Chapter 22 Violet #2
His growl was possessive. Deeply rooted in need. He flipped our positions, so he was on his back, me sitting across him, his cock impaled deep inside me.
He fumbled in the dark. The click of his tattoo kit opening.
And then he was pushing it into my hand.
I stared down at it. “What…”
He turned it on, the electronic buzz mixing with the crash of the water behind me. He drew it down so it touched his skin.
I jerked my hand back instinctively, but he did it again, guiding the nib of the machine down to his chest. “Make your mark on me while I fuck a baby into you, Violet.”
Heat rushed me. On instinct, I rocked my hips, chasing down friction for both of us.
He groaned. “Say what I want to hear.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He slammed his hips up, and I ground down on the gun. I didn’t know what I was drawing. He already had my name and the flowers representing it over his heart, he didn’t need me scribbling on him and making a mess.
I tried to keep the wobble out of my hand, but it was impossible with the way he thrust up into me. I lost myself in the pleasure, grinding down on him when he pushed up, the two of us meeting in the middle to collide against each other.
With barely a few lines on his skin, the tattoo gun fell from my fingers. I needed both hands to brace myself on his chest, so I could tip my head and arch my back, getting myself into the position that had his cock hitting that spot inside me just right.
I moaned, my nipples tight and aching for touch. He drew one of my hands up to them, and together we took a handful. His other hand found my clit, and I dropped my hand over his, not letting him stop.
The orgasm that barreled down on me in the moonlight stole my breath.
My lungs hitched, and I gasped. Pleasure exploded inside me, starting low and deep but spreading like fireworks through my blood and across my skin.
I pulsed around him, squeezing him tight with internal muscles completely controlled by the orgasm he’d given me.
Our moans mingled in the night breeze, carried away with the crash of waves. I dropped myself down onto him, kissing him hard, breathing against his lips, trying to regulate myself with his body.
He growled and flipped our positions again, laying me out on the towel much more carefully than he had when it had been him in the sand. On his knees, he lifted my hips until my ass rested on his thighs, my legs wide around him, my hips tilted toward the sky.
He was still so hard inside me.
I’d come, but he hadn’t.
He reached for the tattoo gun, and I gasped as he brought it to the place we were joined. His left hand found my clit again, and he rubbed it slowly, half using the buzz as a vibrator against my most sensitive parts.
“You still want me to tattoo your pussy, Violet?”
Oh God. I so did. I didn’t know what that said about me, but it was all I’d thought about for weeks. Something about it felt so incredibly intimate and hot that every time I’d thought about it, if one of them hadn’t been handy, I’d had to get my vibrator out. I nodded.
“What do I want to hear?’
“Yes, Daddy.”
His fingers picked up the pace, just a smidge, rolling my already sensitive clit, sending new ripples of pleasure through my already well-fucked system.
“Don’t move.”
He didn’t try to pull out.
Oh my fucking God. He was going to tattoo me while he was still in me.
There was a swipe of something cold. A disinfectant wipe if I had to guess. I jumped, but he leaned down on me hard, pinning me beneath his forearm on my thigh.
“I said, don’t move.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He growled like he well approved that unprompted response.
The first touch of the needle shocked me, the tiny stab of pain. But he rubbed my clit at the same time, which made it all go away. He maneuvered the nib over my flesh, his concentration never faltering from the spot just to the side of where we were joined.
I closed my eyes, panting through the pain and pleasure mingling. I wanted him to move. Wanted that friction. Him inside me, but keeping so still was driving me wild.
I wanted it hard and fast, but I wanted his name on me more.
This was wild and reckless. Some nagging voice in the back of my head said tattooing a man’s name anywhere on your body was a stupid idea.
But this man felt different. This man was one who’d already branded himself on my heart. His name on my body just felt like the natural next step.
I clenched around him, my pussy fluttering of its own accord, not with another orgasm but maybe with aftershocks from the first.
Levi’s gaze strayed to mine. “Fucking hell, you’re killing me.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose!”
He tipped his head back and groaned, caving in and thrusting into me just a little, relieving the tension the tiniest bit, except it only lasted for a second before he was peering down at his work and finishing his name.
He reached for his jacket, pulled out his phone, and focused it on his cock inside me, my pussy stretched around him, and the brand-new tattoo he’d inked along one side.
The flash blinded us both. I blinked rapidly, but through my lashes and the bright white spots that danced in front of my eyes, it was him I saw.
He slammed into me, pubic bone hitting the fresh tattoo, pain mixing with the pleasure. His thumb never left my clit, and he drove into me hard and fast, getting me right back to the brink.
“I gave you what you wanted.” His voice was low and deep and full of growl.
It was so damn sexy I could have died and gone to Heaven right then and there.
“Now give me what I want. Come for me, Violet.”
I moaned, loving being told what to do, loving the response it lit up inside me. I’d been barely hanging on for dear life, so relaxing into the sand, and letting go was the easiest “Yes!” I’d ever uttered.
He came just as hard, his cock kicking inside me, my freshly tattooed pussy clenching him tight, releasing, then doing it all over again. I writhed beneath him until we were both sandy messes, but weak with pleasure and thoroughly exhausted.
He pulled out and lay back next to me, both of us hot and sweaty, the breeze a welcome relief on sticky skin.
He propped himself up on one arm. “How does it feel?”
“A little sore,” I admitted. “But zero regrets.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet.”
“I don’t need to. You did it. I know it’s perfect.”
“You have a lot of faith in an apprentice tattooing in the moonlight.”
I kissed his mouth. “I have a lot of faith in you.”
He brushed his lips over mine, then fumbled for his phone sitting on top of his jacket. He opened up the photo he’d taken. “Here. Look.”
The close-up photo sent a new flush of heat through my body. My pussy stretched around him.
His name in his perfectly imperfect handwriting that I’d fallen in love with through his letters.
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. His handwriting meant something to me. So did the way he’d claimed me.
He took the phone back, and his fingers flew across the screen. Over his shoulder, I watched him pull up his text message chat with Whip and X.
Levi:
Change of plans for tomorrow. Violet can’t ride. We’ll have to take the van or Whip’s car.
Whip’s response came back almost instantly.
Whip:
What? Why can’t she ride? Is she hurt?
Levi grinned wickedly and attached the photo to the message.
My breath hitched.
He glanced at me. “Tell me not to send it and I won’t.”
I should have said no. Should have told him to delete it. Or at the very least, that it was something private, just for him and me.
But I said nothing.
Because the thought of X and Whip seeing that photo only turned me on more.
He hit send, explaining with one image exactly why I wouldn’t be comfortable riding for the next couple of weeks.
And then he fucked me again, while his phone exploded with messages from the two men whose names I needed Levi to add when we got home.