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“Fuck, I’m soaked.” Her hips rocked, teasing and torturing herself, like Al wanted to do to CC and herself.
She shifted her hand on top of the blanket, moving it higher, palming the inside of CC’s thigh. “I’d have hitched this leg up and finger fucked you with one hand.” CC keened, tilting closer, her tongue licking Al’s knuckle. She extended the finger, and CC didn’t hesitate to suck it between her lush lips. Al nearly lost her mind, trembling and shifting as her own clit throbbed.
But she could wait; she was a Domme, and this was what she did. Doled out the pleasure for her sub before taking her own. She took back her finger after a few glorious seconds. “Stuff yourself full, baby. Imagine it’s my wet fingers jammed inside you. Imagine my other hand wrapped around all your gorgeous hair, holding your naughty mouth to my tit”—she bent up a knuckle for CC to latch onto with her mouth—“so you could suck through the scream when I make you come.”
CC’s lips closed tight around her knuckle, teeth digging in just shy of painful, as the rest of her body tensed, jerking as much as Al’s hand on her thigh allowed as her climax crashed through her.
She came back down after a minute, relaxing into the seat. Al helped situate her and righted her bra strap and sweater. “I don’t know,” Al mused. “Maybe this was better than the bathroom stall.”
CC’s postorgasm smile was her undoing. Patience shot, Al uncrossed her legs and shifted to the end of her seat. Before she could stand, though, CC clasped her wrist, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Where are you going?”
“To get you some water.”
Her worry lines smoothed, and she relaxed back in the seat, releasing her hold. “Thank you.”
“No, Red, thank you.” Al brushed a stray auburn strand off her beautiful seatmate’s sweaty forehead. “After I get your water, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, hike up my skirt, and shove three fingers into my drenched cunt, and I’m gonna fuck myself while imagining it’s you on your knees eating me out.”
Dazed eyes fluttered open. “I’m a cunt woman too.”
Al winked. “Good to know.”
Chapter Three
CC waited at one of the tasting room’s pub tables, scrolling through texts while sipping her favorite dark rye. One of the distillers had poured a glass for her before returning to the working distillery that occupied most of the building. The once-crumbling structure, an 1800s Creole-style church, had been restored to its former glory, updated with modern utilities and outfitted with everything needed to run a top-shelf distillery and tasting room. It was one of CC’s favorite places in New Orleans. Hands down her favorite local whiskey. As her thumb hovered over her text thread with Al from that morning, she wondered if the other woman had ever been here. She appreciated a good drink. She would appreciate an operation like Tchin Tchin and the whiskeys they made.
Maybe see how Friday goes first, her sister, Colby, gently chided in her head. Which made no sense, as Col was the more impulsive of the two of them. But Colby was also fiercely protective and the person who had rescued CC after her last failed relationship.
Colby was right, she should wait until Friday.
But Al’s texts...
She opened the messages from that morning, recalling her excitement and relief at finally hearing from Al. They’d exchanged numbers at the airport before heading their separate ways, but there had been no texts or calls since then. CC had started to text Al a half dozen times herself, usually each night after she got herself off to the memory of their encounter on the plane or each morning when she woke, panties soaked after another night dreaming of Al’s tits or the fantasy Al had put in her head of CC on her knees eating Al out.
She shifted on her pub stool. Now was not the time for any of those fantasies. But come Friday...
You know Dram in the Bywater? Al’s text read.
CC had laughed out loud and in text.
What’s so funny, Red?
Al hadn’t been the first person to call her Red, but unlike with others, Red in Al’s accent, the usually abrasive tone moderated by attentiveness, sophistication, and confidence—sexual and otherwise—sent a wave of heat rippling through CC. She had slipped a hand between her legs that morning, through the moisture already there, and spread it around her clit as she’d continued to text with her other hand. Yeah, I know it. My sister is the pastry chef there.
Wait? Your sister is Colby?
The very same.
The facepalm emoji had appeared, followed by the laughing one. Should’ve put it together. The hair, the eyes, the rocking bodies. A pause, then Al had added, You WERE spoiled. Your sister’s talent with pastry dough is sinful.
Wait until the sufganiyot appear.
CC didn’t replay the voice memo of Al groaning, “Fuck me.” Earlier, it had sent CC’s fingers plunging into her cunt. Not an option now as she waited for her clients.
If my daughter-in-law had met her before Tyler, Al’s texts had resumed, I probably wouldn’t have my grandkids. Why have I never seen you there?
Work, CC had answered after Wonk and Wok typos, the hand between her legs pumping, the coil of heat in her belly tightening. You?
Touché. Let’s fix that. I’ll be there Friday night, 7PM. So will you.
