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

by Melissa Foster

  “God I love your demands.” She rose off the stool and slanted her mouth over his, biting his lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. The tantalizing pain ignited in his veins.

  “Fuck I love that,” he growled.

  She grabbed him by the arms and forced his back to the bar. “Hold on, big boy, because I’m going to blow you so good you might not last to fuck me.”

  And holy fucking hell did she know what he liked. She sucked him hard, following her mouth with her hand in one tight stroke after another, bringing him right up to the edge of release. Then she tortured him with slow licks around his overly sensitive glans and down to the base of his cock. When she sucked his balls into her mouth, he grabbed her by the hair.

  “Suck me, Summers. Suck my cock and I’ll eat you until you come.”

  Her eyes shot to his, and she held his gaze as she sucked him like her mouth was made for the sole purpose of pleasuring him. When heat streaked down his spine, he pulled her away and lifted her to her feet, claiming her mouth in a punishingly intense kiss. He tore her panties down and she kicked them off.

  “Why do you bother wearing these?” He lifted her onto the bar and thrust her legs open wide.

  “Because you make me so wet, I’m afraid I’ll ruin my clothes.”

  “Christ, baby. You’re a fucking fantasy come true.” He ran his finger along her slick sex, then sucked it clean. “I’m so damn lucky.” Claiming her in another kiss, she grabbed him by the head and pushed him lower.

  “Eat me, Dylan.”

  Fuck. His heart, his body, his soul, was so wrapped up in her he was shaking. He ate her slowly, savoring her sweetness, drawing out her pleasure and earning a series of seductive moans and pleas. She clung to his hair, rocking against his mouth as he thrust his tongue in deep, fucking her how she liked it. Her thighs tightened around his head, and she gripped the edge of the bar, lying back and opening up even further for him. He flattened his hand just above her pubic bone, and her clit rose to greet him. He teased her with his tongue, using his other hand to stroke the magical spot deep inside her.

  Her hips rose off the bar and she cried out, “Dylan!” as the orgasm claimed her. She moaned and thrust, a stream of words filling his heart with love. “I’m yours, Dylan. Only yours. Oh God, so good.”

  He took her mouth again, fucking it with his tongue as he’d fucked her pussy, and she sealed her lips around his tongue, sucking as she’d sucked his cock. There were no limits to what they’d do to each other. He knew that now. And fuck, he wanted all of her now. He lifted her from the bar and guided her hands to the edge of the it, kicking her legs open wide, and sealed his mouth over the base of her neck.

  “Oh God,” she said in one long, heated breath.

  He fingered her pussy until his hand was slick with her arousal, then brought it to her ass, coating her tightest hole, and pushed his finger into her.

  “Yes,” she pleaded.

  “I want your ass, baby. I want all of you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Dylan. God, Dylan. I want you to do it, but fuck me first. Hard. I need to come with you inside me. Then you can take me from behind.”

  “Jesus, Summers. I love you.” The words came too fast to check them. They both stilled, and he turned her in his arms and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, baby. I love you so damn much.”

  “I love you, too.” She smiled and reached for his cock. “Now fuck me before I get too emotional to make it good for you.”

  He lifted his gorgeous, sassy girl into his arms and lowered her slowly onto his cock. Her pussy felt like tight, hot velvet around him.

  “Don’t come,” she said with a wicked grin as he began to move.

  Dylan gritted his teeth and clutched her ass, fucking her faster and testing every ounce of his control.

  “Kiss me, Dylan,” she pleaded.

  “You know your mouth makes me come,” he ground out, but he could never—would never—deny her a damn thing.

  He kissed her deeply and sensually as she came, squeezing his cock in tight, exquisite pulses, until they were both breathless.

  She rested her head on his shoulder, her hot breath whipping over his skin, and said, “Now fuck me from behind.”

  He kissed her cheek. “You sure, baby? We can wait.” Waiting was the last thing he wanted to do, but he never wanted her to feel pressured into anything.

  She lifted her head with the look of love swimming in her eyes. “I want to feel your cock buried deep inside me everywhere, Dylan. I want you to have all of me. I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

  His heart swelled, and there were no words big enough to hold a candle to the gift of trust she’d just given him. He lowered her to her feet, and she turned around, bending over so her beautiful ass was perched high. He bent to his knees and ran his tongue along her pussy, then followed the lines of her body up, wetting the juncture where they were about to cross an uncrossable line. He slicked his fingers along her sex, drenching his cock with her arousal, and guided it to her tightest hole. Then he laced their hands together as he pushed into her.

  She groaned and sucked in a sharp breath. He stopped cold.

  “Harder,” she urged. “Just do it, Dylan, please. Make me totally yours.”

  And he did, again and again and again.

  Later that night, long after they’d shared a bubble bath and made sweet love again in his bed, Dylan spooned Tiffany and whispered in her ear, “Tiffany Winters, I love you. You, Tiff, not just the sex. I love the person you are. I love your need for control and the look in your eyes when you give it up for me. I love your laugh and the dimple in your chin and the way you touch me and kiss me, and I love the way you cuddle into me when you’re sleeping and sigh, like it’s the only place you ever want to be. And I will spend my life showing you just how much.”

  “I love you, too, Dylan. More than I ever thought possible.” She rolled over so they were nose to nose. “But you do love the sex, too, right?”

  She giggled and the sound wound around him, tugging at all those heartstrings she owned.

  “Hell yes, but I think we earned a nine tonight. Maybe tomorrow we can shoot for a ten.”

  She closed her eyes and snuggled in closer. “We’re going to need a lot of practice.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  GEORGE “GUNNER” WINTERS sat at the head of the dinner table Friday night listening intently as Tiffany told him about the fundraiser event. Gunner had been one of the best quarterbacks to ever play, but he’d mangled his leg in a car accident a few years into his promising pro football career. He was a formidable man with stern dark eyes and a well-manicured salt-and-pepper beard. He wore his hair brushed back from his face, and the severe center arch of his thick brows made him appear in a constant state of assessment or displeasure. But he looked at his daughter the way Dylan remembered his father looking at Lorelei, which was different from the way a father looked at a son, softer, but just as intense. Tiffany clearly took after her mother’s side of the family, with blond hair and fair skin. He wondered if Gunner saw similarities to Tiffany’s mother when he looked at his daughter, the way he was sure his own father saw memories of Lorelei in their mother.

  “That sounds like a mighty big undertaking,” Gunner said.

  “It’s a lot of work, but worth it.” Dylan had spent the week meeting with distributors to work out the increased inventory for the fundraiser and schmoozing with the media outlets that had so generously supported the previous fundraisers. Everyone had been hard at work to pull their end of the event together. Mick and Amanda were working with a local graphic artist and preparing flyers and other marketing materials. Treat Braden was more than happy to donate not one, but two weekends at his island resort, and Carson and Brett used their corporate influences to secure sponsorships from a variety of companies, which would enable them to auction off baskets of beach-themed goodies, in addition to the donation of a cruise from Tatiana Grace. As asked, Carson had set up an introduc
tion for Amanda.

  He reached for Tiffany’s hand and told Gunner about his family losing Lorelei and how this year’s event was going to feature her as the face of the fundraiser. “It’s coming together nicely, and thanks to Tiffany, this year’s event will be even more meaningful for my family.”

  Gunner dropped his gaze, and his expression softened. When he looked at Dylan again there was something dark and haunted in his eyes. “Losing a family member is a tragic thing. I’m sorry, Dylan.”

  Dylan shifted in his chair, wondering if Gunner was thinking about his wife.

  “Thank you. We were blessed with eight wonderful years. Hopefully the fundraiser will be a success.”

  Rocco was staring at Tiffany with a serious expression. He and Perry looked so much like their father it was uncanny. Younger and trimmer, but there was no denying the Winters olive skin, thick black hair, and square jaws. “I didn’t put the dates together before. Aren’t you going to the press conference, Tiff?”

  “What press conference?” Dylan asked.

  Tiffany tightened her grip on Dylan’s hand, and her body jerked. Rocco winced.

  “It’s the press conference to announce free agency,” Tiffany explained, her eyes shifting between Dylan and Rocco. “I’m not going this year. There’s no need for me to be there. I’m not looking to sign new players.”

  His amusement at her under-the-table kick was quickly squelched. He knew that tight, uncomfortable expression. She obviously didn’t want to worry him with the timing of the press conference, but there was no mistaking the shocked look on her brothers’ faces, or the look of approval on her father’s.

  “But should you be there anyway?” Dylan asked.

  “No,” she insisted. “The fundraiser is important, and I’m not going to gain anything by attending a press conference for people I’m not interested in signing. I’ve already arranged for Miranda to be there in my place. Please, can we change the subject?”

  Dylan was stunned. She’d handed over the reins to Miranda? She’d made so many concessions lately, he worried she might take it too far and then regret it and blame their relationship. He leaned closer and said quietly enough for her ears only, “Babe, I won’t be upset if you need to go.”

  “I know you won’t,” she said confidently. “But I don’t need to go. I have faith in Miranda.” She smiled, but it wasn’t her normal, glowing smile. It was an appeasing pleasantry that relayed exactly how difficult this decision was for her. “You should know me well enough to know I wouldn’t jeopardize something as big as signing a new client for anything.”

  She had made that very clear to him, and he trusted her instincts. “Okay, good, and thank you. It means the world to me that you’re going to be at the fundraiser.”

  “Jesus, can we get any sappier?” Perry teased. “Hey, Rock.” He nodded to the basket of biscuits.

  “Heads up.” Rocco cocked his arm back and launched a biscuit across the table at Perry. Tiffany lunged from her seat, intercepting it.

  Dylan was glad to see how quickly she’d moved past their serious conversation and hoped that meant she really was okay with her decision. As much as he wanted her at the fundraiser, he definitely didn’t want to hold her back from her career on any level.

  “Score!” She threw her hands up in the air and wiggled in her seat, looking so freaking adorable he had to laugh. She flashed a cheesy grin at Perry, then bit off a hunk of the biscuit. “Sorry, big brother, but what can I say?” She wiggled her fingers. “Hands of gold.”

  “That’s my kiddo.” Her father’s prideful voice boomed through the room.

  “Dude!” Rocco laughed at Perry. “You got beat by a girl.”

  “Tiffany is not a girl.” Perry stroked his dark beard, a tease glimmering in his eyes. “She’s a beast.”

  “Hey, watch it,” Dylan warned. He’d known her brothers for years and had no qualms about giving them shit to protect the woman he adored. But he loved how playful she was with them. It was easy to see what her life must have been like growing up. She had to be sharp and tough to keep up with these two. And she was too strong of a person to accept being last in anything.

  “Aw, man, come on. I mean it in the best way possible.” Perry put an arm around Tiffany. “She’s the bomb, man. She can play any sport, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. But I’m glad to see you’re getting her to loosen up a little.”

  “I’ve always been loose,” Tiffany snapped. Then, softer, she said, “Kind of. Right, Dad?”

  A low laugh rumbled up from her father’s chest, his watchful eyes landing on each of his children for a solid beat. He was as much a force in his house as he had been on the field. No wonder Tiffany could hold her own with the toughest of men.

  “Kiddo,” her father said. “I didn’t raise any of you to be loose. But I’ll say this. Dylan has been a good influence on you. You’re definitely a little less high-strung.”

  “Gee, thanks, Dad.” She rolled her eyes.

  “That’s probably the wrong word,” her father said. “You’re finally giving yourself a break. This is the first time in years that we’ve eaten dinner without your phone buzzing every few minutes. Some might call that loosening up, or less high-strung, or giving yourself a break. Whatever you want to call it, I’m glad for the change. You’ve made your mark, kiddo. You won. You’re one of the best in the field, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. But I am not going to kid you. I’m glad to see you’re taking some time out for yourself.”

  “Thanks, Dad. But you taught me never to give up.”

  “And you never have,” he agreed, and his eyes turned serious. “But I’m not sure where you got the idea that never giving up meant never letting up.”

  Her brows drew together. “A few weeks ago I would have said they were the same thing.” She smiled at Dylan. “But I get what you’re saying now.”

  “I know you do.” Her father turned his attention to Dylan. “Think you can keep up with my girl?”

  “I know I can,” Dylan said, “or I’ll go down trying.”

  Rocco looked at Perry and winked, then tossed him another biscuit.

  Tiffany reached up with one hand and swatted it to the floor. Straight-faced, she said, “Sorry, Dad. What were you saying?”

  Before Dylan knew what was happening Perry had Tiffany pinned on the ground and was tickling her ribs as she called him a litany of names and squealed with laughter. Rocco’s deep laugh boomed across the room. As Dylan rose to pry her brother off of her, Gunner reached over and grabbed his arm.

  He shook his head and said, “She can handle him.”

  Dylan was caught between rescuing the woman he adored—because even though she could take Perry, she didn’t have to—and letting their sibling rivalry play out. He had only a second to debate, because Tiffany kneed Perry in the junk. Perry keeled over with a groan and she climbed on top of him, slapping his cheeks as she cracked up. “Who’s loose now? Huh? Huh?”

  He thought of the way Lorelei used to wrestle with him and his brothers, and how much she loved being involved with them. He loved knowing Tiffany was close to her brothers in this way and had this playful spirit. She might not have had her mother, but she obviously had a close-knit family that adored her.

  Her hand shot into the air and Rocco high-fived her.

  “Now I understand why you insisted on wearing jeans and sneakers to dinner.” Dylan helped her up to her feet and kissed her. “Babe, that might have been the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Her playful smile reached her eyes. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE FUNDRAISER FELL on a cold, windy November evening, not exactly perfect weather for a Tahitian-themed event, but the ballroom of the Ultimate hotel was toasty warm and buzzing with energy. Bright red tablecloths covered round tables that boasted centerpieces of enormous palms with colorful ribbons winding around lush greenery and floating candles in elaborate vases layered with sand and bright blue wat
er. The chairs were draped in vibrant fabric, and tiki lights were strewn around the dimly lit room. A band outfitted in floral shirts and colorful shorts played tropical musical from the far side of the room where they’d brought in sand and palm trees, making the band appear to be playing on the beach. Pictures of children who had stayed at the Ronald McDonald House smiled from large frames around the room. And center stage, where the auction would take place later in the evening, was a magnificent picture of Lorelei smiling up from her perch on a fluffy yellow beanbag chair. She wore a pair of blue pants and a short-sleeved white shirt with purple flowers on it. Her skinny, little-girl arms circled her knees. Pink and purple glittery nail polish alternated on each finger, and her long brown hair fell nearly to her waist over both shoulders.

  “I’m so glad we did this.” Dylan’s hand circled Tiffany’s waist, skimming over the grass skirt he’d convinced her to wear.

  “Can you feel Lorelei smiling down on you? Dylan, this whole event is magnificent. It feels like all these children are right here in the room with us.” Tiffany wrestled with the coconut bra she still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to wear. But Amanda and her sister were even pushier than her when they wanted to be. All the girls—meaning Amanda and the Wild brothers’ wives—were wearing them, and she didn’t want to seem like the only stick in the mud. She and Amanda had become close over the last two weeks as they went for fittings for their costumes and got together for lunch with her sister, Ally.

  “I feel her smiling down on all of us.” Dylan eyed Tiffany as she shifted and tucked herself into her skimpy outfit. “She’d love this theme, too.”

  “I can’t believe they convinced me to wear this. Or that you helped them,” Tiffany whispered, spotting Amanda and Ally heading her way. They looked sexy and comfortable in their skimpy little outfits, although Amanda was shifting and tucking. Maybe she wasn’t alone in her panic after all.