Page 67 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“Do it,” I say. “I wanna feel you squeeze my tongue.”

Ash cries out, pressing back against me as I bury myself in his body. His cock jerks, kicking up as it swells in my fist. And then he’s shooting, his body clamping down on my tongue like I asked, muscles reflexively squeezing as his orgasm is dragged out of him. I pull free, licking him in broad strokes, the little jerks and spasms of his body making my chest sing in triumph.

When his cock stops releasing, I bring my cum-coated fingers to his ass, rubbing over his hole before slipping a digit inside. He groans lowly, but I keep my movements light, massaging gently, letting his muscles open back up for me. I slide a second finger in along the first and drop my forehead to the small of Ash’s back.

“Did you just…” Ash huffs out a breath, his chest rising and falling. “Did you just… use my cum… as lube… to get your fingers in my ass?”

“Mm,” I hum, stroking them slowly.

“You really are… going to wring a second orgasm out of me… aren’t you?”

I kiss the base of his tailbone as I press my fingers a little further, seeking, searching…

“Ah, God.Jack.”

Ash lifts up onto his elbows, looking back at me. His hair is in front of his eyes, like the surf breaking over stormy skies. His cheeks are flushed, his lips red and bitten. The muscles in his back and shoulders are valleys I want to explore with my fingers and tongue. He looks strong. Beautiful. Masculine. Delicate.

“You need to take off your clothes,” Ash orders. “Because if you’re going to start massaging my prostate like that, I want it to be with your dick. Not your fingers.”

I plant my lips against one of the divots at the base of his spine, closing my eyes as I breathe and center myself. Slowly, I slip my fingers out of his body, sticky with his cum.

“Whatever you want, sunshine,” I drawl, wiping my hand on the sheets.

Ash’s responding laugh is bright and happy and familiar. I’m pretty sure I’d do just about anything to hear it over and over again.

Chapter 17

Ash

Jackson uses the sheet to wipe his face before stepping down off the side of the bed. I nearly groan, the sight stirring something primal in me. It wasmyass he had his face buried in.Hisspit that was dampening his cheeks and beard.

Maybe that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, but sex is messy, plain and simple. And seeing the evidence being scrubbed against his sheets has me ready to make a mess of Jackson once more.

My dick isn’t hard again.Yet. But I have no doubt it won’t be long before it is.

Jackson tugs his shirt over his head as I settle on my back, the pillow with my cum on it lying beside me. My assaches, all of Jackson’s efforts to stretch and loosen me making me all the more eager for his cock. Don’t get me wrong; the tongue-fucking was sublime.

But I need him. I need him to fill me. To spill inside my body. I need to see his face when he comes. When he finally unravels.

I’ve gotten a glimpse tonight of a side of Jackson that he doesn’t often show. It was the same that night he knocked on my door and dropped to his knees before me. The eagerness. The desperation in his eyes that left me panting with want.

I think he needs this as much as I do. Needs the connection. Needs tolet go.

I wanted to see Jackson Darling’s stoic control shatter. I wanted to see him break open for me. I just never thought it’d be this sweet.

Jackson’s pants fall to the floor, joining his shirt. His cock presses against the front of his underwear until he pulls them down, seemingly content to take his time. His eyes rake over me as he steps out of the material, and mine do the same to him. He’s glorious. All hard muscle and tanned skin, his body honed by decades of work and determination and softened just so by time. His eyes are blazing, the blue looking so very bright, the coppery hints in his beard and hair glinting under the lights in his room. Even without the flannel and jeans, he looks roughened, an extension of this land. Of this lifestyle.

A cowboy to his very bones.

“Are you planning on joining me anytime soon?” I ask, giving my cock a slow stroke. It’s starting to rally, firming beneath my hand and under Jackson’s stare.

He grunts, making a smile twist my lips.

Raising an eyebrow, I plant my heel on the mattress and let my leg fall to the side. Jackson’s eyes dip down.

“Am I still wet?” I ask him.

He groans, looking downright pained. “Not wet enough.”

---