I’m sure we’ve raised some eyebrows given the fact that she doesn’t work for me, and none of my employees have a reason to come sit in my locked office, but I don’t give a damn. I need my hands on her…now.
The second the door closes, I yank her against my chest and land my lips on hers. They’re so soft and perfect.She’sso fucking soft and perfect, and I gather by the way she moans, she loves the way I manhandle her.
“You’re crazy,” she whispers as she bends back, allowing me to kiss her neck.
“Yeah. Crazy for that tight, little pussy.” I kiss her chest and squeeze her full breast as I lift her up onto my desk with a grunt. I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive. She’s so fucking perfect, every god damn part of her.
I palm over the outside of her tight black leggings, pressing hard against her clit as she wraps her arms around my neck and sighs warm air against the lobe of my ear.
“Fuck. Hop down and take off those pants. I need to see how swollen you are for me.”
With a sweet smile, she jumps off the desk and tugs at her leggings, pulling them down over her full round ass when someone knocks at the door.
These fuckers don’t get it!
“Busy,” I grunt, moving my palm to caress the soft swollen lips of her tight, little core.
The person at the door doesn’t take a hint. “Dude, the rednecks are back. The guy’s handing out coupons for free wings and their own house beer.” Benny twists the handle of the locked door. “What are you guys doing in there?”
Fucking hell!
“Coming,” I groan as I slide two fingers into my girl, thrusting into her softness a few times with a growl before pulling out and sliding my fingers into my mouth. “Fuck, you taste good.”
She swallows hard, her lids hooded as she stares up at me without words. I’m captivated by the look on her face when she’s speechless. It makes me feel like I’m really doing something.
I lean down and tug up her leggings before landing another kiss on her lips. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours.” She grins.
“Good girl. Say it again.”
“I’m yours.”
My chest aches with pride as I tug her in for another kiss and finally unlock the door, a floorboard creaking as we make our way back into the distillery. Thankfully, most folks are focused on the guy with a mullet and flannel handing out coupons.
“Okay, buddy.” I stand in front of him, still not ready to deal with this. Not with Ivy here, desperate to be touched. “You’ve made your point.”
“Don’t reckon I have.” The man grins and passes another homemade coupon to a patron trying to enjoy their whiskey flight.
“And what’s the point you’re trying to make? You don’t like us here? Do we represent everything you hate? Change, cleanliness, good alcohol?”
“You’re Hutch’s boy, aren’t ya?” The man grinds his teeth together as he talks. “You moved off the mountain years ago to live in the city. Now you think you can come back and bring all your city shit with you?”
“The town council approved my building,” I nod, “so yeah. We’re here to stay. Also, my father died forever ago, so… not much of him in me. Now get out, before I throw you out!”
The man shakes his head and hollers into my distillery with a twang that hurts my ears, “If you’re anything like your dad, you’ll be out of the whiskey business by the end of the year.”
I shake my head and narrow my brows toward the man. “What are you talking about? My dad didn’t make whiskey.”
The redneck laughs and readjusts his hat. “You really didn’t know him, did ya? That man had books filled with whiskey recipes. Had the whole mountain addicted for a while, ‘til he went and screwed it all up.” He hands me a coupon for free beer at his bar down the street. “Come see me when you’re broke.”
I roll my eyes as he heads out the front door, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about this whiskey book my dad apparently had.
“You’re not going after him?” Benny tips his mason jar up to his lips. “That was cryptic as fuck.”
“Nah. He’s probably full of shit. Something else to get us running in circles instead of focusing on what matters. Sales.”
Marin lifts a mason jar and pulls out the cherry whiskey. “No. I think it’s real. Archer was talking about some whiskey book your dad used to have. He said they called him the medicine man because they believed his whiskey was healing in some way.”
