by Rie Warren
Shy’s laugh erupted, and she tugged the earlobe with her teeth before her mouth meandered over to my lips.
She kissed me lightly, barely brushing her tongue inside.
“And your lips,” she whispered. “Just so suckable,” she purred, pulling my bottom lip between both of hers.
“Yeah? And you’re entirely too fuckable,” I murmured. “So if you wanna eat something besides my come, you better stop tryin’ to get into my pants, baby.”
She squeezed my ass.
I swatted hers.
She squealed, and I snatched one of her wandering hands, leading her to the kitchen before I decided to lay her out on the floor then fuck her right across it.
“I made a lowcountry favorite,” I said after setting two beers on the table along with a stack of paper napkins.
“It smells divine.” Shy inspected her beer bottle after I pulled out her chair for her. “But why aren’t we drinking your label?”
“Saving the best for later.” I winked and began foraging through a giant plastic bag on the counter, pulling out Styrofoam containers.
“You made dinner?” She watched, chuckling.
“Okay, made a trip to Melvin’s. And bought dinner.” Grinning at her, I began plating up.
Ribs, cornbread, thick cut fries, and collard greens.
We ate the whole meal holding hands. Kind of awkward with barbeque, but not impossible, and totally worth it.
Especially when Shy got red sauce smeared all over her lips, and I licked the extra tasty treat off her mouth before she could grab a napkin.
She giggled, a sound I’d grown addicted to as much as the sight of the light pink flush painting her cheeks.
She smacked me on the chest to push me away when I started kissing a trail down her neck.
“I’m eating!”
“Can’t help it.” I nipped at the crest of her tit through her dress. “You’re more succulent than the food.”
Her laughter dissolved into a low moan when my hand skimmed up the inside of her thigh.
“What color panties you wearing tonight, Shy?” My fingers brushing the front of the garment, feeling her liquid heat building inside. “Are they sweet and white?”
She grabbed my wrist, halting my progress. “You’ll have to wait until later, Max.”
“You’re evil. I’m being on my best behavior here. If you only knew much I wanna drive my cock inside you right now.”
Getting her own tease on, she leaned forward, and her fingertips glanced across the thick-formed hard-on in my jeans.
“Just means it’ll feel even better later when I spread myself open for you.”
I grunted, shifting in my seat. “Tease.”
She drank a sip of beer. “An easy tease.”
“Only for me.”
“Still jealous?” she asked, dipping a fingertip into the cornbread crumbs to gather them.
I squeezed her thigh one last time. “Nope. ’Cause you’re mine.”
After devouring the food, we made short work of cleaning up, rinsing plates, loading the dishwasher. I was only guilty of trying for a wet T-shirt type of deal once when I splashed water at her from the running faucet.
“Max!” She looked down at the damp top of her dress.
Still wasn’t sheer enough to show her goods.
“You can’t blame a guy for trying.” I grinned at her, and she pinned me against the counter.
With her hand curling into the long hair at my neck, she brought her moist lips to within kissing distance of mine.
I closed my eyes, parted my mouth, suddenly freakin’ dizzy as all blood traveled to my groin.
“You ready to show me your set-up yet?” Shy whispered, so close I felt her warm breath wash across my hungry lips.
I cranked her hips against mine. “Actually, I’m ready to show you my bedroom.”
No fucking lie there.
Cock on demand. That was my dick around her.
“You do that, and we’ll probably never get down to business.”
“Funny.” I rocked against her. “Getting down to business is exactly what I had in mind.”
“Handsome,” she admonished, gliding back from me.
“Shit. Already riding my ass and we’re not even married yet.”
****
“Welcome to operations.” I joked, guiding Shy into the well-ventilated shed at the back of my property.
The place was nothing special, consisting of walls I’d knocked up, a roof I’d tried not to half-ass, and a couple windows. But it was kitted out with top-of-the-line brewing equipment on a small scale. Blichmann fermenters, brew kettles, hydrometers, siphons, bottles, caps . . . the whole friggin’ shebang, everything sterilized.
In addition, I stored the usual ingredients for an A-grade IPA here—malt, hops, yeast—plus a few secret weapons of my own.
Shy whistled low. “Not bad at all.”
“Nothing like your shop though.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She walked her fingers down the center of my chest. Her fingers dug into the low-riding waist of my jeans, and she tugged me against her. “Don’t sell yourself short.
“Of course”—she turned me free—“I can’t judge until I taste the wares.”
“You’ll do well in business, lady. Already a hardass.”
“No, no, no. You’re the one with the hard ass.” She ogled me when I turned toward the old humming Frigidaire, letting loose with another low whistle.
And when I bent over to retrieve two handfuls of beer?
“Ungh. That’s what I’m talking about,” Shy sultrily remarked.
I pivoted around, finding her gaze locked on my ass.
Clearing my throat, I stood to my full height. “You are a shameless woman, Shiloh Lockhart.”
“Your fault.” She tipped her head at flirty angle, her glowing silver eyes drinking me in.
“I hardly think so.” I lined up the bottles on a worktop. “Pretty sure you were a hot piece before you threw yourself at me.”
“I did not throw myself at you. You came crawling to me.”
I grunted.
Fucking right I did. And I’d do it again.
“Bottle or cup?” I asked.
“I like to drink from the source.”
My eyes shot to her for one second—long enough to see her neck stretched, and her fingertips caressing down to her cleavage. “Jesus, Shy.”
“But you already know that.”
I drew in a deep breath as she sauntered-hip-swayed over to me.
“You know I really just wanna get my cock in your mouth now, right? Not my beer?”
“Work first.” She purred, stopping beside me so her tits brushed my arm and her sexy perfume wafted over me.
“Argggh.” I nearly broke the first bottle in half trying to claw off the cap.
“Am I getting to you, Max?” Her fingers roved up my forearm, and I knew by now she was addicted to the tats on my ropey muscles.
“Could say that,” I gritted out.
“But you like it?”
“I like you, but if you keep up this flirting—”
Her lips hit the side of my neck, and I full-on shuddered from head to toe. “I’m ready for my drink now.”
Sweat goddamn beaded on my brow, and another trail forked down my temple. Releasing a ragged exhale, I handed the bottle to Shy.
She leaned against me, watching me chug beer like I had any hope of putting out the fire in my veins.
With a small smile she took a taster of a sip. Then a larger longer drink. Watching her lips purse at the head of the bottle, her throat move as she swallowed, was sheer torture. My cock had pretty much started lacing the inside of my jeans with the clear jizz that preceded an enormous explosion.
I cleared my throat, again. “Whaddya think?”
“Fizzy. Tart but a little flowery.”
“I think you’re the tart.” My eyes on her were hard with lust, my cock even harder.
“Next
?” Her lips curved in a sweet smile.
“Evil. Wicked. Should strap you to my bed,” I mumbled, opening the next two longnecks.
“That could be fun,” she casually commented, drawing designs in the condensation on her new bottle.
“You are in so much trouble.”
Her gray eyes looked nearly translucent in sexual heated amusement. Without a word, she tilted the bottle against her mouth.
If she started sliding the neck in and out, I’d bust my nut right then and there.
No. Lie.
She gave me a moment of respite, merely taking a long luscious drink while I watched and nursed my beer.
“A little more dark, I think? Kind of a stout?” Before I could react, her hand snaked out and she cupped my bulging balls. “Heavy. Like these.”
My beer tipped over, leaking onto the floor. I crashed my lips against hers, drinking in her sinful taste, her sneaky tongue, her luscious moan.
Ripping away, I leaned against the table, on the verge of whimpering. A hoarse dark sound came from my throat when Shy peeled her hand from my dick.
With my elbows locked, I took her in from top to bottom.
She smirked, taking another drink.
She could smirk all she wanted. One more beer then I was gonna fuck her pussy so hard she’d wake up sore and think about me all day long.
“Last one.” My voice rasped, I was so on edge my toes curled inside my boots.
“Bring it on.”
Wrong words to use on me by this point.
I dove in for a kiss that lashed Shy’s mouth with urgent hunger, slaking a different kind of thirst on her greedy moans and massaging tongue.
Pulling my head back, I kept my hips mashed against hers. No mistaking my need for her.
I gave her the beer.
Took one myself.
We clinked bottles, and she licked the rim with her juicy mouth.
After a thirsty gulp, she smiled with glistening lips. “More effervescent. Lighter. This one’s the money shot.”
I choked. “What do you know about money shots?”
“Only what you give me.” She batted her eyelashes.
My dick said oh hell yes in my jeans.
I took the beer from her hand, setting it aside. “Why this one?”
“It has major appeal to all drinkers, men and women.” She pressed closer, and whispered a sultry kiss up the underside of my whiskered jaw. “I’ve been boning up on the brewing business.”
“Funny. I wanna bone you.”
“I know.”
Tense and sexed-up, I groaned. “Now I’m gonna show you my bedroom.”
“Why don’t we just fuck right here?” she asked.
“You steady enough?”
“Mm hmm.” Lifting her dress up and off, Shy was naked from the waist up. “You drank more than me.”
Her tits magnetized my gaze. The popped-up nipples. The large lush mounds. And then her tiny waist, the swell of her hips, the panties.
“That’s not what I meant.” But I already had my pants lowered, my cock out, and I stroked that pulsing meat while she watched with a hooded gaze.
Shy turned around, presenting her ass.
And I was wrong. She had a pearly pink thong on, not white. The strip of fabric parted her bubble butt.
“Can you take me like this? Fast and hard?” My hoarse words landed on her neck when I stalked to her.
“That’s how I want you.”
Both hands tightening on the skimpy lace along her hips, I ripped the thong free.
She pushed her ass out, widened her legs, showing me a glimpse of her tight, glistening, swollen cunt lips.
It took a few seconds for me to fumble with the condom I dug from my wallet. But I snapped it down, a lust-starved sneer on my face.
I was all about getting inside Shy.
I clasped her waist, hauled her back, held her still, and fucked into her.
My first stroke landed with a loud wet slap. She took my entire length, her body rippling, shaking.
A creamy tidemark of girl come covered my cock when I withdrew.
Hissing in breaths, waiting for me to lunge inside her again, Shy arched her back.
I shafted deep, spreading my hands around her tits.
“Fucking FUCK!” she shouted.
“Dirty girl.” I palmed her nipples, setting a deep, wet, loud, grunting, pounding rhythm.
I belted into her, erratic, sweaty, slippery, and so goddamn hard my nut sack shivered with every beat.
Shy came, crying out, clenching down, torqueing her hips as her pussy clasped and milked me.
Pulling out, I spun her around.
I wanted my come on her face. In her mouth. Inside her.
Propelling her onto a low stool, I threw off the condom.
“Eat my come.” My hand joined by hers pistoned up and down my obscene rod of throbbing flesh.
Her mouth gasped open. Her tongue rolled out.
No way was my seed going to waste.
Shy jacked me one-handed, proving herself a slut for my cock when her free fingers dove into her slurpy cunt.
“Oh my FUCK. Fuck. Fuck, Shy!” The blasts burst from the slit of my dick, an arching white endless rope she sucked and swallowed and spread in a milky white mess across her tits.
My knees felt like water.
My abs clenched.
My ass flexed.
My cock wanted a do-over. Immediately.
But my brain waved a white fucking flag.
I had just enough left in my tank to grab Shy’s clothes, lift her in my arms, and finally show her my bedroom.
In other words, I laid her on the bed after pulling down the fresh sheets and back-splatted beside her.
“So, do you have a name picked out yet?” She rolled to her side, kissing my bicep.
“Huh?” I was still deep in the done-fucked-hard zone.
“For the brewery.”
Smoothing her hair back, I brought her to my lips. “I’ve got something in mind . . .”
Chapter Seventeen
Bad Blood
SHY HAD DRUNK MORE of my come . . . during the night. A slow wet sexy blowjob that blew not only my cock but my entire mind.
And I’d woken her up—all soft and hazy and sleepy—to an early morning bout of fucking until my bedroom smelled of sex.
She had to head to her shop, which was just two weeks from opening, and I needed to go grin all over Chrome and Steele since I’d gotten laid all night long by the woman of my dreams.
Only took me a few weeks to figure that out.
Had a couple other priorities to tick off my list first, though. Starting with helping Shy in the shower.
Minus the crutches she’d left at her condo, she dropped her head to my neck when I lifted her in my arms to carry her to the bathroom. I let her take care of business first before returning to set the shower spray on hot, hot, hot. And when I got Shy inside the newly minted double large stall, she lifted a hand to her mouth.
“Is that new?” Shy looked at the built-in bench, the last update Tail and I had made.
“Maybe.” I joined her under the hot wet rainfall.
Squeezing against me, she kissed me until the jolting deep arousal stung from my spine to my balls.
Then she perched on the bench while I lathered her up. I covered her in fragrant bubbles so I could run my hands over her sleek, slippery skin before I held her in my arms and fucked her standing up with the water cascading around us.
Afterward, I appointed myself to helping Shy get dressed in the outfit she’d had the forethought to bring. Including a set of sexy lingerie she laid out on my bed, causing another hard-on beneath the towel slung around my hips. I’d never much considered chicks’ undergarments before, other than getting them off as fast as possible, but it turned out putting them on was just as fun.
Then I stripped Shy naked again, and—not surprisingly—I ended up with my mouth on her pussy for a good fifteen minutes.
&
nbsp; I figured I better feed the woman—you know, once she remembered how to breathe after her screaming orgasm—so I took her to breakfast. Safety precaution only. Because I was—slightly—less tempted to screw her on top of the table in front of the other diners.
Best fucking morning of my life.
So of course it had to end crappy.
Story of my life.
I drove Shy to her store on King Street, handling her sexy as fuck Hellcat in and out of traffic while the engine purred and Shy threaded our fingers together.
The combo of hot car plus hot woman made a serious dent in my pants.
I wondered if she’d let me do her on her desk.
Pulling into her spot in the small parking lot set to the side of the shop, I killed the engine then quickly hurried around to open her door, help her out.
“So you do remember how to treat a lady.” Her hands linked around my lower back. “Because after last . . . and your dirty talk . . .”
“You complaining?” I dropped my head, ready to feel those sweet lips against mine when some fucking passerby horned in on the moment by lobbing a gob of spit way too fucking close to my feet.
I looked over with a glare and came face to face with none other than goddamn Diablo.
“Maxwell Rush and Shiloh Lockhart. Two gringos with buckets of money between them. If this ain’t perfect, I don’t know what is.” He sneered.
I was gonna punch that snide look right off his face.
As soon as Shy wasn’t around to witness my visceral rage.
“Get inside the store, baby,” I ordered, pressing her forward.
“You know him?” She glared at Dickablo.
“Wouldn’t put it that way.”
D swaggered forward. “’Course he does. We go way back. I remember that first time he was arrested—”
“Wait.” Shy shoved her hand up. “How do you know my name?”
“Goes like this—”
I grabbed Shy’s elbow before he could give all the details of my criminal history, and led her to the door of her store. “Please. Just go inside and lock the door.”
“Max, I don’t like this.” She pleaded with me, her eyes dark and desperate.
I liked it a helluva lot less, but at least she did as I asked.
When I turned back to Diablo—the Hispanic road-rager holding one hundred K over my head—he wasn’t standing alone. Sketch and Jackson and Squizzy had joined the jerkwad blackmailing me. Complete and utter wasters, tweakoids, speed demons from Satan’s League with sudden targets on their heads, because I was set to blow.