Banking Her: A Billionaire Bad Boys Novella (Book 2.5) (Bad Boy Billionaires) (4 page)

“W
hat was that I heard about needing to check your cervix with my Supercock?” I asked Cassie as she hung up the phone. Arm extended, I handed her the glass of ice water I’d just prepared and watched the line of her throat as she chugged it.

She’d been so fucking thirsty since we found out she was pregnant—both for actual liquid and for sex. So much so that she’d been making a bid to kill me by dehydration—sperm dehydration, to be technical about it.

“He’s got a medical background,” I went on inanely, filling the silence as she drank. “It was more as a medic in the Army than as an actual, honest to goodness doctor. So he hasn’t seen much pussy in the medical sense, but he’s definitely familiarized himself with a cervix or two outside of business hours.”

She narrowed her eyes, and I laughed, surrendering with both hands raised.

“Hey, I’m just giving you his resume. I’m only a messenger sent here to help you decide whether or not you think he’d be a good fit for your cervical dilation monitoring needs. I, personally, think he fits the bill perfectly.”

Finally done with her water, she reached forward and set the glass on the coffee table with a laugh. “Will you stop fucking babbling?”

I shook my head and pulled her bare foot into my lap, putting the pressure of my thumb right into her instep. “Look at who you’re talking to.”

“Jesus fucking Christmas,” she pretended to grumble around a groan of foot-massage ecstasy. “I guess I’m going to have to let your Supercock fly into my tunnel to get you to stop talking, aren’t I?”

I smiled and tilted my head back and forth briefly. “Well, I don’t know that it’ll make me stop talking so much as it will turn everything I say exponentially dirtier.”

A full-body shiver ran from her toes to her nose, but she did her best to hide it.

This was one of her new games, pretending to be put out by the idea of chasing several orgasms in a row—a kind of role-playing, if you will—and I had to admit, I found it endlessly fascinating.

Other men might have been offended, but the way she did it was in such obvious disagreement with the desires of her body, it’d be pointless to take it personally.

Instead, I played her game, talking her into it in all the creative ways I could think up, and she rewarded me by coming twice as hard.

I’d also do just about anything to keep her happy during her pregnancy. All the books suggested happiness could do nothing but help in the quest for healthiness, and keeping her and my little girl safe was my biggest priority.

Okay, so I am speculating that it’s a little girl, but I figure the universe, knowing what it knows about me, will be out for blood. And torture. And making me spend twenty-to-life in some maximum security prison when she becomes of age for little hormone-ridden boy-men to chase her all the goddamn time, shooting their sperm out of their tiny penis guns, and doing their damnedest to make my head explode.

About twenty minutes after Cassie had thrown the positive pregnancy test at my head, my whole world had changed. Not in the obvious sense or the way I behaved, but in the way my mind prioritized tasks for the day. Number one had been forever and irreparably changed to
Keep Cassie and our baby safe
.

It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was an absolute. A rule that not only wouldn’t but
couldn’t
be broken.

“Earth to Thatcher,” Cassie called, waving a hand in front of my face. Internally, I cringed at the fact I’d taken a nice little detour into Worryville again. Unfortunately, I’d become a frequent visitor, unable to deviate from the track that led me there. Somehow, though, I’d managed to mask my worry with something else in front of Cassie. I wasn’t sure exactly how it came across—probably as stupidity—but she seemed comfortable with whatever front I managed to put on.

“I know I acted like I didn’t want to bone, but that’s our thing. I cry wolf about not wanting any pussy pleasure, and you steamroll me all the way into the bedroom, tongue my pussy for a few minutes, and then get down to business. You’re supposed to have your dick in me by now, for fuck’s sake.”

As always, she brought me right out of my head and into the room—onto the very couch where she sat, where I could smell the citrus on her skin. She was too goddamn entertaining for any moment spent with her to be unpleasant. I laughed. “I don’t know, honey. Is that how it feels to you? Because your rundown isn’t making me feel like I’m doing a good job of being memorable.”

Her snap was like the lash of a whip. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I tried not to smile bigger, but it was a real fucking challenge.

“I tongue your pussy for a few minutes?” I asked, and then bit my lip when fire flamed in her eyes. “Is that really the best description you can come up with for it?”

“I’m trying to hurry through this talking bullshit—”

I ignored her, reaching for her across the couch, picking her up with two hands on her ass and settling her on my lap, straddling me, her perfect pussy cradled directly on my already hard dick.

“If that’s what you think,” I told her quietly. “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

Her nipples hardened right before my eyes.

Goddamn, I love her tits.

“Ooh,” she cooed. “Sexy professor and naughty student?”

I shook my head with a smile and then nipped at the skin below her ear, the roar of blood in my own ears drowning out the background noise of the TV.

“Private tutor and—” she started, but I pushed my lips to hers before she could finish.

“No, baby,” I said softly. “This one is all Thatch and Cassie.”

She squeaked as I rose to my feet, keeping my hands at her ass and her up with me. She clung to my shoulders and shoved her tits toward me in invitation.

An invitation there was not one fucking single inkling of a chance I would deny.

“Get rid of the shirt,” I ordered, and she didn’t delay. Up and over her head, she pulled it off, confident in my ability to hold her in my arms.

My lips closed around the pink of her nipple as soon as the soft cotton of her T-shirt cleared it.

As her head fell back and her hands clamped tight around my neck, I moved one of my hands to the middle of her back for extra support.

Cassie hardly ever had inhibitions, but when we came together like this, what few she had vanished instantaneously. Moaning and gasping, she tried to get her body closer to mine, to climb right inside me, and her tits were leading the way.

Jesus, when she pushed herself farther into my mouth like that, it was a struggle not to fucking eat her alive.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, rubbing herself against me as I quickened my step. The sounds of her pleasure were like a telegraph to my dick:
Things are speeding up. We need you, General. Get here and provide internal support as quickly as possible.

Her back hit the bed softly as a mewl of protest escaped her lips. I hadn’t followed her down, instead standing tall to pull my shirt over my head and shove my shorts and boxer briefs to the ground. She didn’t have much clothing left—a tiny pair of boy short underwear the only thing she’d put on her bottom half after her earlier shower.

I caught sight of her packed bag in the corner as I dropped to my knees. The bag indicated that I was down to just hours before she left again for work. But I put that out of my mind and concentrated on pulling Cassie’s boy shorts down with my teeth.

She pushed up onto her elbows on the bed and watched me as I did.

“Are you going to tongue my pussy?” she teased, and the lilt of her provocation lit up my world. No one made me happier than she did, and punishing her for her smartass remarks with a silent drag of my tongue would never ever get old.

I did just that, trailing it up from ass to clit and watching her eyes roll back in her head. Her long eyelashes seemed to sparkle as she fluttered and squeezed, alternating between the two reactions because what she was feeling was too overwhelming for just one.

“Son of a motherfluffing monkey biscuit,” she gritted out through a moan, and I laughed.

I’d been teasing her about cleaning up her language, something she obviously had plenty of time to do given gestation time and then the delay in our baby’s ability to cogitate. Even if our daughter was a little baby genius, which she was obviously likely to be, we were looking at a solid eighteen months. Still, Cassie had taken it at least a little to heart—she still cursed up a storm, but there was effort there—and it made me want her more.

It was these little hidden morsels of her that no one else saw or understood that augmented my love to the point of madness. She was so much more than most people knew, and many of her secrets were only for me. When she was selfish now, it wasn’t just for herself—it was for her, me, and the little peanut-sized baby we’d created.

I closed my eyes and breathed her in. Her spunk, her smell, her goddamn unbelievably addictive taste…all of it overwhelmed me as I licked her, alternating between fucking her pussy with my tongue and flicking at the sensitive bud above it in varying rhythms. She writhed, but I held her legs open with a clench of my fingertips on her thighs.

You’re not going anywhere, honey.

“Thatch,” she cried out urgently, but I knew she wasn’t coming yet.

This was another one of her games, one that made me smile into her pussy and lick her harder. She was close to orgasm, so close that she started to feel like my tongue wasn’t enough, like she needed my dick more than the air she needed to breathe. But still eager for at least a little control, she didn’t want to ask me for it. She wanted me to be the one who gave in, the one who couldn’t take any more, and she’d learned if she pretended she was there, I might think she was too.

It was complicated and deliberate, but it was also completely subconscious. Her mind was powerful when she knew what she wanted, so much so that she could convince her body to play the part no matter how much it might argue.

“Good try, honey,” I told her on a ragged whisper. “You come on my tongue first, and you do it right fucking now.”

The muscles in her thighs tensed, turning to sexy, sweaty rock under my fingertips as she finally gave in to my command and all the evidence of her excitement flooded my mouth in a rush. I sucked it up, lapping and drinking until I couldn’t take it anymore—until I nearly came into empty air.

Pushing her knees to her chest, I climbed up from the floor and over top of her, entering her smoothly with one sure stroke.

She cried out, and I damn near just cried.

I’d never felt anything better than being inside of her, skin on skin, all that wet, loving warmth. If I’d known how good it would be, I probably would have tried to get her pregnant earlier—like, the first night we were together.

She moved her hips to meet mine, and as much as I tried, I just couldn’t help myself. “The report is in, honey,” I told her, my voice jolting with each stroke. “Your cervix is in tip-top shape.”

“Shut. Up.”

I laughed and leaned down to touch my mouth to hers. She licked and nipped at it, and I got off on the fact that she loved the taste of herself on my lips so much.

“Come on, baby,” I taunted, trying to push her there faster, desperate for her to come because my orgasm was coming up my spine like a goddamn NASCAR driver.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh…yes!” she chanted as she finally let go. I shot my load immediately.

Her gaze followed me as I took her in—messy hair, soft, sexy eyes, and nearly bruised lips. Her tits were out and peaked and so fucking inviting, I buried my face right in the middle of them.

Fuck me, she is so fucking hot.

She laughed, and the rumble from her chest made me tingle all over.

“I love you,” I told her. She pulled my face from her tits and looked me right in the eye.

“Okay, fine. Supercock can be my cervix’s personal doctor.”

My wink rang out like a shot in the air, and her answering smile nearly knocked me on my ass. “That’s Dr. Supercock to you now. After that many years of schooling, he wants you to use the title.”

T
he stark contrast of black ink and Thatch’s tan skin glowed in the barely there moonlight. Obviously a little sliver of white showing in the dark night sky rather than the bright circle of a full moon, it illuminated our room just enough that I could make out all of the planes, ridges, and valleys of muscle on my man.