts and discussing endorsement deals, she preferred the privacy of an office.

  Her eyes lit up at the sight of a small box wrapped in gold paper waiting for her on her welcome mat. Grinning like a fool, she unlocked her door and carried it into her apartment. She and Dylan had exchanged several texts throughout the day, most with sexual innuendos, but wasn’t that true about everything they said to each other? She thought about him all day, felt his kisses on her skin with every breeze. But his texts were also filled with something real that she hadn’t had in a long time—friendship. Every text seemed to suck her in deeper. She pictured his cocky smile, his warm, seductive eyes, and she missed him. She hadn’t even been sure she could miss a man in this way again. She’d thought that part of her had been buried so deep she might not be able to retrieve
it if she wanted to. But Dylan left no room for examining her emotions. He brought them out easily, seamlessly, and made her feel them so deeply, she now worried she’d never be able to escape them again.

  And she wasn’t sure she wanted to, even if she should.

  She set her shopping bags on the coffee table and sank down to the couch with the pretty box on her lap. Her mind was in dangerous territory, picturing him picking out the wrapping paper—because she somehow knew that’s the kind of guy he was. He didn’t leave these types of things up to others to decide. Dylan might let her control things now and again, but he was a man who knew what he wanted. And you sure know how to get it. Well, big guy, I have the surprise of a lifetime for you. Or at least she hoped she did, since she’d been planning it all day.

  The gold paper was too pretty to shred, no matter how excited she was. She opened it carefully along a seam, lifted the top of the box off, and peered inside.

  “Oh my God, Dylan,” she whispered, feeling her chest tighten. She lifted a beautiful leather-bound appointment book out of the box and ran her hand over the distressed cover. It was classy and eclectic. Absolutely, perfectly stunning. But it wouldn’t have mattered if it were made from toilet paper. Dylan had clearly put a lot of thought into what she might like, and he was actually figuring her out. Another terrifying and exciting thought. Even her own father never knew what to give her on birthdays and holidays. She had more scarves and hats than she could ever wear. But this? This was perfect.

  She paged through the thoughtful gift, finding notes Dylan had written every few pages; Date with Dylan, Dinner with D, and dirty memos like, Don’t forget Dylan likes blow jobs and My turn! Tonight Dylan’s my sex slave. He was so presumptuous she found herself shaking her head—but he was so sweet and sexy about it, she was also laughing and happier than she could remember being in a very long time. Under the Notes section of the calendar he’d written the date of the first night they’d met and First kiss. Her chest felt full, and all those butterflies nesting in her belly stirred.

  “I like you, Dylan Bad,” she whispered.