Spring Break Fling

Chapter 27

27

NIKKO

I pulled back, looking down at her. Her skin was flushed, her hair spread across my pillow. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I felt something other than anger or frustration.

She was right. I was losing everything. The shop, my reputation, my stability. But right here, right now, I had something real. Something that felt like hope.

I started to move slowly at first. Each thrust deliberate, feeling every inch of her. Her breath caught in her throat, little gasps escaping with each movement.

She felt so good. Warm honey soft and tight around me. I could feel every pulse, every clench of her body. Her hands slid up my back, nails digging slightly into my skin. Not to hurt. To anchor herself.

I increased my pace, no longer slow and deliberate. Now urgent. Hungry. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. Her hips rose to meet each thrust, matching my rhythm perfectly.

“Fuck,” I muttered into her neck. “You feel incredible.”

She didn’t respond with words. Just a low moan that vibrated through her chest. Her body was telling me everything I needed to know.

The tension was building again. I could feel it in the way her muscles started to tighten. The way her breathing changed. Short, sharp gasps punctuating each movement.

I lifted my head, wanting to watch her face. Her eyes were closed, bottom lip sucked into her mouth. Liquid heat erupted around my cock. She let out a long moan. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted more.

I pulled out and dropped on my back beside her. “Ride me.”

Without hesitation, she swung her leg over me, positioning herself. She straddled me. Her eyes were fierce and challenging. She sank down slowly, taking me inch by inch. The control was hers now.

Her hands pressed against my chest for balance. I gripped her hips, feeling the soft curve of her waist. She started to move, finding her rhythm. Not rushed. Deliberate. Like she was mapping every sensation.

I watched her. The way her breasts moved with each roll of her hips. The slight sheen of sweat covering her body. The way her hair fell across her face when she tilted her head back.

She was beautiful and exactly what I needed right now. My hands slid up from her hips, tracing her spine. She arched into my touch with her head dropping back and her breasts thrusting up.

Her muscles clenched around me as she moved, each rise and fall more deliberate than the last. I could feel the tension building again, that familiar tightness coiling deep in my core.

“Look at me,” I growled.

Her eyes snapped open. She looked directly into mine and it felt like she was staring directly into my soul. Her pupils were dilated with passion. There was no hesitation. No hiding. Just raw, unfiltered connection.

I thrust upward just as she pushed down, meeting her movement perfectly. She let out a sharp gasp, her rhythm momentarily breaking.

“That’s it,” I murmured. “Just like that.”

Her hands pressed harder against my chest. I could feel the trembling in her arms, the way her body was wound tight. She was close. We both were.

One of my hands slid between us, finding her clit. She jerked at the contact, a surprised moan escaping her lips .

I kept my touch light at first, just circling her clit with my thumb. Her movements became more erratic, less controlled.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

I increased the pressure, matching the rhythm of her hips. Her muscles started to clench around me, that telltale sign she was right on the edge.

Her orgasm hit her like a wave. She threw her head back, a strangled cry escaping her lips. Her body convulsed, muscles squeezing me tightly. The sensation pushed me over the edge.

I gripped her hips, thrusting up hard twice more before I came, groaning her name. Heat exploded through my body, every muscle tensing.

After, she collapsed onto my chest, her breathing still ragged. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close. I knew she was leaving in three days. This was temporary. But right now, I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted to feel her weight against me, her skin warm and soft.

She stirred, lifting her head to look at me. “You okay?”

I managed a half-smile. “Better now.”

Her fingers traced an old scar on my shoulder. “This looks like it has a story.” She seemed to sense my hesitation and dropped her hand. “Want some water?”

“Actually, I want to take care of your tattoo.”

“Uh, getting a tattoo was a really big deal. Me getting a tattoo in your kitchen or living room or wherever is just never going to happen. I’m a bit of a germaphobe.”

“I have zero intention of tattooing you in my kitchen,” I said with a laugh. “Marcus told me I could use the shop tonight to fix your tattoo.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve accepted it.”

“No, it’s not fine. You didn’t ask for that. It was silly and selfish. I can’t have you unhappy with your ink.”

“Nikko, I’m not unhappy with it. It’s fine.”

I chuckled. “Fine is not how I like people to describe a piece I’ve put on their body for the rest of their lives. I want to give you something you can be proud of. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide it.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “If you insist.”

We got up and got dressed. I drove her to the shop. It felt weird going back to the place I had poured my heart and soul into for years, knowing it wasn’t my place anymore. Yet again, I’d lost a place I called home.

Gritting my teeth against the anger that boiled up inside, I used my key to let us in the back door. I left the lights off. Hannah didn’t need to see the hell Samantha had unleashed earlier this afternoon. The last thing I wanted tonight was pity.

I took Hannah’s hand and led her down the narrow back hall into one of the private rooms that Marcus usually used as his office. He’d let me bring my chair and tools there and set up for Hannah so we had a sterile environment away from the chaos that still needed to be put back together.

I’d come here first to string up some twinkle lights and light some candles in an effort to set the mood for Hannah after everything I’d done.

“You really went all out,” she breathed, glancing at the lights strung up like tiny stars, the flickering candles, and the soft sheet that now draped my workstation, hiding Marcus’s messy desk from view. Her voice held a teasing lilt, but her gaze betrayed how much she appreciated the effort.

The string lights cast enough light to see, but it was much softer than the usual glaring lights I worked under.

“I wanted this to be different,” I admitted. “Not just a tattoo. A moment. A thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For putting up with me,” I said, half-grinning. “And for… I don’t know. Everything. Being you, I guess.”

She laughed, but it was a soft, almost shy sound. “If this is your way of apologizing for earlier, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t plan on messing this up.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she sat on my chair. The faint initials I’d hidden there stared back at me, and for a second, I felt a twinge of regret. Not because I was covering them, but because I was doing it for her, and that meant something.

“That doesn’t look like the normal stuff,” Hannah said and gestured to the vintage medical trays.

“It still works,” I assured her.

Diego had helped me set up the candles and pulled out some of the old equipment. He thought it was funny I was going all out for a tattoo fix. But this wasn’t just a fix. This was a statement. The compass and rose design I sketched wasn’t just art; it was a narrative of her journey, of our unexpected connection. I spent hours preparing every detail, from selecting the most delicate needles to creating a comfortable if not romantic setting for her session. I’d curated a playlist with her in mind—soft indie tracks mixed with the kind of raw, soulful stuff that spoke to the complicated connection we shared.

“Ready?” I asked after cleaning and shaving her skin.

“Ready,” she said, her voice steady, her trust in me obvious.

As I began, the machine buzzed steadily with the music softening the sound. I kept my focus sharp, my strokes deliberate, the design coming to life under her skin. Every now and then, I’d catch her stealing glances at me, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but held back. I worked as gently as I could, and she must have been relaxed, because several times I turned off my needle to listen to her humming along with a song. She cracked open an eye and caught me staring, listening in rapture, and smiled.

I cleared my throat. “So, what’s your deal with tattoos? This is your first one, right? Unless I missed something, which I don’t think is possible.”

She snorted. “What do you think?”

“I think you walked into my shop like you wanted to be anywhere else but here.”

She laughed again, wincing slightly as I worked on a sensitive spot. “Okay, fine. It’s my first real one. I had a questionable phase in college with some henna, though.”

“Let me guess. Butterflies and inspirational quotes? ”

“Worse,” she groaned. “A moon and stars. Very mystical. Very cringe.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Should’ve gone full tramp stamp. Really commit.”

She swatted my arm lightly. “So, did you really set all this up just for me?”

I paused, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I wanted it to be special.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, glancing away. “You’re full of surprises, Nikko.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I teased.

When I finally finished the last line, I sat back, wiped her arm clean, and shone a light so she could see. “Done.”

Hannah stared at the tattoo, her fingers tracing the intricate design. The rose now bloomed fully, its delicate lines and shading telling a story of resilience, exploration, and finding one’s way.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You know,” she added after a moment, her lips twitching into a smirk. “For an asshole, you’re kind of a softie.”

I threw my head back and laughed, the sound echoing around us. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” she said, her smile widening.

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For seeing me. For giving me a chance,” I said, the words coming out easier than I expected. “Women like you don’t usually give guys like me the time of day. And I get it. I’m a mess. Got my old man’s blood in me. You are uptown and I’m barely out of the gutter.”

Her head snapped up, and before I could go on, her hands cupped my face. “You’re not a mess, Nikko,” she said firmly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re not your dad. You’ve done very well for yourself. You have real talent.”

Her words hit me hard, cutting through years of self-doubt and buried anger. I was so used to people dismissing me before I even got a chance. People took one look at me and made a snap judgment. I didn’t blame them. Not really. Why wouldn’t they? I presented myself as a roughneck. I wanted people to be worried to be around me. It beat letting them get close enough to cause damage.

But Hannah saw me. She saw through all the bullshit. Before I could overthink it, I kissed her, pulling her close. She kissed me back, her hands tangling in my hair, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

The kiss deepened, heat sparking between us, but just as things started to escalate, she pulled back, her breath coming fast.

“Nikko,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something.”

The world fell away as I looked into her eyes. Shit .