From the Ashes

Jade

EPILOGUE- PART ONE

Six months later…

“He has some availability on the seventh. He could do a four-hour block from one to five. Does that work?” I ask a new customer over the phone. When they tell me it’ll work, I start asking all the relevant paperwork questions, directing them to Asher’s work email to send their inspiration photos and any additional questions.

All this is second nature to me now. I’ve been working at From The Ashes since the day after the showdown with my mom. Asher tried to get me to take a few days off of both work and school, but I wanted to jump right in. I stayed at his house that night and we celebrated my new freedom. With vodka and orgasms.

The next day, after classes, he helped move my stuff into Roxie’s apartment and make that spare room my own. It’s been six months of the most relaxing, laughter-filled, love-filled days. I have a support system around me, willing to help me when I fall. Always ready to hold me and love me and tell me that my inner critic is stupid. Eager to push me to follow my dreams, my wants, my whims.

If I even mention something to Asher in passing, he gets me all set up as quickly as possible. I said I wanted to try my hand at watercolor and attempt to get better, and the next morning I woke up to a stack of watercolor paper, brushes and an artesian set of watercolor paints.

That’s just the kind of guy he is. He’s all in. He’s all in with me.

Speaking of, two burly arms wrap around my waist as he leans down to hug me. Asher breathes deeply into my neck and doesn’t loosen his hold.

“We will see you on the seventh. If you need to reschedule or have any questions, please email Asher or give me a call! We look forward to seeing you,” I say in my customer service voice before hanging up and writing the guy’s name in Asher’s calendar. I’ll type in the information when he goes back to work.

“Your schedule is getting more and more full by the day,” I murmur to him, holding my hand against his. I’m not-so-secretly relieved that it is. I was worried sick that From The Ashes was going to be axed after Asher hurt Hunter and Kyle. But as time went on, nothing happened.

I sat in my chair facing the front door day after day, worried that might be the day the cops were coming to take Asher away. I waited week after week for the ratings to drop on Yelp and all the other websites. But nothing happened.

In fact, the shop’s ratings were boosted enough that Asher was thinking of adding another station. He was interested in adding another artist so they’d be able to stop turning away walk-in clients. I mentioned in passing a few weeks ago that I potentially wanted to learn how to tattoo. It would combine two things I love: my family and creating art.

So, while I was working, my sweet hunk of a man started bringing me fake skin and stencils ever so often and let me mess around, learning the machine and how it worked with the synthetic skin. I was getting pretty good at it, actually, if the small outline of a rose on my heel counted.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Asher smiles, pulling back and turning me around in my swivel chair to face him. “Last call of the day?” he asks.

“Last call. I’m going to go do my closing duties and then we can leave.”

“I had an idea, actually.” Asher smirks at me with a heated look in his eyes. One I’m very familiar with from the bedroom.

“Oh really? Am I going to like this idea?” I raise an eyebrow and lean back, pushing my breasts out and up slightly as I rest my elbows on the desk.

“I think so,” he replies with a shrug before he walks away.

My jaw drops. “Where are you going?” I shriek. Instead of answering me, he winks and walks to the front door. With a resounding click , the lock slides into place. It’s then I realize we’re the only ones here. Roxie left at two and Ty must have left through the back door when I was on the phone. It’s almost closing time, so it’s safe to expect no one else is coming in today.

Asher pulls the blinds down and shuts off the front window lights, signaling to everyone outside that we’re closed and gone.

But we’re here.

“Come lay on my table,” Asher gestures to his station, which happens to be all set up.

“I thought you were cleaning!” I chuckle.

“Setting up for your second tattoo. The chest piece you told me you wanted.”

“That was a while ago,” I say softly. He remembered? Not only that, but he drew up the piece for me? “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I remember everything you say,” he says. My eyes lock onto him. He said it so honestly, so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. But he has no idea just how much it means to me.

“I love you,” I reply, just as simply. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world—because it is.

“I love you too,” Asher says with a smile, and kisses my forehead. “Now get up here, baby girl. Daddy will take care of you.”

His words immediately spark my obedient side and I do what he asks.

“Arms up,” he commands quietly, watching me with heated eyes as his sure fingers pull the hem of my shirt up slowly.

“Wait, what if someone sees?” I block him from pulling it up any higher and glance around, anxiety creeping in.

“You think I’d take the chance of someone seeing you?” Asher’s eyebrows raise and he tsk, tsk, tsks at me. “I’d beat someone black and blue before I’d let them see you. Only I get to see you,” he growls possessively, lifting my shirt off my head and setting it on his chair. I’m left in a burgundy lace bralette covering my breasts.

“Oh, I like this one,” he groans. “This might be harder than I thought.” His finger traces the outline of the cups, right over my nipple which immediately tightens in response to his touch. My body reacts to him, no matter what.

A quick glance to his pants and I see that he means that both metaphorically and physically.

“What are you going to do to me?” I whisper. My chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation.

“I’m going to brand you as my own.” His eyes flash to mine, waiting for my approval. My gaze darkens, my nipples press against the lace and my pussy starts to clench under my miniskirt. I shouldn’t like this as much as I do.

Fuck.

“Really?” I ask.

“Really. Now, I know what you want, and I know what I want to see on you. But I also want it to be a surprise,” he says strongly, and pushes me back on the table. He turns around and snaps on clean black gloves before turning back to me. “Do you trust me?”

His glove-covered hand trails up my leg before settling heavily on my upper thigh, and he holds me tightly before his fingers spread a little wider. The tip of his middle finger is dangerously close to the apex of my thighs, close to my pussy that’s already getting wet faster than I thought possible.

How would those fingers feel inside me with the gloves? Would they drag just right to make me come faster? Would his fingers move faster covered in my cum?

Shaking my head, I focus on the question he asked me and try not to clench my thighs together. He’ll definitely know just how naughty my thoughts are if he sees that.

Do I trust him?

With my life.

I nod, breathlessly.

“You’ll like it, I promise,” Asher says softly before kissing my lips. The kiss feels like it’s sealing a deal. With a heavy look, he trails his fingers over my mound and up my torso, making me breathless and so turned on. If I’m this hot from only his touch, how am I going to stand him tattooing me between my tits for an hour?

Asher’s usually-light eyes are so dark they’re stormy, and his breathing shortens. He’s panting as if he’s trying to hold himself back from jumping on top of me and taking me right now.

I wouldn’t be opposed to that.

He slips his fingers underneath my bralette, tracing down my sides so his hands are caressing my rib cage. I think he might just be hugging me, but the moment I go to ask him what’s up, he yanks the fabric once and the latch of my bra snaps.

“You couldn’t have simply undone the hooks?” I groan in faux annoyance.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I need access to your sternum, okay?” he asks, his voice overcome with a deep tone that I hear exclusively when he’s horny, or when he first wakes up and I’m staying over.

I love it.

I crave that tone of his voice.

My own voice has left me as I nod my consent.

Asher slips the ruined bra off my body and stands back, towering over me as he stares.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he croons, like he’s staring at the most breathtaking painting. Awe and overwhelming emotion flow through his eyes. He forces himself to turn back and pick up the oil and stencil so he can place it on me.

The air of the shop, which we always keep cool for the customer’s comfort, makes goosebumps erupt all over my skin as I wait for the oil.

Wordlessly, Asher warms the liquid before rubbing it all over the valley of my breasts. His latex-covered hands slip over my tits as he massages each one. My eyes close in pleasure as he gropes my globes and twists my nipples slightly. Just enough to make me moan.

“Asher,” I pant, and his hand is replaced by his mouth.

“You can’t make sounds like that, baby. I have work to do and you whimpering… you sounding so fucking delectable, spread out on my table in that short little skirt… I need to outline the tattoo. Just outline it. We can attempt shading and stippling another day.”

There’s no fucking way we’re making it more than an hour without fucking on this table.

He takes the flimsy piece of paper with the design and flattens it against the underside of my breasts. There’s a thin piece that slips between my cleavage. I wonder what it will look like. What the design is. I’ve seen his work; all of his tattoos are magnificent, so I know it will be a work of art I’ll wear proudly.

After he carefully pulls it off, Asher stands back, looking down to make sure it’s centered just the way he wants.

“Perfect,” he purrs, nodding as he sets the stencil on his desk. It’s far enough away that I can’t sneak a peek at what it is. He must catch me straining to look because he pinches my face with his hand. “Don’t. It’s a surprise.”

He takes off the slippery gloves, pulls on a new set—always taking care of my health and safety—and picks up his tattoo gun.

“You ready, darlin’?” he asks and clicks on his machine. It hums to life, filling the air with tension and anticipation. My body is humming, singing with need, and I don’t exactly know how I’ll react to the sting of being tattooed by someone else.

Nodding, I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

Asher smirks, sits down on his rolling stool and gets to work. The first drag of the needle is a shock. It’s very different from how it felt to tattoo myself. I can see Asher fighting to stay professional, but his free hand is inching toward groping my breast.

A few minutes go by, and the drag of the needle becomes a comfortable sting I’m able to dissociate through. Instead of focusing on the sensation, I focus on Asher.

I’ve spent hours and hours watching him tattoo other people. He always looks at peace. Calm. In control.

This time, though, he looks like he’s struggling for control. He bites his lip and narrows his eyes as he focuses on his work. His free hand twitches toward my breast, and I want him to touch me. I want to feel him against me even more than he already is. I get a bit of the pressure I crave when he rests his arm across my bare waist.

I’m not going to lie; the slight vibration, the pressure of Asher’s body on mine, his gloved fingers so achingly close to my straining nipple, the sexy look of concentration on his handsome face resting so fucking close to mine… all of this combined gets me so hot, my panties are starting to get damp.

He’s going to have some work to do later.

The longer we are in this position, the more heated I become. Forty minutes in and the sting is becoming painful, plus I’ve had to squeeze my thighs together to try and get some pressure on my clit.

My pussy is throbbing, but I don’t dare move or say anything to Asher while he’s trying to give me this gift.

I’d also take the gift of his cock when he has a moment, I think.

“Five minutes, baby girl. You’re doing so good,” Asher praises. His words feed my obedient side and I whimper. “Don’t do that,” he groans, pulling the needle from my skin so he can drop his forehead on my chest. “It’s been hard enough having you squirming under my hands, your nipples screaming for my mouth, and I know you’ve been clenching your thighs because you’re feeling it as much as I am.” He groans and pulls away, leaving me breathless.

“Five minutes… I just need to finish the outline,” he grunts, but he sounds like he’s reminding himself rather than me.

“Five minutes, Asher, five minutes,” he mumbles under his breath. He looks desperate, uncomfortable and heated. His eyes are wild as they shift from where he’s working up to my eyes, down to my lips, then back to his work.

At that moment, when he looks at my lips longingly, I decide to make Asher as turned on as I am. I want him to snap; to take me so hard, I’ll never be able to look at his table without thinking about him breaking my fucking back.

Objective decided, I get to work. Five minutes to make him ache .

Challenge accepted.

* * *

Asher readjusts his hand and I move it so his fingers cup around my nipple like a C.

He sits there, still trying to be as professional as he can, even as I’m topless and forcing his hand on me.

“Touch me,” I whisper. “I want to see what it feels like to have your gloves pinching me.” He stops the machine, his eyes straying from the tattoo to my nipple. I can feel how hard he’s trying to hold back. He wants to finish, but I need him. I want to push him as far as I can…

I want to see how much I can test him before he snaps.

Wordlessly, I move Asher’s free hand, still sporting the latex glove, and use his fingers to pinch my nipple. It’s not quite right, not enough, but the intake of breath I hear from him makes it worth it for the moment.

“You’re testing me, baby,” he growls, licking his lips predatorily.

“You expected me to lay here naked, while you’re over me, touching and caressing me while you brand me, and not get turned on?” I scoff. “Do you even realize the power you have over me, Daddy?” I whisper meekly, glancing at him through my eyelashes.

Asher clears his throat, dips the needle in the black ink again, and bites his lower lip in a way that drives me crazy. I want to bite it for him, redden it with my teeth. He gets to work and his eyes don’t stray.

“I have two more minutes. You’re going to be a good girl and lie here quietly, let me finish my work and then I’ll give you what we both want. But only if you’re good.”

“And if I’m bad?” I ask with a raspy whisper.

Asher raises his face slowly, his gaze heated with want and dominance as I brat against his order.

“Then I’ll give you a spanking, baby girl. And you won’t like it. Not at first, anyway.” He cocks a challenging eyebrow and gets back to work.

Leaving me with the choice.

Two minutes doesn’t give me a lot of time to think about what I want to do, but I do know I want to be fucked . And the thought of being spanked… I’m pretty sure I’m so wet there’s a little pool under my ass.

I don’t think about it anymore.

I reach down, pull my skirt up, and start rubbing my clit. I’m nearly crying from the relief it brings me. I can tell how slick I am just from touching my clit over my panties. They’re going to be ruined.

Asher growls. “Stop that.”

I don’t answer, just moan louder. The tattoo needle doesn’t stop; in fact, it speeds up.

“If you come before I’m done with this, you’re going to regret it,” he threatens. But the way he threatens it makes me think that’s exactly what I want.

“Challenge accepted.” My voice is full of defiance that isn’t usually there.

I kind of like it.

“When did you become such a brat?” He asks me with a faux annoyed smirk.

“When you didn’t give me what I wanted,” I lie. Saying that is guaranteed to get a reaction, especially since Asher gives me everything I could ever want the moment I ask for it.

“Oh, baby girl,” he groans deeply, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s turned on by this or if it’s actually pissing him off. “I’m going to enjoy your punishment. Can’t have you mouthing off to Daddy, can we? Especially when I’m almost done giving you something.”

The low, dark tone of his voice sets me off. I rub my clit faster, trying to get there before he’s done. I’m almost there, too. I hear his little grunts; his breathing is labored and loud in my face. His hand on my tit hasn’t moved from where I put it, but now he’s groping me lightly. So lightly I don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it.

“Daddy,” I whimper softly. I can feel my orgasm right there. Right. There . It’s so close I can almost taste it. My legs are locking as the tension fills my body.

But I still can’t come.

Asher chuckles, turning off the tattoo gun and setting it on the tray.

“Hmm, I seem to have won,” he gloats with a smug grin before getting a paper towel and cleaning my new tattoo with the cleaning liquid. “Not for lack of trying on your part though, you sassy little brat.”

“It’s not working,” I whine, confused and frustrated. I’m also more aroused than I’ve ever been before. And that’s saying something.

Asher slips the gloves off before putting yet another clean pair on. He hums as though he’s pleased and turns back around with a patch to cover my new tattoo—without showing me what it is.

“There,” he says.

I pout. “Aren’t you going to let me see it?”

“Maybe later.” It’s his turn now and he knows it. “What were you saying about the gloves? Ah, that’s right,” he says with a smirk, “You wanted to see how they felt on you. How about how they feel inside you as well?”

There’s a glint in his eye that tells me he has a plan. He knows what he wants from me, and he’s not going to tell me…

He’s just going to make me .

“Yes, Daddy, please,” I gasp, sitting up on my elbows to see him properly. He’s… magnificent. Now that he’s able to be in control, he’s set on giving me my punishment. He seems like he’s as desperate as I am, but his face shows no signs anymore. He’s in control; he’s determined to punish me and take care of me. Like he always does.

Asher doesn’t answer, just walks backward so he can keep his eye on me, and sits down in his desk chair. My chest heaves as I breathe, trying to focus while being unbearably turned on. So turned on that my pussy is starting to painfully ache. All I can think about is getting something, anything, into me. I’ll take anything he gives me. I just need to come.

“Come here,” he demands, spreading his legs and leaning back in the chair like a goddamn king.

My. King.

Sitting up completely, I swing my legs over and hop off the table. My breasts bob heavily with the movement and his eyes snap down to watch them jiggle. I go to take the first step toward him, but he puts a hand up to stop me.

“Crawl.”

My jaw drops. There’s no way he said that.

“What?”

“I said,” he growls, “crawl to me.” Asher sets his head in his hand with a predatory glint to his eyes. He raises an eyebrow, dips his chin, and stares at me. If this is his reaction to me bratting at him, I’ll have to do it some more. “Come on, my bratty baby girl. Be good for Daddy. Crawl to me .”

His voice is so hypnotic, I find myself falling to my hands and knees. Crawling to him.

“That’s a good girl. Fuck, . You look…” His voice cuts off as he groans. “Come here, darlin’.” He crooks his black gloved finger and I go to him.

When I’m right in front of him, I sit up on my knees and I can feel wetness gush from my cunt.

“Come up here and lay across my knees,” Asher demands. “You didn’t listen. You touched yourself when I told you not to mess with me until I was done. You were bratty and naughty.” Each time he spouted off something I had done, anticipation tightens in my stomach. “And you’re going to get spanked for it.”

I can see Asher liked this. He likes the idea of spanking me, of this kind of thing. But even after saying that, he leans over and holds my arms, resting his forehead against mine.

“Do you understand?” he asks, a little gentler than before. What he’s actually asking is if I’m okay with this.

“I understand,” I reply, my voice full of strength.

He smiles brightly and pulls back, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and kissing my forehead.

“Good,” he whispers and leans back. When I don’t immediately move, he pats his thigh expectantly. So I move quickly, laying my chest and torso over his lap so he has access to my ass.

He flips my skirt up and rips my underwear at the side.

“If you keep ruining my underwear, I’m going to make you buy me more,” I snap with no heat to my words.

“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” he says distractedly. My attention is brought to my exposed ass when an abnormally smooth hand starts roaming all over. Normally when Asher focuses on my ass, I can feel the calluses across the top of his palm. This time, it’s completely different, but it’s so fucking good. He rubs my ass and squeezes it, before surprising me by bending down and biting a globe.

“Hey!” I yelp. He literally bit my ass. I’m even more shocked when the slight pain makes my pussy throb.

“Delicious,” he mutters as he sits up. “Now,” he clears his throat, “I think three swats will be enough. You’re to count, out loud, each time. Otherwise, I will start over.”

“Okay,” I say breathlessly. I fucking love this darker side of him.

His hand comes down, not hard, but definitely not painlessly.

“Okay, what?” he snaps.

“Okay, Daddy.” My hair falls over either side of my face as I fully submit to the experience.

To him.

Only ever to him.

His hand swats my ass hard enough that it takes my breath away.

“One,” I say with a cry.

Asher doesn’t say anything, but he caresses the hot spot where he just spanked me.

Holy shit. Asher spanked me. And I liked it.

His hand leaves my ass and I try to remain relaxed for the next two. His palm comes down on the same spot, the second smack making the already painful spot burn even more. A single drop of my wetness starts to trickle down my leg. Asher rubs the heat on my ass, spreading his fingers widely so his whole hand covers one cheek. His covered fingertips spread and his smallest finger dips low, so low that his fingertip slides into my wetness.

“Oh, you like this,” he groans. “Good.”

“Two,” I moan softly, trying to breathe through the confusing pain and pleasure.

“Good girl,” he praises me. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to get some relief, but Asher sees what I’m doing. “You need something to hold, huh, baby?” he says teasingly.

“Please,” I whisper nearly in tears.

Asher shushes me and pushes two fingers inside my cunt quickly. My toes curl and I sigh with relief, thinking he’ll help me, but instead, he simply put his fingers there without moving.

“Just hold them,” he instructs. “I want to feel just how much you like this. How much your tight little pussy is going to clench down as my hand reddens this perfect ass.” I feel the absence of his other hand, and I wait. Wait for what he’s going to do. Wait for his fingers to move. Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck .

I try to grind against his fingers, hoping that I might piss him off into moving again, but he doesn’t do anything. The spot on my ass where he’s hit me is still burning with pain, but I want him to give me my last spanking. I need it. I want to feel the bite of pain when I’m so close, I think it’ll push me over the edge and I’m desperate.

The irony is not lost on me that I wanted to make him crazy with need, and now he’s successfully made it so I’m going to lose my fucking mind if he doesn’t do something soon.

Just as I’m about to start crying in frustration, Asher brings his hand down for the final time and crooks his fingers at the same time so he’s rubbing my G-spot and I erupt.

“Fuck! Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck, please!” I cry as I’m coming, clenching down around his fingers. The pleasure rolls through my body and I’m powerless to stop it. I hear splashing, like a glass of water fell over, but am too gone to worry about it.

Asher grunts, groans, and fucks me through my orgasm until I stop squeezing his fingers and my body goes limp.

“You…” He swallows as his voice breaks, “you are the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Then his control breaks.

Asher picks me up, spreads my legs around his waist and walks us to the table. My thighs are soaked, and I wonder how I got that wet.

“I can’t stop, I can’t,” he groans as he sets me down and pulls his cock out of his pants. With one motion, he thrusts all the way, stopping only when his shaft is completely stuffed inside me. I moan and my head drops back. Asher’s lips attack my neck; the complete fullness stretching my walls while I’m so sensitive starts building towards another orgasm.

“Fuck me, Daddy.” I gasp into his ear and he does exactly that. Asher’s thrusts are so powerful he moves the table each time, but I don’t give a single fuck. I hold on for dear life while he finds his pleasure and feel my own build with each drag of his hardness through my overly wet cunt.

Asher fucks me like he’s desperate, like he’s ravaging me, and I know I’m going to deliciously sore from this. From the complete and total satisfaction of being used, fucked, and loved all at once.

This is what I wanted and I’m unbelievably thrilled with it.

“Asher, Asher,” I whine with each breath. His hand comes up and holds my throat. I don’t feel him tightening his hand to control my breathing, but he just holds it. Holds me by my throat while he fucks me quickly.

“Call me Daddy,” he demands roughly.

“Daddy,” I correct with a moan as his hand tightens just a bit. “ Daddy, ” I breathe.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he roars as he looks at me and his thrusts increase. “So fucking perfect. Can you come again?”

I nod and my hand goes to my clit, rubbing fast and in time with his thrusts.

“Goddamn,” he cries, watching where his cock disappears into me. “Fuck, baby. Get there or I’m going to come first,” he roars.

“Kiss me,” I beg, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to me. Our mouths meet in a passionate, hard, frantic kiss. Open-mouthed, rough and hot as we fight against each other to try and get to our peaks.

“Oh god, Daddy,” I cry as I break away and feel my orgasm wreck through me. It’s softer than the one before, but no less intense.

“Fuck, fuck, . , , baby. Ugh!” Asher mutters and moans as his thrusts get faster, right before he stops and I feel his cum fill me up to the fucking brim. His head falls forward, resting against my collarbone as he barrels over his edge.

It’s my favorite thing when we come together. When my cunt milks him as he fills me up.

Our ragged breathing fills the space as we relax against each other.

“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly.

“I know,” I agree. His warm lips kiss up my neck before reaching my lips and giving me a sweet, thankful, loving kiss.

He carefully pulls out, but stuffs his fingers back inside me, keeping his cum stuffed inside me.

“Keep it in,” Asher demands, and a shock of desire races down my spine.

How is he so fucking sexy all the goddamn time?

With his free hand, he tucks his still-hard cock into his pants and grabs a paper towel to clean me up. Gently, Asher wipes my thighs and then reluctantly, after swearing a few times, he withdraws his fingers and watches the river of our cum flowing from me.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whispers huskily.

I bit my lip, slightly worried. “What?”

“I’m never going to not want this now,” he answers simply. “Our cum mixed together, dripping from your cunt… It’s so fucking hot. I don’t want to wipe it away.” The paper towel crumples in his hand as he watches. I’m on the edge of the table already, so I just bear down and hear a splat hit the floor. “Oh god,” he moans again. His eyes… he’s entranced and completely obsessed, watching the slit between my legs leak. With his hand, he plays with the cum that’s there, twirling my reddened hole and teasing my clit with his cum-covered finger.

“If we hadn’t just had sex, I’d be fucking you again. I’m going to keep you stuffed full of my cum, I swear to god,” he growls before wiping it away almost angrily.

“I don’t know if I would survive another round,” I say softly.

He winks. “Oh, you would.”

“Are you going to let me see my tattoo now?” I laugh.

Asher throws the towel away and flips my skirt down, picking up my shirt and helping me dress. “Come on, love,” he says, holding out his hand, helping me jump off the table to go over to the full length mirror he has hanging up.

I lift my shirt, exposing the patch. Asher takes a deep breath and I want to laugh. He’s nervous now? After the tattoo is done and he was so fucking confident with all we just did… and now he’s nervous?

It’s cute, him being nervous. I don’t get to see it very often.

“Look, before you see it, I want you to know… One, if you don’t like it, I’ll design you a cover up. A really good one. One that is exactly what you want. That’s why I only did the outline. Two, I’ve been thinking about this tattoo since the moment you said you wanted one. It has a few layers to it. So, if you have any questions, I’ll explain everything. And three, I really hope you like it.”

I chuckle and take his hand. “Asher, I know it’s probably amazing. If you put so much time and effort into it, how could I not like it?” I cup his face to try and calm the anxiety I see in his eyes.

A soft, relieved grin crosses his face and he nods. With one more deep breath, he turns me towards the mirror and stands behind me.

His fingers gently pull back the covering and my eyes move from his nervous expression to the exposed skin between my breasts.

It’s gorgeous.

Filigree vines flow underneath the curve of my breasts; it almost looks like feathers morphing to leaves as both arch together over my sternum. Moving up between my breasts is a configuration of butterflies and rosebuds covering the space, one of the butterfly’s wings arching out of formation like a beak. In the middle is a beautiful mandala, intricate and eye-catching. Under the mandala, there are more butterflies and rosebuds, but spread out like a fan with chains dangling underneath to look like smoke.

Each part you look at is breathtaking, but when you step back to see the entire piece, it’s a phoenix rising from the ashes.

He gave me his phoenix.

“Asher,” I say breathlessly. It’s magnificent as is, but I know once he’s shaded it… it’ll be amazing. It’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.

“Do you hate it?” he asks nervously, biting his thumbnail.

“Hate it?” I repeat in shock and I see his eyes dip down.

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “I’m so sorry, . I should’ve let you see it before I did it… I just thought you’d like it. The butterflies mean change and growth, the rosebuds mean new beginnings, and the mandala means balance. I put it together in a way that you can see each detail, but when you look at it from a distance, it’s a?—”

“Phoenix,” I finish softly.

“Phoenix.” He nods. “The symbol I’ve chosen for my shop—for my life, really. And I thought with everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve overcome, everything you’ve fought so hard to have… I thought it suited you.”

Tears line my eyes and I try not to sob, but one breaks from my mouth anyway.

“Oh god, shit. , I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” In the mirror, Asher looks so heartbroken and guilty. I don’t mean to make him feel that way, but I’m in awe. He’s apologizing, not realizing that I’m crying because this is the biggest compliment anyone’s ever given to me before.

“Asher, I love it so much,” I praise, turning to face him.

“You do?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. “But you’re crying.”

“Well, yeah.” I wipe under my eyes and give him a watery chuckle. “You gave me a permanent reminder of how amazing you think I am. How strong, how beautiful, how hopeful. Not only that, but you spent all this time thinking of these things for me? God, Asher…” I sigh. “It’s so heartfelt, so thoughtful. I can’t say thank you enough.” I take his hand, squeezing it tightly, and lean up to give him a kiss. His lips are still swollen from our lovemaking, but he doesn’t seem to mind making them more so. When his brain realizes I’m happy , his arms wrap around my waist and pull me into him. Our kiss deepens but it’s sweet, loving, and it feels permanent, like my tattoo.

“Everyone will know you’re mine now,” he sighs with a cocky grin, as if everyone didn’t know that already. “I have an idea on how you can thank me,” he murmurs as he pulls away but keeps me in his arms.

“Oh yeah?” I cock an eyebrow, ready for him to say something sexual.

“Move in with me,” he reveals.

I gape at him, not sure I heard him correctly. “What?”

“Move in with me. You already stay at my place most nights because you can hear everything through Roxie’s walls, and she’s rather loud with her new guy. I knew I wanted you to live with me months ago, and you wanted some time, which I respect and understand,” he adds quickly before I can say anything. “But I feel like it’s time now. You’re settled and feeling good, right?”

I know what he’s really asking. He wants to know if I feel content. If I’m happy like I’ve— we’ve —been working towards. And I really, truly am.

“What if you don’t like living with me and it causes issues?” I can’t help getting in just one self-conscious question. I’ve been working on my self-worth, but I still have my moments. Changing your mental commentary is a hard thing to do.

Asher just laughs; a joyful, happy laugh which makes me smile. Small wrinkles crinkle around his eyes and his bright smile makes him look so carefree and happy.

“Baby girl, you’ve stayed over at my place for the last week straight. Roxie even commented that she doesn’t know why you pay rent anymore, because you’re never there.”

This is true. But to be fair, Roxie and Ty have been going at it so much, it’s impossible to sleep. To relax. To do anything without the sound of moans, grunts, and her bed squeaking.

“That doesn’t make my worry of you not liking fully living with me go away,” I protest.

“…” Asher shakes his head. “I only meant that I have been living with you. I know all your little quirks, I know how you like to sleep in arctic temperatures but only with five thick blankets. I know how you snore so softly it’s like heavy breathing, but when you’re really tired, it ramps up to pulling the curtains from the wall.” He laughs and I shake my head, trying to cover my own giggle.

“I know you like to pay everything using your debit card and are willing to go without if your account gets under three figures. I know you like to wake up early to watch the sun rise, which means you go to bed super early. I know you, ,” he repeats. “And I love everything I’ve discovered about you. I want us to live together. Officially.”

“Well…” I clear my throat and smile softly as Asher cups my cheek. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very, very sure.” He kisses me passionately, excitedly, and I match him as much as I can. He pulls back with a brilliant smile on his face, and twirls me around. “Finally!”