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

by Melissa Foster

  His father held his gaze and said, “Well done, son.” A small smile appeared, and then he nodded to Tiffany and headed for the exit.

  “What just happened?” she whispered. “Did I upset him?”

  “No, babe. I think that was his happy face.” Overwhelmed by everything that just happened, Dylan drew Tiffany against him, righting his upside-down world.

  “Tell me again why you gave up signing Ramsey Sharpe. And please tell me you’re not going to hate me because of it tomorrow.”

  She kissed him again. “I won’t hate you, Dylan. How could I hate the man who makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my life? I love you, and I belong here with you on this very special night. Now tell me you love me, and smile, because Jackson has his camera aimed right at us.”

  TIFFANY CUDDLED AGAINST Dylan in the cab on the way home, inhaling his familiar, manly scent. “I’m freezing.”

  He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, heating them both up. His hand slipped beneath her grass skirt, caressing her thigh.

  “Isn’t this where we began?” She giggled and nipped at his jaw, totally up for another hot cab make-out session.

  “But tonight we’re not going to end up at a hospital. Tonight we’ll end up at one of our apartments.”

  “Yours. I like yours better.” She sealed her lips over his again. He tasted like sweet wine and potent male. She was so full of emotions she couldn’t hold them back. “I love the way you taste. And I love your face, and your mouth. I love your mind, and I love your body. I love you so much, Dylan, I’ve turned into the girl who doodles your name in my notebook.”

  “Then maybe it’s time you officially move in with me.” He’d made a few casual references to them becoming more permanent, but he’d never asked her so blatantly.

  “Why would I do that? Men want what they don’t have. The minute I’m really, truly yours, you’ll get bored.”

  He squeezed her thigh, his smile turning wolfish. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Not one word of it.”

  Her phone rang with Miranda’s ringtone. She’d ignored every text during the fundraiser, focusing solely on Dylan and the event, knowing Miranda would eventually call and give her the scoop.

  “Saved by the bell,” he teased.

  “It’s Miranda. I asked her to try to get a meeting with Ramsey tomorrow morning. I need to take it. I’m sorry.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll just…” He began kissing her shoulder.

  She put the phone to her ear, trying to think past the feel of his hot, openmouthed kisses. “Hey, Miranda. How’d it go?”

  “This isn’t Miranda.” The deep voice took both her and Dylan by surprise. Dylan’s gaze turned territorial. “This is Ramsey Sharpe. You’ve been ignoring my texts, so I confiscated Miranda’s phone.”

  “Ramsey, hi.” She pushed Dylan’s hand off of her thigh, needing to focus. Dylan’s eyes widened, and he held his hands up in surrender. She didn’t think she could fall any harder for him than she already had. Boy was she wrong.

  “I understand you blew me off for a fundraiser for the Ronald McDonald House,” Ramsey said sternly.

  “I didn’t exactly blow you off, Ramsey,” she said in her most professional voice. “I had a previous commitment and I honored it. I’m very sorry, but I’m sure Miranda told you I’d be happy to meet you tomorrow if you haven’t made a decision to sign with someone else.” Dylan was watching her intently and gave her a supportive thumbs-up.

  “Do you know why I fired Miles?” Ramsey asked.

  “According to rumors, he wasn’t taking your family into consideration.”

  “Right. Do you know why I want to sign with you?”

  Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she schooled her tone. “Because I’m a professional who believes that in order to be a top athlete you have to have peace of mind, which includes knowing your family’s needs are taken into consideration.”

  “Damn, you’re good,” Ramsey said. “Rocco’s been telling me for years that I should go with you. I’m the number-one MLB pitcher.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of your standing.”

  “And yet you attended a fundraiser instead of doing what every other agent did, which was promise me the world and practically kiss my feet.”

  “Yes, we’ve covered this.”

  “That’s why I want to meet with you and discuss signing. I like where your loyalties and interests lie. And it just so happens that my mentor’s son had cancer and stayed at the Ronald McDonald House a decade ago. I’ll stick around town tomorrow until noon. Can you make time to meet with me in the morning?”

  Dylan was beaming, giving her a thumbs-up again, and she realized she needed to take one more big risk.

  “Yes, but I need to advise you of my new work hours,” she said to Ramsey. “I am not available after seven in the evening unless it’s an emergency, and there may be times when Miranda handles less-than-urgent matters.” She slammed her eyes closed, praying his silence wasn’t the kiss of death.

  “Miranda’s a pleasure to work with. What time can I meet you at your office tomorrow?”

  Tiffany squealed after she ended the call and launched herself into Dylan’s arms. “Time to celebrate!”

  “Congratulations, babe. My place or yours?”

  “Yours, Dylan. Always yours.”

  Epilogue

  Four weeks later…

  TIFFANY AWOKE A little after one o’clock in the morning to a sporadic tapping sound on the windows. She slipped out from beneath Dylan’s arm, trying not to wake him, and stepped quietly from the bed. Parting the curtains, she pressed her nose close to the cold glass, shielded her eyes from the glare with her hands, and peered out the window. Snow swirled against the dark night sky. Tiffany inhaled an excited breath. It was the first snowfall, and it was beautiful. She’d been waiting for the perfect night to give Dylan his surprise, and this felt like a sign from the universe. She sat on the bed beside him in her satin cami and matching panties and took a second to admire his bare chest and the way his skivvies hugged his tempting man parts.

  “Dylan,” she whispered. “Dylan, wake up.”

  Dylan blinked up at her. “Hey, sweet girl.”

  He pulled her into his arms and she whispered, “Come on, let’s make cupcakes.”

  “Cupca—” He smiled and kissed her. “You want to make midnight cupcakes?”

  “Yes, and it’s snowing out!” She couldn’t hide her excitement. “Get up so you don’t miss it.” She pulled him up to a sitting position and he lifted her onto his lap.

  “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  She held her finger and thumb about an inch apart, and they both laughed.

  “I love you more than anything in this world.” He took her in a luscious kiss that almost had her sinking back to the mattress.

  “Cupcakes,” she whispered.

  He rose to his feet mumbling something about making it up to him later, and they went to the window.

  “Snow! Can you believe it?”

  He wrapped his arms around her from behind as they watched the snow fall.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “Like you.”

  She took his hand and pulled him toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s break in your new kitchen.”

  Moonlight sliced a path through the living room, glistening off the shiny leaves of their little garden by the balcony door. They’d added quite a few plants to both of their apartments, and Jackie had visited and given her pointers that helped the plants flourish. She and his mother had become close, and in Jackie she’d found the mother she’d never had.

  She turned on the light over the stove, and when Dylan reached for the main switch, she lowered his hand.

  “Let’s keep it like this.” She nibbled on her lower lip as Dylan began taking ingredients out the pantry. Flour. Sugar. Baking powder. Vanilla. “Don’t you have a box?”

  “A box?” He arched a brow.

  “A box of cupcake
stuff. You know, add water and voilà, cupcakes!”

  He laughed and tugged her into a hug. “A box,” he said against her neck. “Oh, my sweet, sexy summer girl, cupcake fairies never use boxed ingredients.”

  “Really? I’ve never made cupcakes from scratch.”

  His gaze warmed. “You never baked with your mom?”

  She shook her head. “And after she left, baking was the last thing on my mind.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. But have no fear. You’re in for a real treat. Maybe I’ll even share my secret ingredients with you.”

  “If your secret ingredients require me to be on my knees, I don’t believe cupcakes need that.” She laughed as he kissed her again.

  “First we preheat the oven.” He stepped away and turned on the oven.

  “I don’t need preheating.” She pressed her hands to his broad, muscular back and kissed the center of his spine. “You get me hot with a single glance.”

  He turned, his arms swallowing her entire body. “Now we cream the butter and sugar.”

  “Mm. Cream. I like the sound of this.” She nipped at his lower lip and felt his arousal grow against her belly.

  “Christ, we’re not going to get much baking done if you keep this up.” He turned away and reached for the butter and a bowl, while she slid her hands into his briefs from behind and stroked him.

  “Don’t turn around. I want to watch you bake. It’s sexy.” She slid one hand up his chest, teasing his nipple while stroking his cock with the other. “Aren’t you supposed to be mixing the butter or something?”

  He tried to turn in her arms, but she refused to release him.

  “Mix,” she said sternly.

  “When did you get so bossy?”

  “You love me bossy. Bake.” Incredibly, he followed her command, and it emboldened her. “What do we do after we cream”—she cupped his balls, then stroked him again—“the butter and sugar?” She licked her hand and returned her wet palm to his hard length.

  He uttered a curse. “Beat the eggs.”

  She waited for him to put the eggs in the bowl, then hooked her fingers in the waist of his skivvies and yanked them down. “Oopsie!”

  He groaned again, his hand slowing as he beat the eggs.

  She ran her hands along his outer thighs, then up his waist and around to his chest, playing with his nipples again.

  “You’re not beating.”

  “You’re going to get a spanking if you’re not careful,” he said in a rough, lusty voice.

  “Oh my. That could be fun.” She wiggled out of her panties and pressed her sex against his ass. “Keep baking,” she whispered, and wrapped her fingers around his cock again.

  “Summers,” he warned.

  “Don’t come.” She stroked him harder. “Don’t you have to do flour or something?”

  He dumped the rest of the ingredients in as fast as he could and beat them together, getting flour and baking powder all over the counter and floor and making them both laugh. She took off her cami and dropped it on the counter beside the bowl so he could see it, then pressed her naked body against his back.

  “Hurry up,” she teased. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’ve got something you can eat,” he ground out.

  “Oh, you sure do.” She moved around him and squeezed between Dylan and the counter, trailing openmouthed kisses across his chest. “Keep baking,” she whispered. “It’s turning me on.”

  She sank to her knees and dragged her tongue from the base of his erection to the very tip, then lavished the head of his cock with slow licks and warm kisses. He was trembling, his muscles taut, his flesh hot as fire. When she took him to the back of her throat, the utensils clattered to the counter and he leaned against it, pumping his hips as he fucked her mouth.

  “Summers,” he pleaded. “I want you, baby.”

  She pulled back and rose to her full height, waggling her finger in front of his face. “No bakey-bakey, no cakey-cakey.”

  He reached into a cabinet and pulled out the muffin pan, dropping it loudly onto the counter. Then he turned her around so she faced the counter and said, “Put those paper cups in there and use the ladle to fill each one three quarters of the way.”

  “But—” She looked down at the surprise in the bottom of the pan, but he was too caught up to notice. Time to enact plan B.

  “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got your butt covered.”

  He dipped one hand between her legs, sending shocks of heat to her core, and she closed her eyes. She was so wet his fingers slid deep inside her. His other hand cupped her breast and he ground his cock against her ass. The onslaught of sensations was all consuming. She rode his hand, arching against his palm.

  “Don’t come,” he demanded.

  “I won’t.” She bit her lower lip.

  “Fill those muffin cups.”

  When he sealed his mouth over her shoulder and bit down, she went up on her toes and whimpered. Her limbs were useless. She couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to move.

  “Don’t. Come,” he repeated. “Bakey-bakey or no cocky-cocky.”

  With trembling hands she filled the muffin cups as fast as she could, getting more batter on the counter than in the cups. She slammed her hands on the edge of the counter like she’d won a race. “Done!”

  “No, babe, we’ve just gotten started.” He lifted her onto the flour-covered counter, sending the pan of cupcake batter tumbling to the floor. He tugged her to the edge of the counter and slammed his rock-hard cock into her, and they both groaned.

  “Good fucking Lord. Making love to you is like heaven.”

  She clung to his biceps. “I need more of you,” she pleaded.

  He swept her off the counter, never breaking their connection, and laid her on the floor. Her body slid in the sticky batter as he pounded into her. He lifted her legs at the knees, and every stroke of his cock sent her spiraling deeper into oblivion.

  “So good, baby. Come with me,” he commanded.

  She grabbed his head and crashed their mouths together, disappearing into the feel of him filling her, his mouth consuming her, and all his hard muscles enveloping her. He pushed his arms beneath her, gathering her body so tight against him, they felt like one being.

  “I love you, Summers.”

  She was too lost to respond, and the next thrust sent her into the throes of ecstasy. “Dylan!” she cried as he succumbed to his own intense release.

  “Love you,” he grunted out as he filled her with his love. Every pump of his hips brought more sweet confessions. “Want more of you…Always…Forever…”

  Sticky with batter, covered in flour, and still floating on a cloud as Dylan collapsed against her, Tiffany kissed his cheek. Reveling in the feel of his strong body pressing down on her, she couldn’t help but tease him. “You don’t listen very well. I told you not to come.”

  He rose onto his palms and set a piercing stare on her, making her insides melt anew. “Wanna go for seconds?” His eyes slid over her shoulder, and his brows knitted tight. “What’s that?” He reached forward and held a batter-covered key in his hands. Her surprise.

  “I’m ready,” she said softly.

  “Hold on, babe. We’ll get to seconds in a minute. What’s this?” He turned the key in his fingertips.

  She giggled. “Not for seconds, although, yes, please.” She touched his cheek, drawing his eyes to hers. “I’m ready to give up my apartment and move in. If you still want me to.”

  He looked at the key, then at her, like he was putting together a puzzle. “You’re ready?” His eyes widened and shot to the key, then returned to her glistening with elation. “This is your key to your apartment?”

  She nodded, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “If you still want me to. I don’t mean to be presump—”

  He silenced her with a long, hungry kiss, and when their mouths drew apart he was grinning, too.

  “Mark my words, gorgeous. One day you will marry me.”

  She gazed into t
he eyes of the man who had changed her world, the man she wanted to wake up next to every morning and fall asleep cuddling with—yes, cuddling—every night, and she knew better than to doubt a word he said.

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