The place was nothing special, consisting of walls I’d knocked up, a roof I’d tried not to half-ass, and a couple windows. But it was kitted out with top-of-the-line brewing equipment on a small scale. Blichmann fermenters, brew kettles, hydrometers, siphons, bottles, caps . . . the whole friggin’ shebang, everything sterilized.
In addition, I stored the usual ingredients for an A-grade IPA here—malt, hops, yeast—plus a few secret weapons of my own.
Shy whistled low. “Not bad at all.”
“Nothing like your shop though.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She walked her fingers down the center of my chest. Her fingers dug into the low-riding waist of my jeans, and she tugged me against her. “Don’t sell yourself short.
“Of course”—she turned me free—“I can’t judge until I taste the wares.”
“You’ll do well in business, lady. Already a hardass.”
“No, no, no. You’re the one with the hard ass.” She ogled me when I turned toward the old humming Frigidaire, letting loose with another low whistle.
And when I bent over to retrieve two handfuls of beer?
“Ungh. That’s what I’m talking about,” Shy sultrily remarked.
I pivoted around, finding her gaze locked on my ass.
Clearing my throat, I stood to my full height. “You are a shameless woman, Shiloh Lockhart.”
“Your fault.” She tipped her head at flirty angle, her glowing silver eyes drinking me in.
“I hardly think so.” I lined up the bottles on a worktop. “Pretty sure you were a hot piece before you threw yourself at me.”
“I did not throw myself at you. You came crawling to me.”
I grunted.
Fucking right I did. And I’d do it again.
“Bottle or cup?” I asked.
“I like to drink from the source.”
My eyes shot to her for one second—long enough to see her neck stretched, and her fingertips caressing down to her cleavage. “Jesus, Shy.”
“But you already know that.”
I drew in a deep breath as she sauntered-hip-swayed over to me.
“You know I really just wanna get my cock in your mouth now, right? Not my beer?”
“Work first.” She purred, stopping beside me so her tits brushed my arm and her sexy perfume wafted over me.
“Argggh.” I nearly broke the first bottle in half trying to claw off the cap.
“Am I getting to you, Max?” Her fingers roved up my forearm, and I knew by now she was addicted to the tats on my ropey muscles.
“Could say that,” I gritted out.
“But you like it?”
“I like you, but if you keep up this flirting—”
Her lips hit the side of my neck, and I full-on shuddered from head to toe. “I’m ready for my drink now.”
Sweat goddamn beaded on my brow, and another trail forked down my temple. Releasing a ragged exhale, I handed the bottle to Shy.
She leaned against me, watching me chug beer like I had any hope of putting out the fire in my veins.
With a small smile she took a taster of a sip. Then a larger longer drink. Watching her lips purse at the head of the bottle, her throat move as she swallowed, was sheer torture. My cock had pretty much started lacing the inside of my jeans with the clear jizz that preceded an enormous explosion.
I cleared my throat, again. “Whaddya think?”
“Fizzy. Tart but a little flowery.”
“I think you’re the tart.” My eyes on her were hard with lust, my cock even harder.
“Next?” Her lips curved in a sweet smile.
“Evil. Wicked. Should strap you to my bed,” I mumbled, opening the next two longnecks.
“That could be fun,” she casually commented, drawing designs in the condensation on her new bottle.
“You are in so much trouble.”
Her gray eyes looked nearly translucent in sexual heated amusement. Without a word, she tilted the bottle against her mouth.
If she started sliding the neck in and out, I’d bust my nut right then and there.
No. Lie.
She gave me a moment of respite, merely taking a long luscious drink while I watched and nursed my beer.
“A little more dark, I think? Kind of a stout?” Before I could react, her hand snaked out and she cupped my bulging balls. “Heavy. Like these.”
My beer tipped over, leaking onto the floor. I crashed my lips against hers, drinking in her sinful taste, her sneaky tongue, her luscious moan.
Ripping away, I leaned against the table, on the verge of whimpering. A hoarse dark sound came from my throat when Shy peeled her hand from my dick.
With my elbows locked, I took her in from top to bottom.
She smirked, taking another drink.
She could smirk all she wanted. One more beer then I was gonna fuck her pussy so hard she’d wake up sore and think about me all day long.
“Last one.” My voice rasped, I was so on edge my toes curled inside my boots.
“Bring it on.”
Wrong words to use on me by this point.
I dove in for a kiss that lashed Shy’s mouth with urgent hunger, slaking a different kind of thirst on her greedy moans and massaging tongue.
Pulling my head back, I kept my hips mashed against hers. No mistaking my need for her.
I gave her the beer.
Took one myself.
We clinked bottles, and she licked the rim with her juicy mouth.
After a thirsty gulp, she smiled with glistening lips. “More effervescent. Lighter. This one’s the money shot.”