I press the opening to my lips and take the smallest sip. I let a bit dribble from my mouth, and then pull it away, tilting it just enough to trickle a path of bourbon from the top of my chest down the slope of my breast and the tip of my nipple. The smirk that dances on his lips is all I need to encourage my next words. “Drink up, cowboy.” He lets out a quiet growl and a “Yes, ma’am.”
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