Chapter 17
Penelope Miles
My head vibrates in time with my alarm, but the clarity in my mind fills me with relief. I reach over, not lifting my head from Sebastian’s bare chest, and read the description before sliding the button to dismiss the alarm.
Has it only been a week since I last visited the tattoo parlor? Not only do I have my internship this morning, but my favorite piercer promised to make time for my next addition.
“What’s wrong?”
Sebastian’s deep, sleep-roughened voice arrows straight to my core. I shiver and snuggle harder against him.
“Nothing. I want to take you somewhere,” I say.
“I’ll go anywhere you want me to,” he rumbles.
Apprehension coils through me. What if I’m asking too much of him?
I clear my throat and rub my lips against his sternum, enjoying the clenching of his muscles as my lip ring scratches his naked flesh.
“We have to walk out the front door in twenty minutes or we’ll be late,” I say.
He opens his mouth to respond, but my computer makes an ugly sound.
“Is that from jerkface hater dude?” Sebastian asks.
I nod and roll off him. He grumbles and throws an arm over his face.
Despite his annoyance, Sebastian stands behind my chair by the time I open the email. Fury wafts off him as he reads the death threats over my head.
I check the location and stiffen. He sent the email from the internet café in the building next door. I know this because I marked it in the program I snuck onto his device. He’s closer than ever before.
I clear my throat and text Peter a warning before turning to Sebastian.
“It’s probably a coincidence, but I’m not taking chances. He’s been to several places with free Wi-Fi around here, so it’s possible he has no idea he’s close to me, but I’m not a martyr.”
“What does he want anyway? Why is he so mad?”
“Because I’m good at what I do. He’s not the only one who hates my online persona, but my personal information is safe. Let’s just go before we’re late,” I sigh and turn off my screen.
I don’t want to argue this morning. My body hurts from my fall yesterday, and even though my heart feels lighter than ever before, the unexpectedly heavy sleep makes me feel off-kilter.
Sebastian senses my mood and kisses my temple before ushering me into the bathroom.
I complete my truncated hygiene routine and vacate the bathroom so he can take care of his business while I change.
When he emerges dressed in jeans and a black tee, heat blooms in my core, and I curl my socked feet into the rug.
His smirk says he knows exactly what effect he has on me.
My revenge is sweet. He dips hungry eyes to my breasts as I adjust my jacket.
I’m not wearing a bra, and the loose sweatpants and boring cotton panties are on purpose, too.
We walk all the way to the tattoo parlor in silence. When I push open the door and gesture him inside, he gives me an inquisitive glance. I introduce him to my mentor as my boyfriend and ask if he can tag along just for today. He agrees in his normal laidback manner.
Near the end of the morning, Sebastian pulls me into his lap and growls into my ear.
“You’re hot as fuck when you hyper-fixate. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in front of the computer, driving an extended SUV, stroking my cock, or learning how to tattoo; you’re sexier than hell when you put all your focus on one thing.”
“What if all my focus is on me?” I ask.
He squeezes my thigh and grinds his massive cock against my ass. My feet dangle almost a full foot off the ground even though he sits in the leather chair in the corner of the room for the waiting friend or family member of the person being tattooed.
“Are you offering an exclusive show?” he rumbles.
The hunger in his voice throbs low in my belly.
“Of a sort. I’ve only ever done this with one other person,” I admit.
He stiffens in jealous anger.
“Who?” he snarls.
As if on cue, my piercing mentor strides through the door. Already wearing sterile gloves and carrying a clean piercing kit, she rolls it out on the counter I sanitized a few minutes ago and turns to greet us.
After introductions, she asks if I’m ready. I say yes and close the door.
Nervousness jitters up my spine.
I step behind the changing partition, strip my lower half, and wrap a white sheet around my waist. The intensity in Sebastian’s deep brown eyes as I return to the main part of the room scorches my insides.
Confusion joins his hunger when I turn on the sink. After thoroughly scrubbing up to my elbows, I pat dry and pull on gloves.
My mentor smiles, leans back against the counter, and nods. I reach for the kit.
“She’s not piercing you?” Sebastian asks.
“No. I pierce myself.”
“What?”
I smile at the alarm and intrigue in his voice, but hide my amusement before turning to face him.
“I don’t know how to explain this. Peter and I have a saying: better safe than sick.
Technically I don’t need to have an internship here, nor do I need a tattoo license because I never intend to tattoo anyone except myself, but the best way to ensure I know what I’m doing is to learn from the professionals. ”
He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. I straighten my spine so I don’t melt into a puddle of goo as he gives me his full attention.
“The piercings and tattoos aren’t about looks or lifestyle or any of the other reasons most people think.
I…” I pause, searching for the right words.
“Piercing was safer than cutting.” His brows shoot up in concern, so I rush onward, “And I didn’t really want to die, I just…
I needed control back. I needed to own my pain instead of letting my bullies win, but I can’t do that if I get an infection or cause nerve damage or—”
Fear tightens my throat as he rises to his impressive height. He stalks toward me and cups my face in his hands.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Penelope,” he says.
The ground drops out from under my feet. My stomach freefalls. Only his hands on my face root me in place.
“You went through so much shit, but you never gave up. You’re the most resilient, practical, and true-to-yourself person I’ve ever known, and I’m honored you trust me to be here,” he says.
My breath hitches. He bends down until his forehead touches mine. Wonder flows through me at the slight trembling of his hands.
“This is sacred to you,” he whispers. “It’s part of your healing process and you invited me in. Thank you.”
I lift my chin and kiss him. He hums and pulls back before I take it too far.
“What if I want more than just inviting you in?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Will you pierce me?”
Time stands still as I wait for his response. When the silence holds too much tension, I lose my nerves and ramble.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. This is sudden and a really weird request, but I figured since I took one of your firsts, I could give you this as one of my firsts, and you’re the only person I’m ever going to want to give control of my pain to, so—”
He growls and closes his teeth gently around my lip ring. A whimper escapes my throat. He swirls his tongue around my trapped flesh before opening his mouth and kissing me with such fervor my head spins.
When he peppers the corners of my mouth and my cheeks, nose, and facial piercings with reverent kisses, I fight against a wave of tears.
“Is it safe for me to pierce you?” His warm breath washes over my lips. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he admits.
My nipples throb in time with my heartbeat.
“That’s why she’s here, to make sure we’re safe. She already checked my anatomy and approved the location.”
His tortured half-growl, half-groan seizes my core.
“Where am I piercing you, sweet pea?”
“My outer left labia,” I whisper.
His quiet fuck hardens my clit.
“I might disgrace myself,” he murmurs.
“There’s nothing embarrassing about passing out at the sight of needles. It’s more common than—”
“That’s not what I meant, sweat pea. I’m hard as a rock just thinking about this. I might come in my pants while I pierce you,” he snarls.
At my soft oh, he chuckles and sweeps his closed lips over my brows.
“Yes. Oh,” he mocks himself.
“I want that,” I admit.
He groans and closes his eyes.
“You’re killing me, pipsqueak.”
I smirk before asking, “Are we doing this or what?”
“Of course we’re fucking doing this. I want to give you everything, sweet pea.”
My heart swells. I fear it might burst.
After a kiss to solidify the deal, he helps me onto the tattoo chair and washes his hands in the sink. When none of the gloves are big enough for his hands, he washes them again and scrubs under his nails thoroughly, taking more precautions than necessary before following my mentor’s instructions.
I pull off my gloves, close one fist around them, scoot my butt to the end of the table, and lean back.
Expecting to brace my heels on the corners of the table, I squeak when gloved hands prop my feet on Sebastian’s shoulders.
Hating feeling so vulnerable, I prop myself up on an elbow and watch with embarrassed amusement as the woman I’ve trusted for years walks Sebastian through the process.
His long lashes brush against his flushed cheeks.
After I approve the markings she placed on my labia for placement, Sebastian takes a deep breath and leans forward. Pleasure zings through me as he runs his calloused fingers over my sex. My clit pulses and wetness seeps from my core.
He pinches my left labia between the pads of his fingers and pulls it away from my body. I slip my fingers around his wrist, needing to touch him, and breathe through the heavy thrumming of my heart.
After a pinch and a quick flash of pain, a deep, burning ache spreads from my newly pierced flesh. I moan as the delicious agony burrows deeper into my body and heightens my senses.
Sebastian presses the heel of his palm to my pubic bone and pins me to the table while he ghosts the fingertips of his other hand over my sex.
“May I?”