Page 48 of Whiskey Proposal

An alarm glares bright in my brain, warning me that I might get dependent. That I might hand too much power to him, and it’ll shred me when he tosses me away, but my hormones are too strong. I need this orgasm more than I need to breathe.

Later. I’ll deal with all that later.

He adds pressure, like he knows exactly how much it’ll take to get me to detonate. He’s right. A flash-bang goes off inside my bloodstream, exploding outward and leaving sparks behind my eyes.

“Lane!” I don’t know when I pried my mouth from his. I’m gasping for breath, tense from head to toe, except I’m bucking wildly.

And he holds me in place, keeping my butt on the seat when I would’ve dumped myself on the floor. My movements slow until he’s just holding me, letting me catch my breath and my bearings.

“That’s my girl. You took just what you needed, like I knew you would.”

He does not know me! I clutch at the anger, letting it rage or I’ll succumb to that mouth and his whispered words.

“Fuck off.” I bristle and push him away, but his hand is tangled in my shorts. My boobs are hanging out and my shirt is stuck in the band of my bra. Not sure how that happened. Then again, I flew apart in his arms. Makes sense I didn’t get put back together.

He withdraws his hand, but instead of being furious about my outburst or defensive about my behavior, he puts his finger into his mouth and sucks me off him. “Mmm.”

My pussy tingles like his mouth is on me instead. Like it’s swirling around my clit instead of his fingertip. I yank my bra back in place and tug my shirt down. “Don’t⁠—”

A strangled gasp leaves me when he licks his thumb. I might jump him, and if I do, it’d be to tear his clothes off. I just came, yet I’m ready to climb back on him.

I have to go. It’s the only way to save face. Staying will only get me in trouble. I’ll do things that my brain is screaming at me not to, while also encouraging me to go right ahead.

My lips feel puffy, and my nipples are acutely aware of the scrape of the material against them when they were just bouncing free. With a huff, I spin on a heel and stalk out of the shop.

Lane

I’m in the office, staring at the monitor in front of me. Edna sent me the monthly reports from May that I asked for, but I haven’t paid attention to one number.

Emerson came so fucking hard. She cried out my name when she did.

I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe deep, like a goddamn bull that’s smelled a whole herd of cows in heat. Pretty soon I’ll start grunting and pawing at the ground. I’ve been fighting my erection all day. All damn weekend. I’m getting sick of jacking off in the shower. It’s so frequent, it’s become part of my routine.

Her flavor’s on my tongue. Stamped on my brain.

She doesn’t want to want me. She doesn’t like that I think I know her. She’ll have to learn that I do, and I don’t give a shit if she doesn’t like it.

But it’d be nice if she quit avoiding me. It’s like living with a ghost that I want to fuck.

My phone lights up, and I blow out a hard breath. It’s Myles. I close out of my screen since the only two things I’ve been doing all morning are jack and shit, and answer. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Lane. Got a favor to ask.” His voice is gravelly.

“Shoot.”

“Bang, bang.” He laughs and dissolves into a coughing fit. “Shit, sorry. I’ve been around Devon and his buddies too much.”

That did sound like one of the lame jokes my nephew likes. “You doing okay?”

“Devon doesn’t like to share, but he did with this ick.” Another cough. “I shouldn’t go to Omaha like this.”

No, he shouldn’t. “You don’t think they’ll want to expand distribution when you’re blowing snot everywhere?”

“Wynter told me no.”

I barked out a laugh. Myles would’ve gone if it weren’t for her. “Yes, I’ll go. Are there any meetings at Foster House afterward?”

“Yes, but I’ll be better by then.”