Country Liquor: Sugar County Boys: Book 4

by Faye, Madison

  This is wrong.

  This is filthy.

  But this might just be love at first lick.

  Chapter 6

  Silas

  I’ve held myself back for too long. I’ve wanted her like this — spread for me, moaning for me, her pussy so open for my tongue — for days now.

  Ever since the day I watched her hike onto my land, and watched the way those hips move, and the way the swell of her breasts pressed against her shirt, and the way her soft, red lips opened to take a sip from her water bottle, I’ve held back. I let the fire burn inside — I let myself ache for it.

  And now, I’m taking my reward.

  Her silken, soft lips part for my tongue as I drag it over her sweet little cunt. Goddamn she tastes like sugar on my tongue. I tease every single bit of her, dragging my tongue so fucking slowly, teasing her.

  I want to draw this out. I want her to never fucking forget the first time my tongue tasted between her legs. I want the memory of my mouth on her pussy branded on her thoughts.

  I move from the bottom of her pussy lips, letting my tongue just barely tease that little space between her pussy and her asshole before I move higher, swirling over her opening, dragging up through her folds, and then letting that aching clit bump over my tongue. I groan, my hand tightening on her thigh, pushing it wide for my hungry licks.

  My other hand strokes my fat cock, pumping precum out of it that drops down my fingers and onto the floor. Such a waste, since this cum is all for her now, but there’ll be more. There’ll be much more. My balls ache for release — so fucking swollen with my cum. Like my cock knows the scent of her from the last two nights in her tent.

  Like my cock can smell this pretty little pussy, and it’s been trained now. It’s been trained to know that the smell of her means release.

  I lick her again, base to top, rolling my tongue over her clit. I move lower, letting just one teasing lick of my tongue swirl across her tight, puckered asshole. That makes her yelp in pleasure, and when I look up and see the fire in those eyes and the heat on her cheeks, I groan.

  Oh, my little prize likes being dirty. She might not want to admit it even to herself, but she does. And she’ll be plenty dirty for me.

  I push my tongue deep into her naughty little pussy, tasting her sweet tangy honey and groaning as I drink it down. Fuck, the taste of her makes me even harder. The taste of her makes my cum boil in my balls.

  I groan into her, my tongue moving faster as I start to devour her soft little pussy. I stroke my thick cock as I swirl my tongue around her clit, my hand tightening on her creamy thigh as pretty little Winona Trace starts to come apart for me. She cries out, her hands tightening to fists, her breasts heaving, and her hard little pink nipples aching towards the ceiling. I slide my hand higher, teasing over her skin until I cup one full breast, teasing the nipple with my fingers. She throws her head back, her face bright red as she arches her back and pushes her pussy against my face.

  And fuck is that hot. Fuck does it make me hard how much she wants this — how much she aches for more. I grab one of her hands and pull it down, sliding her fingers into my hair. She hesitates, but when I suck her clit between my lips and bat my tongue across it, her fingers suddenly tighten in my hair.

  Good girl.

  She moans wildly, gripping my hair with both hands as I mercilessly tease her clit. My tongue delves lower, pushing in and out of her opening — tasting her sweet juices. My hand shuttles up my cock faster and faster, and I can feel myself getting so fucking hard as I devour her tight little cunt like it’s my last meal on earth.

  My tongue swirls over her clit again and again, and her hips buck into my mouth over and over as her core starts to tighten and her thighs start to shake.

  “Oh…God—”

  I growl into her as my tongue dances all over her clit, and the vibrations push her right over the edge. Winona screams, her whole body tensing and bucking against me as her orgasm explodes through her. She cries out, her hands so tight in my hair as my tongue teases her again and again, licking her right through that climax until she’s whimpering and shaking under me.

  My cock lurches in my hand, and I know I’m so fucking close.

  I stand, groaning and stroking my fat, throbbing cock, my muscles clenching as my eyes blaze into her.

  “Play with that pussy,” I growl, my blood roaring like an engine in my ears as I jerk my thick cock. Winona whimpers, pushing a hand down between her spread legs and letting her finger roll over her little pink clit.

  “Make it come for me, baby. Be a good girl and make that pussy come for me again,” I groan, my cock pulsing under my fingers, swelling up harder and harder as I watch her tease me.

  “That pussy is mine now,” I hiss. “And I want it to come for me. Make it come again, baby girl.”

  Winona cries out, bucking her hips as her fingers blur over her clit.

  “Come for me.”

  She gasps, her whole body tensing as another orgasm thunders through her. And it’s the last bit I can take. I roar as I follow her over, my cum jetting out of the throbbing head of my cock and spurting in thick, creamy white ropes between her legs. It lands in thick white tracks across her pussy, dripping all over her thighs and trickling down over her ass.

  Winona cries out, still moaning and still touching her pussy as she works herself through one climax into another. Her screams of pleasure echo through the barn, her fingers rubbing my hot cum all over her clit as I groan. I stroke my cock again and again, milking every single drop from my balls and letting it drip all over her as she fingers her pussy.

  This was lust before.

  This was me wanting to claim her, and mark her. This was me needing her to get what I needed. But it's much more than that now. I started to fall the second I saw her. But it wasn’t until my tongue tasted her tight little cunt that I fell off that edge.

  It wasn’t until I tasted her sweet honey that I knew one thing: this is love at first lick.

  The room is silent but for our panting breaths, before slowly, she opens her eyes, heaving.

  “Now what?” she says quietly.

  “Now what?”

  “Am I still your captive?”

  My eyes lock with hers, and when I lean in, my hands on either side of her on the back of the chair, she whimpers.

  “Are you?”

  I move in, I move fast, and when my lips sear to hers, I’m lost. I kiss her hard, with everything I have and everything I am. She moans into me, her hands clawing at my sides, pulling me closer as she opens her mouth for me. I moan into those soft pouty pillows, my tongue tasting hers as she whimpers for more. I know she can taste her own pussy on my lips, and when she kisses me even harder for it, my cock throbs rock hard.

  “Now, we do more of that,” I growl. “Now we drink some more moonshine…”

  I take a sip before I set the jar down and move in closer. I press my lips to hers and open my mouth, letting her taste it from my tongue. I can feel the moonshine trickling down my chin, mixing with her sweet juices into the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had on my lips.

  “Now we do that again.”

  Chapter 7

  Winona

  Sweet whiskey kisses. Hot skin on skin, and rippling muscles writhing against me. These are the last things I remember, or maybe they’re half remembered dreams, when I wake up.

  …Very, very hungover.

  I blink, groaning as the headache from hell slams through my brain. My lips are parched, my whole body aching as I slowly open my eyes.

  Where the fuck am I?

  I’m in the cab of a pickup truck, slumped against the passenger window, in a parking lot. I rub my eyes, looking down and realize I’m wearing a pretty white sundress with daisies on it.

  Well, I’m clothed.

  That’s a change from last night. I have no idea where the dress came from, but, at last wherever I am, I’m not nude. I’m acutely aware that I’m not wearing anything underneath the sundress
— no panties, no bra — but it’s a start.

  I groan as the headache and the hangover nausea roils through me, closing my eyes. The last thing I remember is drinking moonshine in his damn barn, or distillery, or whatever it is. I remember kissing him, and his fingers on me.

  …And slowly, I remember his mouth on me, and I blush fiercely. Oh fuck, I remember that now too. Vividly. And slowly, I begin to remember more of last night. I remember him making me explode, and then covering my pussy with his cum as I played with myself. Heat explodes through me as I remember more — that we weren’t done after that.

  I remember him bending me over that chair and putting his mouth all over me again until I screamed. I remember — vaguely, and through a moonshine-soaked-haze — dropping to my knees and wrapping my lips around his cock.

  I blush. Good God, who am I?

  But that’s it, right? I bite my lip. That’s all I remember, but was there more? Did we…

  I frown. No. It doesn’t feel like we did, and I think back to what he’s packing between his legs and blush again. No, I’d definitely know if we’d done that, that’s for sure.

  There’s a rustling next to me, and I turn, my eyes sliding over the very man of my thoughts, who’s asleep next to me. He grunts in his sleep, this sound that brings a grin to my face before he drifts back under.

  I swallow again, and for a second, I think about running. For a second, I remember that this is the man who kidnapped me, and threw me over his damn shoulder, carried me back to his lair, and tied me up. Yeah, there’s that whole thing about the money, but part of me is still wondering if that’s total bullshit.

  But then, what do I have to lose? It’s already morning, and the lawyer is allegedly coming today to talk about the will and the money he’s coming into. And, well, we’ve already done… Well, everything we’ve already done. I’ve already crossed firmly into “crazy chick” territory by wildly hooking up with and getting drunk with the man who stole me away. You know, like a total crazy chick.

  But here we are. It’s morning, I’m not tied up, and soon enough, I’ll know if his story is bullshit or not.

  I take a shaky breath, wetting my parched lips with my tongue before I drop my eyes to my lap.

  …And I freeze.

  The diamond on my finger catches the sunlight coming in through the windshield and makes it shine, glinting it across my face. But I just stare, my jaw dropping in slow motion and my eyes going wide at the huge piece of jewelry on my finger.

  …The one I’ve never seen, much less worn on my ring finger until this very moment. Because there on my finger, is a wedding ring, and I’m not married.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Slowly, I shake my head, my eyes locked on the big rock.

  No. No fucking way. This is not…

  I suddenly reach into the little side pocket on my sundress, feeling the paper crinkling against me. My fingers yank it free, and when I open up the folded piece of paper, my whole world spins.

  Because there in my hands, is a freaking marriage certificate. A real one, signed by someone named Gabriel Marsden, yesterday. Last night, to be specific. My eyes dart between the license and the ring, and slowly, my stomach sinks.

  Holy shit, I think I’m married.

  I think I am for real married. Not lying to a lawyer and making up stories to get a payout from this mysterious inheritance. No, legit, legally hitched, and to the wild, untamed, half-crazy, totally gorgeous hillbilly who carried me away and tied me up.

  What in the hell is happening?

  I blink, dropping back into the seat of the truck and slowly trying to find my breath. My thoughts scramble, and I’m trying to piece them back together as I turn and look outside. We’re in a parking lot of a dive bar called “The Black Lung” — this shitty, windowless place. There are some white flowers strewn across the parking lot near the door to the place, and when I look down at my bare feet and see a few more of the same flowers, something else starts to come back to me.

  Holy shit.

  The white flowers. The vows. The damn rings. The way-too-sexy to be a man of the church pastor with the tattoos and the rough look proclaiming us man and wife — in a tent, I think? I shake my head, wincing at the headache before I turn and look at Silas. My eyes drop down, and my breath catches as I see his hand.

  Fuck, he’s got a ring on too.

  And suddenly, I’m moving before I can even think it through.

  This didn’t happen. This isn’t real. Sure, I’m crazy for, well, everything that happened last night — for losing myself in the man who carried me back to his hideout like a caveman. But that was wildness. That was me letting loose for once. Or, well, something. Maybe it was me getting over Lyle, my ex?

  Maybe. Or maybe it was for the money. Maybe it was knowing that if he’s serious, and I’ll know today, that I might walk away absurdly rich. Not work anymore rich. Figure out my life rich.

  Is that why I did what I did?

  But there’s no time to think anymore, and I react, and I move, because it’s the only thing I know how to do. I grab his hand — his firm, powerful, warm hand — and I tug that ring right off. I yank mine off too, and I stuff them both along with the marriage license back into the pocket of my sundress. Later, I’ll hide them better.

  Later, I’ll figure this out, and figure out how to, well, fix this. For now though, no way. This’ll be a secret, I just pray to God that he remembers last night as foggy as I do. Or foggier, hopefully.

  The knock on the window has me gasping and whirling towards the sound despite the headache.

  And I almost scream.

  The older man standing outside the truck glaring in at me is huge — huge, and handsome in this really intense, dark, very brooding way. Fierce, intense eyes bore into mine, and I blink as he raps his knuckles on the glass again, motioning for me to roll it down.

  Next to me, Silas stirs, groaning as he slowly opens his eyes and turns to look at me and the noise on the window.

  “Shit,” he mutters, his voice rasping as he rubs his temple. I roll down the window.

  “Well, well, well,” the big older man says, folding his massive, tattooed arms over his broad chest, his plaid shirt stretching tight across his forearms. His fierce eyes dart from me to Silas, and then back to me.

  “Morning, Law,” Silas grumbles.

  “What are you doing in my parking lot, Silas?”

  “Taking a nap.”

  The man’s brows furrow. “Uh-huh.” He turns, his eyes narrowing at me further as his chiseled jaw grinds. “I don’t know you.”

  “Oh, uh,” I swallow, the intensity of him making me lose my ability to speak. “I’m—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “But I’ll say one thing, darlin’. Slumming around with this one?” He nods his chin at Silas. “Well, the company you keep, and all that.”

  Silas clears his throat, glaring right back at the man. “Lawson, this is my fiancée, Winona. Fiancée, as in, soon to be wife. How about some fucking respect, huh?”

  The man — Law, or Lawson — smiles. It’s not a friendly one, it’s the kind of smile someone might make when they see something that amuses them.

  “Really,” he growls dryly, looking at me hard. I just swallow and nod.

  “Yep.”

  “Well now,” Law smirks, arching a brow. “When’s the big day then?”

  “Soon,” Silas mutters.

  “Uh-huh.” Law slowly shakes his head at Silas, his eyes narrowing. “Interesting timing, what with your gramps’s brother Mort dying and all.”

  Silas doesn’t say anything.

  “Heard the man had lots of money squirreled away.”

  “No idea.”

  Law chuckles deeply, shaking his head. “You might make some decent shine, but you’re a shitty liar, son.” The smile fades from his face quickly, turning back into that deep, intense, menacing scowl from before. “Well, if some inheritance should fall into your lap — and far be it for me to s
uggest you’ve got this pretty little thing roped into some sort of bullshit about that — it’d be best to remember the debts you’ve got before you start buying Lamborghinis and mansions.” His eyes narrow across me at Silas. “Get what I’m saying, kid?”

  Silas just meets his eyes, glaring right back at Law with his face neutral before he smiles.

  “Well, Law, a pleasure as always. But we have some things to go do.”

  “Things like getting the fuck out of my parking lot?”

  “Have a good one, Law.”

  “Fuck off, Silas.”

  Law turns, shaking his head as he walks up to the front door of the bar, opens it, and steps into the darkness. Silas mutters and swears under his breath.

  “Friend of yours?”

  “Sure,” he mutters.

  “Who is that?”

  “His name’s Lawson Banner. He’s…well, he’s the guy you see for certain things around here.”

  “What, like a crime boss?”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. You’ve seen too many mafia movies.

  “Well he seems to like you.”

  Silas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, we have…history.”

  “Sounds romantic.”

  “Har har har,” he mutters. “Yeah, two-hundred-and-fifty pound bearded guys in their forties aren’t exactly my type.” His brow arches as he slides a hand around my waist, making me gasp as he pulls me towards him across the bench seat of the truck. “I’d think you of all people would know that after last night.”

  I bite my lip, feeling the heat course through me.

  “So, what kind of history then?”

  Silas shakes his head, making a face. “The kind where my grandpa shot his dad once. Where maybe he burned down one of my gramps’s barns ‘cause of it. Where maybe I’ve pulled a gun on him before.”

  I raise a brow, and Silas grins. “Welcome to Sugar County.”

  He starts the truck, and the engine rumbles to life before he turns to me, his brow furrowed. “I, uh…last night.” He frowns. “It’s a little blurry after the drinks back at my place.”