Page 129 of Property of Whiskey

Twila pulls off with a wet little sound that makes my balls tighten.

“You complaining?”

“I’m warning you.”

“About?”

“I’m close.”

Her eyes hold mine.

“Good.”

Fuck me.

Her mouth closes around me again.

No teasing this time.

She works me like she means to finish the job, taking me deep enough that every intelligent thought leaves my head.

My hand tightens in her hair.

“Twila.”

She doesn’t stop.

“Fuck. I’m gonna come.”

Her fingers dig into my thigh.

Permission.

Warning.

Maybe both.

Doesn’t matter.

I come hard enough that my entire body locks beneath her.

Twila stays with me through it, mouth around me while I curse into the ceiling and try not to pull her hair hard enough to make myself an asshole.

When she finally lets me slip from her mouth, I’m breathing like I just ran from the cops.

She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

Smug.

Completely fucking smug.

“Still think I needed convincing?”

I stare at her.

Blonde hair wrecked. Lips wet. My shirt nowhere near either of us.

And the stupidest truth I’ve said in years falls straight out of my mouth.