Chapter 23

Faye

Stomach flipping, I run my tongue along my lower lip, the one he’s always focusing on. And then I do exactly as he asks. He takes off his glasses, folds them up slowly, and then smiles to himself. His hand moves to my neck, fingers threading into my hair as he tilts my head back to where he wants me.

I open my mouth just as he wraps his lips around the bottle of bourbon. He drinks from it, shifts over my waiting mouth, and then spits. He doesn’t let me savor it. He barely lets me swallow before his lips capture mine again. The bourbon dribbles down the sides of my mouth as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, gasping when he pulls me up onto the bar top and my ass settles on the cool, dark oak. He rakes his fingers down my back, pulling me toward the edge of the bar as I run my fingertips along the back of his neck and into his hair and he lets out a satisfied moan, leaning into it.

“Now, tell me you don’t like bourbon,” he teases. His mouth trailing down the side of my neck to kiss away the bourbon that escaped my mouth.

“I don’t think I can do that.” I smile.

He shifts his mouth lower, pushing down the straps of my top and running his lips along my shoulder. With his lips still on me, he mumbles out, “Tell me what you tasted.”

I hum at the game he’s playing. It might be the most fun foreplay of my life. “I tasted the smokiness of the wood.”

His teeth rake along my skin as he pulls my top farther down, mouth moving over the swell of my breast until he yanks the bra next. The move jerks my body slightly, and I bite down on the smile it pulls from me. When his eyes meet mine, checking that this is okay, my smile and nod of consent unleashes a breathy moan just as he sweeps his tongue against me.

“What else?” he rasps as he wraps his mouth around my nipple and lazily drags his tongue around it, so slowly that I can feel the taste buds mapping my flavor. It sets my insides on fire and unleashes a shivering wave of how much I want this right now.

I throw my head back at the sensation. A delicious pull at my breast and the ache between my legs intensifies. “It was sweeter—” I’m cut off as he pulls at the other side of my dress, taking the lace trimmed cup of my bra along with it. He doesn’t savor me this time; he devours the other breast like I’m something he’s been starved for.

With his arms wrapped around my middle, he shifts me closer to him. My ass hangs off the edge of the bar, and for a moment, my skin is cold as he steps back, lowering to the floor and pushing my knees wide. “Been wanting to taste you again. So fucking badly.”

His blue eyes watch for a reaction.

I practically pant as I signal for him to keep going, and he grazes his nose along the seam of my pussy.

“Oh god,” I breathe out.

“Mmm, I agree, Peach.” Pushing my panties aside, he drags his flattened tongue from my slit to my pulsing clit, making me whimper. I’m wound tight with desire as he stands back up, takes a pull from his bottle of bourbon, and smirks at me.

He wraps his hand behind my neck, pulling me toward him. “There’s something about kissing this perfect mouth of yours that drives me wild.” With his lips slick with my arousal and a bourbon chaser, he kisses me again. Fuck, I want more.

I fumble for the buttons on his black dress shirt, eagerly trying to peel away whatever layers remain between us. He pulls back, head resting against mine. His breaths are labored, panting in time with the way my chest rises and falls.

“You’ve ruined bourbon for me now,” he says playfully. “I hope you realize that.” Taking over for me, he finishes unbuttoning the last two buttons and peels off his shirt. I shouldn’t be surprised that his body is almost laughably perfect. The kind of chest and shoulders a woman of any size and shape would feel eclipsed by when wrapped up in them. The tattoos that run along the right side of his chest and up over his shoulder, down his bulky arms. I’m salivating at how his forearms flex as he works the belt of his pants— why is that so hot?

Kicking his pants aside, tongue peeks out licking at his bottom lip as he stands there in black boxer briefs, deciding what he wants to do with me next. As he runs his palm along his very hard, very thick cock, I can’t help but lick my lips. “There may never be such a thing as a great bottle of bourbon for me ever again unless I have the taste of your pussy with it.”

I smile and breathe out, “Oh my goddesses.” Dragging my teeth along my bottom lip, I lift my legs onto the bar and stand up. Then I’m reaching back, unzipping my dress, and letting it fall. “I don’t think I’ll enjoy drinking it any other way either, Foxx.”

The smile those simple words get me is like a reward—his dimples pressed in and eyes crinkled at the sides.

He crooks his finger at me in a come-hither motion as I bend at the waist, still hovering above him on the bar. “No standing on my tasting bar.”

I stand up straight, fully naked now, letting his eyes roam around my body. The way that he watches me feels like the dirtiest promises are coming and I can’t seem to get enough. “How about fucking on your tasting bar?”

That spurs him on as he reaches up and pulls me down, hoisting me over his shoulder. “I’m too old for that shit. I need a soft place to sit so I can have you every way I want.” His teeth graze along my ass cheek as we walk down the hallway.

I scream out with a laugh.

“You’re really living up to your nickname, Peach. This ass is so fucking juicy, goddamn.”

“My view isn’t all that bad either.” I snake a hand into the back of his tight shorts.

A door slides open, and from my viewpoint, all I can see are bourbon bottles. Backlit and on display. He lowers me onto a tufted brown leather couch.

“Is this another secret room?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. Between this one and the upstairs space, I’m beginning to think the Foxx brothers have plenty of places to whisk women away to whenever they want.

His eyes rake down the front of my body, hunger flaring that reflects mine. “No more questions.”

The demand is one I have no problem giving in to. I want this man so badly that I’ve forgotten any reason why this is a bad idea.

I shift back and slowly widen my legs while keeping Lincoln’s eyes locked on mine.

His eyes follow my fingers as I draw them down the center of my body. I feel every ounce of arousal and appreciation in him as he canvasses my curves, taking note of his favorite parts first, and then moving back to my pussy. As my fingers brush against my core, the slick arousal makes it easy to tease myself.

“Let me see you,” I whisper.

With his eyes on me, he shoves his boxer briefs to the floor and kicks them aside. Lincoln stands to his full height, cock out, and it’s a sight to behold. Thick, hard, weeping at the tip, and pointing at exactly what it wants. He wraps his hand around the base, gripping himself nice and tight before he gives himself a few slow tugs as he says, “Keep looking at me like that, Peach. That’s it.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “Tell me you want me. I need to hear it.”

I trail my fingers along my skin, from my breast to my center at a punishingly slow pace. “Say please.”

He smirks as he rocks his wrist back and forth, jerking himself hard and slow. “Please.”

I let out a small moan—he did exactly as I asked. It’s an entirely new kink I didn’t know I had. Two fingers brush my clit as I tell him exactly what he needs from me. “Foxx, I want you.” I bring those same fingers, slick with my arousal, up the center of my body. “I want you so badly”—I shake my head with a knowing smile—“that I can’t think of anything other than your mouth and cock making a mess all over me.”

“Goddamn, Peach.” He bites his bottom lip as he moves closer. “Remind me to say please more often.” Dropping to his knees right in front of me, his eyes follow every move my roving fingers make.

“If I forget to tell you later,” he says as leans forward and kisses just above my navel, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And like this...” He kisses my right breast, then my left, lowering his head to kiss the center of my pussy as I moan for him. “I won’t be the same man after it.” Reaching up, he wraps his hand around my throat, pulling me forward in the most dominant way. The taste of me on his tongue, our heavy breaths, and the thrum of wanting the other so intimately has the kiss nearly all-consuming.

Before I get too lost in the rhythm of his tongue coaxing mine, he breaks away, yanking my thighs toward him to spread them apart. With my thighs in his grip, he leans down and kisses my pussy, like she’s being so good for him. My breath catches as he parts my lips with his flattened tongue, lapping every inch of her in one deliciously slow swipe.

“Oh my god,” I moan.

He smiles up at me. “Yeah, Peach, I can be that for you too.”

I can’t help but smile back, eyes closing as I say on an exhale, “Show me.”

On a growl, his mouth and lips are everywhere, from my slit to my clit, and I can barely catch my breath as his fingers swipe through me. Teasingly. Edging me until I’m ready to beg for him to fill me. He licks and savors me with moans rumbling from his chest every so often, like he’s enjoying every single taste.

He dips one finger in first and quickly changes it to two when I whimper in relief, flipping them up and playing with that perfect spot inside me. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me. Studying every reaction I make and cataloging what I like most.

“Touch yourself,” I demand on borrowed breath.

He doesn’t answer, just does what he’s told. So good. With his fingers sinking in and out of me, he grips the base of his cock and jerks it twice before he does one long pull. Rubbing his thumb along the tip, he gathers the arousal that’s been teased out. His eyes close, as if that specific touch was what he’s been waiting for.

But it’s the heady moan that escapes him that’s the final piece to tip me over. My fingers start to tingle, eyes squeezing shut as my body clenches. That telltale numbness brushes along the backs of my knees and up my thighs until my pussy pulses against his touch, and I moan out my orgasm, shuddering against him. The black behind my lids turns fuzzy and time feels like it’s somehow paused to take note. Coming down from the wave of pleasure, I feel his lips brush against my pussy again as my body twitches. I blink my eyes open just as he removes his fingers and dips his tongue in to savor the reward he just made.

“I’m going to need to fuck you now. Please tell me I can.” There’s an edge of desperation in his tone that has me smiling.

I close my eyes, still slightly dazed. “Such a good boy, Foxx, remembering to say please.”

I can hear the laugh that escapes him as he moves. “Fuck, that just made my dick jump.”

When I blink my eyes open, he’s gone, moving across the room toward the desk, looking for a condom. The view isn’t a bad one either. Lincoln Foxx has thick thighs and a round ass that looks so biteable, I’m licking my lips.

When he turns back around, there’s a condom on display between two fingers. “The way you’re looking at me...” He shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.”

I bite my lip just watching as he rolls it over his length. I’m more than ready for all of him. He cups himself and lifts his chin. “Come here.”

Standing up, I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he reaches me, catching his lips with mine as he turns and lowers us to the couch. I straddle his lap the same way I had done on the porch swing, grinding my pussy lips along the length of him.

A hissing breath escapes him. His eyes close as his head tips back onto the leather. “So ready for me,” he mumbles, hands gripping my hips.

I play with him again. The same way, letting him part my lips and tease both of us as I rub up and down. “Watch,” I whisper as his eyes open to find me.

We both watch as I sink down slowly, my arms braced on his shoulders as I do. His thumb finds my clit instantly and pets her with enough pressure, like she’s being praised for taking him so well. The way he touches and watches amplifies everything as he stretches me until I’m impossibly full. I rock my hips forward slowly, feeling every inch of him. A gasping moan steals my breath as he pulls my hips forward, hitting even deeper than I just was. My forehead meets his as I gasp, “This?—”

A groan surges from his throat before he finishes my thought. “Feels so fucking good.”

As I roll my hips again, it ignites every single sensation along my body. He leans up, wrapping his arms around my waist as he captures my mouth. Our tongues dance at a faster pace, as if there’s not a single moment left to waste.

“I can’t get enough of you. I want—” he says as he drags his teeth along my shoulder, brushing his lips back to cover the harsh bite with something soft. At this angle, my clit grinds against him with each roll of my hips, but I need more. My whimper is all he needs to hear to deliver.

“Fuck that, I don’t just want, I need more. Hold on to me,” he says as he sits forward and rises to stand.

I circle my arms around his neck and shift my legs, wrapping them around his hips. He holds beneath my ass as he brings us to the side of the couch.

“I need to fuck you now,” he says as he guides my upper body down along the back of the couch. I’m nodding eagerly as he stands at his full height and grabs beneath each thigh before he does exactly as he said. He fucks me. Hard. Deep. And with a punishing rhythm that barely allows me to catch my breath. It doesn’t take long before I’m crying out his name.

My orgasm spurs him to hold me tighter. Skin slicked with sweat as his pace quickens, his release hits him so hard that even with clenched teeth, he moans so loudly that I get goosebumps. His body jerks just as he collapses forward, slumping as we pant for more air.

He kisses where his lips rest along my chest. “I’ll never be the same,” he mumbles in between soft kisses that have my heart stuttering. Because I can’t help but think how this just changed everything .

“These are pretty,” he says as he drags his fingers along the lines of my tattoo. “The colors and flowers suit you.”

We’ve been lying here in a quiet daze, wrapped in each other’s arms. I hadn’t had the urge to move or overthink. Just enjoy the way we just devoured and worshiped the other.

“I had always loved how these vibrant floral tattoos looked on women. I love how it looks on me now.” I smile. There’s no meaning around the flower or the color, only that I thought it was pretty. I needed something pretty at that time in my life when everything felt so ugly and confusing. “When I left Fiasco, I had a hard time thinking that I deserved much. Let alone pretty things. I walked by a tattoo shop, just after seeing these beautiful dancers on stage at a burlesque show and decided to go in.”

I’m draped along his chest, my head resting right over his heart. And it shouldn’t be comfortable, someone as solid and built, but I’m moments away from falling asleep. Even with his chest hair tickling at my cheek.

“What does your tattoo...” I shift to trace the lines that wrap along his side and waist. “The Bourbon Boys.” His skin is still slick with sweat, but I don’t care. I like touching him.

“My brothers have it too.” He clears his throat. “Our mom used to call us that—her bourbon boys. If my dad was still here, I know he’d have gotten one too. He’d have done just about anything for her.”

I trace the window panes of his tattoo. “Flowers. For the girls?”

He nods and plays with the ends of my blonde hair.

“And the glass of bourbon is obvious.” I run the pads of my fingers along the blank square. “What about this one?”

“Everything was hard when they were smaller—so much harder than now.” He releases a long breath. “I hadn’t realized how much parenting I wasn’t doing until I was the only one left to do it.” A crooked smile quirks his lips as he laughs lightly, like he’s glad to not be so overwhelmed like he was a few years ago. “I would never remember to bring things for the girls to do. Liv used to always remember stuff like that—coloring books for restaurants, beads and pipe cleaners for waiting rooms, but I’d always forget. I was lucky if I’d get them places on time, never mind if I remembered activities to keep them occupied once I got there. I didn’t always want to hand over my phone for them to zone out on videos of kids playing with toys, so this gave them a space to color. They had to remember the markers, and I’d let them draw.” He smiles while talking about the memory. It’s too easy to smile in response.

He looks down at me while his fingers move along the outlines of my flowers.

I watch his hands glide along my skin. “It was just the outline for a while, and little by little, I added color,” I say with a smile dancing along my lips. “It took time but, eventually, these flowers felt like they were always supposed to be there.” My words linger as his fingers trace the lines.

He clears his throat and shifts. His fingers stop moving when he asks, “What were you doing at Blackstone’s auction last night?”

I knew I would only be able to go so long without having to explain that.

I pull in a breath for a little courage before I say, “Burlesque dancing isn’t the only thing I’ve been doing since I left.”

He turns his body just enough to keep me in his arms, but also to be able to watch me as I tell him more.

“I knew after that night in the cornfield that I couldn’t step foot inside that police station in good conscience. That wasn’t the kind of officer I wanted to be—starting out already harboring lies. Leaving made it easy to leave that part of myself behind. But then Del...” I smile, thinking about him. “He’d always been a mentor in a lot of ways. Ended up putting the idea of private investigating in my head. It was an easy certification process, and I had no expectations of myself or from anyone else.” I swallow and shift to my side, looking up at him. “Looking at the details, asking the right questions, and talking to people has always been my strong suit. Del would send me case information and I’d offer my feedback. It turned into other jobs. And now, one of those jobs has brought me back here.”

“Blackstone?” he confirms, brow furrowed.

I give him a nod and add, “I needed to get close to him. Surveillance, digging into his background, looking for things that would be helpful in understanding his clientele. The ones that weren’t ‘on the books.’ The FBI is building a case on someone he’s connected to in Fiasco. I needed to get into that auction tonight. I lied,” I say, swallowing my nerves at trusting him with this information. “Blackstone is business, not a friend.”

“Business that landed you back in your hometown and in bed with one of the people attending that event,” he says.

“That it did.” I search his face for what this information might trigger.

He pushes my hair behind my shoulder and brushes his thumb along my chin as I sit up from his chest. “I’m not surprised to hear any of this. You’re fucking beautiful on that stage, but there were plenty of places you could have gone to dance. And instead, you chose Fiasco.”

“I knew it was going to be hard, but I underestimated...” I shake my head. “I underestimated what seeing you again would do.”

With a rough swallow, his Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t like seeing you on another man’s lap.”

My body warms at his admission, and I can’t hold back my smile. “Feeling a little jealous?”

He covers up his smile as his hand runs over his mouth, deciding what he wants to say. “Jealous isn’t strong enough of a word. I didn’t like Blackstone the first time I met him, but seeing him touching you, I wanted to break his hands first and then slit his throat when I started thinking what else he may have touched.”

“I find that oddly sexy.” Humming, I rest my chin on his chest and let those words settle around me. “What I do has people looking, sometimes touching, but that’s business. And I like what I do, Foxx. Private investigating lets me feel like I can still do what I had always wanted, but tweaked and on my own terms. Just like I love how burlesque makes me feel. That’s not something I’m willing to change.”

“Good. I don’t want you to change.” He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “I just wanted some clarity so I didn’t end up killing a man for touching someone who’s starting to feel like mine.”

My eyes widen as my heart stutters. “Yours?”

He looks down his chest at me and lets out a lazy smile. “I can still taste you, Peach. My cock is fucking hard all over again just thinking about how well your pussy treated him. How I know exactly when to roll my hips so I can hit that spot just right...yeah...” He exhales. “You’re starting to feel like mine.”

I like how that sounds. How it feels, but I’m not brave enough to agree, so instead, I kiss his chest and let the truths we shared tonight settle around us. There’s something about telling him why I’m here that feels freeing. I shared more than Cortez would have wanted, but this is my life, and in Lincoln’s arms, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this right.

He looks up at the ceiling. With one arm folded behind his head, it’s the most mesmerizing view, seeing this part of him for the first time. Vulnerable, content, maybe even comfortable and not so quick to put on a show for the people around him. I knew what that looked like. I did it too.

Kissing his chest, I smile against his warm skin, enjoying this moment with him far more than I should be. “This was fun.”

I move to sit up, but he wraps his arms around me too quickly for me to get any further than my chest pressed against his.

“It was more than fun, and you know it.” His lips hover in front of mine, teasingly close. And I can’t stop myself from leaning into them.

When I pull back, I run my fingers along the scruff on his cheeks and chin. “Have a question for you,” he says. And just like last time, I feel nervous about what he could possibly be asking me. “How do you like your bourbon?”

I can’t help but bark out a laugh and then nip at his lip. “Any way you want to give it to me, Foxx.”