Page 63 of Whiskey Lullaby
I swallowed, trying to lift my gaze from her tits to her face. “Well, that’s a greeting.” I bit the inside of my cheek when I stepped inside and closed and locked the door behindme.
I grabbed both sides of her face and kissed her gently. The second her nipples brushed my bare chest, I groaned. Weeks. I’d wanted this woman for weeks and not touched her. I was trying to be good, I was trying to do everything right, but damn it, there was only so much a man could take. I raked my teeth over her bottom lip. “Fuck, Hannah.” I grabbed behind her knees and scooped her up in my arms, carrying her up the stairs and straight to herroom.
I kicked the door closed with my foot before laying her on the bed. Her chest rose in ragged swells, her eyes locked on me. I slid my hands along her sides to her breasts before I crawled on top of her. She felt so right half naked and underneath me. Her skin was warm, soft. Perfect. She deserved so much more than I could offer her, and I knew it. It was a war, a struggle I had with myself, but what do youdo?
“I want you,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over myback.
“Fuck do I want you. Since I saw you,” I breathed, leaning down and kissing her breast. “Since I saw you, I just wanted this…” I slowly sucked her nipple into my mouth, and she tossed her head against the pillow, the softest moan breaking through her lips. “You.”
She grabbed my hand and shoved it between her thighs. “Touchme.”
My insides tightened when I slid my finger under the hem of her underwear, nervous, anxious. I groaned at how wet she was and buried my face in the crook of her neck. “Shit.”
She placed her hand over mine and pressed. I worked over her, reveling in all the quiet “ahhs” coming between deep breaths. The only way I could describe that sound was fucking beautiful. There was so much more than sexual want, it was me and her. It was the two of us needing to be closer, to feel each other. I kissed her hard, deep, like she was the air I needed to survive the next five minutes. She grabbed my wrist, forcing my hand over her harder while she whispered my name over and over, her other hand clawing at myarm.
“Oh, shit…” She panted, melting into the mattress. I glanced up. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was the faintest of smiles on herface.
She popped the button on my jeans and just when she went to pull the zipper, I heard a car door slam closed outside. My heart froze for a few beats before adrenaline fired overme.
“Crap,” she said, scrambling off the bed and ducking beneath the window while she grabbed her shirt. She quickly pulled it on and peeked out the window. “Crap!” She turned around, her face pale. “Okay, this is…” She dragged a hand over her face. “You don’t have a… and I’m twenty, but that’s my daddyand…”
I grabbed her, pulled her to me and kissed her. “I’ll call you.” Then I hightailed it out of her room and down the hall. I literally jumped over the railing to the first landing, then hurried down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door, catching the screen before it slammed shut. I went right over to the hose and turned the tap, rinsing my hands with thewater.
“You’re here late, Noah,” John said when he stepped around the side of thehouse.
“Just finishedup.”
“Some turpentine will take that right off,” he said, staring at the paint on myforearm.
“Yeah… I’ll be sure and use that.” I turned the tap and laid the hose down. “See you onThursday?”
“Yep, good Lord willin’.” He smiled before stepping onto the porch and disappearinginside.
I felt like shit for messing around with his daughter in his house. That girl was starting to make me havemorals…
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“Fuck a duck!” Benji belched before bending over and picking up the bean bag. “You didn’t cut that there hole wide enough,Greyson.”
I glanced at the gigantic hole cut into the plywood of my makeshift cornhole board. “You dipshit, that’s plenty big! It’s half an inch wider than the Google articlerecommended.”
“Maybe it just needs decorations.” Benji hopped the fence into Old Man’syard.
“What is he doing?” Trevorasked.
“Hell if Iknow.”
Benji stared down at the ground, turning in a circle. “Looking for some spraypaint.”
“In hisyard?”
“Have you seen this yard? There’s all kinds of shit in here.” He bent over and picked up a crumpled can. “This is a Bud Lite circa nineteen eighty-four. This”—he grabbed something else—“a rusted can of Folgers and then…” He kicked at a lump of grass and pulled up a filthy bra that looked like it would fit Dolly Parton. “Probably Old Lady Jenkins’ from some swinger party they had back in thenineties.”
“That’s sick,” I said with a snarledlip.
“Old Lady Jenkins was a slut.” Trevor laughed. “My grandad talked about her when he went senile, and I mean it was gross. Something about a magic eight ball and a liter ofSprite.”
“It wasn’t no Sprite!” We all jumped when Old Man slowly crept up from behind one of the chicken coops. “It was Meller Yeller. Old Lady Jenkins used to go by the name Creampuff down at the Foxtrot. That gentlemen’s club taught them girls how to do all sorts of tricks that’d make them donkey showsblush.”
