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

  Bad Boys

  After Dark

  —Dylan—

  Everything’s naughtier after dark…

  Billionaires After Dark Series

  Melissa Foster

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  BAD BOYS AFTER DARK: DYLAN

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2016 Melissa Foster

  Kindle Edition

  V1.0

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey Designs

  WORLD LITERARY PRESS

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  A Note to Readers

  If this is your first Melissa Foster book, you have many loyal, sexy, and wickedly naughty heroes and smart, sassy heroines to catch up on with my Love in Bloom big-family romance collection. The characters from each series make appearances in other series books, so you never miss an engagement, wedding, or birth. Every one of my books may be enjoyed as a stand-alone novel or as part of the larger series, so jump in any time!

  Be sure to sign up for my newsletter so you never miss a release, and to receive a free short story.

  www.melissafoster.com/newsletter

  After you finish reading Dylan and Tiffany’s story, you’ll find previews of more upcoming publications as well, including the next Bad Boys After Dark book.

  —See the complete Love in Bloom series:

  www.melissafoster.com/LIB

  —Download free Love in Bloom ebooks:

  www.melissafoster.com/LIBFree

  —Download free reader goodies including family trees, series order, and more:

  www.melissafoster.com/RG

  For Kristen Weber

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  A Note to Readers

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  About Carson

  About Mick

  About Rescued by Love

  About Whisper of Love

  More Books By Melissa

  Acknowledgments

  Meet Melissa

  Chapter One

  WITH HER PHONE pressed to her ear, Tiffany Winters ducked out of the rain and into the Kiss, an eclectic Manhattan bar, to return calls and take care of a mountain of text messages that had piled up during her dinner meeting. She listened to her client’s wife explain why she didn’t want her husband traveling too often to endorse a hotel chain Tiffany was planning on pitching to him next week. Her client had already nixed any mention of his family in the advertisements, and reducing his travel would make it an even harder sell.

  “I hear your concern, Allison,” she said as she sat on a barstool. “If you and Matt decide this isn’t the right thing for your family, we’ll turn our efforts in another direction.” As a sports agent, dealing with significant others was part of the job, a part Tiffany enjoyed and other agents rued. Sure, some wives assumed their husband’s success granted them the power to be overly demanding. Ass kissing was part of the game. Sometimes she wished she could give the meeker wives lessons in how to be tough. Teach them to have balls as big as their husbands’ and come right out and say what they meant instead of beating around the bush with bullshit hypotheticals. She reminded herself often that not every woman grew up in a testosterone-laden house with two competitive older brothers and a father who won the Heisman in college and went on to play pro sports—a house where mincing words didn’t cut the mustard.

  “You missed the wedding.”

  The deep male voice drew Tiffany’s attention from her phone call to the fine specimen of a man standing behind the bar. He looked like he’d just stepped off a Hot Guys in Suits Pinterest page. His tie hung loosely around the collar of his white dress shirt, which was open three buttons deep, revealing a smattering of dark chest hair, a rarity nowadays, when so many men manscaped every inch of their bodies. Tiffany preferred a man to look like a man, which included hair in all the right places. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing heavily corded forearms, and his jacket hung casually from two fingers over his left shoulder. Her fingers itched to send the last few buttons—and that jacket—flying to the floor. The guy’s chiseled jaw and dark eyes were movie-star classic, and his dark hair was thick enough to hang on to. She’d had a long, hard day, and he looked like he could provide a long, hard, pleasure-filled night.

  Perfect.

  Holding his gaze, she spoke into the phone as he laid his jacket across the bar, giving her the impression he wasn’t the bartender, but rather a guest who’d happened to wander back there. “Allison, I’ll see what else I can come up with and get back to you. Right. Okay, hon. Thank you.” After ending the call, she responded to the stud behind the bar. “Wedding? Who gets married at a bar?”

  “My brother, for one.” He nodded across the room to a group of men and women who were holding their glasses up in a toast.

  She zeroed in on one she recognized as her tall, dark colleague. “Mick Bad is married?” The high-powered attorney was a workaholic like her, and he’d been unattached two months earlier, when they’d worked together on a deal for one of her clients. She’d never understand couples who claimed to fall in love practically overnight. Love was a crutch for weak people who needed someone else to lean on. Except Mick Bad had never needed anyone to lean on. She wondered if his new bride was pregnant.

  “The one and only.” Hot guy’s eyes took a long, luxurious stroll down her body, lingered on her breasts, then roamed north, hovering around her mouth, before finally meeting her gaze. He flashed a wolfish grin full of sinful promises.

  “Dylan Bad at your service.”

  Pushing thoughts of her newly married colleague’s expedient nuptials aside, she focused on his very available brother. A definite player, which was fine with her. She had no time—or interest—in anything but a quick hookup, and the six-two or -three stud had already shot to the top of tonight’s fantasy list.

  “What’s your pleasure?” he asked with more than a hint of innuendo.

  You. Naked, with your head buried between my legs, to start.

  “Surprise me.” She watched him turn to prepare her drink and checked out the way his dark slacks hugged his perfect ass. It had been
a long time since she’d found a man this attractive. But Mick Bad’s brother? That spelled trouble.

  A minute later he slid two drinks across the bar. A cocky smile spread across his handsome face. “One Leg Spreader and one All Night Long.” He dragged out each seduction-laden word.

  “A little overly confident, aren’t you?” She had no qualms about taking what she wanted—in a boardroom or a bedroom—and Dylan’s confidence was a definite turn-on.

  He leaned across the bar, and the temperature around them spiked. “I was going to add a Blow Job, but I wasn’t sure how much you could handle.”

  She held his challenging gaze. “I think the question is, can you keep up?”

  “Dylan!” a guy called from across the room.

  Dylan held up a finger in the guy’s direction, his eyes never leaving Tiffany’s. He leaned in so close she could smell alcohol on his breath—and God help her, she wanted to suck the taste off his tongue.

  “Mark my words, gorgeous, you’ll be leaving here with me tonight.”

  Heat streaked down her spine. “Cocky. I like that. Tell Mick I said congratulations.” She dropped her eyes as if she weren’t hanging on the very thought of devouring him, but couldn’t resist stealing another peek at the tempting beefcake as he walked away. Okay, maybe several long glimpses, of which he caught two or three and returned with an I-can’t-wait-to-fuck-you grin that had her insides igniting.

  She answered another call and a few text messages, and a short while later, Dylan’s voice spilled like warm cognac over her shoulder.

  “You know what they say about wedding hookups?”

  She lifted her gaze as he sat on the stool beside her. “What do they say?”

  “They say they can’t happen if you don’t put your phone away.” Dylan boldly placed his hand on her thigh. Long, strong fingers pressed into her flesh, sending rivers of desire to the apex of her thighs.

  She wondered how big other parts of his anatomy were, and couldn’t help stealing a quick glance. Oh yeah, he was packing major heat. A whiff of his spicy, masculine scent brought all her best parts pulsing to life. His scent alone probably brought more women to their knees than the Pope, but coupled with the sinful promises in his dark eyes, the guy was lethal.

  “I don’t put my phone down for just anyone,” she answered, still holding his gaze. His hungry eyes dropped to her mouth, lingering there long enough to make her salivate. “Are you as good in the bedroom as you are behind the bar?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He leaned closer, placing his mouth beside her ear. “I’ll even let you hold your phone until you’re sure I’m worth it.”

  Now, that was a plan she could get on board with, except for one minor worry. “You’re my colleague’s brother. I’m not sure you’re the smartest choice for me tonight.”

  He flashed a wicked grin that she was sure opened many bedroom doors. “A gentleman never tells.”

  “You might just be the perfect man.” Her phone vibrated again. She glanced at it, noting a follow-up email from Allison, and the time. It was nearly midnight. Dylan’s hand traveled further up her thigh, his fingertips sneaking beneath her skirt. He was brazen, and she liked that in a man.

  He eyed her phone with a smirk and pressed his large hand to her cheek. His thumb moved over her lower lip and hooked behind her front teeth. Her entire body electrified as he delved deeper, brushing the tip over her tongue.

  “When I get done with you, you will have forgotten what that thing in your hand is.”

  He was smooth, practiced, and knew exactly what he was doing. Thank God. She had so little time for sex, she couldn’t afford to waste it with a guy who needed to be shown. Sliding her purse over her shoulder and still clutching her phone, she turned to step off the stool. His hand traveled even higher up her leg, a fingertip away from brushing over her sex, and she felt herself go damp. Her pulse accelerated with the urge to slide forward on her barstool and let him feel what he was doing to her, but she wasn’t ready to give him the upper hand.

  She casually moved his hand and rose to her feet.

  He spoke in a greedy voice directly into her ear. “We’re going to have to change your name.” He swung his jacket over his shoulder and guided her toward the door.

  “You’re far too hot for Winters.” He pushed the door open and lowered his mouth to her neck, grazing his teeth along the base—the absolute most sensitive spot on her entire body—and sending shivers down her spine. “From now on, you’re my Summers.”

  As her body flamed and her insides melted, her mind struggled to figure out how he knew her name and to deny what he’d just said. She was no man’s anything. She turned to tell him just that, and he backed her up against the brick wall. A cool breeze sailed over her skin as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them beside her head, trapping her between the wall and his hard body. He claimed her mouth with fierce domination. The way he ate at her mouth and his hips gyrated against hers with no care about being out in public should have had her fighting harder to regain the upper hand. But the harder she fought to reclaim her rational thoughts, the more she craved him. Every part of her tingled and burned for more. Her nipples tightened to painful peaks, her sex throbbed, and her knees weakened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d encountered someone so potently male, if ever, and she fucking loved it. Shocked at her own hungry response to his ravishment, she gave in to the unfamiliar thrills racing through her and returned his efforts with reckless abandon. But the more she gave, the softer the kisses became, until his lips were brushing lightly over hers, taunting her. He pulled back with every crane of her neck as she sought more. Still restraining her arms, he put space between their bodies. Cool air whooshed between them, causing her nipples to prickle even more painfully with the need to be touched.

  “Oh, yes,” he said with a territorial look in his eyes. “You’re my Summers, all right.”

  As blood began to flow to her brain again, the realization of her loss of control was staggering. She lifted her chin and wrenched her hands free. Holding his challenging and so-fucking-hot gaze, she grabbed hold of his loosened tie and tugged him in for another scorching kiss. When she felt his muscles relax, she spun him against the wall with a thud, grinning at the shock registering in his gorgeous eyes.

  “I’m no man’s anything. But you can be my stress relief for the next hour.” She dragged her hand down his impressively broad chest and over his taut abs, still clutching her phone, and cupped the formidable bulge in his trousers.

  “That is, if you can keep it up that long.”

  MICK HAD WARNED Dylan that beyond her gorgeous good looks and curvaceous figure, Tiffany Winters was a cutthroat negotiator who ate men for breakfast—and not at all the type of woman Dylan usually went for. He had a thing for needy, submissive women. Taking care of their every whim gave him great pleasure, and they usually returned his efforts threefold in the bedroom. Give him a night with a damsel in distress and he’d turn her into a very gratified Princess Orgasm in no time. But Tiffany had challenge written all over her, and Dylan never backed down from a challenge. Especially not from a gorgeous blonde with a sassy mouth whose lip-lock left him harder than steel. He’d felt all those lush curves arching into him, begging for more.

  He went to hail a cab. Tiffany stepped out in front of him, waving her long, slender fingers, and hailed one first. Oh yeah, this hot little number was all about control. Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

  He reached the cab door before she did, holding it open as she slid her fine ass onto the seat. Her tight black skirt inched up her thighs. Just the way I like it. Dylan took the seat beside her, leaving no space between them. Before he could tell the driver his address, she rattled it off.

  Reclaiming the thigh he’d enjoyed inside the bar, he wrapped his other arm around her and gathered her hair in his hand, holding on tight. “Did Mick tell you where I live?”

  Her green eyes filled with amusement. “Why? Do you liv
e someplace impressive? Are you neighbors with Leonardo DiCaprio? Because if you are, I have a bone to pick with him for bidding against one of my clients.”

  Sassy, sexy, and a sense of humor? Tonight was his lucky night. He realized she must live in his building. Not that he cared if they were neighbors. Hell, if tonight went well, that would make it easier to hook up on busy nights.

  “No. Because I live at the address you just gave the driver.”

  Concern slowly tightened all her beautiful features as she realized what that meant. He distracted her the best way he knew how, by pushing his hand beneath her skirt and over her hip as she processed his response. Her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed.

  “Don’t worry, Summers. I’m not a stalker. The question is: Are you?”

  As his mouth came down over hers, she breathed a little harder. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and he felt her breathing hitch as if she might break the kiss to check the message. He refused to release her, kissing her until she went soft in his arms again. As the cab slowed, she shifted her hips, allowing him to push his hand over the thin layer of lace covering her ass. His cock twitched with anticipation. Lace, soft, supple curves, and the needy moan escaping her lungs were three of Dylan’s favorite things. When she grabbed his collar with two hands, still clutching the damn phone, and took the kiss deeper, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. And when she spread her legs and angled her body, giving him access to her sweet, hot center, he moved aside her panties and buried his fingers three knuckles deep.

  She moaned again, a long, low crooning sound filling his mouth. She clung to his shirt with one hand, dropping the phone to her lap, and palmed him through his pants. This woman didn’t care that they were in a cab, and he sure as fuck didn’t either. He crooked his finger, seeking the spot that would take her over the edge, and she wiggled and shifted, guiding his efforts until a long, relieved breath sailed from her lungs into his. He drew back from their kiss, desperate to see Little Miss Control giving it up. Her lips were swollen from the force of their kisses, her breathing shallow, and the flush on her skin made him want to tear off her pretty white blouse and taste every inch of her aroused flesh.