Page 231 of Property of Whiskey

“You already have your hand in my pants.”

“Had.”

Then he starts moving down my body.

My breath catches.

“Whiskey.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re in the fucking woods.”

“Noticed.”

He drags my jeans and panties down together, only far enough to clear my hips.

Cold night air hits bare skin.

I immediately try to close my thighs.

Whiskey catches one knee.

“Too cold?”

“Little late to ask.”

“Can stop.”

“Touch me again and I’ll arrest you.”

He looks up at me from between my thighs.

“That a yes?”

I grab his hair.

“Figure it out.”

His mouth lands on me.

I nearly come off the ground.

“Oh, fuck.”

Whiskey laughs against my clit.

The bastard actually laughs.

“You think this is funny?”

His tongue drags over me again.

My question turns into a moan.

“Hilarious,” he murmurs.

“I hate you.”