Page 104 of Whiskey Chase
He wrapped my hair around one hand and placed the other hand on the wall behind us. “I’m gonna come in your mouth, sweet Scarlett.”
I moaned and swallowed hard.
“Fuck, baby.” He gritted the words out.
My jaw ached. But I needed to taste him, needed to give him this moment. To pour himself into me and lose himself. Release the anger, the frustration, the anxiety. I felt him harden painfully, felt his balls drawing up. I felt everything. The ache between my own legs, the pounding of my heart as adrenaline coursed through me pushing me past discomfort. And then he was coming.
On a long, guttural noise, Devlin orgasmed down my throat. Thick and salty and oh so satisfying. He flexed his fingers in my hair, bringing his forehead to the wall behind me, and loosed his seed in me. He grunted, both pained and satisfied, as I swallowed every wave of his release.
We collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. He was still shamelessly hard. “Goddamn it, Scarlett,” he breathed.
“You’re welcome,” I said on a breathy half-laugh.
He spun me around on the rug, stretching out on top of me. “You have two seconds to get these jeans off.”
I didn’t move fast enough for his liking, and Devlin released my belt and yanked my pants down. I got one leg free, and then he was pushing into me. I made a noise between a sigh and a scream as he filled me without any preparation. I was wet, but so tight, and he had to force his way into the hilt. I was so wound up that I was already teetering on the edge.
“How are you still fucking hard?” I gasped, my breasts crushed against his chest. He wasn’t being careful with me, and I liked it.
He pulled out and sank back into me, rocking against that needy bundle of nerves. The power of his thrust moved us backward on the floor.
“You make me this way,” he said accusingly. I pulled my knees up, giving him the deepest possible access.
On his fourth thrust, I was coming. My walls closing around him in a death grip that had him groaning in my ear as he fucked me against the rug. The hardwood and wool biting into my back. But I was coming in explosions of color and light and heat.
“Scarlett!” It was a question, a cry, and then he was filling me with a second release. I felt him come raw inside me, felt the tremor of it and the hot wave of his seed as it spilled into me. We came together, orgasms milking each other and mixing in one beautiful, dark moment of holiness. Devlin thrust his hips against me and held there until our climaxes slowed and faded.
“I probably should have asked if you were on birth control,” he said, his face buried in my neck.
“I think we just made a baby,” I whispered.
He lifted his head, panic giving him swift energy.
I laughed at the startled look on his face. “I’m kidding!” I poked him on the shoulder. “Of course I’m on birth control.”
He lowered back down and bit my shoulder. “You’re evil.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah. I do.”
41
Devlin
We’d settled nothing in the two days since Johanna had showed up on my doorstep. And in remaining unsettled, we both tried our best to pretend that everything was fine. But now I knew Scarlett had been seeing a countdown clock in her head when it came to us.
And now I was seeing it, too.
I held the diner door for Scarlett and followed her back to the booth that Clarabell pointed us to. It was early, and she was booked with jobs for the day, so we decided to grab breakfast together instead of dinner.
She slid into the booth and picked up the menu. I noticed that she ordered something different every time. Variety was the spice of Scarlett’s life, which gave us one unforgettable summer together and nothing more. I was hurt that she wasn’t willing to at least try, that she was so ready to write us off.
But she’d made up her mind. And I didn’t know how to convince her otherwise. What would she do in Annapolis? Hang a shingle up and offer her handyman services? I couldn’t expect her to give up everything just to support me and my dreams. If they were still my dreams… It wasn’t a mistake I’d make again, asking a woman to give herself over to my goals.
Scarlett smiled across the table at me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. We’d both taken to avoiding the “what’s wrong question.” She was dressed in jeans and a tank top. Her work uniform for summer in Bootleg. There was nothing Scarlett could put on that I wouldn’t find sexy. From plaid pajama bottoms to cutoff shorts to paint-splattered tank tops. If it was on her body, I wanted to take it off. Even though we’d labeled ourselves as temporary and both seemed to be carrying baggage from that decision, I still found myself plunging into her every damn night and coming like I was losing part of my soul.
“I think I’m going for an omelet today,” she decided cheerfully.
