There was no doubt in my mind that this man was extremely talented. He could probably make me come just by breathing on me.
“Pick one, Sky.”
Both spots were intimate.
And both wanted his attention.
But one, at the moment, seemed a little more personal. For some reason—a reason I couldn’t make sense of—I was drawn to that.
“Here.” I tapped my mouth. “That’s what I pick.”
He blinked several times, and I swore the green of his eyes darkened to an emerald. “Not what I thought you were going to say.”
“Because there’s alcohol on your tongue?”
“Because I thought you’d want to come on my face.”
I let out a laugh—I couldn’t help it. “Oh, I want that too. Don’t be fooled by my pick. This wasn’t easy, but it somehow feels right.”
His hands surrounded almost my entire face, his palms pressing into my cheeks. “Those lips …” His thumb rubbed across each one, similar to what he’d done to my clit. And once hewas done covering them, he slipped his thumb inside my mouth, the pad going to my tongue.
“You taste good, don’t you?” His head shook, his gaze intensifying.
When he eventually pulled out his thumb, his lips seamlessly moved to mine. As soon as they connected, I knew I’d picked the right option. The alcohol was nothing more than a hint on his tongue. Something that tasted foreign, but I didn’t hate it. Maybe that was because I was so worked up that I couldn’t process the flavor. Or maybe because it didn’t taste like the poison my heart had labeled it as.
But the taste of the booze wasn’t the only reason I was satisfied with my decision. All Whiskey was doing was kissing me, replacing my breath with his, giving me his tongue, and it was making everything inside me roar.
I reached for his collar, popping each of the buttons through the holes, until I got to the bottom and the two sides of his shirt were separated and he could slip his arms out. With our lips still locked and my eyes closed, I couldn’t see his upper body. The only thing I could do was feel my way around it.
So, I did.
My hands roamed, my fingers crawled, discovering muscles and grooves, thick hair, which I imagined was as dark as his head. A heavy chain hung from his neck, the cold metal such a drastic difference from his scorching skin.
I had just reached his abs when his hand left my face and returned to that throbbing spot between my legs—legs that were still bent, toes curled around the table. I felt him on my clit first. A soft rubbing that turned harder as his kisses deepened. But within a few seconds, as my palm bore down on his abs, the tip of his finger slid in.
It only took an inch before I realized my pussy was starving for attention and he was giving me just what I needed.
“Holy fuck.” He pulled his mouth away, his forehead now pressed to mine. “You’re so tight.”
He dipped in further while staying on my clit, the mix of the two causing me to pant. I found myself spreading my legs even more. And I found myself burying my fingers in his chest hair, squeezing the short hairs.
He was such a man, and I loved it.
“What”—I gasped—“are you doing to me?”
“Do you want me to stop?” His lips were so close to mine that his gritty tone vibrated against me.
“No. I want you to give me more.”
“You’re an impatient girl, Sky.”
“Do you have any idea how close I am to coming?”
“I know. I can feel it.”
“Oh my God.” As he sank all the way in, I banged my head against the wall, and I did it again because once wasn’t enough. “How does this feel … so … incredible?”
“Wait until I give you my dick.”
