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I take him by surprise, and his eyes are wide when he looks up at me, so I grab him by his short hair and pull his head back.
When I bring my lips down to his, and his mouth opens for me, I let the tequila slowly flow into it. His eyes widen further with the surprise of the nectar dripping from my tongue. Once the last drop of agave leaves my lips, I follow its trail with my tongue deep into his mouth, and Bren’s eyes draw closed.
I press my palm to his throat so I can feel him swallow the tequila, the muscles of his thick throat contract, and my skin reverberates with his groan as his tongue seeks mine.
When I break our contact and lick my lips for any stray liquid, Bren is smiling ear-to-ear.
“You were right,” he says. “That was the best tequila in the world.”
“So glad you liked it,” I say with a massive grin of my own.
“I’m a convert, Sofia.”
He pulls my legs apart, so I’m no longer kneeling on his thighs but instead straddling him.
“Hold on tight,” Bren says, and he stands while holding me up. I wrap my legs around him and lick his neck while he walks around to the other side of the bar with me in his arms, then sets me down on the counter behind the bar.
“Now, I think I need another taste of that añejo,” he says and lowers his mouth to mine. That Spanish word comes out of his mouth so smoothly and so sexily, my thighs tighten around him in response.
The day-old stubble framing his mouth and jaw scrape my skin with the most pleasurable pain, and I moan into his mouth.
I pull away from him to peel off my top and shed my bra, tossing it to the dirty bar floor. Bren’s hands drift to cup a breast in each palm. “Sofia,” he gurgles my name out in a hoarse voice.
He bends down to trail his tongue and lips down my neck and chest until he reaches my breast and can take a nipple into his mouth. My back arches in response, pushing my breast deeper into his mouth.
“Fuck me, Bren,” I plead. “Right here. Right now.”
Bren frees my breast from his mouth and leans back to undo my buckle and help me out of my jeans and underwear. I return the favor in kind, and his jeans drop to his ankles, but not before he pulls a condom from his back pocket. I smile at his preparedness.
As he rolls the condom on, I grab the last bottle of tequila we drank from.
“Would you like another taste?” I ask and smile up at my German rock god.
His eyes are hooded as his gaze roams my breasts, abdomen, and then moves lower between my legs. He nods, and I hand him the bottle. He takes a swig from the bottle and tangles his hand in my hair, pulling my head back like I did to him earlier.
As his lips hover over mine, the tip of him parts my flesh with a maddening lack of urgency. I gasp at the sensation, and Bren lets the tequila flow from his mouth into mine. I drink the rest of the liquid he offers as he slides the length of his shaft in until there is no more tequila and no more of him to devour.
My back arches with the pleasure of all the sensations, and I have to force my gaze to stay on his body. While I had already shut off the lights, the dim backlight behind the bar still illuminates Bren’s torso. The deep blue light casts shadows below each of his abdominal muscles. I draw my hand down those rippling muscles, admiring a body that seems to be that of an athlete.
Each thrust deeper into me forces his muscles taut, and I bask in the view of his perfect body.
Then Bren chuckles. “Like what you see?” he asks.
“Very much,” I say.
And as if my voice were a whip, Bren drives into me faster and faster until he brings me to the edge, pushing me over it and making me fall for the longest orgasm of my life. My cream slickens between us where we join, and Bren’s forehead pearls with sweat as I look up at him while I come down from my high.
I grab his neck and pull him down so I can taste his tongue again—the tequila flavor still lingering there deliciously. I break my mouth away from him so I can see his face. “I like the way you taste,” I say.
With one last harsh thrust into me, Bren’s head jerks back. The veins in his neck bulge, and he stills inside me as he lets out a groan followed by a long string of curses.
When he collects himself, he pushes aside some of the hair matted to my face with sweat. Then, his hand falls to my mouth, and he traces the shape of my lips with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Sofia.”
“And you’re very hot, Bren.”
He smiles wickedly at me. “I think I’ll have a great night’s sleep tonight.”
“Who said anything about sleep?” I ask, biting my lip seductively.
