Page 84 of Whiskey Neat

I stroke my cock, hoping for relief, but it’s as if there’s an itch inside of me somewhere I can’t reach. Not for the first time, I have a sense of what it could be, and this time I’m giving in to it. Now that we actually have our own bathrooms back, I have enough privacy to pull this off.

With a deep exhale, I lift my leg onto the built-in ledge and bend over enough to reach between my legs. It’s been years since I touched this part of myself other than to wash, but I’m so horned up right now I’ll do anything to relieve it, even finger myself.

My fingers are slightly slick with bodywash, which might burn, but I try anyway, prodding my hole with the tip of my finger. The more I push, the more desperate I feel. I rinse my hand and squeeze the head of my cock instead, getting just enough precum on my fingers to try again.

I do it again, breaching my body with a deep moan. With my eyes closed, I imagine Salem between my legs, ready to undo me in a way no one else ever has. I can’t get my finger in as far as I want, so I shut the water off and pad to my bed. I’m dripping wet, but I’m on a mission.

I open the nightstand and grab the lube, slicking my fingers and climbing on the bed on my knees. When that doesn’t feel good, I roll onto my back and put my legs up, finally sinking my finger inside my hole.

It burns like crazy, but the stretch does something to me that’s kind of addictive. The intense need in my gut only builds the braver I get, and within minutes, I manage a second finger. It’s an awkward position, but it’s working for me, so I keep it up, fucking myself as images of Salem run through my mind.

My orgasm builds, creating a tight ball of heat in my core, and when it finally explodes, I see fireworks. Electricity shoots down my spine and across my skin, and the room spins. Cum shoots from my cock like a geyser, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from shouting.

As I come down, my breathing ragged and my hole clenching around my fingers, I’m left stunned. I’ve never liked having anything in my ass, but something has shifted. Could I ask Salem to fuck me?

A shiver runs through me at just the thought, and my cock jerks with one last valiant effort. I came untouched while I finger fucked myself. Wow.

I pull my fingers out and wipe them on the sheets. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I grab my phone and take a picture of my cum covered torso, shooting off a text to Salem.

Me: You did this.

A few seconds later, he sends back three fire emojis. Then another text comes through.

Salem: My mouth is watering. Wish I was there to clean you up.

Me: Me too. See you soon?

Salem: I’ll be there.

Me: Do you want your usual? I’m swinging by the coffee shop.

Salem: Mmm, yes, please.

I can hear him saying such a simple line, but dripping with decadence. I’m addicted to bringing him his favorite breakfast—a cranberry cream cheese tart and a salted caramel latte—and I find myself bringing it in for him even when I don’t want anything for myself. The sweet look on his face is worth it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

SALEM

I make my bed, knowing Indy is on his way over. The last three weeks have been chaotic as we raced to finish the bar, and we’re two days away from our soft opening. I know Indy is worked up, given he’s been slamming me against walls and the desk in the office at every opportunity for a quick makeout sesh or blow job. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who finds blowing someone else a stress reliever, but you won’t hear me complaining about it.

After finishing the bed, I busy myself straightening up my living room. I’m aware of my nerves, and after last night’s dream, I know why. Once the bar opens, will all of this with me and Indy fall apart? Will he choose a new fuck buddy once the city’s eligible men fill the bar every night? Will he be too busy to focus on whatever this is between us?

I jump when I hear the knock on my door, then laugh at myself. It’s just Indy. Hurrying over, I smooth my t-shirt down as if I have to impress him somehow, then swing the door open.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, closing in on me. He wraps his arms around me, hoisting me off my feet to kiss me without bending. “I missed you.”

Chuckling, I nip his bottom lip. “You saw me two hours ago.”

“So?”

“Come in.”

I lead him to the living room and pull him down onto the sofa. “We’re alone again. Mom went to bunco and Dad’s at poker.”

“What the hell is bunco?”

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