43. Chase
43
CHASE
First time I saw Evie, she was wearing a black dress that hugged every curve. Professional, polished, and perfect for a job interview. But it was the ink peeking from her collarbone that caught my eye—amateur work trying to mark ownership. I wanted to fix it then, to erase whatever story made a woman hide beauty under poor technique.
Then came the window shows. Her silhouette against sheer curtains was a private performance that drove me crazy. Every night, I’d wait, sketch abandoned, just to watch her undress. Never imagined she was watching back, choosing to share those moments with all of us.
Now she’s in my studio again, but everything’s different. No more secrets between us. No more lies. Just truth written in ink and scars and the slight swell of her belly where our baby grows.
“Ready?” I inspect my machine, buying time to steady my hands. This isn’t just another cover-up. This is erasing the last mark of the man who tried to own her.
The snake on her arm is faded after the removal session, but I remember what it used to look like—perfect scales, exact placement. The kind of ink meant to brand rather than beautify.
“His personal artist did it.” She traces the barely visible design, reading my thoughts. “Three sessions to get the shading right. Luca watched every minute.”
My grip tightens on the machine. “Must have hurt.”
“That was the point.” Her smile holds no humor. “His mark had to hurt going on. Like everything else he gave me.”
I set the machine down, needing to touch her. To remind myself she’s here, she’s safe, she’s ours. My hands find her shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into tension.
“Tell me what you want instead.”
She leans into my touch. “Something wild. Free. Not just covering his mark but transforming it.”
Like she transformed herself. Like she transformed us.
“I’ve been sketching ideas.” I reach for my book, letting her see the designs that have consumed me since that first day. “Wings, maybe. Or vines breaking chains.”
“Show me.”
I lose myself explaining concepts, watching her eyes light up at certain details. This is what I love—creating art that tells stories. That heals.
“This one.” She touches a design where feathers merge with broken chains. “It feels right.”
“Yeah?” I study how it would flow with her natural lines. “You could add color too. It would make it really come alive.”
“Like you did with his name.” Her fingers find the phoenix on her collarbone—my work covering Luca’s claim. “You didn’t just hide it. You made it mean something new.”
“That’s what ink should do.” I start prepping her arm. “Tell your story, not someone else’s.”
She settles into my chair like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged here with us.
“When this heals…” I begin outlining, watching her reaction to the needle. “Rick, Zane, and I want to do something special.”
“Oh?” Her breath catches slightly as I work.
“A piece from all of us. Something that shows who you are now. Who we are together.”
“All three of you inking me?” Heat enters her voice. “That could be interesting.”
I grin, knowing exactly what she’s imagining. “Very interesting. Each brother adding their own style, their own mark.”
“Their own claim?”
“Maybe.” I let my free hand stroke her thigh. “But claims freely given this time. Chosen.”
She shivers under my touch. “Where would you put it?”
“Somewhere private.” The machine’s buzz fills the space between us. “Low on your hip, curving around to your back. Where only we see it, when you’re naked for us.”
Her breath catches. “What would you do? Each of you?”
I set the machine down, letting my fingers trace where the design would flow. “Rick would start with the foundation—strong, bold lines like his love. He’d mark you here first”—I drag my fingertip along her hip bone—“creating the base that holds everything together. Take his time with each stroke, making sure it’s perfect. Just like he does when he’s inside you.”
She shivers under my touch.
“Then Zane,” I continue, letting my hand drift lower, “he’d add these wild elements—flowing lines that capture how free you make us feel. Maybe waves or wind, something untamed. Right here.” I trace patterns on her inner thigh. “He’d work fast but precise, passionate, like when he takes you hard against the wall.”
“And you?” Her voice comes breathless.
“Me?” I press closer, my chest against her back. “I’d bring it all together. Add the detailed work and the shading that gives it depth. Make these parts darker.” My fingers find sensitive spots that make her gasp. “And these lighter. Build layer after layer until it’s perfect—until you’re marked as ours inside and out.”
“When?” She turns her head, lips brushing mine. “I can’t wait.”
“Soon.” I nip her lower lip. “Once this one heals. We’ll take our time to make it last. Each brother adds his mark while the others watch. Maybe touch. Definitely taste.”
Her moan vibrates through both of us. The machine lies forgotten as my hands slide higher. Her skin feels like silk, still sensitive from the needle’s work.
“Need a break anyway.” I kiss that spot behind her ear that drives her crazy. “Let the skin settle before I finish.”
She arches back against me, her head falling on my shoulder. “How long of a break?”
“Long enough.” My fingers find her breasts, already hard and aching for touch. When I roll her nipples, she gasps my name.
“The door…” But her hands are already pulling me closer.
“Locked.” I turn her in my arms, lifting her onto my station. The black leather creaks beneath her as I position her just right. With her legs spread and skirt riding up, she’s a masterpiece waiting to happen.
When I kiss her, I take my time, learning her mouth all over again. Her tongue meets mine, tasting of the mint she was chewing earlier. My hands roam her body, finding every sensitive spot we’ve mapped over months together.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. Even through denim, I can feel her heat. One hand slides into my hair while the other grips my shoulder, nails biting through my shirt, her movements urgent even as she carefully keeps her fresh ink from touching me.
“Someone’s eager.” I nip her lower lip, soothing the sting with my tongue.
“Can you blame me?” She rocks against me. “Talking about all three of you marking me. Making me yours.”
I trail kisses down her neck, finding that spot that makes her shiver. “Tell me what you imagine.”
My hands slide under her skirt, finding the lace of her thong already soaked through. When I trace her through the fabric, she moans.
“Tell me.” I keep my touch light, teasing. “Want to hear every detail.”
“Want—” She gasps as I push the lace aside, circling her clit. “Want Rick behind me while you work. His hands holding my hips still.”
“Like this?” I grip her hip with my free hand while sliding two fingers inside her. She’s so wet, so ready.
“Yes.” Her head falls back, exposing her throat. “Want Zane watching, telling me how good I look taking it.”
I curl my fingers, finding that spot that makes her walls clench. “What else?”
“Want to feel the needle while Rick fucks me.” The words spill out between moans. “Want you marking me while they make me come.”
“Dirty girl.” I drop to my knees, pushing her skirt higher. The scrap of black lace is tossed onto the floor. “Such filthy thoughts.”
Her thighs tremble when I blow gently across her wet flesh. She’s already swollen, desperate for my tongue.
“Please.” She reaches for me, but I catch her wrists, pinning them to the leather.
“Stay still.” I kiss her inner thigh. “Let me taste what’s mine.”
The first broad stroke of my tongue makes her cry out. I take my time, alternating between teasing licks and deep, claiming strokes. When I release her wrists, her hands fist in my hair, trying to guide me to her core.
“Patience.” I suck her clit gently. “We’ve got all night.”
I work her higher slowly, learning her body’s responses all over again. Three fingers fill her while my tongue draws patterns on her clit. Each time she gets close, I back off, starting the climb again.
“Please.” She’s practically sobbing now.
Only when she’s shaking, desperate, do I give her what she needs, curling my fingers deep while sucking her clit hard.
She comes with my name on her lips, her pussy clenching rhythmically around my fingers. I work her through it, not stopping until she pushes my head away, too sensitive.
“Beautiful.” I kiss my way back up her body, tasting the salt on her skin. “Now, let’s finish making you even more beautiful.”
Her smile holds pure satisfaction. “Think you can work steadily after that?”
“I’ll try.” I reach for my machine.
We return to covering her tattoo after we come down from our climax. Through my window, I glimpse Rick returning on his bike. Zane’s probably at the gym.
My brothers. My partners in everything. Even this—loving one woman enough to share her completely.
“What are you thinking?” she asks as I pause to wipe excess ink.
“About the first time I saw you through that window.” Truth comes easier now. “How you changed everything without saying a word.”
“I remember watching you watch me.” Her smile turns wicked. “Wondering which brother would break first.”
“And instead, we all broke together.”
“Best choice I ever made.” She touches her stomach. “All of you.”
The gesture reminds me of our child, growing from the night we first shared her.
“Think the baby will have your artistic talent?” she asks softly.
“God help us if they do. Imagine a mini-me with spray paint.”
Her laugh fills my studio. The sound still amazes me—how free she is now. How much lighter.
I finish the outline, studying how the feathers transform Luca’s snake. Not hiding it completely but changing its meaning. Like she changed us.
“Beautiful.” She examines my work in the mirror. “You make everything beautiful.”
“You already were.” I clean and bandage her arm gently. “I just show what’s always been there.”
She turns in my arms, pressing close despite the fresh ink. “Thank you. For seeing me even when I was hiding. For loving me despite the lies.”
I kiss her softly.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. “We should let that heal before starting the shading.”
“Probably.” But her hands find my chest. “I can think of some ways to pass the time.”
I groan. “Doctor’s appointment first. Then we’ll discuss proper healing techniques.”
Her pout could melt steel. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” I kiss her again because I can’t help myself. “Now come on. Time to see our baby.”