Tapping Her: A Billionaire Bad Boys Novella (Book 1.5) (Bad Boy Billionaires)

by Max Monroe

  We’ve found something special together, and to be honest, it doesn’t even have that much to do with books. Doing this together has helped us through some pretty awful times, made every day exciting, and turned it into something that we want to keep on doing, for as long as we can keep on doing it.

  THANK YOU, Lisa, for being your amazing, hilarious, and eagle-eyed self. We couldn’t have finished this book without you. Well, we finished it, but we would have had to publish the pig slop that is any first draft. And really, we couldn’t have published the first book without you, and if that was the case, Tapping Her would still be a figment of our imaginations. Good thing you’re so awesome and flexible. ;)

  THANK YOU, Kristin, for helping us put out as clean a product as possible. Your spit really makes us shine. (Disclaimer: When we say spit, we mean Kristin’s talented proofing eyes. Don’t worry, she’s never spit on us or at us or anywhere near us. No spitting. Just perfect proofing.)

  THANK YOU, Murphy, for being superhuman and multi-tasking while growing, birthing, and raising a super-adorable-human. You’re the best.

  THANK YOU, Amy, for pretending to laugh at our jokes even when they probably aren’t funny. We’re just starting out on this journey with you, but we’ve got all kinds of feelings telling us it’s going to be incredible. That could be indigestion from the donuts, but we’re going with “feelings.”

  THANK YOU, JoAnna & Sandra, for being superior Counselor Feathers. You ladies amaze us on a daily basis, and you are the reason Camp Love Yourself is the coolest place to be. Seriously, you do a better job of running it than we do.

  THANK YOU, Sommer, for recreating the perfect piece of Honeymoon Heaven in a cover. When we look at it, we can feel our characters. They’ve only touched us inappropriately once or twice.

  THANK YOU to every blogger who has read, reviewed, posted, shared, and supported us. Your enthusiasm, support, and hard work does not go unnoticed. We wish we could send you your very own Kline as thanks. We can’t. And even if we could, we don’t think he’d go willingly, and we’re not really comfortable walking that fine a line with human trafficking.

  THANK YOU, to our families. They support us, motivate us, and most importantly, tolerate us. Sometimes we’re not the easiest people to live with, especially when there is a deadline looming. We honestly don’t know what we’d do without you guys.

  Hey. Cool it with the ego, cocksuckers. You guys can be assholes too. It’s not just us.

  THANK YOU, to our favorite ladies in the infamous Camp Love Yourself Bora Bora Thread. You know who you are. You are crazy, hilarious, and so fucking cool. #YouveThatchedThat #CLYScoutsHonor

  And last but not least, THANK YOU, to everyone who participated in our Tapping You giveaway. We loved reading your awkward and awesome stories, and we’ll be laughing about some of them for probably the rest of time. But don’t worry, we’re totally laughing with you.

  As always, all our love.

  Thank you so much to everyone who submitted a story, voted, shared, commented, liked, and bought this book. We hope you loved our little addition to Kline and Georgia and have your seatbelt on in preparation for Cassie and Thatch in Banking the Billionaire.

  But our characters needed some help for this bonus material, so we enlisted you guys and your real life love stories.

  These stories based on the entries by Christin and Melissa bear little to no resemblance to the original stories, so don’t blame them for what you’re about to read.

  We hope you’ll all be forever lucky in love.

  XO,

  Max Monroe

  “You’ve been to this place before?” I asked Cassie as we stepped inside Zero Dark Flirty. This was one of the most random choices of bars in Manhattan I’d ever been forced into entertaining, but I didn’t ask probing or detailed questions. Those kinds of questions led to answers, and answers usually led to some form of physical pain. Suddenly fearful of a surprise attack, I realized I could barely see Cassie through the darkness and was hoping my eyes would adjust quickly.

  “Oh yeah, totally.”

  “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yeah, totally,” she repeated through a laugh.

  I smiled and shook my head. “Just wait until Georgia and Kline get here. You’ll never hear the end of it if he can’t see his menu.”

  “Fuck Big-dick and his old man eyes, Thatcher.”

  I bit my lip to stop myself from telling her how dark it really was in here. I wasn’t big on many things, but I was big on sexual restitution for whatever suffering I’d experienced during the day, and trust me, the way to get it from Cassie was not by complaining.

  “Hey!” she shouted and pointed toward an even darker corner of the bar. “That’s my friend Christin!”

  How the fuck she could tell, I had no clue. All I could see were the vague shadows of a couple canoodling. Or fucking. Or fighting. Really, they could have been doing absolutely anything.

  I’d have to take her at her word. “Should we go say hi?”

  “Yeah. She’s had a really bad string of luck with men, so we’ll bail her out if we need to.”

  As we got closer, so did Christin and her date, and I had a feeling we wouldn’t be needing to bail Christin out of anything.

  “Christin! Hey!” Cassie greeted as we stopped in front of their table. Christin’s head whipped toward us and the whites of her eyes brightened the dark room just slightly.

  “Oh my God! Cassie Phillips! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

  “I know!”

  They hugged and gabbed like girls tend to do until Christin’s eyes finally found my chest, and then moved up and up until they locked on my face.

  “Holy hell. Who is this monster of a man?”

  I reached out a hand with a smile as she tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m Thatch.”

  “Christin.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too!” She turned to the table and reached for her date, glancing back to me in the process. “This is my date—oh shit!”

  Her martini glass bounced and shattered and the cool liquid spilled everywhere in a rush, coating her date’s stomach and pants and making him jump from his seat.

  “Shite!” he shouted in a deep Scottish brogue, and we all lunged toward the table to help him.

  He laughed, though, and immediately, I was relieved to know I wasn’t going to have to assault some fucking random dude I’d just met for getting out of line over an honest accident.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a dick, yeah?”

  We all started to laugh, and then I could have sworn I heard the mental screech.

  “Wait…what?” I asked at the same time Cassie managed a, “Huh?”

  Christin’s response was rightfully more dramatic. “What the fuck?”

  “What?” he asked, and I shuddered at the flames in Christin’s eyes.

  “Oh shit,” Cassie muttered, and I agreed with a nod. It was about to go down.

  “It seems we’ve had a communication breakdown,” I attempted to mediate.

  “Fuck yeah, we have,” Christin shouted, and it started to become clear why she and Cassie were friends.

  I pulled her back and settled her next to Cassie when her body made threats of physical violence. “I think what Christin’s trying to say—”

  “I need the D to get down!”

  “Is that she had a fantastic time with you—”

  “My pussy needs a pirate!”

  “But it’s not really gonna work out.”

  I winced, but pulled the women away before things got even more awkward.

  We bellied up the bar and Cassie tried to comfort a distraught Christin. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned the evening.

  “This is why you always do a dick grab early on,” Cassie advised sagely, and I shook my head with a laugh.

  “Like, how early on?” Christin asked.

  “Do not listen to Cassie,” I cut in.
>
  “Excuse me!” Cassie yelled. “She’ll fucking listen to me.” She turned to Christin and smiled. “Thatcher isn’t a woman—”

  “I’ll say,” Christin interjected.

  “So he’s never been in this situation.”

  I laughed. “Have you been in this situation? I think not.”

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed dramatically, and I put a hand over my crotch protectively. She smirked and replied, “No. Not exactly. But I have a vagina and I can empathize.”

  I moved my hand when it looked like Cassie’s aggression had cooled and offered up a question. “So what would you do? To make her feel better now?” I looked to Christin and raised my eyebrows. “You want to feel better now, right?”

  I thought she would answer, but her eyes left mine and didn’t return. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at until it happened. One minute I was standing there innocently, and the next I was being fondled.

  “What the fuck?” I shouted with a laugh as Christin’s hand closed around my cock and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t answer, but instead closed her eyes and breathed deep for a full two seconds.

  My panicked eyes shot to Cassie, but she just laughed.

  “There,” Christin said as she released my confused cock. “I feel better now.”

  Kline and Georgia arrived right then.

  “Hey, guys!” Georgia waved sweetly while Kline stepped up beside her.

  Still in shock, I did the only thing I could. Introduced my fondler. “This is Christin.”

  Kline smiled and stuck out his hand, but the dick grabbing fiend wasn’t done. Right past his hand she reached straight to his pants and grabbed his Big-dicked Brooks without shame.

  “Oh, holy shit!” Kline shrieked, his voice taking on a pitch way higher than his normal.

  “What the fuck?” Georgia yelled, just as Cassie pulled a smiling Christin back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice completely unapologetic. “But you just completely saved my night.”

  Cassie laughed and then verbalized, “Yeah,” as she wrapped her arm around Christin’s shoulders and turned her away from the bar. “I’d say it’s time for a girls’ pow-wow. C’mon, Georgia.”

  Georgia glanced at Kline, then at me, and then shrugged, before following the girls toward the bathroom.

  “Feel better?” I asked Christin once we were inside the bathroom.

  She nodded as her lips crested into an amused grin.

  “Well, I don’t feel better,” Georgia interjected with an irritated scowl. “I gotta say, Christin, I’m not too thrilled about your grabby hands touching my husband’s dick.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t cool, Christin,” I partially agreed, “but I get it.”

  “Wait. What do you mean you get it?” Georgia asked in outrage.

  “Well, Christin here was on a date with someone she thought was a handsome Scottish dude. But her date ended up being a chick, no dick.”

  “What?” Georgia exclaimed and her eyes damn near bugged out of her head.

  “Yeah,” Chrisin chimed in. “Talk about a shitty fucking night.”

  “Jesus, that’s awful,” Georgia said and her irritation dissipated in a matter of seconds as she pulled Christin in for a tight hug. “I take back what I said. If you need to grab Kline’s dick again, please feel free.”

  Mother Brooks’, ladies and gentleman, the patron saint of dicks.

  “Honestly, I think the two dick grabs really helped me find my happy place,” Christin said with a giggle. “My faith in humanity is restored, and both dicks gave me hope that the right man is out there for me—and packing a pipe.”

  “No one tell Thatch you had that kind of revelation from touching his cock. He’ll think it needs a fucking cape and a tattooed ‘S’ on his shaft.”

  Both Christin and Georgia laughed.

  “What do you want to do tonight, honey?” I asked. “No way we’re letting you go home to eat Ben & Jerry’s and watch porn.”

  “Yeah, that’s strictly for Tuesdays,” Georgia teased.

  “I want to drink all of the alcohol in New York,” Christin announced as she freshened up her lip gloss.

  “What do you think, Wheorgie? Should we leave the men for the night?”

  Georgia nodded. “Yeah, let’s fucking do it. No way we’re letting our girl drink by herself.”

  Fifteen minutes and two promises of blow jobs later, Georgia, Christin, and I were headed to Barcelona Bar. The second we arrived, I ordered three Harry Potter shots and convinced the house band to play Boys by Britney Spears. We downed the shots and hopped on stage, dancing and singing our asses off.

  Homegirl was a bit of a freak on the floor, dropping it real low and bringing it back with a hypnotic shake of her hips. She was getting looks from all sides of the room, but the drummer behind her seemed to be showing the most interest. He was hot by all accounts—defined arms, chiseled jawline and a pair of sexy-as-hell green eyes that would’ve had me licking my lips and fluffing my boobs back in the day.

  Yeah, he was all man, and it was safe to say, Christin’s night was about to take a huge change for the better.

  I glanced at Georgia and nodded toward the drummer’s eyes. Eyes that were locked on our friend’s ass-ets.

  Georgia grinned and danced with Christin while simultaneously leading her closer and closer to the drummer. The second the backs of her thighs hit the side of the drummer’s legs, Georgia went in for the kill, bumping Christin with her hips and forcing her to fall into his lap. He barely missed a beat, adjusting her between his thighs and drumming around her body.

  She glanced up into his hypnotizing green eyes and he smirked, offering a sexy wink in her direction.

  Christin stayed like that—perched right between the drummer’s thighs—while Georgia and I were content to watch from the bar. Between sets he’d whisper into her ear and she’d reciprocate with a flirty giggle and grin. By the last few songs of the night, his strong hands were wrapped around hers as he taught her how to bang it out on the drums.

  I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the only banging before the night was through.

  And that feeling was made truth when they announced last call and Christin met us at the bar as we gathered our purses and called a cab.

  “So, I’m going to go home with Channing,” she whispered.

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “That drummer’s name is Channing?”

  Christin nodded and a wicked smile curved her pretty lips upward.

  Georgia burst into laughter.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered.

  Christin’s expression changed to confused.

  “You’ll have to excuse Cassie, but she has a thing for names, and well, Channing is like her name if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  Christin giggled. “It’s a hot name.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “You get to go bang the hot drummer named Channing and I have to head home to deal with the Jolly Green Giant.”

  “Who also happens to be named Thatch and has a dick the size of my forearm,” Christin added.

  I thought it over for a few seconds.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just re-name his dick Channing and I’ll be set for the night.”

  Georgia gestured for the door. “Come on, crazy. Our cab’s here.”

  As we hugged Christin goodbye, Channing stepped up to our group and wrapped his hand around her waist. “You ladies our bloody fantastic dancers,” he said in a sexy British accent.

  “Oh for the love of porn GIFs!” I shouted and held both hands out in the air. “Drummer? Channing? British?”

  A confused yet amused grin spread across his full lips.

  Georgia laughed and pushed me toward the door before I could say anything else. “Have fun tonight!” she called over her shoulder.

  I glanced back to find Channing leaning against the bar with his arms locked around Christin, while his lips gave her one insanely hot kiss.

  Yeah, ou
r work here was done.

  Christin and Channing.

  Lucky bitch.

  Cynthia’s eyes met mine across the common area as John sang to Melissa, and they weren’t the least bit amused.

  “Baby, who wants to love me sexy, uh?” John sang from his knees, grabbing at Melissa’s hips and forcing her to dance along to the imaginary music.

  I wanted to smile because John might have been clown, but it still took a certain amount of both balls and interest to shamelessly serenade a woman in front of a crowd. You had to be willing to subject yourself to whatever humiliation came your way at whatever price it came.

  But I could see the wheels spinning in Cynthia’s mind with every word John sang. And her thoughts weren’t focused on the lyrics. Instead, they were fueled by Human Resource’s policies and procedures regarding conduct in the workplace.

  “Baby, are you ready to lick me sexy uh uh.”

  This is all your fault, Kline Brooks, I could practically hear her brain shouting at me.

  “Take off your shoes and suck me sexy.”

  This is the kind of thing that’s going to get us sued, Kline Brooks.

  “Baby, we’re naked and we’re humpin’ sexy.”

  Yikes. She’s probably going to blow her lid if I don’t stop this soon.

  Melissa smiled and giggled the smile of a woman who was trying not to be amused. Honestly, it reminded me of Georgia when she tried to convince me she was mad at me.

  No doubt in my mind, Melissa was head over heels and by the increased enthusiasm on John’s part, I wasn’t the only who noticed.

  I had to give it to John, he’d been pursuing her relentlessly for months, trying to get her to cave with sweet notes and surprise lunches in the office fridge. He always went the extra mile, and while I appreciated it, Cynthia didn’t like what it meant for the office.