Page 90 of Bourbon and Proof

I flip us over and tease my cock along her slit. “I could see why you’d call me that, but you can do better.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and barks out a laugh.

Sliding into her all the way, I make her whimper and writhe. The sounds of her pleasure fuel me. As much fun as it is to deny her, I get off on hearing her come loudly against me. I pull myself back, inching out of her slowly. Tapping the head of my cock along her clit, I say softly, “Tell me what I want to hear, sugar.”

I glance at the gold band that’s proudly displayed on her hand. With her breath labored, she smiles up at me and says, “Fuck me like you mean it, husband.”

I barely let her finish the words as I thrust into her hard and deep, both of us moaning together. And I do exactly as my wifedemands.

Chapter 36

Hadley

June: I went to a sex club.

That’s it.

Full stop.

I went to a sex club!

A fantasy is a dangerous thing. It’s meant to live inside your mind as a way to play out exactly as you want. Sometimes I’d fantasize about mundane things, like racing my horse or my car so fast that the only thing I could feel was the wind in my hair and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. There wouldn’t be the worry of a bend in the road or an end to a path, just a wide-open space to feel alive. And then other times, like right now, I’d fantasize about something as simple as a stroll. Holding hands withmy husband. And I’m so blissed out and happy that my face hurts from smiling.

“You alright?” he asks, nudging my hip as we walk.

I exaggeratedly sigh. “More than alright. I’m happily married. The guy is intense and sexy. My body is still recovering from”—I point up and down the front of him—“allof him.”

He barks out a laugh and pulls my held hand to his lips.

“Plus, he makes me feel—” I stop short when I catch the steampunk-style sign in the window with bold letters and the perfect idea of what I want to do.Hideaway Ink.

Turning to face him, I give him a mischievous smile, barely containing my excitement. “I think I need a tattoo.”

He kisses my forehead and says, “Then let’s get you a tattoo.”

Easygoing, do-whatever-I-want Ace is not who I expected, but I’m more than happy to accept this version of him in the daylight.

The bell on the door is a riff of “Go Your Own Way” and, instantly, I think of Laney; she would love this place. The shop is clean and pretty, a bohemian vibe of bright colors mixed with masculine and dark lines. A gorgeous, tattooed woman with an easy smile and flawless makeup turns on her rolling stool when we walk in. She pauses the tattoo she’s doing on an oversized man in biker leathers and says, “Hello, gorgeous,” and then does a double take at my husband. Plopping the tattoo gun down, she stands, taking off her gloves as she walks over. “My sister-in-law mentioned you two might come on through.” She doesn’t stop until I’m wrapped in a hug. “I’m Giselle, but please call me G. Welcome to Hideaway Ink.”

“G, how are you?” Ace asks.

She gives him an air-kiss on his cheek and says, “Fucking magical. But apparently”—she smiles, eyeing me—“you’re better! You went ahead and fell in love with one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen.”

I turn to Ace, smirking. “I love her.”

“I feel like the two of you in the same space is messing with the balance of the universe,” Ace says warily.

She slaps his chest with the back of her hand. “You know I don’t do walk-ins, but your name precedes you. Let me finish up my current client and pick what you’d like. I’ll be with you in a bit.” She winks at me and leans into Ace, whispering loud enough for me to hear, “Haven’t seen you here in a long time, but marriage looks good on you, big guy. You look happy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate when he looks at me and says, “I am.”

We both study the wall of the mini-tattoo options. “These are all really cute, but I’m leaning toward maybe the logo for Midnight Proof or something having to do with being a Foxx now.” I tap my finger on my lips. “Or maybe a bourbon barrel? What do you think?” I say, turning to him.

He looks at a small and simple series of fruit, and then stops at a fine line drawing of a bird. “Can I make a suggestion?”

Too much laughing and less than thirty minutes later, I stare at the elegant cursive ink drawn along the inside of my wrist. It was his idea, and then he decided he needed to get one too. The words are a reminder of our vows—Preuve d’amour. Proof of love.

“I’m telling you, Hadley, if you want to fuck around with a French 75, then try it with cognac instead of gin. It’ll make all of your lips pucker. I promise,” G suggests as she wipes away the excess ink on Ace’s skin.

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