Page 91 of Whiskey Shivers

“Get your cock out,” I ordered boldly. “I want to ride it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with an easy smile, delving his hands between us to work his belt and his jeans open at the front and to shove them out of our way.

I wasn’t wearing any panties, and my pajamas really had wound up being whatever one of his shirts I pulled on. He liked it, he swore, and they were so soft and comfortable and smelled like him even fresh out of the wash that I just continued doing it.

“Here, baby.” He pressed a condom into my hand, and I smiled and tore it open, stroking his cock with my hand and backing off of him enough to roll it on adeptly. He moaned and gasped slightly and panted with effort not to come too quickly and I know it should be annoying that he sometimes couldn’t last and sometimes itwasbut for the most part? I secretly loved the fact that I affected him just so much.

Still, I wanted him in me. I needed to feel his hard, thick length filling me out and pressing against my walls.

I knelt up and pressed his cock to my opening, carefully dropping myself over the top of him to take him in.

I loved that we were like this together, here in my space under the warm glow of the little fairy lights, witnessed by the spines of my books standing sentinel and watching. Watching as I pressed hands to his chest, as his cock disappeared inside of me, as he filled me up and filled me out and I forgot to breathe for how exquisite the feeling.

“Oh, shit!” he whispered, and I struck a rhythm of grinding, his cock swishing inside me, touching that place that felt so close to the surface and yet so very deep at the same time. The pleasure radiating, throbbing almost, and certainly building between us.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he growled, and I tightened around his cock, squeezing down on purpose as much to heighten his feel good as mine. I loved it when he talked like that. Loved it when he told me how good I was, how good I felt and how much I pleased him. I thrived on that type of dirty talk and wanted more and so I worked at pleasing him more right along with myself.

“Shit, yeah,” he breathed, and I begged him for that last little nudge that I knew would have me coming apart only to remake me whole.

“Touch my clit,” I pleaded. “Please, touch my clit and help me come.”

“Mmm,” he savored the request, licking the pad of his thumb and delving it between us; he touched my clit and it was as though electricity crackled through me, sending shockwaves through my entire system and kicking me into a frenzied movement that was going to send me over the very edge of existence and into the warm black abyss of carelessness that I so desperately wanted right now.

The thing that was different about making love to, or fucking Hex, is that I felt with every fiber of my being that he wholeheartedly took that journeywithme.

I bit my bottom lip and looked down at him, the way he looked up at me damn near leaving me almost completely undone with just that glitter of desire and madness in his eyes. The one that screamed out wordlessly just how completely crazy in love with me that he was and honestly,same… so crazy, madly, deeply, truly in love with him was I that were anything to happen to him I swear I would never recover and so this ploy of mine was honestly two-fold.

Would it make good on his dream? Yes. Would it also bring him part way out of the dark and keep him safe? Also yes, and that was my ultimate goal. Far was I from a fucking goody two-shoes, but I desperately loved him and wanted a long and natural life with him and I was desperate to make that happen. To kiss him, to hold him, to ride him like this as often as possible.

Hell, I wanted to be so old and break a hip fucking him like this in our nineties – and I would do anything, anything at all to make that our reality. Manifest it and make it our destiny absolute.

“God, I love you,” he ground out, and I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t hold out if I wanted to. I came, so hard, so completely, and so absolutely that I didn’t need a piece of paper, a band of metal, or anything else to tell me so. I knew completely, that we were wed. Our souls two halves of the same whole and welded together so tight it was a thing that even time couldn’t erode and take.

“I love you, too,” I panted when we came back to ourselves and each other after the light bursts and fireworks had cleared from our eyes and our sex-frazzled nerves.

He had his arms around me, holding me tight, and sealed it all with a kiss to my forehead and made my dreams a reality once more.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

Hex…

“Can you do it?” I asked and stared hard across the table at Bennie who I could already see was running the calculations in his head. He was good with numbers. Was sort of low-key obsessed with them, which was only one of the reasons he ran our books.

“I can do it,” he said. “I’d fuckin’ fellate it if it’d get me out of working the fuckin’ dead-end corporate hellscape I’m stuck in right now.”

“So let me get this straight, because I honestly don’t know if I heard you right – I mean, this shit seems like it’s too good to be fucking true. You want us to help you run an illegal still out there in the swamp somewhere to get your daddy’s recipes and shit right so that when your ol’ lady lands millions from her settlement or whatever—”

“Which she will,” I said, looking Chainsaw in the eye dead to rights.

“Oh, yeah she will – ain’t none of that in doubt – but you mean to tell me you give dick so good she wants to hand you a shit ton of that money to start an honest-to-God legit fuckin’ distillery?”

The guys around the table were trying to suppress their laughter about my giving Cor good dick – but in fairness, it was probably funnier than it was to ‘em since we’d all been smokin’ weed together – plus, there was absolutely no denying that I tried my absolute damnedest to give it to her so good she couldn’t think about anyone else without comparing me to them and having me come out on top.

La Croix smirked and leaned forward. “Why are any of y’all lookin’ this gift horse in the mouth?” he asked. “We all wanted to go legit, and somehow this whiskey-loving bastard has landed us the golden ticket.”

“Doesn’t mean it might not be without complications,” Saint said and heaved a big breath.

Mardi Gras was almost upon us, and he had a fuckin’ point. The Bayou Brethren hadn’t done shit but I didn’t think that wasn’t because they weren’t interested in fuckin’ with us. I think they were biding their time until the festivities started and the cops were too fuckin’ tied up with crowd control to look at what the man was doin’ behind the curtain.

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