Page 14 of The Distiller's Darling

He slid from the booth and reached into his back pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he dropped two twenty-dollar bills on the table—enough to cover their lunches, plus a hefty tip.

“Will losing my business impact your bottom line?”

Naomi smiled up at him and licked her lips. “Not even remotely.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” He turned and made his way to the door, knowing deep in his bones—and elsewhere—she’d be right behind him.

Twenty agonizingly long minutes later, they stumbled through the door of a charming bungalow several blocks from the restaurant, their limbs twined around each other and their mouths fused together.

Iain kicked the door closed and hoisted Naomi up by her ass, her long, lithe legs wrapping around his waist before he backed her against it. He kissed a path down her jaw to reach the pulse beating violently in her neck. He sucked the dancing point into his mouth and then, moving lower, tongued the frilly lace edge of her bra.

“Bedroom?” he asked against her soft skin.

“Down the hall.” Naomi tugged on his belt buckle and then popped the button of his jeans before lowering the zipper. Reaching her hand down the front of his trousers, she cupped him over his boxer briefs and squeezed.

Iain groaned and dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling while she continued stroking him. “Fuck, that feels fantastic.” He blew out a long breath, thankful he hadn’t misremembered how talented Naomi was with her hands.

“Then this will feel even better.” She slid down the length of him to land on her knees, lowering his clothes as she went.

Iain’s head fell forward when she wrapped her slender fingers around his cock and angled it toward her mouth, her eyes trained on him the entire time. She licked him from root to tip, and with a hum of approval, swirled her tongue around his crown like it was a Teddy’s 99 on a hot, summer day. He’d never look at ice cream cones the same way again. “Christ, woman.”

Naomi flashed him a wicked grin and then took him deep. Those were the last words out of his mouth until he came with a shout.

With his hands flattened against the door and his chest heaving in and out, he stared down at the beautiful woman on her knees in front of him. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“I know.” Naomi pushed to her feet, then grabbed his hand and led him through the foyer, past the eclectically-decorated living room, and into a darkened room dominated by a wrought iron four poster bed. She kicked off her shoes, yanked her pale blue blouse off over her head, slid her trousers down her long legs, and then climbed naked on top of the fluffy white duvet.

Iain eyed her greedily as she rested against the enormous pile of pillows at her back. Then she trailed her fingers down the expanse of her creamy white skin until she reached the small slope of her belly. He watched with rapt attention as she traced a light pattern over the flesh there until goosebumps sprouted.

And then they coasted lower … and lower … and lower.“And now you’re going to return the favor.”

Hell yeah, he was.

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