Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1) (15 page)

“Georgie. Georgie.” A hand nudged my shoulder. “Wake up, Georgie.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”
Someone cursed under their breath.

I opened my eyes, blinking past the blurred vision. Peeling my face off leather, I sat up, finding a concerned Kline staring back at me.

“Thank God. Are you okay?” He touched my cheek.

Mmmmmmmm. That feels nice.
I had the urge to purr into his palm and beg him to scratch my belly. All of a sudden, being a cat sounded like the best idea I’d ever had.

“Meow?” he asked, all four of his eyebrows scrunching together.

“Huh?”

“Did you just say meow?”

“Meowww… Meowww…”
I tested it on my tongue. My lips felt funny. “Yeah, I think I did.” I nuzzled into his palm. “Keep petting me, Kline. I might actually start purring soon.”

A deep chuckle vibrated his chest. My head moved of its own accord, leaning forward and resting against his hard pecs. For real, Kline Brooks had pecs. Hard-as-fuck pecs. Mmm. Nipples. I wondered what his nipples tasted like.

He adjusted in his seat, his hand resting at the nape of my neck. “Georgie? We need to get you upstairs. I think you might’ve had too much Benadryl.”

Me thinks so too. Suggested dosage, schmagested mosage.

“Hahaha. Mosage.”

My body rocked like he was shaking his head.

“I think I’m high.”

He chuckled again, pec-pulsation caressing my cheek.

“Now I remember why I loved Mary Jane so much in high school.”

“I’m going to carry you out of the car, okay?”

“We’re in a car?” I sat up straight, releasing his perfect chest from my cheek’s assault. “Whose car?”

“This is my regular car, sweetheart. Frank drove us. Are you ready?”

I glanced at his crotch. “Oh, I had no idea we were already headed in that direction. I guess this date went pretty good, huh? We’re headed for naked time. That’s gotta be a good thing.” My hand stroked his thigh, savoring the feel of muscles sheathed by soft material. “I bet you’re fuck-hot naked.”

He grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling it to his lips for a soft kiss. “How about we get out of this car and head up to my apartment?”

I nodded. At least, I thought I was nodding. I decided to nod a few more times just for good measure. You could never be sure about a nod. They could be tricky little things.

“Okay, wrap your arms around my neck. I’m going to carry you upstairs.”

“Oh, yeah. Carry me, Kline. Carry me so good.”

Big arms wrapped around my body, pulling me out of the car. Once I was airborne—swaddled up in strong muscles and delicious male pheromones mixed with sexy cologne—my voice decided to make its debut. If there was ever a time for a song, it was right now, while Kline carried me past a doorman and through a lobby I’d never seen.

“Wicky, wicky, wicky, beatbox! K-K-Kline looks like sex and he’s so clean, clean!”

I’d always had a talent for freestyling.

“Wicky, wicky, wicky, beatbox! Big-dicked Brooks in da house! Can I get an Amen! Wicky, wicky, wicky, remix!”

“Georgia,” Kline whispered through a laugh. “I need to set you down for a second while I get my keys.”

My feet touched the ground and the hallway morphed into a dervish’s wheel, spinning around in a hypnotic display of plush velvet rugs and cream-colored walls. “Whoa, settle down, hallway! You’re outta control!” I reached for the wall, but he was quicker, gripping my waist and stopping my forward momentum.

“Here we go,” he instructed, maneuvering me through the door and inside his apartment. “Let’s get you settled on the couch and maybe get some non-alcoholic fluids in you.”

I threw my body onto the leather sofa, nuzzling my face into the pillows. “Oh yeah, baby. Now, this is the kind of couch I’m talking about.”

“Georgia.” Kline’s face was inches from mine, his long fingers settling below my chin.

“Hey, where’d you come from?” I asked, peeking out from my pillow fort. “I thought you were by the door. Man, you’re quick. Are you working out?”

He smiled, blue eyes working their magic on my libido.
Li-bee-dough
. What a weird word. It sounded more courtroom than sex.
“I’d like the record to show he was badgering my key witness for a libido!”
See what I mean?

“Georgia, sweetheart,” Kline summoned my gaze. And son of a hooker nut, there were those blue eyes again. Surely, they were trying to hypnotize my vagina. It was working, by the way.

Any minute, my panties would just,
poof!
, disappear into thin air.

“Have mercy,” I whispered. “That smile, plus those eyes, it’s like a sex cream sundae. I want two scoops.”

A small laugh left his lips. “How about we start with a drink first? What sounds good? I’ve got water, tea, coffee?”

“I’ll take the vodka. But on the rocks, please.”

He shook his head, amused. “Vodka wasn’t an option.”

“It wasn’t?” I tilted my head and realized things felt so much better with my head resting on the pillows.

“How about you just rest here while I get the drinks?”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted him.

“Wait!” I shrieked before he even made it a foot. I had something to tell him, and I had to tell him
now
.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, concern mixing deliciously with just a hint of a smile.

“You’re the best kisser on this side of the Mississippi. NO! The best kisser in the whole entire world!” My voice turned grave. “I’m talking, I’ve never had better
in my life
.”

Any concern disappeared as though it’d never been there.

“Yeah?” His blue eyes twinkled like actual glitter. Like he went to Michael’s, got a jar of it, and then poured it in his irises.

“Ohhh, yeah,” I agreed before reaching out and yanking him back to me with a fist in his shirt.

A chuckle rumbled his chest as I pushed mine to it tightly and slammed my lips to his without apology. They were just so soft and plump and
mmm, that groan tasted good
. I took what I wanted, exploring and plundering his mouth even though my face wouldn’t seem to fucking cooperate. I shoved him away softly, ordering a needy “Thirsty!” in someone else’s squeaky voice.

He shook his head and smiled, retreating without a word.

His footsteps moved farther away, toward the land of drinks, I was sure.

My fingers moved to my face, tapping my nose, and then my cheeks, and then my lips. Oh my, these things were bigger than I remembered. I grabbed my boobs just to see if other things had doubled in size.

Damn, no such luck.

If I was Goldilocks and this was the three bears’ apartment, this room was too fucking hot.

Relocation was needed. My feet flopped onto the floor. Heels were kicked off across the room, clanking against the wall. Once I got my sea legs in order, I tip-toed into the hallway.

Peeking into the room at the end of the hall, I found a king-size bed summoning me.

“Oh, yes. Come to mama!”

I cannonballed into the bed, fluffy comforter and pillows bouncing around me.

After a few body rolls from one side to the next, I found that it wasn’t the room that was stifling my temperate vibe; it was my clothes. Too many clothes.

How’d I get so many clothes on?

I stood at the foot of the bed while my numb fingers worked at the zipper of my dress. It took a bit for me to figure out the zipper was just for show. Someone had superglued me into it.
Geez Louis-a May Alcott, the price we women pay for beauty.

My hands tore at the front of the dress until the initial rip echoed inside the room.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

I got down to my skivvies and decided even those were not up to par for the bed. Call it a superpower, but I could sense when a bed wanted me naked. The king had spoken, and naked was his final offer.

No one could deny the glorious feeling of rolling around naked under a soft sheet. My face met the pillow, and then my nose felt it was the perfect time to sniff the delicious Kline Brooks aroma embedded in the material. God, he smelled good. Like clean laundry and man soap and
I’m going to fuck him.

Boy, that escalated quickly.

The Benadryl had become my truth serum. I wanted to sex him. I wanted to hand him a valentine that said, “Be my cherry popper,” and spread my legs as far as those babies would go. I knew valentines were only meant for a particular holiday, but this felt like an exception to the rule.

“Georgia?” Kline’s voice moved down the hallway.

“I’m in here!” I called back.

His tall frame moved through the doorway, finding me luxuriating in the bedding.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, baby.” I patted the spot beside me. “Come join me. I don’t know whose bed this is, but hells bells, it’s wonderful.”

“It’s my bed.” He chuckled, setting two glasses on the nightstand and sitting on the edge.

I sat up, holding the comforter to my chest. “This is your bed?”

He nodded, eyes moving to my bare shoulders.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I’m a fan of your bed. Big fan. The biggest fan.”

His eyes moved around the room, searching for something. His jaw dropped when whatever he was looking for came into view. “Are you naked?” he asked, swallowing hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.

“The bed made me do it.”

“My bed made you get naked?”

“He’s a real pervy bastard, but who was I to argue?” I shrugged, the comforter falling to my waist.

Kline’s spine stiffened, averting his gaze toward the floor.

I touched his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Uh-huh.” He coughed out a laugh.

“Is one of those for me?” I nodded at the table.

“Please.” He gestured toward the glasses. “Help yourself.”

“Only if you stop looking so uncomfortable.”

That caught his attention, his curious eyes meeting mine. “Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. You look really uncomfortable. I insist that you take your shoes off and sit back on the bed.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Georgia, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Of course it is, you silly, gorgeous piece of man meat!” I got to my knees, forcing his body to lie back on the bed. Straddling his hips, I stared down at him. “See what I mean? It’s so comfortable down there, isn’t it?”

“It sure is something.” His gaze raked down my completely bare body, going darker with each second that passed.

While he made himself cozy, I grabbed a glass from the nightstand and took a satisfying drink. “This vodka is delicious. Not very strong, though.”

“That’s because it’s water.”

“Hmmmph. Well, look at that.”

Kline hesitantly gripped my waist. “I think I should grab you some clothes to wear to bed.”

My mouth formed a pout. “Do you not like seeing me naked, Kline? Naked time is fun time.”

He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “
Dear fucking Lucifer.
” He cleared his throat. “Shit, Georgie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything better than you naked. And
God
, I want naked time to be fun time. I want it really fucking bad.”

“Well, then what’s the big rush? I’m starting to understand all the fuss about nudist colonies. There’s a lot to be said for being naked, Kline. I think you should try it.” I moved my hands to his belt, slipping the metal from the prongs.

“This probably isn’t a good idea.” He stopped my progress before I made my way to his zipper.

I looked up at him, my ass resting against Kline’s better half—his bigger, thicker half. The one that seemed to wholeheartedly—or
wholecockedly—
disagree with him. “I think you’re wrong. I think you think this is a really good idea.” To emphasize my point, I rolled my hips against him.

Jesus. His dick.

Wait, that sounded a little sacrilege.

Kline. His dick.

There, that was better.

“Kline,” I moaned, rubbing my clit against him. “This. Feels. So. Good.”

“Shit,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips. “We shouldn’t be doing this, but
fuck
. You’re gorgeous and naked and
wet
. So fucking wet. I can feel you through my clothes.”

“You make me crazy,” I half growled like an animal. “I want to kiss you, lick you, suck you, ride you. I want to do
everything.
Right. Now.” I leaned forward, pressing one pert nipple to his lips.

He sucked me into his mouth, his tongue flicking my nipple and urging heat to flush across my skin.

“You have the best tits, Georgia. The best fucking tits.” He moved to the other breast, kissing and sucking and licking me into a frenzy.

“God, yes. Keep doing that,” I begged.

He gripped my chin, pulling my face to his. His lips crashed against mine. We were a delicious mess of tongues and lips and hips grinding and hands groping.

“You’re too perfect,” he whispered against my skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“I want you to have all of me,” I urged. “I want you inside of me, Kline. God, I want it so bad. Christopher Columbus the fuck out of my pussy prideland!”

“What?” he asked as he stilled.

The words ran through my head enough to know I’d screwed some sort of pooch by alluding that my pooch had yet to be screwed.

“What?” I repeated back, attempting, and failing, to be the absolute picture of aloof.

His fingers held my hips still. Blue eyes stared deep into mine before shutting closed.

“Kline? What’s wrong?”

His gaze met mine again. “We can’t do this, not like this.”

“Of course, we can,” I disagreed. “I’m naked. You’re hard. This seems like the perfect time for screwing. It’s like Marvin Gaye himself put us in this moment and whispered, ‘Go ahead and let’s get it on.’”

A grin kissed his lips. “God, you’re adorable,” he said, biting back a laugh.

“No.” I pouted. “I’m sexy and naked and ready to fornicate.”

He quirked a brow. “Fornicate?”

“Penetrate?” I offered, hoping it sounded more enticing.

“Baby, I’m losing my mind over how sexy and beautiful you are, but I’m also trying to be a gentleman here. You’re a little under the influence, remember?”