Page 91 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“Have you ever…had sex…in the hayloft before?” he asks me, sounding breathless.

I shake my head, brushing my mouth across his chest, knowing he likes the bristle of my beard. “Jerked off a few times when I was a teen, though.”

His laughter is cut short when I suck on his other nipple, squeezing his pec to get better purchase. He groans and grinds up against me, seeking friction on his cock. I ease back, letting his nipple go with a pop and grabbing the whiskey cider.

“God, Jack. You’re killing me.”

I pour some of the liquid into his navel again, swooping down to lick it up before I climb up his body. The sound Ash makes when my lips meet his is hungry, near desperate. I grab his jaw, and the moment he opens his mouth, I let the whiskey fall from me to him.

He coughs, once, but then he’s practically mauling me. A fist in my shirt keeps me close, a leg over mine urging me closer still. He tastes smokey and sweet as our tongues duel, as hay prickles at my hands as surely as the small of his back. I work my jacket off as Ash sucks on my lip, his cock rubbing against me through our jeans.

Ash doesn’t protest when I haul his upper body into the air. I flatten my jacket down on the hay bale as best as I can and then press Ash back into it. His spine arches when I break from his mouth to work down his chest. I find sweet spots as I map his skin, places where the cider lingers. There’s one on his pec. Another near the top of his belly button. Ash pants and wraps hisfingers in my hair, all but pushing down on my head. I chuckle, making my way lower.

When I glance up, Ash has his other arm out of his jacket and shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. He’s looking back at me, his eyes dark and hooded. I flip the button on his jeans slowly, watching each flicker of expression that crosses his face.

“Jack,” he whispers, a plea.

I rub my lips above the band of his underwear, bristling his skin lightly. He groans, spreading his legs wider in invitation. I make him wait. Just a little.

His head falls back as I place kisses above his briefs. Rub his stomach with my nose. Nip his hip bone. Finally, I ease down his zipper.

“You are the most…tortuous lover I’ve ever had,” he says, breath puffing out of him as he gets up on his elbows for a better view.

I chuckle against his skin, kissing his cock over the fabric. “You like it,” I mutter.

“Fuck it, I do,” he says. “Just don’t…push it. I need your lips on my cock, Jackson.”

I skim said lips upwards and grab the band of his briefs with my teeth. Ash’s breath catches, the sound hitching into a groan as I tug the material down.

“Fucking hell, Jack.”

The moment his cock pops free, I let his briefs go and trail my lips up the sensitive skin of his shaft.

“You’ve wrecked me,” he says hoarsely. “I hope you know that. Completely wrecked me for anyone else.”

My chest balloons, so much pride and damn possessiveness hitting me with the force of a baler. I wrap my lips around his cockhead, pull his briefs out of the way, and sink down.

Ash grabs at my hair, his hips lifting off the hay. “Fu-u-uck, Jack. You’re so damn good at that.Sogood.”

I hum, slipping to the top of his dick as Ash mutters and tries to fuck back into my throat. I press his hips down with my arm, hand on his stomach as I bob my head again. He lets out a tortured moan, his cock flexing against my tongue. He tastes like man, and the tartness of the cider lingers on my tastebuds, making him all the more delicious.

There’s something about bringing a man to his metaphorical knees with nothing but my mouth that has always appealed to me on a primal level. Knowing Ash is falling apart because of me? Because of how my lips feel wrapped around his cock? It’s a heady fucking thing. It’s base and instinctual,intimatein a way some acts simply aren’t. I’ve never been good at faking my affections, but I don’t even have to try with Ash. It’s there in my eyes when I meet his gaze; I know it is. The same way his desperation is bared to me as he starts to lose control.

His lips are parted now, his hair a mess that casts shadows across his face. He looks like temptation personified, like the most dangerous thing I’ve ever set eyes on. He’s beautiful, and I have no hope of resisting him. So when his breath stutters and his hips flex, I let go, letting him thrust up into my mouth.

“Jack,” he gasps. He shoves his cock through my lips once, twice, and then floods my mouth.

His moan as his body locks in pleasure has my own cock throbbing. I cup myself, kneading my dick through my jeans as Ash spills again onto my tongue. His hand in my hair releases its pressure, his fingers soothing as his tension uncoils. I swallow the last of him down before letting his cock go, my breathing as labored as his.

“Are you…” Ash’s words trail into a groan when he catches sight of my hand moving over my dick. He sits up, forcing me backwards, and reaches for me. “Fuck, let me touch you.”

I let go, and Ash scoots up onto his knees in front of me, tugging at my jeans. The first touch of his hand on my cock,skin hot, grip proprietary, nearly has me buckling. He shuffles in close, gripping the back of my neck as he jerks me with a dry palm.

“Fuck, you’re almost there, aren’t you?” he whispers.

Unable to answer, I drop my forehead to his shoulder and suck in a breath. Ash’s hand disappears for only a moment, and then it’s back, cool and wet from his spit, the smooth glide making me buck into his grip.

“That’s right, darlin’,” he soothes, fingers dancing up into my hair, nails scratching. “You were so good to me. Come on my hand, and I’ll show you how good my tongue can be for you.”

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