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“What kind of beer?” he asks enigmatically. His fingers slide beneath the band of my skirt, warm and seeking, and I want him. And I want his answer.
“Your favorite beer. The pinnacle of beer. The Mona Lisa of beer.”
“The Mona Lisa of beer, huh?” he asks with a wider smile. “You’re assuming I see value in the Mona Lisa.”
“Don’t toy with me.”
“I enjoy toying with you.” He lowers his head and nuzzles my tits, making me squeal. “I was hoping you might let me toy with you some more.”
“Danny.”
Looking up at me, he grins. “Yes, Mira. It’s better than Mona Lisa beer.”
I squeeze him with my legs and wrap my hands in his hair. I kiss his mouth, his cheek, and his neck, laughing. “Victory!” I crow.
He grins at me, sliding his hand deeper into my skirt to cup my ass.
“Is it the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” I ask. “It is, isn’t it? This is going to be the toast of our fall menu. I’m calling it the ‘Moment of Truth.’”
“Not the better-than-Mona-Lisa-beer?” he asks, still smiling at me, his mouth only inches from mine. “Because that has a certain ring to it.”
“So? Is it the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”
His expression turns smoldering. I feel it everywhere. My lips, my racing heart, my exposed tits, between my legs. “No.You’rethe best thing I ever tasted.”
My lips part, and I unintentionally squeeze him with my legs again—as if my body is saying,yes,him, get your act together, idiot. “Did you practice that line in the mirror?” I ask. “Because it was a pretty slick delivery.”
His smile widens. “Sometimes even a man without any natural charm gets lucky.”
“You have plenty of natural charm, but I don’t mind if I’m the only one who notices. In fact, I’d prefer it that way.”
“I need another taste,” he says.
I know what he means—I see it in his eyes, hear it in his deep, husky voice—but I tap the drink forward with one hand. “Go for it.”
“You drink it,” he tells me, tugging at my skirt. “There are other things I’d like to do with my mouth.”
I help him take my skirt and panties off, and he delivers on his promise. God help me, he does.
I’m still gasping from the biggest, loudest, most bone-shattering orgasm I’ve ever had when he stands up. I can’t summon any words, so I attack the band of his pants with my hands, getting his button unfastened, lowering the zipper. He shoves them down, and then he’s bare for me, completely bare, and I only have a second to appreciate the view—better than the mountains or the very best of the fall foliage, better than the Mona Lisa by far—before he steps forward. I help guide him with my hand, and then he’s sinking in deep, right where I need him, and even though I just came so hard I nearly cried, I feel on the verge of it again. I feel the fluttering, the tugging, and the need—so hot and pounding and there. Right there.
He’s all the way in, and I wrap my legs around him harder, wanting to keep him there.
“Oh. My. God,” I say into his neck, right before I bite it, and he laughs as he strokes out and then slowly in again, his hand on my ass.
“You left…a hickey on my neck earlier.” I tell him as he kisses my neck.
“Good.”
“It’s not…oh god—fair,” I say.
He pulls his head back, even as he slams into me, making a guttural sound escape me. “You can mark me too,” he says. “You want to show everyone I’m yours?”
When he angles his head, silently inviting me, my mouth decides for me, sucking and kissing and biting because I want him. And I want other people to know he’s taken, that there’s someone who lives in his heart. I don’t know what it means or if it can work in the long term, but I know that much.
We come together, and he carries me to the bathroom, and, no shit, this man helps me take a bath.
* * *
