Mutual Possession (Nine Tenths of the Law #1)

21. Spencer

Chapter twenty-one

Spencer

There’s a primal satisfaction in watching the man I love get himself permanently marked just because I asked him to. It’ll never come off. A sign that he belongs to me for eternity. Not to mention, watching him helps mask the pain on my chest, where I’m getting the exact same mark.

“Doing okay?” Britt, the woman currently digging dozens of small needles into me, asks. She pulls back, wipes the spot, and then starts back up again. I bet she’s a sadist off-duty.

“I’m fine.” More than fine. Kendrick is shirtless in front of me, and not even seeing someone else with their hands on him can take away my enjoyment. Loren, the artist working on him, has almost finished with the orchid and is working on my name, twined with it. Kendrick tried to talk me out of it, but I refused, and he caved, like he always does when I want my way. There’s no end to this. It’s for eternity, and he’s getting my fucking name tattooed on him. Just like I’m getting his. I’d never ask him to do something I’m not willing to do.

“There’s no need to be all macho, toxic masculinity about it,” Britt says, in a tone that tells me she’s given this speech a thousand times before. “If you need a break, just say so.”

An amused laugh falls out of me. “You think I won’t tell you if it hurts too much? This is a walk in the park. I’ve been stabbed, shot, and once I thought it was a good idea to go down a metal slide on a forty-degree day. In shorts.” Still have some burn scarring under my left thigh. Good times.

“I can’t tell if you’re exaggerating, stupid, unlucky, or a mix of all three.”

“I’d err on the side of caution and say all three,” I reply with a grin. The slide wasn’t my fault, to be fair. I was ten, and Maverick had gone down first. If he can do something, I can do it too. Using that logic had gotten us both into a lot of trouble as kids. Hell, it gets us into trouble now.

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” Kendrick grunts. “He talks out his ass.”

“Hey!” I protest.

“I know the type,” Britt says dryly.

If she didn’t have a needle against my skin, I might have something less than flattering to say to that comment. I have better self-preservation than that. Most of the time. Sometimes. I just don’t want her to fuck up my tattoo since it’s permanent and all that.

Loren chuckles. He sits back and wipes Kendrick’s chest, studying his work. “Just a few more lines, and I think we’re good. I haven’t done a flower in a while, but now I remember why I enjoy doing them.”

The tattoo looks fantastic on Kendrick’s smooth chest, right above his heart, where I belong. It’s the only ink he has, the only blemish on all that perfection. He doesn’t even have any scars on his chest, which, considering our line of work, is some kind of miracle. Maybe he’s not human. I’d believe it. Teflon. Except for the lines on his knee. I glance down even though I can’t see them through his jeans. I don’t need to see them to feel the stab in my heart.

Broken pieces that I should have prevented. Not all scars are visible, but these are a constant reminder of my failures.

“You want more flowers in your life, boss?” Britt asks. “Thea can hook you up.”

“Your wife is a smart woman,” Loren says, glancing at us. “Perhaps we can do a sale on floral tattoos until the urge passes, and I get thoroughly sick of them.”

Britt cackles. “Fuck no. I’ll be dreaming about roses, and I have way better things to dream about.”

“Like orchids?” I ask innocently.

“Should I get Thea to pierce your mouth shut?” she asks hopefully, glancing up at my face. “She’ll be gentle, I swear. You’ll barely feel it.”

With piercing my lips together? How’s that even possible? Sounds painful by any standard.

“Yes, please,” Kendrick answers for me.

“You’re losing so many brownie points right now,” I warn him. So much sass today. I said I was sorry for mixing up our drinks and making him take a sip of my decaf. Maybe I need to suck his dick again to put him in a better mood.

“How many did I have to start with? You can’t use a system that’s not transparent.”

My lips twist salaciously. “I can do whatever I want.” Case in point, my name right there in black cursive on his chest. Damn, it’s gonna look so fucking good once it’s fully healed.

Kendrick can’t argue with that, and he knows it.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish with our tattoos and go through the cleaning and aftercare with us. I’m only half listening, my focus completely on Kendrick as he tugs his T-shirt up and over his head, wincing a little as the fabric brushes over the bandaging. Every time he feels that, he’s gonna think of me, and I fucking love that.

Is this what it would be like if we had sex? A physical reminder of ownership? Would I feel him with every step that I take? There has to be some kind of lingering feeling after having his dick up my ass, surely? What would it feel like? How long would it last?

“Keep it out of the sun, don’t go swimming, keep it clean, and make sure to rub the cream into it, and you should be good,” Loren says, handing us a pamphlet with all the same information.

“And don’t scratch it, whatever you do,” Britt pipes up from where she’s cleaning her space. “It’s gonna itch like a motherfucker. Seriously, though. Just don’t.”

Yeah, I worked that out on my own.

“Watch for any unusual changes, rashes, or pain, and let us know if there are any issues,” Loren adds. “But yes, no scratching. Very important.”

“You did the test thing, so we should be fine, right?” They’d put ink on our skin and monitored it first before they’d started.

“The patch test is a good indicator, but you can never be too careful.”

True for all things in life.

Glancing back at the shop as we walk through the plaza to get outside, I ask, “How’d you find that place?”

“Jericho.”

“Jer?” That… makes no sense. “He doesn’t have any tattoos and piercings. The fuck is he going there for? Did he screw one of the artists?” I believe it. Before he met his four guys, he didn’t exactly keep it in his pants, the flirt.

Kendrick snorts. “Not that I’m aware of. Apparently, it’s where Sebastian got his eyebrow piercing, and they came here last week.”

“Did he get a tattoo?” I don’t remember seeing bandages on him anywhere. Well, anywhere I can see, which still leaves a lot to the imagination. Six and Greer are the exhibitionists, not Jericho.

“He did not. You know he doesn’t like having identifying marks. Two of his guys—Will and Quinn, I think—got some piercings.”

“Well, now I’m curious.” Piercings where exactly? “Aren’t those the two cops?” Can’t be a face piercing, then. Maybe ears, but that seems too tame. No, I bet they got interesting piercings. Really interesting ones.

“You can keep that curiosity to yourself,” Kendrick growls.

That hit a nerve, which means he knows what they got. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m not getting a piercing,” is all he says.

Kind of a weird comment, but okay? What does he mean by that?

It takes me until we get home to work it out and put all the pieces together. “Holy crap, they pierced their dicks ? C’mon, Ken, you wouldn’t do that for me?”

“They didn’t.”

That statement is way too deliberate. “One of them did.” How come Jericho told him, and he didn’t tell me? Friendships are so overrated. I’m putting chilli in his yoghurt. Maybe my life is turning into a soap opera.

“You’re awfully interested in their junk.”

“I’m thinking about yours,” I say truthfully. The only dick I’m interested in. Hell, the only body , period, that I’m interested in. The rest of the world has nothing on him.

“No.”

“What if I said please?”

“You can’t seriously want me to stick a fucking rod through my cock?”

He says it as if that imagery is going to make it less sexy to me. It’d be hot because anything Kendrick does is hot, but that’s not really the point of the question, is it? Would he pierce it for me? How far will he let me go? There are days I want to ask him to do something horrifying just to see if he will. For me.

Of course, I already know the answer. I could ask him to do anything in the world, and he’d do it. He may look at me funny or attempt some kind of negotiation, but at the end of the day, whatever I want goes.

That’s heady as fuck. And not to be taken advantage of. Not when it counts. He doesn’t deserve for that kind of power to be abused. I want to take care of him, not use him. I want him to know that he’s always safe with me, and that I’ll destroy anything that wants to hurt him.

The second we’re inside our apartment, I shove him against the front door, slamming it shut. He swallows and tips his head, exposing his throat for me. I can’t resist that kind of invitation.

He moans the second my lips touch his skin, and it only deepens when I bite down and suck. His perfect responses kill me. It’s like he’s starving, and I’m the only one that can feed him. The only one who can give him this .

And I want to. I want to give him everything because he deserves that. Because we both do.

I take my time, licking and biting and sucking until his throat is covered in red marks. Unlike his new tattoo, they’ll fade. That’s alright; I’ll just make more.

Eventually, I lift my head, and the vision Kendrick presents makes my chest ache and my throat clog. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over, lips parted with harsh breaths. His hands are splayed on the door, like he’s trying to keep himself apart from me, stop himself from touching me.

That won’t do. He never gets to hide anything from me. And I need his hands on me.

“I want to have sex.”