Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Tattooing, like playing the piano, is a solitary, peaceful form of art.
It’s likely why I was drawn to it. There is no forced conversation.
It’s simply the client, who rarely wants to speak while someone is inking their skin, and you with your machine and creativity.
Today I spent four hours shading the dragon on a mafia boss’s back.
He’s been flying in every month from Chicago for the last two months, and I think after one more scheduled visit, he’ll finally be done. This was a particularly long session—normally I don’t tattoo for that long.
It was four hours of absolute peace, only to now be interrupted by the redhead, who is once again never far from my thoughts. Like a siren, she walks toward me, purpose in her expression and determination in her stride.
“Lucy, you have some explaining to do,” she says, doing a horrible impression of Ricky Ricardo.
I fold my arms and lean back against the bench seat I just cleaned, wanting her to keep walking to me and never stop.
Considering how this morning went between us, the fact that she came to me, that she’s here, that she’s looking at me this way—with a hint of mischief and a touch of awe and admiration—is so much more than I ever thought I’d get from her.
Eventually, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a reckoning to face with her cousins, but that time hasn’t come yet.
I don’t ask her what I did. I can imagine she knows all the local gossip about me. Small towns are big on gossip and short on privacy, though they do, for the most part, manage to give me mine.
She stops about a foot in front of me, and for a few minutes, she silently stares up at me, examining me, searching my face as if she’s never seen me before. Then, without a sound, she drops to her knees and it’s as if she just punched all the air from my lungs.
“What are you doing?” I manage, which seems foolish since it’s obvious, especially when she starts to work on my belt, button, and zipper, but this morning she told me I was going to be spending a lot of time with my hand, and this is a gross contradiction of that.
Not that I’m complaining. Not even close.
“Giving my husband the pleasure he deserves.”
My heart slams against my ribs like a jackhammer. Fuck. Motherfuck. Her calling me that just about kills me. It sure as hell makes me harder than I think I’ve ever been.
I comb my fingers through her hair, brushing the pretty red strands back from her face so I can see her face better.
My thumb drags slowly over her bottom lip and her mouth opens, her pupils blooming into a delicious, sensual darkness.
I haven’t forgotten how much she used to like doing this.
She told me once she loved knowing how easily she could unravel me.
If only she knew that’s all she’s ever done to me.
She continues to work my pants until she’s slipped them down along with my boxer briefs, where they get trapped around my ankles.
My cock springs free, and immediately she takes me in her hand, stroking me, rolling her thumb over the barbells, and around the hoop in my tip.
My head falls back and my eyes momentarily close as pleasure so sweet I can hardly think thrums through my blood .
“I’ve never done this before with piercings.”
My chin lowers, and I continue to stroke her face, brushing more strands back. “I’d be disappointed if you had.”
She smirks, but there is a note of hesitation and uncertainty in her eyes. Perhaps a touch of fear too, since the piercings are menacing in their own right.
“Anything you do with that mouth of yours is perfect.”
“Even when I tell you to fuck off and that I hate you?”
My lips twist up. “Maybe not then.”
Her tongue snakes out, licking the crown and flicking at the piercing there, and my lips part to accommodate my ragged breaths. Seeing her like this for me—the desire in her eyes, and the fact that she’s fucking here—is so much more. She is so much more.
Inhaling a deep breath, she opens her mouth wide and dives down, taking my cock in as far as she can go, all the while using her tongue to drag up along the underside of my dick and barbells. I clasp her hair, tugging on it as mind-twisting ecstasy shakes through me.
“Fuck, Georgia, that’s so good. Look at you with your sweet lips wrapped around my cock. You look so unbelievably sexy right now, baby.”
She moans, opening her mouth wider and angling her head to suck me in deeper until she gags.
With a slow drag, she does it all again, paying extra attention to my piercings, playing with them, using her lips and tongue, and even a hint of teeth that give me just the right amount of pain.
Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock, and on her next breath, she dives back down, gagging once more only to swallow.
The way her throat rolls over the head of my dick, over the ring there, is like nothing else.
Pleasure skyrockets through me, tightening my balls and making my abs clench.
The urge to start fucking her mouth is compelling, and when the hand not gripping the base of my cock slides around to the back of my thigh, urging me deeper into her mouth, I don’t deny myself.
I start to pump in rhythm with her sucking, watching with rapt attention as my goddess bobs on me like a champ.
Her eyes are watering, running some of her mascara down her cheeks, and Christ, I could come just from that sight alone.
Her crying not from the pain I’ve caused her but from the pleasure.
Because I know she loves this. I can see it in the flush of her cheeks and the wild darkness of her eyes. In the way her thighs are spread on the floor and she’s gently undulating as if seeking contact where she too needs it.
And because she’s being so good, because she’s here, I need to reward her.
“That’s it. Show me how hungry you are for my cock.” I groan. It’s so good. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you after you swallow all my cum?”
She nods vigorously, humming and sending a fresh wave of vibrations straight to my balls. Fuuuuck , this woman and her mouth.
“I’m going to stand you up and then push you over the bench. You’re going to spread your legs for me, and I’m going to peel down your leggings and eat your cunt from behind. I need to feel how wet you are. I need to smell how turned on you are. And then I need to taste you as you come for me.”
Her eyes roll, and she moans, louder this time, like she’s already close without even needing to be touched.
And that sound with the deliriously lust-drunk glaze to her eyes and the way she’s sucking me and swallowing me down, and just simply the way I fucking need her, has me coming on a loud, tangled growl.
My cock continues to pump into her mouth, forcing her to take and swallow all of me.
Tears pour like rivers from her eyes, but she holds my gaze as her throat rolls with every pulse of my cock.
I swear, my knees are about to give out just at the sight of her.
Immediately after the last swallow, I grasp her by the back of her neck and yank her to her feet.
My lips fuse to hers for a brief but impossibly deep kiss, and then I spin her around and bend her over the red leather bench.
I hold her down like this for a moment, taking in the rose flush high on her cheeks, the swollen, bee-stung look of her lips, and the fiery green of her eyes .
She is intoxicating. A revelation. Her hold on me is pure witchcraft.
I’m crazed with how I want her. Past the point of obsession or madness. She is my purpose. My mission. She makes me a stronger, better man, and she does all that simply by being everything perfect and lovely that she already is.
Her hands go up on either side of her head, almost as if she’s surrendering to me, though I know that will never be the case. Not with her.
I shudder out a pleased breath, and then in the next inhale, I tear down her leggings just as I told her I would.
She makes a noise in the back of her throat.
A noise that grows louder as I crouch behind her and take in the pretty, wet, pink sight before me.
I move my thumb, gliding up and down her soft folds, loving how she trembles in anticipation for me.
I blow cool air on her and catch her biting her lip.
I smack her ass in warning, one cheek and then the other, loving the quick flash of a red handprint that follows. “No stifling. I want to hear you, Georgia. Every fucking sound you make is mine to hear.”
She starts to move, to push up against the bench, and I rip my belt from the loops of my pants with a loud woosh , band it up in my hand, and swat her ass with it. She yelps, and I do it again before running the smooth leather along her now-dripping pussy.
“You are mine to do with as I please. That includes spanking you how I want.”
“Oh God,” she moans as I lick the red lines on her flesh, nipping at them and dragging my teeth.
“Do you want me to spank this next?” I ask, moving the leather back and forth.
She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the heat unfolding in her eyes, her inhales so quick she’s practically hyperventilating. “Tell me,” I command, spanking her ass again with the belt.
“Yes,” she cries, and a dark thrill runs through me. She likes it rough and dirty with a hint of naughty taboo, just like I do.
I reward her by licking her clit, and then I pull back and smack her pussy with the belt, three quick strikes in a row, before I push the leather up inside her.
She rips at the table, her back arching as she whimpers.
I want to feed the beast inside both of us.
Bring us both to the brink in the most intoxicating way.
“You’re soaking my belt, baby.” I push it in and out of her, fucking her with it and then I stand up, press my hard cock into her ass, and run the drenched leather across her lips. “Lick it.”