Page 81 of A Taste of Chardonnay

Her muscles tightened, a tiny inhale of bliss echoing in the cramped space. My thumb found her clit, rubbing circles as I pumped into her.

“Let go,” I said.

“You first.”

I moved my hand to her hip. “That’s not how this works.”

She smirked, tilting her chin to look into my eyes, a challenge arising in the dark brown depths. “Guess we’re at a standstill.”

I slammed into her heat. She cried out, body flinging back, beautiful tits thrusting at me. I dipped my head, dragging my togue along the pale pink lace before placing a kiss on the swell and pulling back.

“Together?” I asked, her head lulling forward, desire-hooded eyes locking on me.

“Together.”

Our mouths came together as one, our movements mimicking each other as I pumped into her. Resting my forehead on hers, I caressed her cheek, and her hand slammed into mine, holding it there, her eyes slipping shut, mouth parting.

Pressure built in my cock, pulling up from my balls as her face contorted with the flood of pleasure. I held on to every last shred of willpower I had, refusing to fall over the edge without her.

Her muscles tightened around my cock, her slick walls surrounding me in glorious heat. Her fingers dug into my shoulder. My jaw clenched as the sensations rocked my body with unrelenting force.

A moan slipped from her lips, and I crashed mine to hers, swallowing the tiny noise. Her fingers flexed, body shook, and I slammed into her one last time. Our bodies shuddered at our releases. My legs weakened, and I collapsed against a vibrating Chardonnay.

“Holy shit,” she mumbled as she gathered me into her arms, kissing my cheeks and my nose while I tried to stay upright. I heard Jack scratching at the door. God only knows how long he’d been there, but he could easily go into the house. After a minute, he retreated, and the feeling returned to my legs. I straightened, tilting her chin to me.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, even when you’re an ogre who fucks me in a garage.”

A laugh burst from me, shining a light into the dark crevices of my mind. “I could have thrown you over my shoulder.”

She shrugged. “There’s always next time.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“More like a request.”

I didn’t have time to be shocked as she scooted off the workbench, landed on the ground, and despite still being in her heels, lifted on her toes to place a chaste kiss on my chin. “Get dressed. It’s time I met your father.”

I waited for the fear to overtake me, for the need to revolt against her request and tell her to get the hell out of here.

It never came.

Brady stepped into his pants and yanked them up. It was a shame we had to get dressed, but we had important things to take care of. If we were lucky, we’d have a lifetime of sneaking away for sex.

I buttoned my blouse and pulled my fitted suit jacket over it. Brady immediately grabbed the oversized coat and wrapped me in it.

“We’re walking across the property, not scaling Everest.”

He didn’t say anything as he reached for the zipper and enclosed me in the down.

“He kept a box of my accomplishments,” he muttered.

“What?”

He a ran hand over his hair that was a bit of a mess, thanks to my overeager tugs. “I found it the other day. Newspaper clippings, articles about the distillery, an unopened bottle of my whiskey. He told me he was proud of me.” He slipped the tie from his hair, smoothed the flyaways, and tightened the band around the thick dark mass. “He waits until he almost can’t remember who the fuck I am to tell me that.”

I stepped toward him, my arm finding the opening inside the coat and taking his hand. “How does that make you feel?”

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