Page 65 of Sweet Like Whiskey

I know. Iknow.

I slide my hand down the back of Ash’s jeans, and he groans. There’s not enough space, and my grip is hard, but he doesn’t seem to care. His breath hits my lips, his mouth so damn smooth and inviting I can’t help but remember the way those lips felt wrapped around my cock. Ash rolls his hips, drawing a moan from the both of us. I hang onto the meat of his ass, wanting… Needing…

“What do you want, Jack?” Ash asks, breaking from my lips to kiss down my neck. My head falls back against the couch as his hand trails down my abdomen, fingers skating over my shirt before slipping under the material. My stomach clenches under his fingertips, and he makes an appreciative noise, palm smoothing up my stomach, lifting my shirt.

“Do you…” I get out before Ash nips the tendon at the bend of my shoulder and neck.

“Do I what?”

His nails skim down my stomach, and I buck upwards. Ash huffs an airy laugh as I grunt, the heft of him, the pressure against my lap making it impossible to think.

“Do I what, Jack?” he asks again, almost teasing, but there’s too much heat in his words to sound remotely cruel. And he never would be. I don’t think he’s capable.

I sink my hand into his hair, nearly groaning from the feel alone. He stills, his hips stalling, his lips pressed featherlight to my neck.

“Do you like being rimmed?” I ask, voice rough.

He’s motionless for all of a second before he sags with a moaning sort of laugh. He nips my neck again before huffing, “Yeah, Jack. I like it.”

“Do you need—”

“Squeaky clean,” he answers, reading my thoughts.

I tug his head back, meeting his gaze. The blue is stormy, beautiful and open. “I want you on my bed,” I tell him. “Face down.”

His lips part, his small inhalation audible.

“I want to eat you out until you come. And then I want to fuck you until you come again.”

Ash’s eyes slip shut, his groan a low rumble. “Jesus, Jack. You’re gonna kill me. I had no clue you had such a dirty tongue.”

“Lemme show you,” I say, licking up the column of his neck.

He chuckles hoarsely, easing back. I let him go, releasing his hair and pulling my hand from within his jeans as he climbs off the couch. His pants are tented, his shirt rumpled and hair in disarray. Without waiting, he rounds the couch and heads down the hall. “You coming?”

I’m off the couch and after him in no time. Ash disappears into my room just ahead of me. When I get to the doorway, I stop still.

He’s pulling off his shirt, arms raised and the long line of his torso on display. The fabric clears his head, and he drops it to the floor. He eyes me as he unzips his jeans.

“This okay?” he asks, the button going next. “Or did you want me to wait?”

I shake my head, voice raspy. “Keep going.”

He eases his jeans down his legs, his cock making its presence known. It juts out against the fabric of his briefs, and my breathing turns uneven. He kicks off his jeans, holds my eye, and eases down his briefs.

I let out a breath as he stands, nude, in front of my bed. He shoots me another glance, gauging my reaction maybe, before grabbing the edge of the comforter and flinging it aside.

“Is there where you want me?” he asks, knowing damn well it is.

I nod in a jerk, and he smiles, all that smooth skin and muscle on display as he crawls, slowly, onto my mattress. It feels as if my chest is going to burst, but when Ash’s mouth twists into something playful, I’m certain the implosion is imminent. He stretches his arms out, bowing low until his cheek is pressed to the sheets, his back arched, his ass high in the air.

“Like this?” he asks, holding my gaze.

I had the wind knocked out of me once. I was fifteen, riding along the base of the mountains with a mare who was always a bit flighty. A fox raced out in front of us on the trail, and themare spooked, rearing up and depositing me unceremoniously onto the ground.

I had lain there in the dirt, staring up at the cloudy sky and the mountains towering beside me, my chest so tight I thought I was dying. And then, with a shuddering burst, my lungs reinflated. Relief. Pain. Bliss.

There haven’t been many times in my life when I’ve felt utterly struck. Unable to breathe.

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