Page 128 of Property of Whiskey

Then her mouth closes around my cock.

My head hits the pillow.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

She takes me deeper, one hand wrapped around what she can’t fit while her tongue works underneath.

I reach for her hair, then stop myself.

My hand lands on the mattress instead.

Twila notices.

Of course, she fucking notices.

Her eyes lift to mine while my cock is still in her mouth.

That sight nearly ends me right there.

She pulls back just enough to speak.

“You can touch me.”

“You sure?”

She takes me back into her mouth instead of answering.

Clear enough.

I slide one hand into her hair.

I don’t push.

Don’t guide.

Just hold on while she decides exactly how much of me she wants.

Apparently, the answer is enough to kill me.

She takes me deeper.

I groan and tighten my fingers in her hair.

“Fuck, Twila.”

Her hand works with her mouth, slick and slow at first, then faster when my hips start moving before I can stop them.

“Careful.”

She hums around me.

My eyes close.

“That shit ain’t fair.”

She does it again.

“Woman.”