“You gonna talk through this?” he asked, lifting his head to look down at me.

“Maybe,” I answered.

He shook his head and he kissed me again.

I had kinda thought the last kiss was serious as it had a serious effect on me. But I was wrong. This kiss was serious. If I thought I was dizzy before, I didn’t know the meaning of dizzy.

The kiss was hot and hard and before it was done, I had my hands up his sweater, roaming the skin of his back and shoulders.

He kissed me again, likely to keep me quiet, and I lost any control I had (though there wasn’t much to lose).

Then again, so did he.

We were al over each other; hands inside each other’s clothes, tongues inside each other’s mouths. He pul ed away and unwrapped the scarf from around my throat and tossed it aside. Before he could come back, I lifted his turtleneck from the waist and pul ed it over his head. He shoved me back on the bed but fol owed me there, his body covering one side of me, his hand going up my shirt, trailing up my bel y to cup my breast. He kissed me again and I felt him yank the cup of my bra roughly down and then his hand was skin against skin on my breast.

I arched into it and his hand went away but his finger didn’t. It circled lazily around my nipple, his mouth stil on mine.

“Let me take my shirt off,” I muttered.

“I’m not done,” he said, stil circling with his finger and it was driving me mad, but in a good way.

I pressed into him. “Whisky, let me take my shirt off,” I said.

His head lifted and he looked down at me, stil circling.

It felt good.

“Why Whisky?” he asked.

“What?”

“Why Whisky?”

I tried to scoot away so I could get my clothes off and, I don’t know, maybe attack him, when his thumb joined his finger and he did a rol .

My body stil ed and I felt a spasm between my legs.

“Holy cow,” I breathed.

“Why Whisky?” he repeated, going back to circling.

“Your eyes…” I said, “They’re the color of whisky.” He smiled.

I felt a spasm between my legs again.

Then his mouth was on mine.

I was dizzy when he final y moved and pul ed my shirt off.

I would have thanked him but he covered my body with his and used his hands and mouth on me, all over me, so I was robbed of speech. Before I knew it, my bra was gone, he reached down to pul off my shoes, then he yanked down my jeans. Then, without warning, his hands spread my legs and his mouth was on me over my panties.

It was nice. It was better than nice, it was amazing.

Then he whisked away my panties and his mouth was on me.

That was even better, way better.

In fact, so much better, I felt it coming and I knew it was going to be good.

“Hank,” I said and it sounded like a moan.

Then his mouth was gone and he came back over me. I stared at him, lifted my hands to his shoulders and pressed down. I wasn’t done so he certainly wasn’t done. To my surprise, he resisted and buried his face in my neck, touching his tongue there.

“I was close,” I whispered.

“I know,” he answered, stil resisting the pressure of my hands.

I blinked at the ceiling.

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

And he wasn’t.

He took me from nearly there to nearly there to nearly there and I tried to get him nearly there but only got so far as getting his belt unbuckled and the top button of his jeans undone. He did pul away to yank off his boots and socks but that was it.

He had his hand between my legs and I had my hand in the back of his jeans and I was nearly there again, panting against his mouth when his fingers went away and slid up my bel y.

My eyes flew open.

“Whisky!” I snapped, bucking and trying to push him to his back to get some leverage on the situation.

I was so turned on, I’d never been that turned on before, my body was humming with it.

He was smiling.

“Don’t smile at me, you rat. Finish what you start.” He gave me a light kiss.

“Ask nice.”

I growled.

Then I attacked.

It got out of hand then. There was a bit of wrestling and unfortunately Hank was stronger. I ended up on my back, wrists over my head held by one of his hands, his other hand between my legs again and his mouth at my neck. I was close again and I knew he knew it.

“Let go of my hands, I want to touch you,” I demanded.

He didn’t answer but, instead, ran his tongue along my neck.

“Hank.” His name came out kind of whiney.

Okay, maybe a lot whiney.

His hand went away from between my legs and my body tensed.

“Please,” I said low and his head came up and he looked at me.

His eyes were hot and intense and I held my breath.

He rol ed completely over me. I opened my legs and his h*ps fel between them as he let go of my wrists. His hand worked at the buttons of his fly and I pushed his jeans down his hips, my mouth at his neck. Then my hand wrapped around him.

“Jesus, Sunshine,” he muttered but there was a smile in his voice.

I looked him in the eye.

I was trying to guide him into me but he was having none of it.

“I want you inside me, Whisky. Now.”

He pul ed my hand away and then his hands went to my hips, lifting them and he stared down at me but he didn’t come inside.

I gave in.

“Please.”

He slid inside.

It felt beautiful.

My head arched back and my arms wrapped around him.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

I looked at him, he moved inside me and it felt delicious.

“It starts now,” he told me.

I moved with him, I wasn’t real y focusing on what he was saying, mainly because it was building again and I could feel it coming.

“What starts now?” I asked.

“You and me.”

He moved faster, pressed harder, went deeper.

Good God.

“What?” I asked dazedly.

“You and me,” he said again.

“Whisky,” I breathed, “I’m not keeping up with you.” I was keeping up with him, but not in the way I was talking about. I held on to him and tilted my h*ps and he went even deeper.

“God, you feel good,” I said.

“Sunshine, try and pay attention,” he replied, sounding amused and I blinked at him.

He was stil moving and I was getting closer al the time.

“Are you crazy?” I asked, not real y caring if he was.

“Starting now, there’s a you and me.”