Page 40 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“You,” she said breathlessly.
He pumped his hips, pushing his cock along her slick heat, covering his balls with her wetness, thrusting again and again, until he was drenched in her arousal from base to tip and she was trembling.
“Want my cock?” he said against her neck. “Or…” He reached between her legs and teased her with his fingers. She was so wet, he couldn’t resist pushing his fingers into her tight heat. He sealed his mouth over hers in a rough kiss as she rode his hand, their other hands tightly laced. She reached between them and fisted his slick cock. He pumped his hips, fucking her hand as he fucked her with his fingers. God, she knew just how tight to hold him, just how fast to stroke, and she did this thing with her thumb over the head that drove him out of his fucking mind.
She moaned into his mouth, her legs flexing beneath him, her sex constricting around his fingers, and he intensified their kiss. He found that spot that made her moan and moved his thumb over her clit, applying just enough pressure to earn a full-body shudder. He quickened his efforts, loving her faster, kissing her deeper, until long, low moans flew from her lungs into his, and she bucked and rocked, squeezing his cock like a vise.
He tore his mouth away and ground out, “You’re going to make me come on you instead of in you if you don’t stop.”
She blinked up at him. He knew dirty talk was hard for her, and when she stroked him faster, the love in her eyes was the only response he needed. Their mouths came together like a gust of wind, insistent and gentle at once. His emotions reeled as he loved her with his whole body. Their tongues tangled, hands joined as he took her up, up, up and she stroked him toward the edge. Blood pounded in his ears, their hearts slamming to their own frantic rhythm, as they both cried out, succumbing to soul-drenching waves of passion.
He collapsed over her, the proof of their love sticky and warm between them as he showered her with kisses. “I need more of you, Fins.”
“More?” she panted out. “You have all of me.”
“Then I want you to have more of me.” He reached for the pink ribbon and dangled her gift between his finger and thumb.
“A key?” Her eyes widened. “Is that to your house?”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I don’t want to have to call you when I’m finally off work and worry about you driving over.” He worked from noon to midnight four days a week, four to twelve on Thursdays, and Mondays from noon until eight, which allowed him to attend church.
“I don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t, but I do, babe. You’re doing twice as much work with the fundraiser and the expansion of the bar. You need your rest, and part of resting is chilling out, not waiting around for a phone call and then driving across town in the middle of the night.” They’d talked about him picking up Tinkerbell after work and coming over, since he couldn’t leave Tinkerbell overnight, but that would delay his arrival for at least half an hour, and neither of them had wanted to lose that time together.
She reached up and took the key chain from his hand. “You’re so thoughtful, but how will I know you want me here if you don’t text or call? I don’t want to feel like I’m imposing on your alone time.”
“There won’t be a time I don’t want you here.”
She glanced at the key again, looking more closely at the two charms hanging from the key ring. “The Dark Knights emblem? But girls can’t be members, and I don’t even ride a motorcycle.”
“You haven’t ridden yet,” he said, and kissed her again. “You can’t be a member, but now everyone will know you belong to one.”
“Ah, it’s an ownership thing,” she said with a more serious expression.
“No.” It’s a love thing.
One step at a time.
“It’s a protection thing. No one will mess with you, knowing you’re involved with a Dark Knight.”
“No one messes with me anyway,” she said sassily, and then her gaze heated up a notch and she said, “But I’ll carry this proudly, as a symbol that I’m yours.”
“Good, because I got myself something, too.” He reached over to the bedside table and snagged his keys. He lifted the charm he’d bought when he’d had her key made, and laughter fell from her lips.
“A lollipop!”
“You’re my sugar rush, baby.” As he said the words, he realized they didn’t even come close to how important she’d become to him. “You’ll always be my sugar rush, but you’re so much more. You calm my ghosts enough for me to fall asleep and stay asleep, which I can’t remember ever doing. You’re not only my lover”—he kissed her cheek—“my friend”—he kissed the top of her nose—“and my secret keeper, but you’ve become an extension of me, always wanting to know more about me, to understand the whys and hows of my thoughts and actions.” He touched his forehead to hers and said, “I never knew I was capable of opening up the way I do with you, and I never imagined wanting as much companionship and intimacy as we have, but now I can’t imagine going to sleep or waking up without you, Fin. You’re my angel, the salve to my wounds. You’re my other half I never knew I was missing.”
With tears in her eyes, she wound her arms around his neck, the light in those tears matching the light in his heart. As their mouths came together, Tinkerbell leapt onto the bed and barked, and they both smiled into the kiss. Tinkerbell stretched her paws out and lowered her belly to the mattress, inching up beside them until her big body was parallel to theirs. She licked Finlay’s cheek, and with a loud, contented sigh, as if they’d righted everything in her world, she rested her chin on her paws and closed her eyes.
He couldn’t have expressed it better himself.
CROW HAD FINISHED the renovations at Whiskey’s, and the kitchen flowed as wonderfully as Finlay had envisioned it would. She was thrilled to give it a trial run that night. She made a plethora of finger foods, tweaking her best recipes to come up with unique menu ideas for the bar. When she’d arrived earlier in the afternoon, she’d let the customers know there was going to be a tasting session later that evening. She assumed a few people might stick around for it, and she was hoping to discuss the fundraiser with Red and the girls anyway, so staying at the bar would kill two birds with one stone. But word had spread about Finlay’s delicious treats, and the place was packed. Even Bones, Bear, and Biggs had shown up for the impromptu event, and it looked as though chatting about the fundraiser would have to wait.
Chicki Redmond sidled up to Finlay by the buffet table. She was Bud’s wife. Bud had been a member of the Dark Knights forever, and he was also co-owner of the Snake Pit. “Do you need some help, hon?” She gathered discarded napkins with a tsk.
“No. It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
Chicki was around Red’s age, with beautiful olive skin and chocolate-brown eyes. She wore her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, and her makeup was done to perfection. According to Red, Chicki was a beautician and had taught half of the women in Peaceful Harbor how to do their makeup. Her black leather pants looked painted on, and her heels were higher than any Finlay had ever worn. On anyone else, the whole look might appear harsh, but Chicki looked elegant, like a model, and she swore like a sailor, a combination that was as foreign to Finlay as it was entertaining. She found everything about Chicki Redmond quite appealing.
“These fuckers think their mothers work here,” Chicki said as she looked over the discarded napkins on the table. “What the hell is this? You’re not their maid.”
Before Finlay could respond, Chicki turned toward the packed bar and clapped her hands. The din of the bar quieted, and she held up the pile of dirty napkins. “Okay, animals, on your feet. This nice young lady is feeding you for free. She is not your maid and she is not your mother. Let’s go.”
With groans and mumbled apologies, every man in the place began picking up empty dishes and discarded plates and napkins.
Chicki made a show of tossing the napkins in the trash and said, “That, my dear, is how it’s done around here.”
Dixie sauntered over, balancing a tray of glasses in her right hand as she swiped an empty glass from a table with her left. “Nice, Chicki. Can we hire you?”
“Not on your life,” Chicki said. “I did my time at the Snake Pit. A decade, to be exact. Now, give me some grandbabies to watch like Babs, and I’m there.” Babs was Bud’s brother Viper’s wife. She’d recently started babysitting for Kennedy and Lincoln, and the kids called her Nana Babs.
Dixie scoffed. “With my brothers around, I can’t get close enough to a man for a kiss, much less baby making.”
Dixie headed into the kitchen, and Finlay took advantage of the opening to ask about their business. “I’ve heard good things about the Snake Pit. It’s more upscale than here, I know, but what type of foods do you serve there?”
Chicki’s eyes narrowed. “Checking out the competition, little miss?”
“No. I, um…”
Chicki crossed her arms, and a slow smile lifted her lips. She put an arm around Finlay and said, “It’s okay. Bullet told me he was going to bring you down to compare menus.”
