Chasing Whiskey Read online

  I reach for her, placing my hands on her waist, and I pull Oriana close to me. She moans as her hips press against mine. Her hands are still on my chest.

  “Let me touch you,” I whisper.

  “Please,” she moans, kissing my neck.

  Slowly, tenderly, I move my hands up her sides and to her full, round breasts. Carefully bouncing them in my hands, I start to massage her. I touch her, playing with her body, and she starts to grind against me.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Silly.

  I refuse to come in my pants like some uncontrolled teenager, but she’s not making it easy on me. Maybe that’s one of the things I like about her. Oriana knows what she wants and she goes for it. She doesn’t take the easy route. She doesn’t take the simple path. She sees what she wants, and she goes for it, claiming it.

  Claiming me.

  She’s making me her own and I don’t even care. I don’t want to stop this feeling. I want her, all of her, and I want it now, tonight.

  Dropping to my knees, I reach for her breasts and begin to lick and suck on them over her bra. She groans, fisting my hair, pulling me closer to her. She tastes just as sweet as I thought she would, and I reach around behind her, unhooking her bra. It falls to the floor, forgotten, and I get my first clear look of her heavy breasts and dark nipples.

  I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my life.

  Flicking my tongue out, I circle each nipple, tasting her. I nibble on her a little bit. This makes her moan. It makes me crazy. She’s fucking gorgeous, and she thrusts her breasts out further for me, offering them to me silently.

  “Oriana,” I moan.

  “Please,” she whispers. “Don’t you fucking stop, Dale.”

  “I’ve wanted this since you walked through the doors of my bar,” I confess quietly, and she stills for a minute, but then she drops down to her knees, too, and she kisses me.

  “I know,” she whispers. “I’ve wanted this, too.”

  Then she grabs my hair and pulls me closer to her body. Instantly, I react to her. She wants me to worship her breasts? I’ll fucking worship them. Oriana smells like sunshine and rainbows and all that beautiful shit I never thought twice about. Now it’s all I can think about. She’s all I can think about, and I fucking want her.

  I need her.

  Gently, I start pushing her backwards until her legs hit the couch. Then she sits and leans back. She rests her head on the back of the couch and closes her eyes and I have full access to her body. And oh, a fucking beautiful body it is.

  Oriana is curvy and lovely. Her skin is soft, and I can’t help myself as I lean forward and begin to lick her again. My tongue flicks across her stomach and up to her nipples, where I keep playing with her.

  She starts to wiggle, and she reaches for me.

  “Dale,” she whispers. “I’m going to fucking come just from this. Holy fucking dragons,” she tells me. “This is the best thing I’ve ever felt. Please,” she begs. “Don’t stop.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it, princess,” I tell her. “But let’s get you out of these jeans, why don’t we?”

  I pull off her shoes and toss them aside. Then I undo the button at the top of her jeans. Oriana lifts her hips as I pull her pants down, revealing a thong that matches her bra. I look up at her and raise an eyebrow.

  “Did you dress up tonight?” I ask her.

  “It is New Year’s, after all,” she blushes.

  “Were you planning on picking someone up?” I ask. A spark of jealousy at the idea of her being with another man ignites, but then it fades. She dressed up for me, didn’t she? She wanted me to see her tonight. She was hoping for it, just like I was, and somehow, that realization is both calming and exhilarating.

  “I was,” she says, cocking her head to the side. Then, confirming my suspicions, she adds, “You.”

  “What if I’m shy?” I ask. “What if that man hadn’t been a dick and your shirt had been dry all night? How were you going to convince me to take my top off?” I can’t help teasing her just a little bit, but Oriana teases me right back.

  Leaning forward, she presses her breasts into my face.

  “Oh, bar man,” she says. “I have my ways.”

  Chapter Six

  Oriana

  Am I really doing this?

  Am I really about to sleep with my boss?

  Yes.

  Yes, I am.

  Yes, I’m about to throw away everything I told myself I wouldn’t do because right now, this feels right. It feels good and perfect, and you know what? Sometimes we all need a little bit of perfection in our lives.

  I’ll be the first to admit that when I chose my panties, I picked something I thought he’d like. Judging by the way his eyes lit up, I’d say I did a great job. Dale can’t seem to keep his hands off of me, and I like that. Love it. Need it.

  I’ve never been the type of girl who just goes after what she wants. Until a couple of weeks ago, I always played things safe. I made good, smart choices. I was careful and weighed every option, but now? Now I want to react because of how I’m feeling. Now I want to do things because they feel right. I don’t want to overanalyze every little thing.

  I don’t want anything to do hold me back from what I’m feeling because this thing with Dale feels incredible.

  He climbs up and sits beside me on the couch. Then Dale pulls me into his lap. It’s a gesture that’s both tender and Dominant, and I like the way he holds me. “Small” isn’t something I often feel, but right now, I could practically be a pixie. He makes me feel tender and tiny and magical, and I love that.

  I kiss him on the mouth and the cheeks and the neck. My hands run over his hard abs and chest. Yeah, this is a man who works out. Not that I’d ever discriminate based on body type, but I’m not going to complain about the hours Dale obviously spends staying in shape. I like the hard feel of his body beneath my hands. I like the way he smiles a little as he kisses me.

  He looks like he has a secret, and that makes me want to find out more.

  I shift so that I’m straddling him. Then I lean forward and rub my breasts against him as I grind against his cock. It’s so hard even through his jeans that it must be absolutely painful. I can help him with that, but first, I want to take my time. I want to explore him a little bit. This is our first time together, but I think both of us are going to want more. There’s just something about him that’s so wonderful and patient. He’s so strong and determined, and I could use more of that in my life.

  I’m just about to start undoing his zipper when he stops me.

  “Oriana,” he whispers.

  “Dale,” I say, looking at him.

  “I like you,” he manages to say. “A lot. I like you a lot. This isn’t just some convenience fuck. I’m into you.”

  Is it bad if I blush from that confession?

  “I’m into you, too,” I admit, although by this point, it must be obvious.

  “Have lunch with me tomorrow,” he says, as if that wasn’t enough for me.

  “Of course,” I tell him. “A proper date.”

  As soon as I agree that this isn’t going to be a one-time thing, Dale takes over. He stands and moves, positioning me so I’m standing and facing the couch. I lean forward and place my hands on the back. Dale uses his foot to push my legs apart.

  “I want you open wider,” he tells me.

  “Why’s that?” I whisper, even though I already know the answer. I just love everything that comes out of his dirty mouth and I want to hear more.

  “Because I want to see this sweet pussy,” he says. He reaches for my panties and pulls them down, revealing the rest of my body. Maybe I should be embarrassed. Maybe not. I’m not, though. I like the way he makes me feel. I like knowing he’s looking at me and that he gets pleasure from this.

  I shake my ass a little, and he groans.

  “Fucking perfect,” he murmurs. Then Dale swats my bottom a few times before running his fing
ers through my wetness. Yeah, I’m soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life. It’s ironic, considering the entire reason we came back here is that I was wet. Now I’m soaked in a different way, but I’m not complaining.

  I feel his breath on my pussy just before he starts to kiss me there, and my entire body tenses. I’ve never had anyone go down on me like this before and I’m suddenly a little nervous. What if he doesn’t like it? What if…

  He swats my ass.

  “Don’t over-think this, baby,” he says. “Relax.”

  “I…”

  “You’re fucking sexy,” he says, and then he starts licking me, and any protests I may have had leave my mouth. They’re instead replaced with heavy breathing and groaning because this is something I can’t resist.

  Now it’s something I need.

  Something I crave.

  Something I don’t think I’m going to be satisfied with for just one night.

  He runs his fingernails up the backs of my legs as he continues to lick and suck on my body. I grip the back of the couch as firmly as I can, but my knees buckle and threaten to collapse. He stands, wrapping one arm around my waist.

  “I’ve got you, baby.”

  The other hand finds my clit and Dale begins to play my body perfectly, bringing me to the edge, pushing me over the cliff, making me fall into oblivion, and I cry out as I come apart for him. The orgasm washes over me in waves. It’s so strong that everything goes white and for a second, I can’t even see. For just this moment, my entire world is perfect. For just this moment, I feel like the entire world is incredible.

  And then I come back down.

  My knees do collapse, then, but Dale catches me before I can fall. He spins me around, pulling me into his arms, and kisses me.

  “You’re perfect, Oriana,” he whispers, and the crazy thing is that I believe him. We may have only known each other for a short time, but I believe him when he tells me that I’m pretty and that I’m perfect and that he wants to be with me.

  “So are you,” I manage to breathe out, and he starts kissing me again.

  A knock at the door interrupts us, followed by Audrey bursting into the room.

  “Hey,” she says. “Look, I’m super sorry to interrupt you, but remember that whole busiest-night-of-the-year thing? Yeah, well, if you guys could come help me keep things under control…well, I’d super appreciate it.”

  She disappears, closing the door behind her, and I look up at Dale. He’s got a twinkle in his eyes, and then he starts laughing.

  “All right,” he says. “Let’s go save the day, beautiful.” He kisses me. “But I’m holding you to that lunch date tomorrow. You promised.”

  “I promised,” I agree. I kiss him before I start getting dressed again. Despite being interrupted, I don’t feel embarrassed or scared or nervous. I just feel satisfied. Maybe it’s just the after-effects of the orgasm, but something tells me it’s not. Something tells me it’s just him. Something tells me that Dale and I are kind of, sort of, totally meant to be.

  Chapter Seven

  Dale

  There aren’t many lunch places to take the girl of your dreams in Greenville, but there’s a small café down the street from the bar that will do. Oriana meets me at noon, as promised, and she looks perfect as ever. She chose to wear a plunging green shirt with jeans and black boots. I’m not a fashion expert, but she looks like she walked out of a magazine.

  “Wow,” I say, looking her over.

  “Wow yourself,” she smiles.

  We order our food and sit down at a table in the back. She got a sandwich and I chose salad.

  “Watching your weight?” Oriana asks playfully, but I shake my head.

  “Weirdly, I have a bit of an obsession with salad.”

  “Is that right?” She raises an eyebrow, and I nod.

  “It’s weird. I know. I can’t really explain it except that when I was in the service, no matter where I got stationed, I could never seem to find a good fucking salad. My mom always loved salads, too, and she used to make these really fancy ones with tons of croutons, hard-boiled eggs, and bacon strips. Sometimes she’d even add pepperoni. Now I seem to forever be on a quest to find the perfect restaurant salad. I don’t know,” I shrug. “It’s one of my quirks.”

  “It’s adorable,” she says, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I can’t say I share your love of salads, but I can appreciate good food.”

  “You grew up in a small town, right?” I ask. “Was there a big selection of food?”

  “Believe it or not, my town was smaller than Greenville. We did not have many restaurants,” she says. “Or any at all, actually,” she adds. “My mom loved to cook, though. My brother and I would spend hours in the kitchen just watching her.”

  “Are you and your brother still close?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. Oriana stares at her sandwich for a second and seems to be deep in thought. Then she looks up at me. “My brother passed away,” she says.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He killed himself, actually. A few months ago.” She shrugs, but I can tell she’s in pain, and I reach for her hand.

  “We don’t have to talk about it, love.”

  “It’s okay. I think I kind of need to tell you. It’s such a big part of who I am. I mean, it really is the reason I left town.”

  “I’m happy to listen.”

  “PTSD,” she says. “It can happen to anyone. He didn’t get the help he needed. He tried. He went to the VA a few times, but they kept turning him away and saying it was all in his head. It would be weeks and weeks between appointments and they wouldn’t give him anything for the anxiety and they wouldn’t get him set up with a counselor. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He left a note and he…well…”

  She’s crying freely now, and I realize it’s time for us to go. I drop a couple of ones on the table, pull Oriana to her feet, and guide her out of the café and down the street.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Oriana. None of this is your fault. We’re going to my place and we’ll keep talking there.”

  “Okay.”

  She allows me to lead her down the street and around the corner. My house isn’t more than a five minute walk from the café, and we make our way there in silence. When we reach the tiny blue house, we go inside, and Oriana makes herself comfortable on the couch while I start brewing some tea. I come back to her and sit beside her.

  “I can’t imagine the pain you must be feeling,” I tell her.

  “For awhile I felt betrayed,” she admits. “I felt sad he would leave me. It’s just me now. My mom’s been gone for a long time and my dad left years ago. For a long time it was just me and Bobby, and after he went, well, it felt like I was all alone in the world.”

  “You aren’t alone, Oriana.”

  “I know that now. Now I don’t feel as betrayed. I’ve had some time to think and to process everything. Now I just feel sad. He burned the house down when he did it, though, and we had lived together. That’s why I don’t have any stuff. It’s not because I’m a minimalist or because I left behind all of my childhood crap. It just doesn’t exist anymore. I was at work all night when it happened. No one called me. I didn’t hear anything about it until I got home and there were fire trucks outside of my house.”

  “That must have been horrible.”

  “At first they thought it was an accident,” she says. “But later I found the note. He’d placed it in the windshield of his car, like he somehow expected me to just find it there.”

  I pull her into my arms and hold her tight.

  “You’ve been through so much,” I murmur. “But you’re so strong, Oriana. You’re so brave. You came all the way here. Despite everything you’ve been through, you came to Greenville. You decided to start a new life. You decided to take control of your future and to live the life you want: not the life other people think you should have.”

  “You really
think that?”

  “I know it.”

  “I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you. It’s not exactly first-date material.”

  “You’re fine,” I tell her.

  “I guess I just…it’s going to take me awhile to completely process everything. I think I’m getting there, but I still have my bad days.”

  “We all have our bad days, honey,” I tell her. “The important thing is finding people we can connect with and who can help us through those bad days. Life isn’t always easy. Most of the time, it’s not, in fact.”

  “I know that more than anyone,” she says sadly.

  “I know it, too.”

  Oriana and I sit for a long time. Eventually, the tea is done, and I get it and bring it out to the living room. We sit and chat about nothing at all. She tells me about her favorite movies and I tell her about the time my friend and I tried to build a tree house. She talks about her childhood summers and I tell her about winters in Greenville. Eventually, our tea is gone and we’re just sitting together on the couch.

  “We don’t have to work tonight,” she murmurs.

  The bar is closed on Sundays.

  “I know,” I tell her. “I have all this free time this evening. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “I have an idea,” Oriana says, and then she kisses me.

  She kisses me deeply, and everything else sort of just fades away.

  Chapter Eight

  Oriana

  Dale officially knows more about me than anyone else in the world does.

  I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

  Strong, maybe?

  A little vulnerable?

  Nervous?

  Comfortable?

  I have so many emotions swirling around inside of me that sometimes it feels like they’re all going to burst out at once. Right now, though, I only feel one thing: desire. I only feel the need to keep touching him and to be touched by him. We were interrupted last night and didn’t get the chance to finish what we started. And oh, I desperately want to finish what we started.