Billionaire Cashback System: I Can't Go Broke!-Chapter 43: Dirty Desire ***

Sophie kissed him like the bar, the noise, the whole damn night didn’t exist anymore.

It wasn’t tentative or sweet. It was hungry—mouth open, tongue sliding against his, her hands fisting in the front of his jacket like she needed something solid to hold onto.

Ryan’s back hit the wall of the narrow corridor with a soft thud, and for half a second he forgot they were twenty feet from the entire team, from a bar full of people.

"Sophie—" he started, but she cut him off with another kiss, deeper, biting his bottom lip just hard enough to make heat shoot straight down his spine.

"Shut up," she whispered against his mouth, smiling. "I can’t hold back anymore."

Her body pressed into his—soft tits against his chest, hips rolling once like she couldn’t help it. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The corridor was dim, the bass from the main room a low thump through the walls, but it felt like they were the only two people left in the city.

Ryan’s hands found her waist, slid down to grip her ass through her jeans, pulling her tighter against him. He was already hard, cock straining against his zipper, and she felt it.

She rocked against him again, deliberate this time, and let out a tiny, needy sound that went right to his head.

"Bathroom," she breathed. "Now. Before I lose my mind."

Ryan didn’t argue.

He grabbed her hand and they moved—fast without running, because running looked guilty. The corridor ended at two doors: one for the women’s, one for the men’s.

Sophie didn’t even glance at the signs. She pushed open the single-occupancy unisex door at the very end—the one with the out-of-order sign half-taped over the lock like somebody had given up on fixing it—and yanked him inside.

The lock clicked behind them, it didn’t click loud enough. Not secure enough. But neither of them cared.

The bathroom was small, cramped, smelled like bleach and cheap air freshener fighting a losing battle. One sink, one mirror fogged at the edges, one toilet with a broken seat.

Fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting everything in harsh white. It should’ve killed the mood. It didn’t.

Sophie spun on him the second the door shut, backing him against the wall next to the sink. Her hands were already working his belt, fingers quick and sure.

"You seem stressed," she said, voice low, eyes dark. "You have things on your mind"

Ryan laughed once, rough. "I don’t."

"You lie better when you’re not lying to me." She got his belt open, shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip. Sophie wrapped her hand around him and stroked once, slow and firm, thumb swiping over the head. "I want it, Ryan. Right here."

She dropped to her knees on the dirty tile without hesitation.

No teasing this time. No slow licks or playful eye contact. She took him straight into her mouth — hot, wet, all the way to the back of her throat in one smooth glide.

Ryan’s head thunked back against the wall, a low groan ripping out of him before he could stop it.

"Fuck, Sophie—"

She hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight through his balls. Her hands braced on his thighs, nails digging in just enough to sting, and she started moving—head bobbing fast, lips stretched tight, tongue working the underside like she was trying to make him lose it in under a minute.

Wet, filthy sounds filled the tiny room: the slick glide of her mouth, the soft gags when she took him too deep, the way she sucked hard on the upstroke.

Spit trailed down her chin, dripped onto her shirt, but she didn’t care. She looked up at him once, eyes watering, mascara already smudging, and the sight of her like that — on her knees in a bar bathroom, sucking him like she’d die if she stopped — nearly ended him right there.

Ryan threaded his fingers through her hair, just holding on. "You’re gonna get us caught if you keep making those sounds."

She pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast with one hand while she caught her breath.

"Then shut me up yourself." And she dove back down, taking him even deeper, throat relaxing around him until her nose pressed against his stomach.

He fucked her mouth like that for a minute — short, controlled thrusts while she moaned around him — until the need to be inside her became unbearable.

"Up," he growled, pulling her off him.

She stood, lips shiny and swollen, and he spun her around, bending her over the sink.

The mirror showed everything: her flushed cheeks, her eyes wide and glassy, tits spilling out of the low neckline of her top as he yanked it down.

He shoved her jeans and panties down to mid-thigh in one rough motion, kicked her legs as wide as the denim would allow, and lined up.

They didn’t care about condoms anymore. They’d had that conversation days ago and thrown caution out the window. He pushed in — slow for half a second so she could feel it, then buried himself to the hilt in one hard thrust.

Sophie’s mouth fell open on a silent cry. Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

"Oh my God, Ryan—"

He didn’t give her time to adjust.

He started fucking her hard — deep, punishing strokes that made her ass ripple every time his hips slapped against it.

The mirror bounced with every thrust, showing him exactly how her tits swayed, how her face twisted in pleasure. One hand stayed on her hip, the other slid up her back and fisted in her hair, pulling just enough to arch her spine.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted, pounding into her. "So wet. You’ve been soaked since a while?"

"Yes—fuck—yes," she gasped, pushing back to meet him. "Harder. Please, boss—harder."

He gave it to her. The bathroom filled with the obscene slap of skin on skin, the wet squelch of her pussy taking every inch, her broken little moans that she tried – and failed – to keep quiet.