Chapter 23 Willow #2
Malice looks down at his chest to see what I’ve put on him, and suddenly, a rush of nerves rise up again. I know what he said before, but what if he decides it was a bad idea to let someone with no experience put something permanent on his body?
I did the best I could, but I’m no expert. I don’t even think I would qualify as a novice.
But then Malice smiles, and when he looks up at me, his eyes are molten and proud.
“It’s fucking perfect,” he says gruffly.
Finally, I let out a breath. “I’m glad you like it.”
It doesn’t look that bad, if I do say so myself. It’s not crooked, at least, and it seems to fit in on his chest, nestled between all the other stark black lines and curves and angles of his other tattoos.
Just above his heart, I’ve drawn the letter W in smooth lines.
My initial, just like he tattooed his and his brothers’ initials on me.
“Why just the W?” Malice asks, his gaze dropping to the tattoo again.
I shrug a shoulder. “I was raised as Willow Hayes because that was Misty’s last name, but…
that doesn’t really feel right anymore. Then I found out I was a Stanton, but there’s no way in hell I’m taking that name after everything that’s happened.
Then I was forced to marry Troy, but even though I’m leveraging being his widow to make moves against my grandmother, I’m never going to consider myself a Copeland.
So it’s just W for Willow. That’s the simplest, purest part of me, I guess.
The part I’ve always been no matter what else has changed.
Just me. That’s the mark I wanted to put on you. ”
Malice’s jaw tightens when I bring up the Stanton name and Troy, but by the time I finish speaking, his expression has cleared.
“Moja dusha prinadlezhit Tebe,” he murmurs.
Before I can ask what he said, he’s pulling me closer, threading his fingers into my hair and dragging me into a messy kiss. With his lips on mine, I lose track of everything else, gripping his shoulders and trying to keep myself afloat.
So when the door opens and Ransom and Vic come in, I jump in surprise.
Malice keeps a hold on me, not letting me go anywhere, and his brothers immediately pick up on what’s going on. The air in the room seems to thicken as they take in the fact that I’m completely naked, and my hair is probably still a mess from getting fucked on the couch.
“Well, well,” Ransom drawls. “What have you two been up to?”
“Sex,” Vic answers, and I’m honestly not sure if he’s teasing us, or if he’s just such a literal person that he’s answering his brother’s question.
“Damn, I see how it is. Let us go do all the work while you stay home and fuck Willow.”
Ransom is definitely teasing us, but I can hear something else in his voice too.
Relief and pride. All of the brothers are aware of what a big step this is for me, and I’m grateful all over again that they’ve never been the types to get jealous of each other or the time each of them spends with me.
They know I love them all, and I know they love me.
Malice flips them both off, deepening our kiss in what I’m sure is meant to be a show for his brothers as his hands grope roughly at my body. Then he finally releases me, stretching a little as I step back.
Now that I’m no longer in front of him, his brothers can see the tattoo on his chest. They both seem to put the pieces together at the same time, looking from Malice to the tattoo gun and then to me.
“You let Willow give you a tattoo?” Ransom asks, sounding surprised.
“Yeah. And?” Malice shoots back. “She did a great job. And it wasn’t about what the tattoo looked like anyway.”
Vic sets down the bag he was carrying when they entered and moves closer, examining the W that’s marked on his brother’s chest in fresh ink. “Quite good for your first time, honestly,” he murmurs.
I smile at him, the praise going straight to my head and mixing with all the other endorphins floating around in my system.
“You know what has to happen now, right?” Ransom sets his own bag down, then folds his arms.
“What?”
“You have to tattoo me and Vic too. Keep it even. Malice can’t be the only one going around with your initial on his chest.”
I chuckle ruefully. “You sure you want that? You see how wonky the one I did for Malice is.” It’s only half a joke, despite Vic’s confirmation that it looks pretty good for my first time. “You should run far away from this.”
“No.” Vic shakes his head, surprising me by immediately taking Ransom’s side. “We want you to do it.”
“Yeah, we don’t care if it’s professional quality. It being your work is what makes it special,” Ransom agrees.
I look to Malice, since it’s his equipment, and he just raises an eyebrow at me. It’s pure challenge, like he wants to see if I can do it, and there’s no hesitation in him at all.
“Okay.” I nod, grinning in spite of myself. “If you really want me to, I can mark you both too.”
Malice shows me how to change out the needles in the gun and get new ink, and Ransom takes off his shirt first. He sits on the couch with his legs spread, leaving room for me to kneel between them.
“In the same spot as I did for Malice?” I ask him, glancing up at his face.
His blue-green eyes gleam as he looks down at me. “If you can fit it in, yeah.”
He doesn’t have as many tattoos as Malice, so it’s easier to find space for it, and I get to work.
It’s easier the second time, which shouldn’t be a surprise, I guess. I’m more used to the weight of the gun and the way it moves, so I can control it more, making more even lines as I start to tattoo Ransom’s chest.
I can feel Vic and Malice watching me, and the thick feeling of tension in the room doesn’t abate. It makes the air seem so hot that it practically sears my skin, warming me from the outside in, and I have to fight the urge to look over at them.
Ransom doesn’t flinch from the pain either, taking it with the good grace and easy humor he takes most things in life.
“You know, I feel kind of like an idiot, but I didn’t expect this to be so hot,” he says after a few minutes.
“Which part?” I ask, pausing to wipe away some of the ink.
“You doing tattoos. You’ve got this look of concentration on your face, like you’re trying to make sure you do a good job, and it’s sexy as fuck.”
Vic makes a noise of agreement, and I find myself smiling.
“That’s just the endorphins talking. All of you lunatics seem to get off on pain.”
“As if you don’t,” Ransom fires back, and the weight of knowledge in his voice makes my pussy clench. He’s seen firsthand what the perfect mix of pain and pleasure can do to me.
This tattoo goes a bit quicker, and after several more minutes, I sit back, wiping away the last of the ink and blood to reveal the fresh W on Ransom’s chest. He smiles when he looks down at it, that same warm, fond look on his face that Malice wore.
“Amazing job, angel. I’ll wear this with pride.”
He puts his hands on my face and draws me up so he can kiss me. It’s slow and deep, but there’s heat there all the same. Ransom pours his feelings into it, and I gasp a little against his lips, kissing him right back.
“How are you so perfect?” he murmurs against my lips.
My lips curve upward, and I know he can feel my grin. “I’m not really perfect.” He starts to speak, probably to tell me I’m wrong, but before he can, I add, “But I am perfect for the three of you. Just like you’re perfect for me.”
His voice drops low as he groans, “Fuck, yes. You have no idea.”
He kisses me again, and I get the feeling that if Vic wasn’t waiting for his turn to be tattooed, there’s a good chance I’d end up on my back on the couch again. But after a few more heartbeats, he reluctantly releases me, then gets up to make room for Vic.
Vic already has his shirt off, and I know without even checking that his shirt will be folded neatly on the coffee table instead of tossed to the side like Ransom’s and Malice’s shirts.
He smiles when he sits down, and I smile back, taking a moment to check out the canvas of his body the way I did with his brothers.
It’s different with Vic, of course. He has some tattoos that he got willingly, but so many of them are marks left behind by his asshole father.
I wonder what he thinks of when he sees them, and if he ever thinks of getting them removed.
Maybe he wears them like badges of honor, the same way I’ve decided to wear my scars.
A reminder to himself of what he’s been through and what he survived.
Either way, I want the tattoo I give him to be a reminder of something so much better than that.
After prepping the gun one more time with Malice’s help, I grab it and rest one hand on Vic’s chest to balance myself.
“Okay?” I ask, glancing at him.
His blue eyes are dark, and he does seem a bit on edge. Still, he nods, giving me his approval to keep going.
The third time is even easier, even if my hand is starting to cramp up a little from holding the gun. I move the needle in neat lines, the design of my initial already burned into my brain by now.
Vic takes deep, even breaths, and his fingers tap out a steady rhythm on his thigh as he counts to himself, riding out the sensations.
I know he’s using his counting techniques to get through the pain, but I can tell from the way his face is flushed that there’s pleasure too.
When I go over a line to make it a little darker, a noise spills out of Vic’s mouth, and I have to wonder if he let it slip on purpose, or if it was involuntary.
Either way, it sounded closer to a moan than a sound of distress, and the sexual tension in the air kicks up another notch.
I can feel Malice and Ransom off to the side, their attention locked on me intently. Ransom’s breathing is loud, and Malice makes a noise low in his throat, similar to the sound his twin just made.
Vic jerks a little in his seat, and I glance up at him, pausing for a second. He’s hard in his pants, and he stops tapping his fingers on his leg and palms his cock instead, squeezing his hard-on as if trying to master himself.
I lick my lips, my heart racing a little.
“You could take care of yourself the same way you guys took care of me when I got my first tattoo,” I whisper.
The way his eyes immediately flare with heat and then go even darker lets me know that he remembers exactly what happened when I got my first tattoo, and his fingers fumble for his waistband without hesitation.
I watch, keeping the needle away from his skin as he drags his cock out and takes it in hand.
It’s thick and hard, flushed at the tip and leaking slightly. My stomach flutters at the sight, and I lean closer and spit directly onto the head, giving him some lube to work with.
“Do that again,” he rasps, so I do, watching him smear it over the smooth, veiny skin of his cock.
It’s almost mesmerizing, and it takes a few seconds for me to wrench my attention back to the tattoo I’m giving him and away from how Vic strokes himself in slow movements.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch more motion, and when I shoot a quick glance in that direction, I see Ransom lick his palm before wrapping his fist around his own cock. Beside him, Malice is hard again, stroking himself as he watches me.
If the room didn’t smell like sex before, it definitely does now, and the scent of it is like a fucking aphrodisiac, making me crave more. My body is exhausted, but my clit still throbs a little, weak little pulses that urge me on.
“Fuck…” Vic tips his head back on another groan, and I’m positive by now that each noise he makes is intended to be audible.
He wants me to hear what I’m doing to him, how much he’s getting off on this. There’s still that fine control, his usual precision in how he keeps his strokes even, not letting his hand fly over his cock to bring him to completion too soon… but he’s getting close.
“I’m almost done,” I murmur, going back in to touch up a few places.
“Me too,” he rasps with a sound that’s almost a laugh.
The strain in his voice makes a shiver run through me, and I finish up the tattoo before setting the gun aside for good.
When I give my full attention to Vic, I can tell he’s about to lose it.
His breath comes in harsh pants, and his hips buck up in little jerks, meeting the movement of his fist. On my other side, I can hear the wet, filthy sounds of his two brothers jerking off as well—and suddenly, there’s only one thing in the world that I want.
“Come on me,” I blurt, the words spilling out of my mouth. “All of you. Please.”
Vic’s gaze locks with mine, his nostrils flaring. “Are you sure?”
“God, yes,” I gasp out. “I want you to. Paint me with your cum. Make me filthy for you. Mark me as yours.”
“Shit,” Vic curses.
“See?” Ransom groans. “Like I said, you’re perfect. Such a good fucking girl.”
“Such a dirty fucking girl,” Malice adds. “You want us to make you even dirtier? We can do that.”
He and Ransom step closer, and Vic surges to his feet.
All three of them are surrounding me now in front of the couch, with me still on my knees.
That puts their cocks level with my face, and I bite my lip hard, watching with hungry anticipation as they stroke themselves.
The room is filled with the sound of slick skin on skin, their harsh breathing, and the noises that pour from their lips.
Vic comes first, going tense and rigid as pleasure rips through him. He grunts and juts his hips forward, letting the hot, sticky ropes of his cum splatter over my face and chest.
I moan low in my throat, enjoying the feeling of it.
Malice and Ransom follow in quick succession. They jack themselves off until they explode, squeezing out every drop of cum, painting my face, neck, and chest with the hot, pearly liquid.
I shudder, pleasure rocking through me, and even though it’s not an orgasm, it’s almost as good.
It’s everything I needed… and then some.