You were up in the bedrooms at Buck Meril’s place with Dallas Winston, his hands leaving electrifying trails down your hips and waist. He was kissing up on you, he had your shirt pulled down to your collarbone and you neck was littered with blossoming love bites.

He leaned up to your face and softly kissed your lips, you tasted the heavy bourbon and cigarette smoke against his lips, “Mmh..”

A knock came at the door, Dally groaned and leaned up, “Dammit,” He panted. He was shirtless.