Page 22 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“Tell me to stop, Fins, and I’ll back off. You own tonight.”
She craned up and touched her lips to his. “I don’t want you to stop, and I don’t want to own it. I want to share it with you,” she said earnestly, unleashing his desires.
He explored the dips and curves of her body as they made out like they’d waited their entire lives for each other and they may never get another chance. She arched and moaned, pressing her whole body against his. He pushed his hand up the leg of her shorts, beneath her panties, seeking her slick heat. She bent her knee, letting it fall to the side, giving him better access to tease her silken flesh. Emotions bubbled up inside his chest, mounting and throbbing as he discovered just how badly she wanted him. She was so wet, felt so incredibly warm and sweet. He dipped his fingers inside her, gently taking her where they both needed her to go as he kissed her deeply.
He crooked his finger and her head fell back with a long, surrendering moan. Her hips rose to greet him, and he tugged up her shirt and unclasped the front of her bra, freeing her magnificent breasts. He stole a glance at her closed eyes, the flush of her skin, wanting to remember this moment forever. The closeness, her openness. He dragged his tongue over her taut nipple as she met each of his probes with a thrust of her hips, her breathing coming in shallow, needful gasps. She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, probably carving scars he’d proudly wear.
When he lowered his mouth over her breast and sucked, she cried out, “Ah! So good!” Her hips rose up, up, up, and when he sucked harder, she bucked and cried out again, her sex pulsing tight and hot around his fingers.
“That’s it, baby. Jesus, fuck, you’re beautiful.”
He reclaimed her mouth, circling her clit with this thumb, keeping her at the height of her orgasm. She whimpered and mewled, panting into his mouth. When another orgasm slammed into her, sending her into a wild, rocking frenzy, his name flew from her lips like a demand, again and again, until it was nothing but a whisper. And when she collapsed back to the chair and he withdrew from between her legs, she was shaking all over.
He gathered her against him, kissing every spec of flesh he could reach.
“Bullet,” she pleaded. “Good Lord. You were heaven sent.”
“More like the devil. I’m thinking very sinful thoughts about you, lollipop.” He lowered his lips to hers. God, he loved her mouth.
He drew back for only an instant, to look at her beautiful face, and then he returned to her delicious mouth, loving it thoroughly, pushing his tongue in and out, deep and insistent like he wanted to do with his cock. He cupped her jaw, holding her cheeks so he could feel their tongues moving inside. More sinful sounds bubbled up from inside her. He kissed his way down her body, slowing to love each breast with his hands and mouth. He wiped her arousal from his fingers on her nipple and licked it off, tantalizingly slowly, reveling in his first taste of her.
“Bullet—” she said desperately.
Good Lord, she was his undoing. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. Her hair was tousled around her trusting face. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, the purest, kindest, and perhaps one of the strongest women he’d ever known. He wanted to stay right there, loving her until the sun came up.
But he knew he couldn’t, and because of that, he said, “Open your eyes, sweet girl.”
FINLAY OPENED HER eyes, her body still tingling from head to toe. Bullet was looking at her with the most tortured, and somehow also contented, expression. He slid his tongue along her lower lip and drew up quickly, as if he wasn’t sure he should have done it. She couldn’t stifle another greedy noise from slipping from her lungs. She’d never felt so needy in all her life, but there was an energy, a hunger in Bullet that fed the empty parts of her. He was so visceral, so intense and closed off most of the time, but in the moments when those barriers lifted, he was warm and passionate. Tonight he’d allowed her to peek beneath his complex layers, deepening their connection well beyond the physical. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d revealed a side of himself that had been long ago sealed shut. And the more she learned about him, the more layers she peeled back, the more complex and real he became.
He cradled her face between both hands and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi.”
“It’s nearing the witching hour, when guys like me turn into werewolves.”
An uneasy feeling floated through her. “You’re leaving right now? Seconds after…?”
“Not on your life,” he said in a raspy voice full of so much emotion it calmed the worry that had crept up on her.
He kissed her neck and carefully hooked her bra and righted her sweatshirt, which was so unexpectedly sweet, it felt intimate and special. Then he gathered her in his strong arms, and she snuggled into the curve of his body, feeling safe, even though she didn’t really know where they were heading or what a night like this meant to a guy like him. For the first time since she’d been with Aaron, her heart was beating for something more than her job, and it felt too good to dissect the meaning of it.
He tipped up her chin and pressed his lips to hers. “I just need to put on the brakes so that doesn’t happen.”
“I didn’t know the Bullet train had brakes,” she teased.
“That makes two of us,” he mumbled.
A pang of discomfort trampled through her. “You mean you don’t ever stop before going all the way?”
He kissed the top of her head, but no answer came. She pushed back so she could see his face, and wasn’t surprised to see his go-to serious expression. The one that told her—and everyone else—to back off. But they’d just been more intimate than she’d been with any other man in forever, and she didn’t feel comfortable backing off.
“Seriously?”
He sat up and said, “You don’t want to go there, Finlay.”
“I shouldn’t want to go there, but I do.”
“Why would you put yourself through that? Why does it fucking matter what I did with anyone else if I don’t do it with you?” He stood up, and his boots thumped across the deck as he paced, his massive frame looming in the darkness.
She pushed to her feet, her mind spinning. Her cognitive brain knew it shouldn’t matter what he did with anyone else. They weren’t even a couple, but she wanted to know. Needed to know, needed to understand him.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I feel like I should understand what you’re usually like so I know if you’re different with me. I mean, you stopped, so that’s obviously epically different for you, right? But what about diseases?”
“I don’t ride bareback, and I’ve never had a damn disease,” came barreling out of him. “I’ve got a handful of women I screw when the urge hits. They’re clean. They know me. They don’t give a shit if I leave afterward.” He threw his arms out to the sides, an annoyed expression on his face. “What else do you want to know? I don’t fuck them naked. I don’t even give a shit if they come. It’s quick and dirty.” He stared back at her, his jaw clenched tight. “It’s not like it is with you. Nothing in my life has been like it is with you. Not even close.”
Finlay crossed her arms and sank back down to the chair, trying to grasp how she could be so attracted to a guy who could say, much less do, those things. A handful of women? Quick and dirty? “So, you use them?”
He stopped pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “We use each other.”
He let out a long, steady breath, watching her as she processed the information. His features softened as he knelt before her. “Finlay, nothing about me will fit the mold of who you see yourself with. We talked about this.”
“I know, and I don’t really care about that, because when I’m with you, I want to be with you. But it’s one thing to think you’ve done those things and another to have confirmation. I don’t want to be a one-night stand, or one of the girls you use.”
“Don’t even fucking say that.” His eyes narrowed angrily. “I’d never do that to you. I stopped before we went further. Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know? Do you think I’m proud of the fact that I can’t have a normal relationship? That I can’t sleep without my fucking dog for fear of nightmares? That it took every ounce of strength I had not to walk away instead of coming over to apologize to you?”
“You can’t sleep without Tinkerbell?” Oh, how he made her heart hurt.
“Tink can’t sleep without me, either. She’ll be clawing at the window whining until I get home.” He huffed out a laugh. “She hasn’t slept alone since I found her. Some asshole threw her out of his car with a load of trash on the highway. She was in a green garbage bag, rail-thin, scared to death. I took her directly to my buddy, a vet and a member of our club, and spent weeks nursing her back to health. She’s been by my side ever since. She gets me. On the rare occasion when I have a nightmare, she wakes me up before it pulls me too far under.”
Finlay swelled with love for both of them. It was no wonder he didn’t want to leave her.
