Chapter Twelve
Xiomara
P roperty of Ink in cursive, swirling letters glared at me from the top of my breast. The liberties he took with my own body should have infuriated me, and yet I fought hard not to squirm beneath him because I was so fucking turned on. So close to falling into that blissful release that would leave me mind-numbingly boneless.
The pain of the tattoo gun piercing my flesh had caused desire to flow freely through me. Pairing that with the curl and thrusting of his fingers?
My body was on fire. Every piece of me felt electrified, shock waves threatening to blast through every fucking crevice. It was right there, the sensation of wanting to implode, yet so far away at the same time.
It made me furious.
And yet truth be told, being claimed? I wanted it. I wanted to belong to someone like him. Someone who had an entire club at his back. Someone demanding. Possessive. Someone who would protect and care about me. I didn’t care that he probably did illegal shit. I didn’t care that he marked me without permission, because I’d given him my fucking heart and soul from the moment he’d gone to my house without even knowing it.
Even if we hadn’t kissed.
As soon as he tossed the now silent tattoo gun off to the side and stared down at his own handiwork, a sigh left me. Our eyes caught, flared. We reached for one another, our mouths colliding for the first time ever in a sudden vicious fight for dominance. I yielded to him, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. Our bodies plastered together and I hissed against his mouth at the sting I felt against my breast.
Yet he wasn’t careful. If anything, my pain spurred him on and only made me wetter. He grasped at my newly tattooed breast in his hand, squeezing the spot he’d marked as his own.
Property of Ink.
I was his now. I belonged to him. His Vieja, his Old Lady. I was a MC wife, and I’d be protected by him and the club. That sense of security, that sense of fucking promise, was something I’d always needed and wanted.
And I finally had it.
I moaned, rubbing my lower half against him.
“Fuck me,” I pleaded, tearing my mouth away from his. “Fuck me right here.”
He tore at my jeans, slipping me out of my clothes. He stripped himself until he was naked in front of me. My breath caught, eyes tracing the lines of dark ink that circled his entire body. They curved across his muscles and over his veins, images of skulls and devils, of Catrinas and flor de cempazuchitl, of big breasted women and Mayan imagery.
He was a god.
I swore I whimpered right then, causing him to chuckle as he laid himself over me. Just like last time, he entered me in a single thrust. I was still sore from him yesterday, but the pain was entirely too pleasant and wanted. I groaned as his bare cock slid in and out of me.
I didn’t give a fuck that he was bare. I’d take another pill, get a prescription, do anything if it meant I got to feel every pulsing, thick inch.
My hips rose to meet his and soon, he was thrusting hard, wrapping his hand across my throat to keep me pinned to the chair. I gasped for breath once again, digging my fingers into his chest. He leaned down as I marked him with the crescents of my nails, and he took my mouth in his.
The kiss was everything. When he broke away to trail his tongue down my neck, only to scrape his stubble across my tattooed breast, I felt myself falling into a steadfast orgasm.
I whirled and cried out, falling, falling. I was sure I was screaming his name.
He grunted in my ear, cumming inside me like he’d done yesterday.
That marking was intimate in a way that made me tremble.
When we came down from our bliss, Ink wrapped me in his arms and held me close. It was different from yesterday. A display of affection I craved as he held me close, pushing strands of my hair aside.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered.
“Only in the best way.”
“Hmm.” His calloused fingers slid against the edge of my tattoo, not touching or tracing, but staring down at it with a bit of wonder.
Maybe he thought I was going to stop him.
Would he have listened if I had asked him to? It didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t have.
“In case it wasn’t clear,” he began, “you’re mine, Xiomara.”
“And you’re mine, too?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question. But it did. I wasn’t a part of the MC life–though now I was. I knew how dynamics worked. The club putas were there to suck off the guys, whether they were taken or not. I wasn’t sure it mattered. Maybe I was asking him if he was going to be loyal to me. But I knew I had to outright say it. My fingers traced the face of a Catrina on his pec. “My dad walked out on us,” I whispered. I hated talking about the bastard but if I did then maybe he would’ve understood my fears. “He went to the U.S.A., sent money a few times, and then disappeared.”
Ink frowned. “He dead?”
I huffed a breath. “Social media shows him happy with his new family over there. Left me, my siblings, and my ma to fend for ourselves. After he made her quit work to be a housewife, he abandoned her with no money. We all had to fight to support each other and help ma pay the bills.”
“Hmm.” His fingers brushed aside my hair. “I won’t do that to you.”
“I didn’t think my dad would do that to me either.”
I could sense his irritation. “I’m not a fucking deadbeat,” he snarled. “I said you’re mine, and that’s a fucking promise. You’re my Vieja now, and I’m going to take care of you. You want to work? Fine, work, do whatever the fuck you want with your time, but know that I am going to be behind you, beside you, wherever the fuck you want me.” He grasped my chin tightly, tilting my head up to press a firm kiss to my lips. “Why the fuck would I want anyone else when I’ve got you?”
My heart melted at those words. I wasn’t one to fall for prose so easily, and yet he didn’t wax poetic. He didn’t say it like some smooth-talking jackass.
When he said those words, I believed them.
“I believe you,” I said, fingers threading through his short hair. I grasped tightly, yanking his head back. “But if you fuck around on me with a club puta, I will shoot them in the head and then cut off your fucking dick.”
The words had his dick hardening between us. “Hmm.” He pressed a kiss to my jawline. “I like you possessive and violent.”
And he may not have realized it, but those words were better than any love declaration he could ever make.