Chapter Eleven
Ink
I dipped my cock into an employee. Even worse, I’d spent myself inside her like a goddamn teen. But did I care about all that? No. Xiomara Nava made me lose my good sense in the best possible fucking way.
I knew why that was. I knew why I couldn’t get her out of my head ever since I’d met her. It was the same reason she invaded my every fucking thought since the moment I’d walked into my own damn shop to see her holding a bat, covered in blood like some type of avenging goddess with dead men at her feet.
Los Diablos lived a life of fast, dangerous debauchery. We couldn’t afford to second guess ourselves. When we saw something we wanted, we fucking took it. We stole it. No questions asked.
I didn’t have the right to cum inside her, but the moment she stripped herself bare for me and begged me to fuck her hard and fast, I knew she was meant to be mine. I no longer gave a fuck that she was an employee and that I was breaking my own frigid rules by getting involved with her.
I wanted Xiomara, and I’d have her. So I’d marked her. If that made me a neanderthal, so be it. But my cum had dripped from her pretty little cunt, which made her mine. And when we walked out of the clubhouse and she went and flirted with my club brothers like I knew she would, I only kept my anger in check because I knew her pussy was dripping wet with a piece of me.
The next day at work, she barely spoke to me. I could tell she’d erected a wall between us, even after I’d fucked her into my mattress. She’d gone back to giving me the cold shoulder, and I hadn’t spoken to her either.
The day started off slow, but eventually customers filed in to create appointments. I was sanitizing the back when I first heard it.
Xiomara’s laughter.
The sound was like a fucking punch to the gut, something that immediately irritated me when it was followed by a man’s laughter. I let out a curse that had Fer side-eyeing me from her station. I ignored her and stormed to the front only to find some dickhead with his palms against my desk leaning in my woman’s direction.
The smile he gave her was flirtatious, and the one she gave him back was equally so.
As if sensing my presence behind her, she turned, and her smile dropped. “Ink,” she greeted in a droll tone. As if I hadn’t made her scream my fucking name the day before. As if she hadn’t orgasmed all over me. As if she hadn’t begged “ Dámelo” as I speared her with my cock or marked her with my seed.
My glare went to the man there. He was still staring at Xiomara.
As if he had a fucking chance.
“What do you want?” My barked question finally had his attention turning to me. He wasn’t someone I’d ever tatted before, but there were always referrals coming through my shop doors. Friends of people I’d worked on in the past.
“I’m here to set an appointment.”
My brows kicked up. “Really? Because it looks like you’re flirting with my woman.”
He seemed to visibly pale at my words, eyes darting down to my cut. He knew what the fucking patch meant. He knew the weight my fucking club had.
Which meant he knew I was capable of ripping his guts out through his asshole.
“Get the fuck out of my shop.”
He turned tail and ran like a little fucking bitch. When he was gone, I faced Xiomara’s glare head-on.
“What the hell?” she demanded. “You have no right. You’re my boss, not my keeper.”
It seemed my woman needed a fucking reminder about who owned her ass.
I reached for her wrist and yanked her towards me. “Shut the fuck up,” I barked when she opened her mouth to argue.
She clamped her mouth closed again, huffing a breath. I pulled her towards the back area. Fer eyed us with a small smirk, but I didn’t have time for her bullshit.
“Get out,” I said. “And lock the shop up behind you.”
She cackled and ignored Xiomara, even as my woman threw her a pleading look. It wasn’t until I heard Fer leave the shop and twist the lock behind her that I shoved Xiomara down onto the leather tattoo chair.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ink?”
I climbed over her, straddling her hips and pinning her down.
“Take off your fucking shirt.”
Her cheeks colored at my command, but she tilted her chin up in an act of defiance. “No,” she said firmly.
“If you don’t, I’ll rip it off of you.”
“Ink, you’re my boss. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Why are you acting like you own me?” There was the slightest tremble of her voice, and as I stared into her eyes, I could read her emotions clearly.
She was afraid.
Afraid of my answer, and the changes it would bring between us, yet she wanted me. Almost as much as I wanted her.
I leaned down so the tips of our noses touched. “I branded you with my cum,” I reminded her. Her cheeks heated. “You’re mine, Xiomara. I don’t give a fuck that you’re my employee. Eres mía . And I’m going to remind you of that fact. Now take off your fucking shirt.”
Her breath hitched and her pupils flared. She liked this. She liked me rough and mean and dominating. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to ask you a third time, nena.”
Her trembling fingers went to do my bidding. I liked that about her. She had a bite to her, but she was quick to obey her man. She liked the direction. Liked to be controlled, to be taken care of.
I watched as the shirt came off from over her shoulders, leaving her bare in nothing but a lacy black bra that pushed her breasts up for my admiration.
Perfect.
I leaned down, pressing a kiss over one of her curves.
She sighed softly, leaning into my touch like she was starved for it.
She could argue as much as she wanted, but she and I both knew that she wanted this.
“I thought I’d made myself clear.” I reached off to a side table, gripping a rag with alcohol. I brought it down to her breast, swiping the area I’d claimed. “You’re mine, Xiomara.”
She wiggled beneath me. “What do you mean, yours?”
I slapped a pair of latex gloves on. “Eres mi Vieja,” I said.
Her eyes widened at the declaration, and she mouthed the words back to me in shock.
I grabbed and prepped my tattoo gun and turned it on, dipping it in black ink before I brought it towards her skin.
“Wait–” Her voice trembled. “We haven’t even kissed yet and you’re calling me your Old Lady.”
“I don’t need to fucking kiss you to know I’m claiming you. Now don’t fucking move.” The buzz of the gun filled the room.
Xiomara didn’t move.
I knew she wouldn’t. And yet it felt good to see she was as on board with this as I was.
The gun pressed against her skin, and she winced a moment before sighing deep, almost leaning into the pain of the needles. I worked carefully, not even needing a stencil as I looped swirls and letters against her flesh. My gaze occasionally flicked up to find her staring at me, her painted little mouth dropped open as she breathed through her arousal.
With a smirk, I pressed harder onto her, with the hardness of my cock and the gun. Her response was immediate. She thrust up into me and I had the foresight to yank the gun away before the jerking of her body fucked up my neat scrawl.
I frowned down at her, even as jagged shards of pleasure shot through my chest at her inhibitions. “Don’t move,” I ordered.
Her answering moan was all too bratty. Setting aside the gun momentarily, I leaned over her, palming her pussy through her jeans in a single, rough touch. She exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, and the fire in her answering glare had my dick jerking within the confines of my jeans.
“If you move, I’ll have to punish you.”
Her breath caught and it was followed by a whimpering sound that had me fighting back my own groan. Fuck .
“Be a good girl like I know you can be and don’t fucking move.” I waited patiently to see what she’d do. Instead of nodding, her lush mouth dropped open.
“Okay,” she agreed.
I smirked. While that single word was her submission, there was a daring flare in her eyes that was begging for the promise of a bruising touch and the brutal edge of my demands. And beneath all of that, there were more vulnerable layers piled on but that desperate urge and need for release rose to the top.
I wouldn’t leave her wanting.
With slow precision, my fingers undid the button of her jeans and slid the zipper down. The material parted to reveal her boxers. I played with the edge of the elastic, pulling it back and letting go so it slapped against her smooth skin.
“This is going to be a bit of a challenge,” I whispered, eyes flicking back up to meet hers. “I’ve never fucked someone and given them a tattoo at the same time.”
Her breath hitched.
I smirked.
“You’ll have to sit very, very still for me.” I yanked the latex glove off one hand with my teeth, letting it fall away to the side. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty skin.”
My fingers slipped within the confines of her boxers, tracing over the soaking slit of her pussy. Finding her wet and ready made me want to dive face first into her and suck her off until she was screaming my name.
Tracing the wetness of her folds, I slid a single finger up against her sweet little clit, smearing it with her own juices.
She gave the slightest of jerks against the touch, subtle enough that I kept going, tracing small circles against her nub with my calloused fingers. When she whimpered, I slid back to her slit, teasing her lower lips with two fingers.
I played just enough to satisfy an itch, but kept her on a precipice that had her mouth singing for me. The crescendo of her cries echoed around us, yet she kept herself as still as she could.
I smirked as she trembled from the effort, rewarding her by slipping a finger into her channel.
“Fuck. Ink– ”
I reached for the gun once again and hovered over her, bringing it down against her breast.
“Don’t move,” I reminded her right before I turned it on and began my brand all over again.
Her light brown skin darkened with my ink while my fingers stretched inside her. Another one slid inside, scissoring several times. She gushed against me, juices sliding down my fingers and against my wrist.
“Ink–” Her breath stuttered out of her.
I paused long enough to look up and see her biting down hard against her bottom lip. Hard enough to draw blood.
With deliberate slowness, I pulled the gun away and slipped my fingers from her pussy, bringing them up to her mouth. They caressed her bottom lip, a tender gesture I never knew I was capable of making before.
She had no fucking idea just how bright she was. Like the sun, and I was powerless to the pull of her orbit.
“Taste how wet you are for me, baby.”
She released the brutal hold on her lip, dark eyes hooded as she dropped that mouth I desperately wanted to fuck open. I shoved my fingers inside and she lapped up her own essence like it was candy.
I jerked my hips against her in a poor imitation of what I wanted to do to her.
“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” I pulled my fingers from her mouth and she released them with a pop. They immediately went back into her boxers and to her pussy.
I wasn’t slow or tender this time. I shoved my way inside with a force that made her cry out and jerk in surprise.
“Hmm,” I hummed. “Que rica estás. I can’t wait to fuck you again.”
Once again, the gun found itself into my hand, the buzzing drowning out her cries of pleasure and pain as the needle touched her skin. I resumed digging it into her flesh, swooping and whirling, my movements purposefully slow as I divided my attention between the tattoo and her weeping pussy.
“Sí, mójame. Get me so fucking wet, baby.”
Her pussy drenched around my moving fingers, soaking down to my palms with every thrust in and out.
“Ink. I–I can’t–” Her hips canted up a fraction.
The needles dug deeper into her skin, darkening her even further. I curved my fingers inside at the same time, relishing in the sound of her cries.
“You’re trying so hard to keep still aren’t you, baby?”
I usually didn’t like to speak when I fucked. There never was a reason when I usually dipped my dick into club putas. They weren’t with me for the conversation, and I wasn’t either.
She was different.
She needed this. From the way her insides squeezed me like she could choke the life out of my fingers, strangle my pulse, swallow me fucking whole, I knew she loved my words.
Every dirty fucking bit of them.
“Fuck, baby.” I let out a low hiss when her walls fluttered around me. She was close. I could feel it.
But so was I.
“No. Don’t you dare fucking cum, Xiomara.”
She whimpered in response.
I slowed my thrusting, sweeping her wetness out and against her clit. A final test. It burned against my fingers as I circled it.
“Don’t cum,” I ordered.
“Ink–”
“Don’t.” I flicked her clit. Hard. She gasped, the sound drowned out by the buzz as I neared the end of the tattoo.
“Mírate nada más. Tan mojada, tan caliente. So wet and hot for my cock. You like pain with your pleasure, baby? You want to be fucking spanked? Choked?”
She let out a low hiss and a moan. “Yessss…”
“Te lo voy a dar,” I promised. “Te lo daré todo.”
She was right there on the crest of her orgasm. I could feel it. Sense it.
I wanted it but not yet.
My hands pulled from her boxers and she cried out a protest but I ignored it. Wet fingers met her neck, pinning her down as gently as I could manage.
“Do you know why I am going to give you everything?”
Her eyes begged me to answer the question quickly, but I simply smirked.
Painting her flesh was such a fucking turn on. Marking her permanently to remind her who owned her now–not just in body but soul as well. Blood seeped through the ink and when I finished the last looping letter, I set the gun aside to swipe and disinfect her skin one-handed.
Seeing the product of my obsession had my heart beating a rhythm that matched the screaming pulsations of my rock-hard cock. I smiled down at Xiomara and the new tattoo I’d given her, marked forever on her flesh for everyone to see.
Property of Ink .