Truly, Madly, Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

  “I need my mouth on you, baby. But—”

  No buts. Not now. Not ever. Not with you. “Yes. Yes.”

  She couldn’t lift her shirt and unhook the front clasp on her bra fast enough. She guided his mouth to her breast and held him there, feeling triumphant in the depths of her trust in him. This was what she’d longed for. The ability to let go and the courage to allow herself to feel her desires, to experience the pent-up passion she’d been running from all these months. This was right.

  His mouth ignited her entire body with each hard suck. She held on for dear life as bolts of pleasure tore through her. She rode him hard, the clothing between them amping up her desire. When he moaned, it vibrated through her chest, making her hotter, wetter, greedier. She was utterly lost in him, and she never wanted to be found. She wanted to live in this magical haven of Bear forever.

  Heat climbed up her limbs, burrowing into her chest, burning deeper and deeper. Pressure mounted at the juncture of her thighs, taking her up, up, up. She hung on the edge of a cliff, barely breathing, her entire body throbbing, on the verge of exploding, and then he tightened his hold, possessing her so completely, she spiraled over the edge, free-falling into a world of Bear.

  Chapter Eight

  CRYSTAL COLLAPSED AGAINST Bear, whispering, “Wow, wow, wow.”

  Bear held her tight, kissing her cheek as her heart calmed. “I’ve got you, baby.” Watching her come, feeling her surrender to their passion, was so fucking hot he’d nearly lost it.

  “That was amazing. Intense. How did you do that without…?” She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “We’re definitely doing that again.”

  “And again and again,” he promised. “But you don’t have to build me up, babe. It’ll be even better as we get closer.”

  She mouthed, Better? Her eyes widened, and understanding dawned on him.

  “Have you never…?”

  She shook her head, embarrassment pinking up her cheeks.

  He kissed her again, tender and sweet, and hopefully reassuring. “Not even… self-pleasured?” he asked gently.

  “God, this is so embarrassing. No, I haven’t flicked the bean, and not because I’m screwed up. I’ve had sex before, in college, but it was never particularly enjoyable. And even though I know pleasurable things are possible, I just never wanted to try to do that by myself. And then I met you, and I thought about you so much, I wanted to try, but…Let’s just say that every time I thought about it, like really thought about going there, I worried I wouldn’t be able to, you know. And I didn’t want another bad thing associated with that part of my body. So I never tried.”

  “Oh, baby.” He hugged her. “I promise we’ll make up for all the orgasms you’ve missed.”

  She laughed. “You’re so generous. I’ve missed a lot. Like, hours and hours’ worth.” She wiggled her bottom.

  “Let’s not do that right now.” He lifted her off his lap, drinking in the curious and sultry look in her eyes. The combination made him want her to continue moving her fine body all over him, but he already felt like a volcano ready to erupt, and it would be torturous to have to stop again.

  “Jesus, babe. Don’t look at me like that.” He rose to his feet, adjusting his painful erection.

  She pushed from the couch and wound her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready to, you know, but I can offer you a fashion magazine and the privacy of my bathroom to relieve that pressure.”

  “Christ,” he uttered. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

  “I was being serious. It’s not like I have recent experience to draw from. I’ve never even had a man in my apartment. I don’t know what couples do at times like this, but I feel bad leaving you all revved up with no finish line in sight after the way you set my world on fire.”

  He kissed her again. “Baby, you don’t have to do anything about it. I’m not an animal.”

  “Your name suggests otherwise.”

  He laughed softly. “I’ve waited eight months, and I’ll wait eight more, or a hundred more, if that’s what it takes for you to be ready.”

  She glanced at the bulge in his pants, brow wrinkled. “You sure you don’t want that magazine?”

  He slapped her ass.

  “What?” She laughed. “I would offer to help, but I don’t trust myself.”

  He ground his teeth together. “Baby, do not put images like that in my head, or I’ll never calm down.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’ve never…” She made a circle with her hand and moved it like she was jerking him off.

  “Great. Another image I’ll never be able to forget.”

  Someone banged on the door.

  “Saved by the knock. Expecting someone?” He untucked his shirt to cover his arousal as he headed for the door.

  “No.”

  He answered the door and found a young guy holding a pizza box.

  “Finally, dude. I was here fifteen minutes ago, but no one answered.”

  “Shoot.” Crystal grabbed her purse from the table by the door and began digging around in it. “I forgot I ordered pizza for us before you got here.”

  “No worries, babe.” He whipped out his wallet and paid the guy. “Sorry for the wait. Thanks for bringing it by again.”

  He closed the door and wrapped an arm around Crystal. “That was thoughtful, but I would have taken you out for dinner.”

  “I live off of pizza and Chinese. Oh, and I can burn toast, but that’s about it.”

  He cocked a brow. “Seriously?”

  “Don’t judge.” She went into the kitchen and grabbed two plates from a cabinet.

  He made a mental note to cook her an amazing dinner sometime soon and headed for the dining room.

  “Besides, this pizza rocks,” she said as she came to his side. “You won’t find room to eat in there.”

  “I see that.” He set the pizza on a chair and stepped into the room.

  Three long tables were lined up beneath the windows, covered by layers of colorful fabric with sketches strewn across them. Several more dolls that her father had made were on the windowsill. His chest constricted. Tins of buttons, spools of thread, and other sewing supplies littered every surface. In the corner of the room a mannequin wore a black-and-white polka-dot skirt; a piece of bright pink fabric was draped over its shoulder. Hand-drawn fashion designs and swatches of fabric, along with pictures of costumes and clothing torn out of magazines and newspapers, were tacked to a large corkboard. Across the room, a shirt with one sleeve, a skirt with several pins securing lace to the hemline, and other pieces of clothing in various stages of design hung from a metal rack beside a sewing machine. He loved her colorful, creative chaos.

  “It looks like something exploded in here.”

  “An explosion of my mind, maybe.” She opened the pizza box. “Everyone needs a place to disappear. This is mine.” She put a slice of pizza on each plate and handed him one.

  “My girl has more secrets, and I want to know them all.” He leaned in for a kiss and forced himself to focus on the glimpse into her world she was offering.

  “I knew you were making costumes, but I had no idea you were into designing clothes. Are these all yours?” He studied the sketches pinned to the corkboard while he ate.

  “Mm-hm. I studied design in school. I tinker. I design, redesign, try to make a few things each year.” She took a bite of her pizza.

  “You’re incredibly talented.” He looked at the sketches spread across the tables, amazed at the complexity of the designs. “You and Gemma are going to do this all on your own? That’s awesome.”

  “We’re going to make a few and see if they sell. If they do, then we’ll try to recruit a few design students to help.”

  “Is that what you’d like to do eventually? Fashion design?”

  She shrugged. “I love working with Gemma, and if we can pull off selling our own costumes, that’ll be enough for now. I’m not ready to go back to school, and I’d need to in
order to really make a name in fashion design, not to mention interning in New York City and all of that. None of which I have any real interest in. Maybe someday that’ll change, but right now I’m happy.”

  He pointed to a sketch on the sewing table, recognizing the diamond print. “Is that the skirt you have on?”

  “Yes.” She took another bite of her pizza. “I finished it a few weeks ago. Check this out.” She finished her slice of pizza and lifted a big roll of fabric, pointing to the end of the cardboard that it was wound around. “This is called a bolt of fabric. You should know that in case you decide to frequent fabric stores to feed your satin and lace addiction.”

  “I think you mean my Crystal addiction.” He leaned closer to read the tag on the bolt—Black Bear—and laughed.

  “I couldn’t resist,” she said with a sexy smile. “I found it three months ago, and I had to buy all of it.”

  “Three months ago? You really were into me all this time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea…”

  He slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close. “See? Even the fabric gods want us to be together.” He pressed his lips to hers. The taste of pizza and lust twined together with the unique taste of Crystal. “Damn, sugar. I’m never going to get enough of you.”

  “Good.” She went up on her toes, pressing a kiss to the center of his lips. “Then we have a lot in common.”

  “That’s a far cry from, ‘I’m not your sugar.’ You sure you want to claim me so blatantly? Because I might just enact a ‘no-take backs’ rule.”

  “As if I ever had a choice about claiming you?” A grin lifted her lips. “You made it impossible for me to think about anything but you.”

  “Babe, you are all I’ve thought about for so long, I can’t remember what I thought about before you.”

  “That’s a pretty awesome line.”

  “I’m a pretty awesome guy. See? I have even more in common with my kick-ass girl.”

  She laughed.

  “We actually do have a lot in common,” he said more seriously. “You design clothes. I design bikes.”

  “Get outta town.” Surprise lifted her brows.

  “Sorry, babe, but I’m in this town to stay. In fact, you might have trouble getting me to leave this apartment.”

  “You wish.” The heated look in her eyes disputed her words. “How have I known you this long and not known that you design bikes?” She served them each another slice of pizza and carried the box into the living room.

  “I could say the same about you designing clothes.”

  “I’m serious. That’s huge. I mean, I design clothes in the privacy of my dining room. No one knows about it but Gemma and Dixie. But motorcycles? That’s huge.”

  “It’s just a hobby. I do it in my garage at home.”

  “What’s stopping you from doing it as more than a hobby?”

  “I need time to invest into the process to do it right, and I can’t walk away from my family’s businesses.”

  “But designing and building motorcycles? That’s not something just anyone can do. I’m sure they’d understand if you wanted to break out on your own. Bones is a doctor, and Bullet went into the military.”

  He cleared his throat to try to push past the discomfort that came with this conversation. “I have an offer from Silver-Stone Cycles to work with them on a part-time basis designing bikes.”

  “The Silver-Stone Cycles? They’re as big as Harley-Davidson. That would be amazing.”

  Amazing was right, but earth would have to shift to make that pipe dream become a reality.

  “Are you going to take it?”

  The excitement in her voice made him want to say he was, but he wasn’t there yet.

  “There’s a lot to consider.” He didn’t want to get sidetracked with a long conversation about his dilemma right now, so he tried to shift the focus away from him. “How do you know about Silver-Stone Cycles?”

  She teasingly wiggled her shoulders. “A girl has got to do something on weekend nights when she’s pretending to live a tawdry life of hookups with hot bikers. I watch Chop Shop and Sons of Anarchy, and—”

  He laughed. “I think you just got ten times sexier.”

  “All in the name of research. I love tattoos and scruffy beards and leather. Mm, leather. And seeing you on your bike? That’s the best foreplay ever.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said as they sat on the couch. “And I’ll remember not to bring you by the bar when the guys are there.”

  “You’re the only biker boy I want. I started watching because I needed to learn the jargon, but the eye candy isn’t bad.” She said eye candy with a taunting tone.

  He set their plates on the coffee table and tickled her ribs, making her squeal with laughter. “No more eye candy.”

  “You don’t own me,” she said between laughs. “Eye candy, eye candy, eye candy.”

  He tickled her again, and she squealed louder.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she panted out. “Only Bear candy.”

  His mouth came down over her laughing lips, taking her in a long, sensual kiss that turned those sweet laughs into lusty moans.

  Harley climbed up Bear’s leg, and he reluctantly pulled away to scoop her up and kiss her tiny pink nose. “Hey, little CB.”

  “You are not calling her that!” Crystal reached for Harley.

  He held the kitty farther away. Crystal leaned across his lap trying to get her, and he snaked an arm around her middle and kissed her neck. “Now, that’s more like it.” He kissed a path along her shoulder. “Mm-mm. Sweet as sugar.”

  She laughed. “And you’re wicked as a Cajun spice.”

  “Baby, you haven’t seen wicked yet.” He waggled his brows, cuddling the kitty. “I’m outnumbered by females. I should have gotten you a tomcat.”

  “I have one by the name of Bear.” She bumped him with her shoulder and grabbed her pizza.

  “I am not a tomcat anymore.” He didn’t regret his past experiences, but he needed her to know she was the only woman he wanted.

  She tucked her feet beneath her. Her skirt inched up her thighs and his gaze followed.

  “You’re still a tomcat, even if I’m your only prey. I bet the guys in your big, bad motorcycle club would give you shit about being with only one woman.”

  “That’s not how it works, babe.”

  “Then how does it work?”

  “Depends who you talk to, and it’s not just club guys. They’re regular guys. Some are single; some have girlfriends or families. Guys are different. Some are all about sleeping around, and some are all about ownership, or possessing their women, while others—”

  “Sounds like my guy,” she mumbled.

  “No, it doesn’t. I might be possessive and protective of you, but I don’t think I own you.”

  “Then you won’t sell me to the highest bidder?” Her smile told him she was kidding.

  “Not unless you misbehave.” He set Harley on her lap. She’d known him and his siblings long enough to understand that their club was comprised of people who shared an interest in motorcycles and biker culture, as opposed to a motorcycle gang, which were typically known for engaging in illegal activities.

  “There’s no difference between going out with me and going out with a guy who’s not in a motorcycle club except I’m better looking, tougher, smarter, and a million times hotter in bed.”

  “My biker boy is very arrogant, isn’t he?” she whispered to Harley.

  He laughed. “You’re a strong woman, Crystal, and I’d imagine you’re not going to like some things about how the club works.” That brought serious eyes up to his.

  “Dixie told me that she’s not allowed to be a member, so you’re not going to shock me with the no-women-allowed thing.”

  Relief swept through him. Thanks, Dix. “I know it sounds chauvinistic, but I respect the reasons behind what started as tradition and lives on as brotherhood among members. Think of it like a boys’ c
lub. Once you add women into the mix, romances between members start, breakups happen, and the brotherhood becomes divided.”

  “I love that brotherhood. The way you and your brothers are there for Tru and Gemma and the kids is amazing. And what you did for that little boy the other night? That’s what real heroes are made of.”

  “No, sugar. That’s what humanity should be made of.” He was thrilled that after all these months she was finally admitting her feelings toward him instead of doling out snarky comments. “My father taught us well in that regard. I just wish there was more equity where Dixie is concerned.”

  “Where does Dixie fit in? She doesn’t seem to mind the boys’-club mentality of the Dark Knights, or at least she doesn’t let on that she does.”

  “Unfortunately, Dixie is stuck in the ‘princess’ slot in our father’s old-school head.”

  Crystal laughed. “‘Princess’? Your sister is no princess. She’s the toughest woman I’ve ever met in my life. She doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

  “I don’t mean ‘princess’ as in she thinks she’s a princess. She’s the president of the club’s daughter. She’s relative gold. No one messes with the president’s family. Especially the women. And my father adores her, but he’s so frigging old-school that he holds her back. She works as hard as me and my brothers but has no say in any of the bigger business decisions. I respect my father, but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does.”

  “But she runs your shop and she works at the bar. How is she held back? She loves working there.”

  “She’s done great things for our shop because I put her in that position against my father’s wishes. I gave her a shot and she proved herself. But her talents are wasted working at the shop and waitressing at the bar. If ever there was a person who should be running a business, it’s Dix. If he let her take charge of the expansion, she could do great things. Asking me to do it with Dixie helping out behind the scenes is a slight to her.”

  Her eyes filled with challenge. “Then what are you going to do about it, Mr. I’ll-Make-You-Want-Me Whiskey?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. It’s all about respect, baby, and I respect the hell out of my father.”