Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1) Page 27

  Personally, I didn’t have even one fuck left to give. But Georgie cared. And I cared about what she cared about. It was a really mushy, complicated web of romance, but in the end, all that mattered was her.

  “Yes, sir,” the young girl agreed, taking the keys back and tapping away at the computer.

  We’d gone straight from the airport to the meeting, and from the meeting to dinner. Thanks to one of the best plane catnaps I’d ever had, we had just enough time to spend another night not sleeping before Georgia had to be on a plane back home in the morning.

  “Here you go,” the desk clerk offered, handing me back a solitary key. “Room 554. The elevators are down the hall behind you and on the right.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and grabbed my small bag from its spot at my feet.

  Georgia was already down the elevator hall, pacing the tile floor in front of them as she talked over the details of things she needed for tomorrow’s meeting with Dean. As imperative as the phone call seemed on the surface, I had a suspicion it was more of an excuse to avoid awkwardly standing next to me at the desk than a necessity.

  “Ready?” I asked as I came to a stop in front of her.

  Her finger shot to my lips and pushed to say ‘be quiet’.

  “It was just Mr. Brooks,” she said into the phone, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m still in the lobby.”

  I went to speak, but she pushed on my lips harder. “Nope. The meeting ran really late and we still have a couple of things to go over before we call it a night.”

  I smiled. No one here was going to be calling it a night.

  She shook her head in the negative and bit her bottom lip. My balls tightened immediately. Even they knew it was time to play.

  “Georgie girl,” I whispered mischievously. She shushed me and waved me away, pointing at the phone with wild eyes. She was just too easy.

  “Come tuck me in,” I teased, grabbing at her hips and backing her toward the elevators.

  I pushed the up button to call the car and pulled her hips into mine. Hair loose from its earlier binding, she looked wild and willing and altogether too much like sex to stop.

  “Dean, Dean,” she called, obviously trying to break into his end of steady conversation. “You know, you’ve got this covered.”

  I smiled bigger. Pulled her breasts tighter to my chest.

  “It was really just my neuroses calling. You’re plenty competent to have everything ready on your own.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I hummed, moving the hair off of her neck and sucking at her skin greedily.

  She was dying to give me one of her signature, scolding Kline!s, I could feel it in her posture and staccato-timed wording, but with Dean on the line, secrecy won out.

  “I know. I’ll be sure to give Donatella Versace my recommendation, should I ever run into her on the street.” She nodded at the phone, at something Dean said, a gesture he obviously couldn’t see, and I swooned.

  Hands down, Georgia Cummings was one of the most charmingly fascinating women I’d ever encountered. Dichotomous in nearly everything she did, I never knew which way was up or which version of her I would get. Awkward or easy, bold or shy, endlessly clever or laughably bumbling. Every time, day or night—work or play—I’d take any version I met.

  “Hang up the phone, baby,” I coaxed, pushing her gently into the open and waiting car.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said into the line. “Yes, butt-fucking early.” We both smiled like lunatics. “I’ll see you then.”

  Finally, blessedly, she cut the call just as the doors of the elevator shut out the people.

  I grabbed her hips, groping and squeezing at the top of her ass.

  “God. It’s about time,” I teased, running my tongue along the closed seam of her lips.

  “Fuck,” she breathed as her head fell back and her hair hung well past her shoulders. I gripped the ends of it and yanked her throat open even farther.

  “Ahh,” she moaned, shoving her tit right into the palm of my waiting free hand.

  “That’s it,” I cooed, circling her hard nipple with the tip of my thumb.

  “Kline,” she breathed. She could barely keep up with the rhythm of her pants.

  “I can’t wait to hear you say that again. On my face, on my cock…I’m gonna strip you down and sit you up on every fucking thing I can think of.”

  “God,” she moaned as the doors opened on our floor. I scooped her up and into my arms, glancing at the sign that would tell me which way to go to our room.

  Too fucking far from the elevator, at the end of the hall, I finally came face to face with our door. Georgia clung to me as I set her down to pull the plastic key card from my pocket. I couldn’t wait to make love to every single inch of her petite body.

  As the door clicked open and I slid our intertwined bodies inside, I knew without a doubt that was what this was.

  Just lust was gone, like had grown, and love was positioned in Georgia’s sumptuous mouth—right at the tip of my tongue.

  “Just three more questions,” Kline demanded, his voice raspy and sleep-filled.

  We’d been at this game all night. Asking random questions to one another in between bouts of kissing that always ended in more. Crazy, sexy kind of more.

  Best game ever.

  But it was half past three in the morning, and I had a six thirty-five flight to catch. A contract meeting was sending me home today, and because he’d tacked on an additional meeting tomorrow morning with one of our regular investors in the name of efficiency, today meant one day earlier than Kline. No need to make more than one trip, he’d said. Now we had to face the consequences of that decision.

  I hadn’t packed a thing and needed a shower. As badly as I wanted to stay in bed, wrapped up in him, I had to get my ass moving.

  I sat up, the sheet pooling around my waist. “You said that three hours and two orgasms ago.”

  “Two orgasms? I thought it was three…” He was lying on his belly, resting his chin on the pillow, his eyes locked on my bared breasts. “If you can’t remember the last one, I’m demanding a re-do.”

  A re-do. The bastard.

  He licked his lips and moved his gaze from my breasts, to my waist, until finally making the slow circuit to my mouth.

  Jesus. Kline flashing me smoldering glances during business meetings was dangerous enough, but this? That look. Those heated blue eyes. His sexy, bedhead hair. And that tight ass. It should be illegal.

  “Stop smoldering at me!” I smacked his shoulder. “I have to get in the shower. I have a flight to catch, remember?”

  He pounced on me, wrapped his arms around my body, and slammed my back into the bed before I could stop him. “Don’t leave.” His mouth found mine, his teeth tugging on my bottom lip.

  “Stay here with me. Let me ask you questions and kiss these lips.” He kissed me deeper. “And touch this perfect body.” His fingers slid up my sides, resting below the curve of my breasts. “And put my mouth on you.” He punctuated that statement by gliding those devious hands down my belly, until his fingers were touching me where I throbbed.

  I’d never had marathon sex. Okay, before Kline, I’d never actually had sex. But I’d never experienced this feeling before. I’d never been so attracted, so turned on, so undeniably in love with someone, where the only thing I wanted to do was spend every day for the rest of forever touching him, kissing him, fucking him.

  It was overwhelming. And amazing. And should have had me running for the hills. But when it came to Kline, I didn’t want to run, unless it was toward his opened arms.

  I trusted him. Cared for him. Loved him. I wanted him and only him. He was everything I’d always dreamed of, plus a million things I never even knew I wanted.

  “Kiss me, baby,” he whispered against my lips.

  “I am kissing you,” I retorted, my mouth still pressed against his.

  “No. Fucking kiss me,” he growled, his tongue slipping past my lips and making me moan. “I’ll never get
tired of this. I’ll never not want this. With you. Only you.”

  “I’m going to miss my flight and it’ll be all your fault,” I whimpered.

  “Fuck the flight. Fuck the meeting. Stay here and fuck my brains out.” That devilish mouth moved to my neck and then my collarbone, sucking softly while his tongue licked along the sensitive skin.

  My hands found his ass, tugging him toward me. “You don’t play fair.” My hips arched up into his, my body begging for him to connect us.

  “With you, I’ll never play fair.” He pressed against me, the tip of his cock moving through my wetness. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to keep doing this with me. For-fucking-ever.”

  “We’re gonna fuck forever?” I teased.

  His laugh vibrated my skin. “Yes. Me and you. Fucking, kissing, groping, making love, coming. All the goddamn time. Forever.”

  “I want this in writing.”

  He moved away from me, rustling inside the nightstand and finding a complimentary pen clipped to a notepad with the hotel’s logo written along the top. He tossed the pad across the room and put the pen in his mouth, removing the cap.

  “Pretty sure contracts need paper…”

  “Not this contract.” He settled between my thighs again, eyes locked on my belly. The tip of the pen touched my skin and I shivered. “This is a different kind of contract, baby.” Blue eyes peeked up at me, smirking.

  The pen moved across my skin, but I couldn’t see what he was writing, his messy hair blocking my view.

  “Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing? Are you branding me?”

  “Stop calling me sir. I’m trying to focus here and you’re making me hard.”

  “You’ve been hard for the past eight hours. What’s new?”

  “You’d think you would have tried to help me with this difficult situation. Honestly, Georgia, I’m disappointed. You really need to work a little harder at this whole girlfriend thing.”

  I fought my grin. It was stupid that I still felt giddy over hearing him say girlfriend. I had officially reverted back to high school. But I didn’t care. I loved that he made me giddy and girly and head-over-heels in love.

  “Oh, so when I did that thing where I put my mouth on your dick and then didn’t remove it until you came, that wasn’t what a good girlfriend would do? I’m sorry I did that. I’ll make a note to never do that again. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll learn from my mistakes.”

  “Now, wait a minute. Let’s not get too hasty here,” he backtracked, still focused on tattooing something on my skin. “I think you need to do that thing a few more times. Like every day, for the next five years or so, before I can really decide if I like it.”

  I grabbed his hair, pulling his head up so he looked at me. “You didn’t like it?” I asked, my eyes narrowed.

  “I can’t really remember.” He shrugged, fighting a smile. “Why don’t you do it again and then it might help me give you a proper answer?”

  “Oh.” I feigned innocent understanding. “So, I should just put my mouth on your cock again? You know, slide it in real deep until it taps the back of my throat, and then suck hard, while I run my tongue all over you. Would that help? Or should I do something else?”

  “No,” he said, swallowing hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob. “You should do those things.” He cleared his throat, his body’s answer growing hard and straining against my thigh.

  “All of those things you just said—yeah, do those.”

  My face cracked into a smile, amused by the strain in his voice and his, um, yeah. That too. I was definitely enjoying that reaction.

  “Okay, all set. Per your request, the contract is in writing.” He tossed the pen back onto the nightstand. He gripped my thighs as he kneeled on the bed between my legs.

  “Now, let’s get back to what you were saying before. I believe you said something about putting your mouth on me?” He smirked, waggling his brows playfully. “Or do you want me to just slide inside of you? Because I’m a big fan of this perfect pussy.” He ground against me.

  “The biggest fan, actually. No one loves this pussy as much as I do. Which is why no one else will ever see it, touch it, taste it. Consider me your orgasm donor for life. Any time, hour, second of any day, you need to come, I’m your guy.”

  I giggled. “Like my orgasm soul mate?”

  I was rewarded with a smile. “Exactly like that.”

  He brushed his fingers across my belly and hip bone, where the pen’s previous ministrations still had my nerve endings tingling. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “What did you write?” My eyes followed his, to the place where his hand rested on my skin. “Move your hand,” I urged. “I swear to God, if you drew a penis or—” I stopped mid-sentence, my gaze locking onto the straight and narrow lines of his masculine script.

  My heart in your hands and you in my arms, that’s all I’ll ever need.

  “I mean it,” he whispered. “I mean every word, Georgia.”

  I looked at him, really looked at him, hovering above me, his hands now resting beside my head. His heart was in his eyes—tender, loving, perfect.

  What simple words for such a profound declaration.

  Kline had just laid it all out there. He’d just told me I had him. He was mine. His heart was in my hands. And all he wanted was me. And that would be enough for him.

  “I love you,” I said, my voice choking on emotion. “I love you so much, Kline.”

  “I love you, too.” He kissed me hard, deep, and desperate. His lips, his touch, the way he made love to me, it told me everything I needed to know.

  This was real, him and me. This was it. And the best part of that revelation was that we were both certain. Neither of us was in limbo, waiting for the other to catch up or decide if this was right. We were all in, both of us, in love.

  Intense, life changing, forever a part of one another kind of love.

  I handed my boarding pass off and walked onto the plane. I was beyond exhausted, my arms damn near giving out as I lifted my carry-on up and stowed it away. Kline had switched my seat without my knowing. Yesterday, he had seen my boarding pass on the nightstand and asked if I was in coach because the flight was overbooked. When I responded that I didn’t want to take advantage of the company’s budget, he told me to never book a seat in coach again.

  I’d acquiesced with a sassy, “Yes, sir.”

  Apparently, he’d appreciated that answer because I had been generously rewarded with his talented mouth between my legs.

  The second I arrived at the airport and got through security in record time—thank God, considering I was running thirty minutes behind schedule—I was called over to the gate, where an attendant instructed that I had been upgraded to a first class window seat.

  He sure was one sneaky, adorable, demanding man when he wanted to be.

  I clicked my seatbelt into place and grabbed my phone from my purse as passengers continued to board the plane and find their seats. Even though he was probably sound asleep, I decided to send him a quick text.

  Me: Someone changed my seat. I’m currently relaxing in first class, enjoying the view from the window.

  Kline: I think you should thank whoever did it with that really awesome thing you do with your mouth.

  And I thought I had sex on the brain all the time. Pervert.

  Me: When I figure it out, I’ll keep that idea in mind.

  Kline: If I told you it was me, would you make that idea a reality?

  Me: I don’t know…I’m an in-the-moment kind of gal. I’m not very good with hypotheticals.

  Kline: It was me. I’ll fit time into my schedule tomorrow night so you can properly thank me.

  Me: Now that I’m in the moment, I’m not feeling all that into your idea…

  Kline: Did I mention there would be an exchange? You thanking me, me thanking you kind of thing.

  Me: Slot me in for tomorrow night at seven.

  Kline: Sudden change
in feelings?

  Me: You presented a very attractive offer, Mr. Brooks.

  Kline: Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Cummings.

  Me: Likewise…I miss you.

  God, I really was a goner. It had only been an hour since I’d kissed him goodbye while he was all sleepy and adorable and begging me to stay, and already, my chest ached over the idea that I wouldn’t get to see him again until tomorrow night.

  Kline: I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. I think you should quit your job. You should still be in this bed beside me and not on a goddamn flight back home.

  Me: I’ll let my boss know ASAP.

  Kline: Good idea.

  The third round of passengers started to filter down the aisle, heading through the curtains and into coach. I tapped the email icon, drafting a quick message to my “boss.”

  From: Georgia Cummings

  To: Kline Brooks

  Subject: My Boyfriend’s Requests

  Mr. Brooks,

  My boyfriend isn’t too happy I’m on a flight instead of in his hotel room fucking his brains out. I’m requesting that this doesn’t happen again. He’s very upset.

  Sincerely,

  Georgia Cummings

  Director of Marketing, TapNext

  Brooks Media

  From: Kline Brooks

  To: Georgia Cummings

  Re: My Boyfriend’s Requests

  Ms. Cummings,

  I am taking this concern very seriously. From now on, I guarantee any business trips you are scheduled to attend, you will be booked in the same room as your boyfriend. I will also make sure there is plenty of time scheduled in throughout your day to allow you to fuck his brains out. And just because I feel terrible about this, I’m requesting you leave work early tomorrow and go to his apartment (his front desk probably knows you need a spare key) so you’re there when he gets home. (I bet he’d prefer you to be naked and lying in his bed, too.)