Chapter Thirty-Three
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, the feeling a different kind of nervousness I’m used to as I stare at the front of the shop. The sun blasts off the window, the gold writing glittering as I read Inksignia.
“You don’t have to get one, y’know? It’s okay if you’re scared.”
I turn to glare at my tattooed-covered pilot. “I’m not scared. I want one.”
He smirks, pushing open the door, the overhead bell jingling as we walk inside. Every wall is covered in previous designs, bright and colorful, monochromatic and edgy. A guy with plugs in both ears, two eyebrow piercings, and a lip ring comes out from behind a desk, drawing Wyatt into his chest in a dude hug.
“It’s been too long, my friend,” he says, running a hand over his bald, inked head. “What are we doing today?”
Wyatt points to a piece that’s faded from time. “Just an infill.”
The man hums thoughtfully. “I remember doing this the first time. But it was an outline, yeah?”
“Yeah, but I’d like it to be white if that works?”
“Sure.” The artist turns his attention to me. “And what about you, little lady? Here for a tattoo or just being the supportive”—he glances at Wyatt—“girlfriend and here to hold his hand?”
He laughs, slapping Wyatt’s shoulder as Wyatt takes my hand, tugging me closer. “Brian, this is Pippa. She’s here for her first tat.”
I don’t miss the way he doesn’t correct Brian’s assumption that I’m his girlfriend, and I don’t know if that’s on purpose or not, but it doesn’t stop the warmth that radiates all over.
Wyatt’s girlfriend…
I like that.
Maybe we need to define what this is.
I want to be introduced as his girlfriend. He’s asked me before who owns my pussy…well, now I want him to make it official.
“A newbie,” Brian drawls, nodding appreciatively. “Nice. I think Amber’s free. Is that okay? She can work on Pippa while I work on you.”
I look to Wyatt, wanting his thoughts. “Amber’s great. She’ll take good care of you, baby.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head as Brian calls out for a girl with long black hair, piercings, and a sleeve.
“Oh, a tattoo virgin,” she says, appearing from the back of the shop, grinning wide, her eyes sweeping over me. “I love it. Where are you thinking about getting your first ink, sweetie?”
“I was thinking…” I peek at Wyatt, my cheeks flaming.
Amber laughs. “I get it. You want it to be a surprise. Listen, there is nothing sexier than revealing a new tattoo or piercing for your significant other. The first time I showed Devyn my clit piercing…” She bites on her fist. “Best sex I’ve ever had.”
“Amber, TMI, dude,” Wyatt chastises, shaking his head, but I notice the small smile on his lips.
She points a finger at him. “Don’t you act all innocent and prudish, Mr. Prince Albert .”
It’s stupid how quickly jealousy burns into my flesh. The knowledge that Amber knows he has it gnaws away at something deep inside my stomach. I must let out a strangled choke or something because she bumps her shoulder with mine.
“Don’t worry, when he got that done, I was just an apprentice. I did not go anywhere near his dick. But I was there when Brian did it.” She looks at Wyatt, her eyebrows pinched as she thinks. “Your brother was there too, right?”
He nods. “Yeah, it was a dumb dare we’d set when we were younger.”
They continue ribbing each other, and I stand there like a deer caught in headlights. This place is where Wyatt’s in his element, most comfortable, with people he’s gotten to know over the years because of their love of tattoos. Seeing this side of him only makes me want to see more, to see what he’s like around friends…family…
“Ready?” Amber asks, putting a clipboard under her arm, then gesturing for me to follow her to a side room.
“Wait a sec,” Wyatt says, crossing the space and trailing his knuckles down my cheek. I lean into his touch as he checks for the millionth time today. “Pippa, are you sure you want one?”
“She’s a big girl, Wyatt,” Amber grumbles from behind me, and I laugh, reaching up to kiss him.
“I’ll see you when I’m done.”
Amber wiggles her fingers as she closes the door and points toward the chair. “Okay, Pippa. What do you do for a living?”
“Are you trying to make me feel less nervous?” I ask as I prop on the edge of the black leather seat, my sweaty palms tucked between my legs.
“Nah, I’m nosy like that,” she replies, holding out the clipboard and tapping the top. “Give this a quick read and sign the bottom. It’s a standard consent form.”
My eyes scan the document, initialing the correct places before signing the bottom. Amber grins as she glances over it, tucking it behind her and grabbing a pair of gloves. She snaps them on and shuffles her stool forward.
“So, what do you have in mind?”
“I’m a figure skater,” I tell her, shifting farther back on the chair, trying to get comfy. “So I was thinking of a skate somewhere on my hip?” I pick at a piece of invisible lint on my pant leg. “It’s stupid. Maybe I should get something else, something less cliché. I sort of like the idea of the tattoo meaning something to me… Like how each of Wyatt’s…”
I trail off, my painfully obvious inexperience with tattoos making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as Amber smiles knowingly.
“I love how every single one that man has on his body serves a purpose.”
“Me too,” I whisper, thinking about the ones he has and the many others I’ve still to discover.
Before I lose the nerve, I pull out my cell, holding it in my hand, my mind instantly going to the only photo saved in my favorites album.
Amber eyes it expectantly, cocking her head, and nods toward it. “What’s your idea?”
Pushing the awkward feeling aside, I unlock my phone and bring up the image. “It’s my mom before she died. She loved doing that move.”
Amber takes my cell, zooming in and out, nodding thoughtfully. “I love it. It’s sentimental and relates to you.” She reaches back and grabs her iPad, sticking out her tongue as she sketches, every now and then referring back to the photo. “Okay, what about something like this? It’s fine line, won’t hurt that much, and recovery time shouldn’t be too long either.”
She turns the iPad around to show me the small and elegant one-line illustration of a figure skater in a Biellmann spin. “That’s beautiful.”
“Great,” she beams, taking back the tablet and pressing on the screen. A printer in the corner roars to life, and she rolls back, grabbing the stencil and holding it up. “Lie back, and we’ll get started.”
Two weeks later, and I still haven’t shown Wyatt my tattoo. It’s not that I don’t want him to see it. It’s that I want it to be healed and pretty. His are stunning that my little lined skater is nothing in comparison, but I still want him to like it.
But with my wanting to wait, that’s also meant we’ve gone two weeks without sex. Which, sure, isn’t that long, but when my man looks so damn good all the time and the fact that we only get one night a week together, it’s like a lifetime.
Only, I don’t mind as much as I thought I would. Sex with Wyatt is great, but spending time with him, learning about him, laughing together, waking up in his arms…I’ve fallen deeper. He’s let me in more, telling me about his talk with his stepmom, that he’s called his dad since then too, that he’s considering going to the hospital to see Fiona.
I want to be there for him, support him in any way I can, if he wants me to. But until then, I’ll keep giving him what I know will take his mind off things. Even if just for a night.
Standing at the edge of the cockpit, I weave my arms around Wyatt’s back and gaze up at him. “Dad and Nancy are at St. Barths this weekend.”
“Good for them.” A ghost of a smirk flashes over the corner of his mouth.
I roll my eyes, licking my suddenly dry lips. “So, I was thinking you could come over and stay with me this weekend instead of us going to your place.”
“And no one will be home?”
“No one,” I whisper, shaking my head. “We’d have the house to ourselves.” His hands tighten on my waist as I ghost my lips over his. “And I’d like to show you my tattoo.”
I’ve never seen someone disembark an aircraft so quickly in my life as Wyatt checks everything’s shut off, grabs his flight bag, and descends the stairs. I’m laughing as I follow him, loving that, for once, I’m not the eager one, desperate to get home.
Walking to the staff parking lot, Wyatt opens the passenger door to his car, helping me slide inside. “Such a gentleman,” I croon, batting my eyelashes.
“There will be nothing gentlemanly about me when I get between your legs,” he says, his voice a husky growl. I squeeze my thighs together, my insides clenching in anticipation.
The car ride feels longer than usual, my skin overheating as I keep stealing glances at the man driving me home. For some unknown reason, the little butterflies I’ve become accustomed to take flight as we approach my neighborhood. Suddenly, I’m very aware of how much money my family has, the ostentatiousness of our home, the flashiness of the grounds that surround it.
Since we’re not in my or my driver's car, Wyatt pulls up to the keypad outside the wrought-iron gate, and I lean across him and out the window, purposely rubbing against him as I punch in the code.
He releases a low whistle as he drives forward, following the semi-circular driveway that leads to the pillared front of our house.
“This is…”
“Too much,” I reply when he doesn’t finish his sentence.
“No, fucking stunning,” he says, his gaze fixed out of the window. “I mean, I know your dad has money, but fuck .”
Leaning forward, I peer out of the front window, trying to see the place the way Wyatt does. It is an impressive piece of architecture, but there are far too many rooms, far too many stairs, and far too many windows for my taste.
“I prefer your home to this,” I say, unfastening my seatbelt and getting out of the car.
“Why?”
I screw up my nose as I take in the large house. “This is just so…obnoxious. Yours is—”
“Small?” he laughs.
“Homely.” I freeze when I watch him take out his flight bag, feeling like a fool. “Shit, we should have stopped by your place before coming here.”
“Because…?” he asks, locking the car.
“You don’t have a change of clothes.”
He raises his bag triumphantly. “I started packing a night stop kit after the diversion. Just in case.” He touches my lower back, his hand like a brand on my skin. “I even packed those ridiculous swimming shorts you got me.”
My eyes widen as I whirl around to look at him. “Oh my god, and we’ve got a hot tub.”
“Tattoos…remember? We can’t get them wet for a prolonged period of time.”
“I know,” I scoff, taking his hand and pulling him up the stairs to the front door. “But I can dip my legs in, and you can keep your arm out. Easy.”
“Pippa,” he warns, and I shiver, the reaction a reflex to the way he says my name when he’s trying to act all stern.
“Wyatt,” I mimic, trying not to show him how affected I am by him. “My legs ache from practice and I could use a good soak. I’ll be careful.”
“Such a goddamn brat.”
“Please?” Pouting, I take one step back and then another, loosening my hair out from my elastic and letting it flow down my back. His nostrils flare as I carry on, dragging the zipper on my jacket down. Shucking it from my shoulders, it lands on the floor with a heavy thud.
“I thought you were going to give me a tour?”
I lift my shirt over my head next, dropping it on the jacket before reaching for my pants buttons, undoing them one by one, and lowering them down my legs.
“Kitchen.” I point toward the left. “Dining room.” I point to the right. “Bedrooms upstairs.” I tilt my head, letting him see the staircase behind me. “Hot tub’s outside on the deck.”
His fingers twitch by his side before he lifts them to this collar and starts undressing, too. I watch with avid fascination as he steps out of his clothes, standing in my father’s hallway in only his underwear.
The bratty part of me wants to fuck him all over this house, let him use me in all the filthy and nasty ways I know I’d love, but I was being serious about a good soak helping my muscles.
“I’m going to get my swimsuit and grab towels,” I tell him, trying to fight against the haze of lust that always seems to linger until it becomes so potent I can barely breathe around him. “Bathroom is here if you need it.” I gesture to the door on my right. “I’ll meet you outside.” I say, pointing to the back doors.
I take the stairs two at a time, grabbing a couple of towels from the linen closet on my way to my room. Throwing clothes out of my drawer, I search for my bikini, quickly pull it on before running out of the door. But as soon as I step into the hallway, I falter, a salacious grin taking over my face as I dart back inside to grab one more thing.
Sprinting through the house, I nearly trip when I step outside. Steam rises into the air, the light from the tub basking Wyatt in this glow that makes me want to pounce on him. He rests his arm against the ledge, careful to keep his touched-up ink out of the water. Although, from here, it looks healed already.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says as I approach the side, flicking a switch to turn on the heat lamps surrounding the deck and tossing the towels on the ledge next to the tub. His eyes are closed, his head lying back, and I smirk.
“Like what?” I ask innocently, throwing a leg over the side and climbing in.
He tilts his chin, cracking an eye open, his gaze running down the length of my body. Since he decided to wear the swim shorts from the lodge… it’s only fair that I wear my matching bikini. Especially since tonight, he will actually take it off me.
“Like you want to eat me.” He sits up, the muscles in his neck bunching as he watches me sit across from him.
The hot water bubbles around my legs as I stretch them out, finding the jets and positioning my calves in front of them. The strategic move leaves me open, my bikini-clad pussy on display, a welcoming invite for the man in front of me.
Getting in the hot tub wasn’t meant to be for anything dirty. It was meant to be for relaxation. But the way he’s staring at me, a man hungry— starving actually—sends shock waves straight to my needy core.
“I think it’s you who wants to do the eating,” I tease, my voice raspy and barely heard over the noise of the hot tub.
Wyatt’s attention is between my legs, his eyes dark and focused as I trail a finger up and down the hem of the bikini bottoms, wanting him to make the first move.
“Baby, I could eat your pussy all day long and never get full.” My mouth dries as I watch him push off his seat, the water ripping around him as he comes to kneel in front of me. “Is that what you want? Is that why you really wanted to get into the hot tub? So you could wear this sexy scrap of material you taunted me with months ago?”
He reaches up, deftly untying the straps behind my neck, the bikini cups dropping, exposing my breasts. When he flicks a finger over my hard nipple, the water from his hands makes the bud even more sensitive as the cool outdoor air nips at my skin.
“Do you want my mouth on you?” His warm, wet chest ghosts against mine as he leans around and unfastens the other strap that keeps the top secure, tossing the entire thing to the ground. “Is that what you want?” I groan when Wyatt’s lips leave open-mouthed kisses, starting from my neck and moving down to my breasts. He sucks one into his mouth, his teeth grazing my nipple, making me arch into him. He doesn’t stay there for long, continuing down my stomach to my hip, his fingers looping under the thin bands tied at my waist. He looks up, his eyes hooded, filled with arousal. “You could have just asked, baby. You didn’t need to act coy, trying to seduce me.”
“I wouldn’t have to try to seduce you. I know if I asked you to drop to your knees and worship my pussy like the queen I am, you’d do it.” I lick my lips, loving the way his eyes go wide with surprise.
“Damn fucking straight,” he says with a laugh. He runs his tongue along my pubic bone and I’m so unbelievably turned on that I’m vibrating with need. “I’d have you writhing and whimpering, moaning my name like the good little slut you are. Begging to be filled and fucked hard until you come.”
Fuck yes.
He doesn’t have to touch me to know that I’m already wet, soaking through the fabric of the bikini bottoms, all the moisture in my body redirected to my pussy, desperate for his mouth.
“So why don’t you get started?” I tease, then open my legs wider. He smirks, tugging at the ties on either side of my hips, and I lift them just enough to let him pull the material out from under me. He sweeps his gaze over my body, his eyes lightening up when he looks at my hip.
“This is fucking beautiful,” he says softly, his finger barely brushing my tattoo. He presses his lips above it, below it, all around it, making my skin sizzle with each one.
“Do you like it?” I ask a little incoherently. He might be making my brain turn to mush, but I still want his approval.
“I do.” He kisses directly on top of it this time. “It’s perfect.”
He plants his hands on my knees, sliding them up the inside of my thighs, applying pressure to spread me wider. “Now, my queen, let me feast.”
His head lowers, but I trap it between my legs, sucking my lower lip between my teeth as I stare down at him, at his tattooed-covered shoulders and arms. Leaning back, I slide my hand between the towels, pulling something out but keeping it out of sight.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you using this on me,” I whisper, bringing my purple vibrator out from behind my back.
His smile grows slowly and salaciously, spreading over his face, his hand reaching up and taking the toy from my grasp. Part of me wonders if he thought I would have been too embarrassed to ask, that I would have avoided his interest in my collection and how I use them.
But by asking, what’s the worst that could happen? Wyatt might be older, have more experience, and talk dirty like it’s a second language, but I’ve realized that being with a man like him, there are no limits. At least none we’ve discovered together. He wants me to ask him to eat my pussy? I’ll ask. He wants me to take charge when it comes to my pleasure? I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll even demand it like the brat he thinks I am.
God knows I like him to put me in my place.
“I would have thought you’d have invested in one with a clit sucker,” he comments, eyeing the toy. “But then again, it still wouldn’t have been as good as the real thing.”
Wyatt flicks the button, and it starts to vibrate. Running it up my leg, the rumbles already send jolts of desire to my core and he’s only at my knee. He moves torturously slowly, my chest heaving, my brow lined with sweat by the time he presses the tip to my clit.
“ Ah, Wyatt,” I gasp as my hips jerk off the edge of the tub, the sensation against my needy core too much. The water flows around him as he gets better situated, watching with fervent fascination as he inches it inside before pulling it back out.
“Fuck, this is hot,” he murmurs, then pushes it in a little more than last time, but not enough for it to drive me wild. He keeps doing it, in-out, in-out, each time going slightly deeper than the last. His eyes are on my pussy, his strong arm wrapped around my leg as he denies me what I really want.
Grabbing his wrist, I thrust the toy inside completely, exhaling in delight as it finally hits that spot inside me.
“There,” I pant, grinning as Wyatt scowls up at me. “You were taking too long.”
I move his hand, pumping the toy the way I would if I were alone, my toes curling around the edge of the chair in the hot tub. Lifting a hand, I palm my breast, putting on a show for the beautiful man between my legs until I clench around nothing.
“Wh—”
He tosses the vibrator over the edge of the tub, the purple phallic shaped toy rumbling across the deck.
“If you’re going to come, it won’t be because of some mechanical device,” he growls before licking a stripe up my center, drawing a wanton moan from my chest. My fingers thread into his hair as I urge him deeper, grinding as I fuck myself onto his face.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs against me, the vibrations only heightening his ministrations. His fingers clamp on my ass cheeks, kneading and squeezing as he helps my hips roll against him. “Take what you need. Show me how pretty you look when you come all over me.”
Pushing his tongue inside me, he thrusts in as deep as he can until he replaces it with two fingers.
“Oh, god,” I pant, my head tipping backward.
“Come on, Pippa,” he growls, nipping my clit between his teeth, the pain sending delicious sparks throughout my body that I cry out. “Soak my face.” He withdraws his fingers, making me whine as he takes my ass in both hands, rutting my pussy hard on his mouth. “Mark me as yours.”
It doesn’t take more than a few more seconds until I’m unabashedly holding him against me, shouting his name as I come. He keeps licking and sucking until I’m oversensitive and shaking, unable to take any more. I’m close to sliding completely into the water, but Wyatt catches me, cupping the back of my head, holding me to him as I come down from my orgasm, my muscles still spasming in an aftershock that doesn’t want to stop.
“I fucking love hot tubs,” he mutters, and I can’t do anything but laugh.