Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Julian
“He just offered.” She snaps her fingers as we move into the apartment above Midnight Proof. “They run the bourbon industry, and you’re friends with him . . . them. What if I do this?” She spins around, excited and smiling, maybe even a little tipsy. “Can I do this?”
“Crowne, I’m pretty certain you can do anything you want,” I tell her, running my hand along my mouth, taking in this beautiful woman in front of me—happy and confident, looking like fucking dream, and I can’t help but clock this moment.
I snap a mental picture, realizing how goddamn obsessed I am with her.
She’s the first person I’ve ever brought somewhere that wasn’t a client or for photographs, but just for me, to meet people that I consider friends.
The way she looks in that dress right now, all curves and confidence, turns me on and melts away everything else. Fuck, look at her.
She rubs her fingers between the little rosemary plant that’s perched on the counter and then the lavender next to it.
“I can see us doing pairings and tastings at the distillery at home. Matching up flights with episodes of The Distilled Truth. Maybe even cake and whiskey flights—my mother would jump all over that.” She sighs.
“If you want to do this, then do it. I don’t think it’s a matter of can—only want,” I say, moving closer to her as she leans against the kitchen counter.
She became a respected organic chemist in a leading academic program out of proving a point and a twinge of spite, so I wonder what the hell she’ll be capable of doing with something out of her own desire?
She looks at the bar cart in the corner of the room. “Will you pour me something from there?” she asks in a lower, more sultry tone.
I glance over and do as she asks. Unbuttoning my shirt sleeves, I roll up the left side and then the right as I make my way to the far corner of the dimly lit room.
“Maybe bring me the entire bottle instead,” she says as she lifts her skirt higher, just enough to hoist herself onto the counter.
I can’t help but look down the curve of her thighs and at those sexy black heels. “I’ll do whatever you want, Crowne, especially looking like that,” I say, tipping my head toward her.
“And how exactly do I look?” she asks with a smirk dancing on her lips.
I nearly groan. The straps that hold her stockings are peeking out as she settles herself on the counter. How can the tease of a strap make my mouth water? “Like mine,” I tell her.
She must like that because she sits taller and slips off her red-bottomed heels. “How do I look like yours?” she asks.
Licking my bottom lip and feeling my cock harden at the sight of her, I take slow steps back to her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I plan on worshipping every fucking inch of you tonight. Tell me you’ll let me. Tell me you’re mine,” I say, stepping closer.
The confidence that’s vibrating around her right now . . . It’s impossible to look away from her.
She uncrosses her legs and widens them as I approach. An invitation.
“And yet, somehow, just hearing you talk about this thing you enjoy, the way you light up just by thinking about something you want . . .” I shake my head.
“The wildest part, Crowne, is that you’re not even trying, and I’m so fucking impressed.
” I pause as I move to stand between her legs.
She makes more room for me, immediately running her hands up my chest as mine find her hips. Her touch feels too good.
“Say it . . .” I whisper.
With her free hand, she curls her fingers into my shirt, tugging me closer, as her deep green eyes stay locked with mine. “You’re mine, baby?” she rasps, with a playful smirk, and my dick fucking flexes at hearing her call me that.
A low and deep hum rumbles from my throat. She knows it isn’t what I wanted her to say, but fuck, that sounds good too. “I’m yours,” I smirk. “And really fucking obsessed with you calling me baby,” I admit as I smooth my hands along the tops of her thighs and play with those straps.
She wets her bottom lip. “I believe it’s been said that men should kneel before their goddesses,” she says, taking the bottle I brought over and pouring it into the empty rocks glass next to her.
I’m happy to kneel before her, let her play, reward her, praise her in whatever way she might need. This is the woman who’s been peeking out behind the heaviness of what she’s gone through and where she came from, and I want her to embrace it.
Eyes widening slightly, she smiles into her glass as my knees lower to the floor. My hands drag up and down the sides of her thighs, toying with those straps some more, and my mouth waters being this close to her pussy.
Her fingers glide along my hairline softly as I look up at her. “Keep your hands on my thighs,” she says softly as she pulls the hem of her dress higher, spreading her legs wider.
When I look down, she flashes me her bare pussy. “No panties, Crowne?”
She bites her lip, shaking her head slowly.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, moving my nose and mouth closer to where I want, but her fingers glide farther into my hair, stopping me.
“Would you like some?” she asks me, holding up the glass.
“There are plenty of things I want right now, baby,” I groan. My lips tip up in a knowing smile as I try moving closer to her pussy, but she tightens her grip on my hair and slowly tilts my head back. “Yeah, I want some.”
“Open,” she says, in a low, sexy voice.
With my eyes locked on hers, fingertips pressed into her thighs, and so fucking turned on it’s hard to stay still, I open my mouth.
She could’ve pressed the glass to my lips or forgone all of it and simply demanded that I lick her pussy, but instead, she holds the glass above my waiting mouth and pours.
The whiskey splashes and drips down my chin, but enough of it hits my tongue, and I swallow that familiar bite of smoke and caramel.
I barely register the way it burns at first and then eases down my throat, but it still warms my chest, heating me even more than I already am.
I roll my hips, trying to ease the ache.
“Maybe this is the kind of whiskey tasting we should do more of—you down there ready and waiting for me,” she says slowly, her chest rising and falling in a way that lets me know she’s just as aroused as I am. “How badly do you want to touch me, Julian? To touch yourself?”
“So badly," I growl, turning my head slightly to graze my teeth along the inside of her thigh as goosebumps rise up along her skin. She eases her grip in my hair to allow it. My hips roll on their own again, looking for the slightest bit of relief as my dick rubs against the suit pants and grinds along the cabinets in front of where I’m kneeling.
I tilt my head and do the same to her other thigh, relishing her shaky exhale.
“You smell so fucking good,” I mumble against her skin as I drag my mouth along the other thigh.
“Is your cock dripping for me, Julian?” she asks as she puts the glass down. She releases her grip on my hair and then pulls out the stopper on the bottle. “Because I am for you.” She smirks, liking how the filthy words feel. “Can you see how wet I am from there?”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe out. I look down, and yeah, I can fucking see her pussy glistening like it’s more than ready to take me. “Give me more, Crowne,” I demand, sounding almost needy. And I fucking am. I’m so eager for whatever she wants to give to me.
I move my hands from her thighs around to her ass, rising a little higher on my knees to get even closer to her. The sound of music, quiet and low in the background, barely registers as I sit waiting for her lead.
It takes every ounce of holding back not to stand up and fuck her right now. I rush out a breath, so turned on and teetering on the edge of snapping.
She wraps her lips around the rim and takes a pull straight from the bottle.
I press my fingertips into her skin and squeeze her ass as I open my mouth, stick out my tongue, and wait for her to share.
There’s no hesitation or even a second thought.
Tipping the bottle back to her mouth, she takes another pull while fisting her free hand in my hair.
She spits her whiskey right into my mouth, and I savor every fucking drop of it.
It’s enough for my control to snap. I’m on my feet in the next second, taking her lips in a hungry kiss.
She moans as I devour her mouth and drag my tongue along hers, enjoying the sweet and charred flavor of the whiskey with the unmistakable flavor of her.
My hands frame her face, fingers tangling into her hair as I pull her to the edge of the counter.
Her knees widen, and she wraps her legs around me tightly.
Lifting her, I move us toward the bed along the far back wall.
She holds on, arms wrapped around my shoulders, fingers thrusted into my hair as her tongue and lips play a languid and sensual game with mine.
When I reach the mattress, she loosens her legs, and I let her slide down my body just as she nips at my lower lip.
“I want a taste of you,” she says when her feet hit the floor.
“Fuck,” I exhale. “You can taste me, but that’s all it’s going to be. Just a taste.”
I move my fingers to the buttons of my shirt and undo one at a time as she licks her lips. She doesn’t let go of the bottle. Instead, she tips it back, taking another pull of it as she takes a step back to watch me peel off my clothes for her.
“Show me what’s mine, Julian.”
Fucking hell.
Her dress is still bunched around her hips, the deep cut of it showing off the fullness of her tits. Her hair is curled and slightly disheveled, lips swollen and pink from the whiskey and kissing me. I wasn’t joking or feeding a line when I told her she looked like mine; I want all of her.