Page 78 of Bourbon and Proof

“Maybe in a week or so. But right now, I think I need to taste you again.” I slap her ass and grab it tight.

A laugh bursts from her as I move her body up until she’s where I want her. She moves up, her knees on either side of my head, and I run my hands along her thighs, encouraging her to sink down farther.

“My Pop Rocks weren’t cutting it?” she teases. “Wait, where did these come from— Oh god,” she exhales as I tilt my head up and swipe my tongue along her slit.

“I like how you taste better. Now, stop hovering. I need you on my mouth. Make it hard for me to breathe, sugar, and ride my fucking tongue.”

Chapter 32

Hadley

June: An iced coffee waiting for me just the way I like it (except I think he swapped out cream and honey for his protein shake...It’s not terrible.)

An All-Star jersey signed by the greatest pitcher of all-time, Gray Turner.

My car has been cleaned spotless—I’ve discounted the idea of it being sprites who have a hankering for muscle cars and decide it must be the husband.

I roll my hips against his plush lips and relish the way he holds my thighs so I can grind myself at just the right angle. It’s the perfect amount of pressure and so fucking freeing to practically smother a man as he eats you out. Tipping my head back, I hold on to my breasts, pinching both nipples as I get lost in the rhythm of chasing my orgasm.

He growls just as I’m about to come again, running his teeth along my clit as I jerk against his mouth, moaning my release until I’m out of breath and still wanting more. “I could do that every fucking morning and never tire of it.”

My lips tilt up, cracking a dazed smile. “You making threats down there?”

He hums first, and then pauses a moment to say, “Promises.”

It’s one of the many things about Atticus Foxx that makes him so successful. He does what he promises. My days look different from his most of the time. My nights end late, anywhere between two and three in the morning. And he’s always waiting for me. It doesn’t matter what time his first meetings are happening, or if he has to host a breakfast with vendors; every night, no matter what time I walk in that door, he’s waiting.

Often, he’s in his office, sipping on something and in some roundabout way has a snack prepared for before I go to bed. A nonchalant bowl of carbonara or casual grilled chicken pita.

“What do you mean, you didn’t eat dinner?” he asked when I shoveled a handful of grapes into my mouth from the refrigerator at 2:45 a.m. before he lifted me up on the counter.

My eyebrows rose at his bossy tone. “Well, it was busy. I was down a server, and typical nights like this mean a bag of Dot’s Pretzels and an apple for balance.”

He was not a fan, and that was when the heated dinners started. A plate of something delicious would be hot and ready next to him when I came home.

We have a chess game in progress that’s been ongoing for days by now. I know I’m going to end up winning, but I’ve entertained a move per night before he either licks my pussy while sprawled on his desk or finger fucks me as I brush my teeth. He’s ravenous for me, and I never in my life, even with a decently confident self-esteem, felt more sexy or beautiful.

“Hadley, do you think Duchess Fergie might like silver or pink?” Lily calls out.

I stuff my pen into my journal and slip on my boots. I didn’t realize what time it was. Time seems to move quickly when the days are filled with more than just me to look after. While Ace is a very capable man, I also take Griz into account. Spending time with both of them whenever I can.

Faye and Lark come up behind Lily, holding two buckets and a caboodle. After watching the horses in the winner’s circle displayed on the big screen from the Kentucky Derby, Lincoln’s girls decided that my horses needed to feel pretty too. I agreed.

“Alright, this is non-toxic, biodegradable, cosmetic-grade all-natural oil silver and pink glitter for what I’m betting will be the prettiest fucking horses in all of Kentucky,” Faye says as we move into the stables.

“Faye,” Lily and Lark call out with knowing grins.

“Yeah, I know.” She exhales. “Curse purse. I already paid ahead, knowing I was coming to see your Auntie Hadley.” The girls are eleven and thirteen now, and while their curse purse started when they were much younger, I’m betting that if they could swing it, the little swindlers will have the curse purse in effect until they start having to contribute.

The blaring music of Stevie Nicks pulls right up to the stables and flicks all of our attention to the double sliding doors. Julep comes barking inside, practically announcing her favorite person’s arrival. And the music doesn’t turn off; instead, it gets louder, and with it comes Laney yelling the words at the top of her lungs—ones that all of us know pretty damn well. We croon in unison about midnight skies and white-winged doves.

I smile and shout to Lark and Lily, “How do you two know these words?”

They shout back, “It’s Stevie and Miley!” As if that’s a completely reasonable answer. It is, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been prouder.

It’s a core memory moment for me, one I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have in my life—badass women who match my energy and make me feel all levels of warmth and love.

Laney laughs as she lowers the volume and says, “Do you know how excited I am for a girls’ day?”

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