Mr. Whiskey

by Tessa Layne

  I’m ready to throw her over my shoulder and go all caveman on her, whiskey flasks and cocktails be damned. But I won’t embarrass Steele like that. Or Muffy, who interrupts our stare-down with a snap of her fingers. “Places, darlings. Places. The guests are starting to arrive.”

  I smile tightly, grateful for the reminder that the last thing I need is an entanglement of any kind. No matter how tempting the lady.

  The hour creeps by.

  My face hurts from smiling at nameless faces. Beside me, Roxi is the picture of charm, her voice clear and confident as she talks and teases with the guests, offering them tastes from the barrel as they tuck flasks into purses and coat pockets. It’s hot, the way she works the crowd like a pro, and it only makes me want to know more about her. “Where did Muffy find you?” I mutter more to myself during a lull.

  My answer is full, lusty laughter. Apparently her hearing is razor sharp, too. “I’ve never met her before tonight,” she says, shooting me an amused glance.

  I turn and face her. “You’re kidding.”

  She shakes her head, mouth pulling into a saucy grin.

  Huh. “And Muffy just recruited you?”

  Her smile turns rueful. “I think she might have caught me looking a bit forlorn.” She cocks her head, assessing me — as if she’s debating how much of herself to reveal. “My date stood me up.”

  “What the fuck for?” I growl, determined to capitalize on the asshole’s loss.

  “I can be… a little much,” she says with a soft laugh and a shake of her head.

  “Then he wasn’t man enough for you.”

  Pink blooms across her cheeks, and it brings a scattering of freckles into sharp relief. I wonder about the freckles hidden from view. “Hmmm. Devastatingly handsome and sweet. That’s a dangerous combination Mr. Whiskey.” She walks her fingers up my lapel. And just like that — the arousal I’ve valiantly held at bay comes flooding back.

  “I’m not sweet,” I protest.

  This time, her laugh is low and sultry. And it goes straight to my balls. “I bet…” She runs her palm across my chest. “That underneath that tough guy exterior, you’re nothing but a big, squishy teddy bear.”

  “Nope,” I scoff, flexing under her touch. “Bad to the bone.”

  Her eyes flare with a hungry light. “Prove it,” she challenges. “Make good on your promise to make me moan.”

  Jesus.

  My cock leaps to attention. This isn’t the first time a woman’s come on to me, but it is the first time I’m so turned on I feel drunk. The volume has tripled in Kirkwood Hall, and with it comes the smell of money and power. I’ll be pocketing a portion of that later this evening, but in the meantime, why not take a walk on the wild side? The band has started to play, and if I’m going to disappear, now’s the time. But… condoms. Fucking hell. “I didn’t pack condoms.”

  “I have them.”

  Of course she does. “Do you want to take a picture of me and text it to someone?”

  Her mouth twitches. “I can handle you.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “For starters, there are security cameras everywhere. For seconds, I can handle myself. And for thirds —” laughter flickers through her eyes, “You’re a big teddy bear and I’d bet the house that you wouldn’t hurt me unless I begged you to.”

  A laugh rumbles deep in my belly. She’s not wrong — at least about the hurting. I’m no fucking teddy bear. “You’re crazy.” And sexy as fuck. My hands itch to learn her curves, the little divots and mounds. Where she’s soft and where her skin molds to her bones.

  “Entirely possible,” she agrees, pursing her lips. “Aren’t we all a little crazy?”

  She has a point.

  “And isn’t it about exploring whether or not our particular brand of crazy lines up?” she presses, drawing her fingers along the inside of my tuxedo jacket.

  Energy ripples down my spine. I’ve never heard it expressed in those terms, but yeah. I’ve never met a woman whose appetite matched my own, who accepted the darkness inside of me without trying to reform me. I stare into her eyes, and for a second that stretches into eternity, I feel like I’m at the edge of a chasm. Like whatever I choose in my next breath will define me. There will be no going back from this moment.

  We speak at the same time. “I know a room.”

  Chapter Three

  I place my hand at the small of her back and steer her out of Kirkwood, through the sculpture hall and down around Atkins Auditorium. The sounds of the gala fade until there’s nothing but the echoes of our footsteps in the empty hall.

  “How did you—”

  “Not my first gala.”

  “Not your first hook-up,” she corrects with a laugh.

  I push open the door to the family bathroom, and usher her in, spinning and pinning her to the door while I turn the lock on the handle. “You sure about this?”

  She answers by wrapping a hand around my neck and pulling. Our mouths unite in a violent crash of teeth and tongues. Lips alternately soft, then demanding. She’s set off a chain reaction within me that will only end in an explosion of epic proportions. She works the buttons of my shirt, while I shrug out of my jacket. It’s sweet relief when her fingers trace the Celtic dragon tattoo over my heart, then slide down my abdomen to pause at the scar left from a knife fight when I was sixteen.

  Before she can release the buttons on my slacks, I take her wrists and draw her arms over her head. I like her this way, lipstick smudged, hair mussed, eyes wild, tits out, thanks to the arch in her back. “Just so you know,” I rasp. “I will do whatever you ask. However you want it. You’re calling the shots. Clear?”

  She nods, biting back a grin. “And what if I want it just the way you described it? Coming on your tongue? Fucking me from behind?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “I want it all.”

  I press my body against hers, still holding her wrists above us, and take her mouth. Slowly this time, so I can taste every part of her, memorize the velvet of her tongue sliding against mine. I become drunk on her, my brain spinning as our kissing intensifies. She rocks her hips into me, grinding against my erection, and making a guttural noise in the back of her throat. With an answering groan, I pull myself away and trail kisses down her neck, nipping the tendon at the hollow of her throat.

  “I should warn you,” she says breathlessly. “Kissing my neck makes me all kinds of crazy.”

  I respond by licking a path up to the dip behind her jaw. “If I touched you, would you be wet?” I whisper into her ear.

  She answers with a low laugh. “What do you think?”

  “I wanna hear you say it.”

  “That my panties are soaked? That my thighs are slick from wanting you?”

  Fuuuuuuuuuck.

  I can’t recall ever being this aroused, this hungry, this close to losing my shit and giving over to purely animal instincts. I kiss her again, hard, and I swear I can feel the heat of her pussy through all the layers of fabric that separate us. I release her wrists and drop to my knees, wrapping a hand around her ankle. The tail of her snake begins about three fingers above her ankle bone, and on close examination, I let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Beautiful,” I murmur, lifting her leg and placing a kiss on the blue, gold, and green ink. The tattooing is a work of art — the scales so intricate as to seem real, especially when she flexes her muscles. Her leg trembles beneath my hand, twitching when I kiss a particularly sensitive spot. She eggs me on with tiny moans and gasps, and words like “More,” and “Yes, that.”

  I shift my position when I reach her knee, drawing my fingers around the back of her thigh and up, stopping when I brush against lace. “What’s this?” I tease, slipping my finger under the elastic, and tracing underneath until I hit… warm metal. I freeze. “Whattheeverlovingfuck?” I rasp. The lace is a goddamned holster and she’s packing.

  “I said I could take care of myself,” she says with a nervous laugh.


  “Is it loaded?” I give myself a shake. “Of course it’s loaded.” I glance up at her. “Seriously? You’re packing at a fundraiser gala?”

  “I pack everywhere,” she snaps. “If that bothers you…” Her voice trails off and she begins to shift away.

  “Hold on, I didn’t say it bothers me. It was just a… surprise. That’s all. I have no problem with you carrying.” Unless of course, she walked into my club. My security detail packs in plain sight — mostly to send a message to some of the more… ethically challenged members. No guns inside my club. Ever. I’ve banned members in the past for violating that code, and I won’t hesitate to do so again. But she’ll never know that. We might be having fun right now, but it ends the second she pushes through that door. “Don’t worry,” I say, giving her a wicked grin. “I love the taste of danger.” I caress the inside of her other leg, the one that’s bare up to her panties. And sure enough, she’s soaked. I graze the fabric with a knuckle sliding across her swollen folds.

  It’s hot as fuck, seeing how aroused she is. I wrap a finger around the thin lace strap and give a jerk. It snaps free. I make short work of the other side, and what remains of her lacy thong slides to the floor. She kicks them out of the way with a laugh. “I didn’t want those anyway.”

  “Open your legs,” I say gruffly, as I push her dress out of the way.

  She widens her stance, and I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, taking my time as I kiss and lick, and suck my way toward heaven. The scent of her arousal thickens my blood. My balls are heavy and hard. I rise, bracing a hand on the wall next to her hip, and as I make my way to her pussy, I take my first taste of her at the spot where her thighs touch. She’s sweet and musky, and I’m reminded of the ocean breeze in spring. I groan with the delight of it as I lick her thighs clean. I’m addicted, and all it took was one taste. How have I lived this long without her flavor? I’m clearly not thinking straight, but ask me if I give a flying fuck. Not with pussy this sweet begging for my mouth. I flick my tongue along the outside of her folds and she spreads her legs wider, hand dropping to my head. “Bring it, hot stuff,” she says.

  I can tell she’s smiling. A glance up confirms it, and our eyes lock. Holding her gaze, I slide a finger through her slick seam, lightly back and forth then circling her clit until her eyes glaze and her tongue slips out to wet her lips. Her hips slowly rock, as if she’s holding back, trying to hold still.

  “Don’t hold back. I wanna see you let go.”

  She gives me a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, you will.”

  I nip the inside of her thigh, then slowly lick through her folds. The taste of her floods my mouth and the buzz is better than my finest whiskey. I lick again with the flat of my tongue, and circle her clit, lapping at the tight point until she cries out. “I’m going to come in like two seconds if you keep doing that.”

  I laugh low in my throat and draw her clit into my mouth, sucking as I cover the bundle of nerves with my tongue. Sure enough, a shudder rips through her and her legs squeeze my head as her fingers pull hard on my hair. But I’m a relentless motherfucker, and I don’t stop. I’ve barely started. I thrust my tongue into her tight, wet channel and fuck her like I will with my cock while pressing a thumb to her sensitized clit. I start with slow thrusts, then change up my rhythm, and just at the point I think she’s going to come again, I pull out and bite the inside of her thigh.

  This earns me a violent hair yank. “Don’t do that,” she grits through clenched teeth. “Don’t. Stop.”

  “What’s the magic word?” I tease.

  “I will hurt you if you stop.”

  I can’t help the laugh that erupts from my belly. “Is your cunt hungry for more?”

  She growls, thrusting her hips, seeking relief. I’m not an asshole, I’m going to give it to her, just like I promised, but I love seeing her on the verge of coming undone. It pulls at something deep in my chest — like a puzzle piece sliding home.

  I slide a finger inside her, then two, scissoring, then curling toward the spot I know will drive her wild. Again, I return my mouth to her clit — worshipping it like the treasure it is. This time she breaks apart with a cry, body freezing then shuddering over and over again, breath coming in harsh gasps as she flies, then slowly returns to earth. “You’re beautiful,” I utter, overcome by the vision of her. It’s not a platitude. If I never see her again, I will remember her like this for the rest of my life. Cheeks pink, head back, exposing the slender column of her throat as her body trembles because of me.

  She grins down at me. “I think you promised me a fuck.”

  “You’re insatiable,” I say with a laugh, shaking my head. Because, seriously? I’ve never been with a woman who could match my appetite. I love it. Except for the tiny voice of warning that cautions me to run. Because it’s a woman like this — a woman I’ve only dreamed about — who could break me. I push that thought as far out of my head as I can, and rise, hand on my belt. “Condoms?”

  With a sly grin, she slips her hand underneath the vee of her neckline and reaches between her breasts, pulling out a condom like it’s a fucking dollar bill. I can’t help but laugh. “You’re kidding.”

  She flicks her eyebrows. “A girl scout is always prepared.”

  A vision of her in a miniskirt and green sash flits in front of my eyes. Hot. As. Fuck. “Dress. Off,” I growl.

  All it earns me is a saucy smile. She throws my words back at me. “What’s the magic word?”

  I cage her in. “A mind-blowing orgasm.”

  She bites her lip, corner of her mouth curling up, then pulls up her dress. I step back to give her room, and help her pull the stretchy fabric over her head. I forget to breathe when I lay eyes on the see-through blush fabric of her strapless bra, flesh spilling out over the top. She unhooks the bra and it falls to the floor between us. I bite back a groan. Her breasts are full and lush, nipples erect and dark. A color that reminds me of sun-kissed peaches. I bend to take a nipple into my mouth, hand coming to her other breast to caress her silky curve. I could lose myself in breasts like these, in their pillowy softness. I regret we’re not in bed where she could ride me, and I could lose myself in the soft sway of them.

  As quickly as I can muster, with a mouthful of luscious titty, I toe off my shoes, grateful I wore slip-ons, then drop my pants. She pushes my shoulders. “I want to see.”

  I take a step back, kicking my pants and boxer briefs across the floor. My cock juts out, hard and long.

  She steps forward to trace a finger along my length. Her touch is like an electric shock. I shudder, cock jerking. Again, regret teases at the edge of my consciousness, whispering if only. But there aren’t if onlies for men like me — only giving and taking in the moment. That’s all I get, and I mean to give and take all I can from this moment. “Turn around,” I say roughly. “Hands on the wall.”

  She complies, shooting a wicked glance over her shoulder as she spreads her legs and tips her ass high, so that I have a full view of her swollen pussy. I commit this moment to memory as I step forward and run my palm down her spine, then across her ass cheeks before sliding my hand between her legs to cup her sex.

  “Is that condom on yet?” Her voice is tight with impatience. I squeeze her pussy, then withdraw my hand to sheath myself. I step behind her, caressing her hips, and teasing my cock at her entrance. I bend and bite her neck where it meets her shoulder. “Patience, grasshopper.”

  She replies with a grunt and a roll of her hips back toward my cock.

  “Is this what you want?” I say with a grunt as I squeeze her hips and slam my cock into her, balls deep.”

  “Yesssss,” she hisses. “More.” She wriggles her hips, pressing her ass back and squeezing my cock. Her channel is tight, and so, so hot. My eyes roll back, because, Jeezus, this is good. Maybe the best ever.

  I wrap an arm around her hips, settling my fingers at her clit, while my other hand comes to her breast, seeking and finding a nipple. I pinch.

  �
��That, too,” she grunts, arching her back.

  I begin to move, long slow strokes.

  “Harder,” she begs. “Just like you promised.” Her words come out in breathless pants.

  I thrust harder, slamming into her, then slowly pulling back out, almost all the way, then pushing back into the deepest part of her. She lets out a low moan, and I tap dance my fingers over her clit. Energy flies through my body, spooling up my legs, and circling low in my groin. Words stop, and my focus narrows to a sharp point — skin slapping, breath gasping, moans and broken words punctuating the silence like starbursts. She comes first, squeezing and rippling around me with a cry. My vision spots as I let go. My head explodes, and I swallow the roar I’m dying to let out by biting my lip to the point I taste blood.

  I pull her close, not quite ready for the moment to end. But… condoms. I clasp the end and pull out, quickly disposing of it in the trash. When I glance her direction, she’s flipped around and is leaning against the door with an amused smile. “I’ll never think of this place the same way.”

  I flash her a grin. “Neither will I.” Regret presses against my chest. I don’t want this to be the end. It was too good, and instinctively, I know it would get better with practice. I gently wipe her with the tissues I’ve grabbed. I can’t stop the words that spill out next. “We could ditch this party and I could properly bed you.”

  Her eyes warm. She wants it, too. “I’m sorry… I can’t.” There’s regret in her voice, and that soothes my mildly bruised ego. I’m not used to being turned down. Ever. “But if by chance our paths cross again…” Her voice drifts off, but the implication is clear.

  “You’re something else, Roxi.”

  She beams. “So are you, Mr. Whiskey. So are you.”

  I bend to retrieve her bra and dress, then turn, offering her privacy while I put myself back together. Her hand lands on my arm, and I turn. Somehow, she manages to look flawless, not freshly fucked. “How do you do that?” I murmur.

  “Do what?”

  “Manage to look perfect?”