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“Show me how you like it,” he adds, his lips against my breast. “Fuck yourself on your fingers. Get yourself off for me, Spitfire. I want to see what a dirty girl you can be. I know you’re greedy for it. I know how much you like to come. So show me.”
“What are you gonna do while I touch myself?” I whisper.
His chuckle is like gravel. “I’m going to keep enjoying this whiskey. Now come here.”
Holding the bottle with one hand, he leads me over to the bed and lays me out on it. When I’m spread out on the mattress, he gazes down at me like he’s taking in a feast.
“Go ahead.” He looks at my hand, which is still between my legs. “Make yourself come, baby. Keep touching yourself, because if you stop, I’ll stop.”
“What do you—?”
My words cut off as he gives me a pointed stare, arching a brow. I slide my fingertips over my clit, sucking in a breath, and I don’t have to repeat my question, because I figure out immediately exactly what he meant by if you stop, I’ll stop.
As soon as my fingers start to move, he leans over me, groping and kissing my body. He keeps pouring the whiskey over me too, and the feel of his tongue lapping it off my skin heightens everything else as I work my hand between my legs.
I’m just striking up the tempo I like and the pressure I prefer against my most sensitive spot when Declan licks my nipple. I arch into his mouth at the sudden stimulation, wordlessly moaning for more, my hand quickening against my own clit.
“You love this,” he observes, nuzzling my other breast. “What do you think about when you’re doing this at home, in your bed, alone? Do you think about me? Do you think about all the times I’ve fucked you? Is this going to be a new memory you’ll get yourself off to one night?”
He takes my nipple between his teeth, rolling it gently, making me gasp and mewl. I slip a finger inside myself, desperate for something to clench around as my eyes roll back.
“Yes!” I gasp.
A million times yes.
“Good. Me too. When I’m stroking my cock some night and remembering how perfect your skin tastes covered in fine whiskey, I’ll imagine that you’re doing the same.”
He scrapes his teeth over my collarbone, making me shiver, and I grind the heel of my hand against my clit, adding a second finger. I usually don’t touch myself this aggressively when I’m getting myself off on my own, but I’m trying to mimic the sensations I know Declan can bring out in me, and I’m already getting close to the edge.
“I’m gonna come, Declan,” I warn breathlessly. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”
“I won’t stop if you don’t,” he promises.
Then he moves suddenly, surprising me by nudging the heel of my hand away from my clit and replacing it with his mouth. He sucks hard-on my clit, and I drive my fingers into myself, the filthy noises mixing with my whimpers.
I come with my clit in his mouth, the fingers of one hand stuffed into my pussy as the other hand grips his hair, my body wet with whiskey and my own arousal.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp.
“So. Fucking. Good,” he growls against my soaked flesh, keeping up the delicious torment of my clit as his tongue flicks back and forth over it. He doesn’t stop until I’m squirming beneath him, tugging on his hair as it gets to be too much.
“Holy… shit.” I drag in a shaky breath. “I would say I’ve never made myself come that hard in my life, except that was definitely all you.”
He chuckles, the vibrations against my clit sending an aftershock zapping through me as I withdraw my fingers. I whimper when he finally removes his lips from my clit, then hiss out a breath as he drops his head lower and drags his tongue over my folds, lapping up my wetness.
He straightens, picking up the whiskey bottle, which he brought over to the bed with him earlier. Then he leans over me again.
“Open.”
The single word is a command, and I’m obeying before I even really think about it. My lips part, and he takes a deep pull from the bottle before his lips come down on mine, pouring the whiskey into my waiting mouth.
It tastes different than the other times I’ve tried it, the fiery burn and the hint of sweetness in this whiskey a delicious contrast to the tang of my own arousal. Declan slides his tongue against mine after I swallow the whiskey, making sure I’ve gotten every last drop.
When we finally separate, he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock. He’s hard again, and the sight makes me turned on all over again.
“What do you think, Spitfire?” he asks, his voice husky. “You still like the Glenlivet best?”
“Hell, yes,” I breathe, reaching for him as he settles between my legs.
