RUBBY

My lips parted against my wish as I took in the taste of his tongue. He tasted like a particular whiskey my father enjoyed, he must have been drinking.

Slowly his hands moved to my throat, and I was forced to open my mouth even more.

"Your tongue," he whispered.

He claimed it immediately I brought out my tongue.

My legs wobbled under me, and I fought hard to not wrap my hands around his neck.

For a minute or more, I was lost. This wasn't what I came to do, but this man here had ...