Page 20 of Bourbon and Proof

Huffing a laugh lacking humor, he leans forward, his lips so close that they brush my cheek as he moves toward my ear. “Knock. It. Off.”

And without another glance at me, he walks away like I’m not standing here. Wide-eyed, out of breath, and dizzy from whatever the hell that just was, I yell out after him, “Make me.”

Chapter 7

Ace

I throwthe stable door closed behind me and take the stairs up two at a time. I need to cool the fuck down. She pushed it, alright.“Make me.”I had no business pushing back, showing my hand, and getting so close to touching her, kissing her. Breathing roughly, I pause with my hands on my hips. As I look down at the worn wooden floor, I can’t help but smile and shake my head. I already fucking regret getting that close to her.

Laughing to myself, I glance up and then pull the whiskey thief from the corner. She’s gotten too close. I’ve been doing fine, ignoring the way she burrows into me more and more with every fucking year that moves on. But the way I catch her looking at me, in the same way she just called me out for looking at her…

I lean on the workbench and suck in a deep breath. I want to be distracted for a few minutes, work her out of my head, get my dick to calm down before I go in that house and do something stupid, like fuck that bratty mouth.

I rushed out of there so fucking fast and tried not to look at anyone on my way out. I wasn’t in any position to carry on a conversation like that moment didn’t just shake me in a way that I didn’t fucking plan for.

She’ll stay at the house tonight and won’t trek back to her place. The guest suite has been her spot in the house for a long time. Mostly, it’s a test of sheer willpower not to knock on that door. There’s a roster of reasons why I can’t, but it never makes it any easier. Tonight won’t be any different, despite the way she’s testing limits. I’ll push down the way I want her, like usual. I’ll remember the agreements I made to stay away from her and the unspoken promise I made to myself to never hurt her.

I dip the long copper pipe of the whiskey thief into the lowest of the eight barrels stashed up here. This isn’t like what Grant did, making batches of bourbon as a form of therapy. This is an appreciation for a classic mash bill—the perfect combination of corn, barley, and rye. And it aged right here. In a space that feels like my reprieve from the rest of my world. Above horses I love and outside of the person I need to be when I’m making bourbon for our business. This, right here, is for me. A space where I don’t have to be the oldest brother, the smartest in the room, schooling my emotions, and masking my physical responses to whatever bullshit comes at me. I’m the bourbon boy and the lead of my family’s company. Everything in this room is only here because I want it to be. I glance at the drawer to my left, where there’s one of the few things I should feel guilty about, but don’t. It’s the only thing I allow myself to have when it comes toher.

Filling a glass with my bourbon, I take all of it in one shot.Fuck it.

I throw open the drawer and lift out the black envelope with cursive handwriting in white to a P.O. Box in Colorado that’s always auto forwarded to the house. The return address is always the same, even after realizing how careless it was.

This was never some kind of undiscovered or perverted kink that had one day been revealed. It’s much simpler than that.

“Why do you have two bags of underwear? Lincoln asked as he peered into a pink-and-black striped bag. “Actually, you know what? I don’t want to know.”

I had the afternoon to relax before I’d be at the distillery nonstop for our newest release, but the two of them were so loud, it was impossible not to listen.

“I have goals, Linc, and some of those goals are financial,” she said from behind the trunk of her car as they looked in the back. “There are plenty of beautiful people in this world who have fetishes. Who am I to judge?” They shut the trunk and walked toward the porch, lingering just outside my window.

“Hadley, we can loan you the money. What the hell is the difference if you’re paying us back or the bank?”

“I want this to be mine. Nobody else’s. So I’m going to sell my panties and make some extra money.”

I sat up, my spine growing rigid. She couldn’t be serious.

“I’ve been sending pairs out once a month. Ask me how much I’ve made.”

“I really don’t want to?—”

She cut him off, “Two grand. That’s a part-time job—a good one. And a girl needs to eat.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking conversation. It didn’t take too long to find her listings, with some help from a friend. It was simple after that. I didn’t want anyone else to have that kind of access to her. I didn’t overthink it. I couldn’t have a say in who she fucked or dated, but I could control this. Since then, I’ve been an anonymous, well-paying client, who offers her double if she only sends them to me. Five years’ worth of panties, and I helped her get Midnight Proof off the ground without needing to ask her father for a fucking dime.

The white lace of this pair is barely a scrap of material, but fuck, does it smell good. I drag it under my nose—notes of something sweet and salty, like I imagine her skin would taste like if I dragged my tongue where I wanted. I move the scalloped material across my lips, making my mouth water. As I take another sip of bourbon, the spice and caramel notes on my tongue combine with the lingering smell of her pussy. It's the way I prefer to drink my bourbon. A classic single barrel that continued to age. And the fantasy of her.

The feeling of her hair brushing against my thighs as she braces her hands along my waist, nails dragging and digging into my thighs. I throw open my pants, shove my boxers down, and take out my dick. Wrapping the soft lace around it, with a soft grip so I can feel the material against my skin, I give myself a slow tug. My mouth drops open and the breath I had been holding rushes out as I grip tighter and do it again.

Fuck.I tip my head back and get lost in the idea of her wanting me. Of pleasing me, ready to take the directions I give her and eager to savor every drop that leaks from the slit of my dick. I rock my wrist back and forth, feeling the soft material graze the tip as I think about the way she would look up at me through those pretty dark lashes. It’s a filthy dreamed-up image I tuck away to replay over and over as I grip myself hard and stroke my dick from base to head. I’m dripping all over my knuckles. And all of it would look so pretty painted on her lips. I’d tap the head against her slick tongue and drag the underside up and down as she gets me nice and wet.

My dick swells at the idea of her doing exactly as I say, watching me as I move my cock along her tongue, in charge of my own pleasure. I push in farther just to see her gag on it. But she doesn’t. Her eyes simply water as she keeps them trained on me.

I give her a nod, letting her know she can close those lips around me.

And, oh, she fucking does. The groan that her tongue and lips pull from my throat should be embarrassing, but I don’t give one single fuck. She plays with me for a little while before taking me deeper. Swallowing around me, she enjoys how I fill her throat. I drag my fingers into her hair and let them tangle into the wild, curly mess of it. She moans, wanting more, lost in this moment.Fuck, I want more too. I moan, realizing I’ve edged myself too long, because I come without any warning. Every muscle in my body tenses, and then my legs practically give out as I fill the white lace. With sweat on my lip, my pulse races. I try to drag out whatever is left of my orgasm and rock my wrist more slowly. The slicked, messy panties feel so fucking good. What I wouldn’t give for it to be her skin, her mouth, her pussy. My body shudders. I’m so damn sensitive now, but a part of me isn’t ready to come down from this high completely.

There have been women over the years, plenty of beautiful women to satisfy and substitute. But that’s all it’s ever been. The attraction is always surface level. No sleepovers and no repeats. Easy to erase, move on from, and forget. The whispers to “never fall for a Foxx” piss me off, but it works in my favor. It’s kept my control intact and her safe.

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