Page 61 of Bourbon and Proof

I’m plucking out my suit pants and a white shirt, just as I hear the rustling of sheets and her making noises as she stretches. Then a small hum and the mumbling of words, “So tired...need water.” I pause my movements when I hear her say, “Ace, you swoony motherfucker.” I smile when I realize she’s talking to herself. She finally figured it out it was me who’s been leaving her things by her bedside. “Goddesses,” she huffs out. “He looks like thatandhe brings me coffee. Such a lucky bitch.” Quiet settles, and just as I choose a set of cufflinks, I hear a drawer closing and then a whirring vibration. With my body locked in place, in the center of my walk-in, I strain to hear what my gut already knows is going on out there.

A small hum from her lips and an audible exhale have my dick instantly responding, almost faster than it registered that she’s going to get herself off while I’m standing in the fucking closet.

How the fuck do I handle this?

I place the clothes on top of the center dresser, and then run both hands through my hair, threading my fingers behind the nape of my neck. Shaking my head, I berate myself for not rushing out of here the second I heard what she’s doing, just as another small moan comes from less than thirty feet away.Fuck.

There’s a part of me that wants to watch, to witness how she likes to get herself off, and get a glimpse of how she looks spread out on my bed, making a mess of my sheets. But there would be no coming back from it—the second I step into that room, all bets are off, the floodgates open. It isn’t what we’d agreed on. None of this: kissing her, holding her, wanting her. It feels like a tortured marriage punctuated by my lack of willpower and her insistent habit of settling under every inch of my skin.

The sound of the vibrator jumps higher, and with it, a small wet spot appears right where my dick presses into my navy mesh shorts. I move my hips slightly, and the friction of the materialjust makes it worse. I want to join her so badly. My body is wrung tight, and my dick is the angriest it’s been in a long time. I haven’t fucked my hand since she moved in. Hell, now that I think about it, the last time I touched myself was the night of my brother’s wedding. I jerked off into a pair of those pretty panties, just like the ones she was wearing now.

“Just like that,” she says in a breathy tone, and I damn near lose it. Breathing deeply through my nose, I try to calm my pulse, anchoring my hands along the dresser in the center of the room. My neck is heated, drawing goosebumps along my arms as a tingle makes its way down my back. My dick twitches as I think about the things she could be doing. Does she fuck her fingers as her vibrator sucks and teases her clit the same way my mouth would? Or does her hand rove over her pretty tits and pluck each nipple? My mouth waters, wondering how she’d bow her body if I were sucking on them.Dammit. I know if I touch myself and relieve any of this, I’mnotgoing to be quiet about it. I’m getting lost in just her sounds and flashing back to the way she so pliably wrapped herself around me when I kissed her. The way her lips taste, the lulling rhythm of her tongue chasing mine, the smell of her skin when I pull her closer and press up against her curves.

The rasp of her breathing kicks up, just as a small gasp escapes her. This is wrong on a multitude of levels, but even knowing that isn’t going to stop me from listening now.Not a fucking chance.

“Please,” she begs. I want her to say that to me. Call out my name, whisper “Daddy” and look up at me the same way she did last night. I can feel the telltale build of an orgasm at the base of my spine, and if I can’t walk it back by thinking about something else, anything else, I’m going to come in my pants without even stroking myself. She moans, sounding so desperate for relief, that I abandon the plan to be distracted and instead think of all the filthy things I could do to her—bite, spank, fuck, lick, all ofit on repeat—as if it’s a fantasy reel playing in my mind. And when she finally comes with a soft cry, I’m fucked. Biting on my forearm, I fall over the edge. My hips jolt as my dick pulses, and I come so hard that I have to grab my cock and work out the last of it. With my chest heaving, it takes me a few, or maybe many minutes, to gain my bearings.

She laughs from the bed, out of breath, while I stand in cum-soaked shorts and barely an ounce of satisfaction. If anything, I’m more turned on now, my dick still semi-hard, but if there’s ever going to be a moment to turn the tables and push back all of the one-liners and comments she’s made to me over the years, it’s now. With a steadying breath and a nod that this is a good idea, I walk into the bedroom and clear my throat.

“Finished?” I say, an eyebrow quirked, standing at the foot of the bed. She jolts up with a yelp, leaning back on her elbows, her face flushed and hair wild. Pieces are stuck to her neck as the tank she’s wearing clings to her tits.

As we stare at each other, she lets out a nervous laugh, but it’s immediately eclipsed by a smirk as her eyes dart to my tented shorts. “I should ask you the same.” She tilts her head to the side and asks, “Did you listen to what I was doing, Daddy?”

I swallow and realize that I’m being outmaneuvered. “Fuck,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

She sits up higher, the sheet falling lower around her thighs and barely covering her pussy. I didn’t think any part of this through. “Did you like what you heard?”

“If I answer that question, sugar...” I shake my head. If I answer, if I don’t get my ass out of here, I’ll never leave.

A loud knock sounds on the bedroom door. “Atticus, I’m all for morning nookie, but I have business I need to discuss with you that will hopefully change my breakfast status. I can’t keep eating at Hooch’s. I already had to move a notch on my belt buckle.”

I shout back, “Yeah, alright.” Hadley stands up, pussy on full display. Her arm grazes mine as she waltzes right past me and into the bathroom. The knowing and devious smile playing on her lips makes my already spent dick twitch for more.

He knocks loudly again, just as I turn to see her sweet curvy ass pass the threshold, and the door closes behind her.

Jesus Christ.I wipe my hand across my mouth and blow out a breath. Tucking my now rock-hard dick up into the waistband of my cum-stained pants, I swing the door open. “You have the worst timing, you know that, right?”

Griz’s mustache tics up on the right before he says, “Consider it payback. You know how many times you and your brothers interrupted me from gettin’ some?” He glances down at my pants, chuckling. “Happens to the best of us, son.”

“Fuck you,” I say on a laugh.

“Nah, you have a wife now. Might want to consider doing that with her.” He starts down the stairs, calling out over his shoulder. “When you’re decent, you can look over the papers for Foxx Bourbon’s shares and how I expect my retirement package allocated. Oh, and I’d like an egg-in-a-hole and some of that turkey sausage.”

Chapter 26

Hadley

May: Playing a two-finger DJ session with a vibrator assist while my husband unknowingly listens. Derby dress pickup day!

The magnolia trees lining Main in downtown Fiasco add a softness to the brick buildings and cracked sidewalks. It’s the same walk I take after a good night and a great sleep. My townhouse isn’t far from here, but I haven’t been living in it. Normally, I would go for a walk just to have some human interaction. It’s the double-sided perk to living on my own. It always feels good to smile at the shop owners on my way to grab breakfast at Hooch’s. But my mornings are different now—not perfect, by any means, but I like seeing Griz while I sip on coffee and catch my husband stealing glances at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

I smile to myself.My husband.

The sign lodged in the front window of Loni’s Boutique has me screeching to a stop and catches me off guard. I’ve been coming to this shop for my Derby Day dresses for my entire life. And when Loni finally took the place over from her mother, she brought in new designer brands. Some more affordable than others, but always trendy enough that Fiasco could be well outfitted when we wanted to be.

“Loni,” I call out when I push open the hefty oak door. “Please tell me that sign isn’t serious.”

She pops her head from around the corner and gives me a small, reserved smile. “Hadley.” Like she’s readying herself to tell me what I absolutely don’t want to hear, she nods sadly. “I think it’s time for me to read the writing on the wall. It’s been a rough year. You know that.”

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