Chapter Fifteen
J ocelyn took another bite of her pasta and smiled sweetly at Birch, enjoying the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he tried to balance his fragile focus between his meal and their conversation. “You said you started doing tattoos when you were in high school. What was the first one you did?”
He swallowed, a faint flush on his cheeks as his eyes dipped down to his crotch where her foot continued to rest between his thighs. “It was a, um, a lightning bolt. A really crappy lightning bolt.”
“And who was your first victim?”
“It was, uh, Winter.”
Smiling, she wiggled her toes. “Are you ready to spill about this piece yet?”
“Nope.”
She knew he was avoiding any discussion about the art on her leg, the imprisoned house a dark replica of his own. There was no mistaking the small scar the hand on her tattoo had, its match on her own. It was the remnant from her childhood, when she was eleven and sliced herself on an exposed nail on her deck railing.
She kept her prodding light and easy. She didn’t need him to tell her about it, because the piece spoke for itself. And it simultaneously warmed and upset her.
He shifted his hips slightly, his eyes blazing when the movement pressed his erection tighter to her foot. Setting his fork down, he pushed his plate aside and placed his elbows on the table. “Speaking of victims, are you trying to tease me to death?”
“It’s not teasing if there’s follow-through,” she said, taking her time with her own meal.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, his muscled forearms tight as he clasped his hands and zeroed in on her lips. “Jocelyn.”
“Birch.”
They entered a heated stare down, his breathing becoming more labored while she focused on the mix of lust and uncertainty in his eyes. Without looking away, he licked his lips and inhaled sharply. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why me?”
Matching his pose, she leaned in. “I could ask you the same question.”
He let out a low chuckle and shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re fucking with me, right? I mean, look at you. You’re—” He gestured at her, the concerted effort he was putting into find his words totally endearing. “You’re wow. Wow and holy shit and goddamn and perfect.”
Memories of sweet lies whispered by her snake of an ex slithered through her thoughts and she reached over the table to take his hand, sliding her foot from between his legs to the floor. “Birch, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me, okay?”
The uncertainty flared up in his gaze but he nodded. “You know I will be.”
“What do you stand to gain by sleeping with me?”
He opened his mouth for a moment before snapping it shut with a frown while he considered her question. “You, I hope,” he said slowly, his shoulders hunching as they always did when he opened up to her. “For as long as you’ll let me. As long as you’re around. Which I’m thinking won’t be nearly long enough for me, but beggars not choosers, right?”
Satisfied with his answer, she motioned for the server to bring the check. “Ready to show off your professionalism again?”
*
Birch snatched his hand away from the smooth expanse of Jocelyn’s bare back and willed it to stop trembling so he could finish the exquisite torture he was subjecting himself to.
Again.
There was no way he would be able to walk into her hotel room again without succumbing to an instant hard-on, not when he was meticulously memorizing and cataloguing every second of this moment. The floral design winding down her spine was a testament to his fraying control, every petal and vine lacing along her skin proof that he could be a consummate professional.
Even if the design consisted entirely of irises, orchids, and calla lilies.
Nope, not at all obvious where his professional thoughts were leading him.
Jocelyn was perfectly content beneath his hands on her hotel room bed, naked from the waist up with her hands tucked under her face and her eyes closed, not a care in the world. She was completely relaxed, the only sign she wasn’t asleep being the subtle change in her breathing whenever he feathered his pen along her spine.
“Is it done?”
He cleared his throat and refocused on the low band of her shorts and the slight peek of an emerald-green thong as he made the final strokes of the stems. “I think so?”
She laughed and the sound went straight to his cock. “You don’t sound too sure.”
Sitting back on his haunches, he licked his lips and studied his work. “Honestly? If this was going to be permanent, I would take it further. Inspiration is kind of hitting me hard right now.”
“Then stop holding back and give me everything you’ve got.”
He let out a strangled sound that was half chuckle and half groan. His creative side crowed over the permission to continue marking her while his dick ached in protest with the knowledge it wasn’t getting free anytime soon.
*
Jocelyn inhaled sharply as Birch’s pen grazed the side of her breast again, her body responding to every line applied by his skilled hand.
She felt him sit back, heard his own ragged breathing above her before he spoke. “Done.”
She was inundated by curiosity and anticipation since the first swipe of cool ink had sliced along her body, half of it dedicated to the piece Birch was creating and the other half wholly invested in the man himself. There was no hesitation while he turned her body into a work of art. His movements were sure and graceful, almost worshipping in his focus.
It was another stark reminder of how different he was from the carnivore who had chewed her up, spit her out, and used what remained to bargain for his wealth and freedom.
Arching her back as she stretched her arms toward the headboard, she smiled. “Take a picture and show me?”
He reached over her and took her phone from the bedside table, handing it to her to unlock before he returned to his position straddling her thighs. Moments later he passed the cell to her, the image of her new temporary tattoo on the screen.
Unable to look away, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and zoomed in on each section, biting her lip when she realized he chose to grace her body with the most erotic fusion of vines and flowers she’d ever seen.
And it was absolutely stunning.
“Birch?” she murmured, setting her phone aside and looking at him over her shoulder. “There are a lot of promises in this inspired tattoo.”
His lips curled up into a lopsided sheepish grin. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“You were hoping I wouldn’t notice the botanical Kama Sutra is now winding across my body?”
“Like I said, I was inspired. Very fucking inspired.”
His voice was gravelly and low as he stared at her. His hands gripped the bedding and his hazel eyes sought the permission she gave with the arch of her back and the lift of her hips. “Those hands of yours better deliver, then.”
With an exhaled curse, he released his hold on the blanket and reached for her. His thumbs brushed along her spine as he dragged his hands down the length of her body, stopping to give her hips a possessive squeeze before one hand grazed her skin in a path up to the base of her neck. Strong fingers tangled into her hair, his other hand bracing his weight as he bent over her and trailed his lips across her shoulder to her earlobe. His hard length pressed into her ass and she arched into him, his strangled groan going straight to her core.
Releasing her hair, he ran his tongue along his artwork, tracing the lines while he worked his way down her body. His fingers hooked into the folded waistband of her shorts and he slid them off before skimming one finger along the emerald lace of her thong.
“This fucking thing has been torturing me for two hours,” he growled, tugging gently at it. “But it’s so fucking sexy it kills me to take it off.”
She rolled languidly onto her back and stilled, taking in the tension in his body warring with the sheer heat in his eyes.
He was torn, holding back again. And while she wanted nothing more than to break down whatever it was keeping him from surrendering to the moment, she held herself back. “Are you wondering if this is a mistake?”
His hand grazed over her hip and settled on her stomach while his hungry gaze traveled from the green lace at the junction of her thighs to her exposed breasts. “I don’t wonder about things I know the answer to.”
*
Hot.
Damn.
No mental image Birch ever jerked it to in the past was remotely comparable to the pure perfection of Jocelyn’s body draped across the bed. Confidence radiated off of her as she lounged on display, naked except for the emerald scrap of fabric barely covering the promised land he was desperate to enter. Faded tan lines framed her breasts and his cock twitched as he envisioned sliding it between them, his release spilling across her throat.
Turning his attention to her mouth didn’t help his situation. Her tongue darted out, running along her bottom lip and sending his imagination into overdrive. There was nothing he didn’t want to receive from that mouth. He wanted her taste, wanted her tongue on him and her lips around him. Wanted to hear every moan and cry in his ear while he sent her over the edge time and time again until she was simultaneously begging him to stop and pleading for more.
With a deep breath, he met her gaze.
She knew she looked incredible, her eyes holding a hint of challenge while she watched him and gave him time to appreciate the view. Her strong, lean thighs encased his hips, the pressure helping to ground him as he took in the sight of her laid out before him, ready and willing for him.
In the small part of his brain still functioning on a rational level, he knew this was nothing more than a romp for her, some bad boy fantasy itch being scratched. Maybe they’d play it out for a week or two, her pretending it wasn’t just a hookup and him pretending it was. But eventually she’d skip back off to New Jersey, leaving him moping and miserable every time he saw the fucking chair he was still making payments on.
Moping over some decade-old crush puppy love bullshit didn’t fit into his plan to stay focused, to avoid anything that might distract him.
So yeah, this was a mistake.
But at least it was a mistake he was making with full acceptance of the consequences.
“Birch? There’s a pretty obvious imbalance in the nudity department.”
Snapped back into the moment, he watched as Jocelyn sat up, her palms flat on the mattress between her splayed thighs, the angle of her arms pushing her breasts together.
He gripped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Not my fault you’re so fucking hot that I forgot how to do this.”
“Forgot?” She grinned, reaching over to pop the button of his jeans, her fingers skimming his length as she lowered the zipper. “Is this your way of saying you need a few practice sessions to jog your memory?”
Yanking his boxers and jeans off, he kicked them across the room. “I’ve heard it’s like riding a bicycle, so I’m banking on that and instinct right nowholy fuck !” he groaned as her hand wrapped around his cock. Her cold fingers against his heat combined with the sight of her lips wrapping around him sent his eyes rolling back while she tested his tenuous handle on control with the lazy swipe of her tongue.
He shoved his hands through his hair and dropped his head back while her tongue flicked along his shaft, the tight grip she started with gone as she grazed her nails along his stomach and up to his chest. Her touch and tongue were feather-light, ghosting along his cock and abs with barely enough pressure to feel it but more than enough to ignite every nerve in his body. The longer she explored him, the heavier his breathing became, his panting filling the silent room. Seconds, minutes…fuck, it could have been hours. Her fingers passed every inch of skin she could reach while that sinful tongue teased him mercilessly. His knees nearly buckled when she took him back into her mouth.
“Jocelyn,” he groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. “I’m dying here.”
She released him with a final lick up his length and leaned back on her elbows. “Consider it payback for teasing me for two solid hours.”
“That wasn’t teasing.” He slipped his hand under her lace thong and slid a finger through the wetness, smirking when he made contact with her clit and her head fell back. “That was business.”
Leaning forward, he circled one perfect nipple with his tongue as he pushed two fingers inside her. She shoved her hand into his hair, her grip tightening as he crooked his fingers and increased the speed of his thumb on her nub.
“Birch,” she panted, her thighs clenching against his hips. “Please tell me you have a condom.”
Dropping his head into the crook of her neck, he exhaled and pushed himself up. “If there isn’t one in my wallet, there’s a damn good chance you’ll see me cry for the first time since I was a toddler.”
She laughed as he snatched his jeans off the floor and yanked his wallet out of the back pocket, finding one foil packet tucked behind his driver’s license. He tore it open, rolled the thin latex over his cock, and watched as she slid her thong off her hips and down her legs, dangling it from her foot.
Grabbing the green lace, he tossed it onto his discarded jeans. “I’m keeping this.”
“I won’t fight you on it this time, but from here on out, you’ll have to use your teeth and earn it.”
The thought of peeling thongs off her body every night flashed through his mind as he stepped between her legs. “You sure about this?”
Biting her lip, she cupped one breast, brushing her thumb across the peak while her other hand slipped between her thighs, one finger circling her clit. “Yes, Birch Baker, I’m sure. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me hard. I want you to fuck me fast. And I want you to fuck me now.”
*
Jocelyn was done playing.
Every nerve in her body felt ready to combust, the ache between her legs bordering on painful from the incessant state of arousal Birch had held her in.
So when he hiked her leg up and rammed into her, she almost wept with relief.
Gripping her hip, he pounded into her at a punishing pace, his angle hitting a spot deep inside her that had her reaching back and grabbing the headboard for leverage. Her building orgasm felt heavy, buried in her core and drawn out with every thrust. The sensation almost too much the closer she got.
“Oh god, Birch,” she moaned, grasping her breast and tweaking her nipple. “Harder. Please.”
His pace increased, his breathing becoming more ragged as his fingers dug into her hip bone. The corded muscles running the length of his tattooed arms were rock hard, the thin sheen of sweat on his skin making the art coloring the ridges and planes of his chest and abs more defined. Hitching her other leg up, he shifted his angle and the move sent her over the edge into an orgasm originating deep in her core and radiating through her entire body.
Her back arched off the bed as she rode the crest, her nails scratching across her own stomach while she thrashed beneath him. She could hear herself whimpering incoherent words as he continued to pound into her, unable to make sense of anything until his voice broke through.
“Touch yourself, Jocelyn,” he snarled, releasing one of her thighs and grasping her wrist. Pressing her hand against her clit, he held it there, coaxing her movements until she took over with a moan. “Make yourself come for me again, honey.”
Her fingers were slick as she touched herself with a practiced flow and pressure, another, more familiar orgasm building within minutes. As the sensation swelled to borderline unbearable levels, she stopped, unable to push her body further.
Birch’s hand was back on hers immediately, his fingers replicating the way she liked to be touched and forcing her orgasm through her as his rhythm began to falter. With a strangled curse, he came hard, and his hips slammed into her while he rode it out, his movements slowing as the tremors eased. Putting his hands on either side of her waist, he dropped his head to her sternum, his broad shoulders heaving as he struggled to regain his breath.
Sated and spent, she ran one hand through his dark hair, tracing circles on the nape of his neck and wondering if her temporary ink was still intact.