“No. But the whole whiskey thing,” she said, scooting up onto to stool at the island. She motioned to the three glasses I’d placed in front of her. “The Irish thing just seems like a part of you is all. I’m curious. I don’t have that that kind of tie to my roots or heritage, or whatever.”
I stopped at her words and thought about it. “I guess you’re right. I never thought of it like that before.” My old man wasn’t the best, but between him and Sadie, I had a rich sense of my ancestors on both sides of the ocean.
“Okay, I’m Irish, Irish. Based on your looks you might be too.” The black hair and blue eyes could peg her as black Irish in a heartbeat, not to mention her pale almost alabaster skin and those little splashes of red on her cheeks like someone slid a brush across her cheekbones.
“I think it’s Swedish, but you know how immigrants changed their names when they came to America back in the day. Technically it should be Nilsdottir.” Maisie stopped talking and slammed her eyes shut. “Oh well. Too weird?”
I shrugged. “Hot weird.”
“I’ll take it.” She took a sip of the third glass, the twenty-year-aged whiskey and moaned. “Damn, how is that so smooth? It’s like velvet fire.”
She licked her lips, and I had to stifle a groan because a woman who responded like that to booze would be so responsive naked. In bed.
“Velvet Fire. Maybe I’ll distill my own whiskey and call it that.”
“I’d buy it.” She leaned forward, her thumb and forefinger toying with the rim of the third shot glass as she smiled. “I’m feeling a little tipsy already.”
“Not too tipsy I hope.” I would do it if I had to, but tonight wasn’t about babysitting some drunk college girl.
“Nope. Just tipsy enough,” she said and leaned closer until I could see the threads of silver and gold in her deep blue eyes. “To do this.” One more inch and her plump red lips on were on mine, timid at first as she slowly learned my mouth. I let her, curious to see where this would go. Her tongue danced across the seam of my mouth until I opened for her.
The moment her tongue touched mine, I grabbed her waist and dragged her across the counter, sending one or two of the shot glasses crashing to the floor. Maisie moaned into my mouth and wrapped her arms—and legs—around me, deepening the kiss like it was the only thing that mattered. We kissed like teenagers, or the way teenagers would kiss if they knew how fucking erotic it could be.
Her tongue slid against mine, twirled around it in some tornado move that shot heat straight to my cock, and I tightened my grip on her hair and her waist. She moaned again and her fingers tightened in my hair as she pulled me closer, doing even more wicked things to my mouth.
“Virgil,” she moaned. “Yes.”
Fuck me, she was so damn responsive, already grinding against me, trying to get closer to my cock, which was already throbbing to distraction. A growl escaped and I moved as close as I could between her legs, letting my hands slide down her back until they cupped her ass and pulled her closer. Close enough to give my cock the smallest amount of relief against the warm friction of her pussy.
“Maisie.”
“Yes,” she moaned again and licked a trail of heat up my neck. Her fingertips grazed the waistband of my jeans, and I leaned her back, returning the favor with a growl as one hand slid up under her blouse, up the silky smooth skin of her belly, her ribcage until I found a hard nipple covered by a silky bra. “Virgil, yes.”
Maisie arched into me, her body begging for what she couldn’t bring her mouth to say. Not yet.
I pushed the hem of the silky shirt up until I caught a glimpse of the soft pink bra and wrapped my lips around the hard nipple peeking out. I needed to be closer to her. Just as the thought came to me, she freed her tits, gorgeous creamy white tits with nipples the color of bubble gum and fed one into my mouth. I sucked and nibbled, teasing Maisie until she writhed against me. In a few more seconds I would have her so wound up, so hot and trembling with need that she’d beg me to fuck here. To strip her down right here in the kitchen and fuck her senseless.
And I would. Because I’m a fucking gentleman.
The phone rang at the end of the counter, a familiar tone that was the only one that could possibly pull me away from a hot as fuck, beautiful woman. “Fuck.”
“Let me guess,” she said in a breathless, desperately disappointed voice. “You gotta get that?”