Page 260 of Property of Whiskey

Her expression changes.

Softer for half a beat.

Then filthy again.

“Yes. Fuck me.”

That’s all I need.

I line myself up and push inside.

Twila’s fingers curl into the edge of the mat.

“Oh, fuck.”

I stop once I’m fully in her.

Every muscle in my body is fighting the urge to move.

“Good?”

“Whiskey.”

“Good?”

She pushes backward onto my cock.

“That clear enough?”

“Getting convincing.”

Then I fuck her.

Hard.

Not bedroom hard.

Not careful, trying-not-to-wake-the-kid hard.

Storage-room door locked, music thumping through the walls, jealous enough to bite hard.

Every thrust drives her forward against the folded mats.

Twila pushes back just as hard.

“That all the jealousy you got?”

I grip her hips.

“You trying to piss me off while I’m inside you?”

“Working?”

I thrust harder.

Her laugh turns into a moan.

“Little bit.”