32. Ink
INK
She was killing him slowly. Painfully. He was sure of it. But it would be the fucking best way to go. Her taste still filled his mouth, and she was asking him to get naked so she could see his tattoo.
And like the idiot he was, he was going to do it. His cock was so hard he didn’t know how he wouldn’t embarrass himself—again—but for her, he would give it a try.
He didn’t strip down. He studied her, ensuring she wasn’t just doing this to make him happy or to give him something she wasn’t actually ready for.
Fuck, he hoped she was, but he’d keep waiting.
If all he could do was fuck his own fist and eat out her pussy for the next five months, he’d be fine. Hell, he’d meant what he said. He’d have her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if it was his choice.
“Ink, please,” she whispered. “I want to see. I’m … I’m okay. I know what I’m asking, and I trust you. Show me.”
Damn it. He could only take so much.
He eased himself from beneath her, and she gazed at him as he moved to turn on the lamp on the end table.
It cast the room in a low, warm glow, with shadows clinging to the edges.
He glanced down the hall one more time, making sure the bedroom door was only cracked open, before turning his attention back to the woman lying on the couch, stripped and clutching a blanket to her chest.
He took a soft breath before he hooked his thumbs in his sleep pants, dragged them all the way down, and kicked them away.
Her breath caught as she took him in. Her gaze was like a brand on his skin.
Hot. Intense. Needy.
Fuck. His cock was weeping pre-cum, but he did his best to ignore it. Fucking her was not on the table.
When her gaze reached his cock, her eyes widened and her mouth parted.
He nearly laughed but bit his lip instead.
The Jacob’s Ladder running up his shaft had been done on a dare when he was twenty, but now, knowing how much pleasure it could give a woman, he was desperate to see what Naomi felt when he was deep inside her.
“You’re pierced.” She whispered it reverently.
He gripped himself, wincing as sparks of desire shot to his balls. “Had it for years. Does it scare you, baby?”
“I … I don’t know. I’ve never seen … I mean, I’ve heard … I-I-I don’t know what to say.”
She looked more fascinated than afraid.
Instead of pushing, he said, “You don’t have to worry about it right now. I’m just going to show you the tattoo, remember?”
“What tattoo?” she muttered, and he couldn’t help his grin.
She was too damn cute.
“This one.” He turned, stepping back slightly so she could see the entire tattoo in the lamplight. Let her see every line, every flame that covered his back and spread down over his ass and hips. “What do you think, baby girl? Think I did a good job?”
“Ink, that’s amazing,” she breathed. He barely kept from jolting as her fingertips glided over his lower back and up his spine. “I love how his face is pointed down, breathing the fire and spreading it out.”
“Hurt like a bitch,” he joked, then had to grit his teeth as his cock jerked at the feel of her hands on him.
Yeah, this was a slow death, for sure. Whoever he pissed off up there was having a damn good laugh.
Or the devil was giving him a glimpse at his future in the depths of hell.
Either way, he didn’t want her to stop.
Then her fingers slithered over his ass, and he froze, his body tightening and every nerve sparking to life. She traced over the flame along the outer edge of his cheek, down to where the crease met his thigh.
Far too close to his aching balls to keep him from groaning.
“Naomi,” he rasped.
“Hmmm?”
He looked over his shoulder and saw her fascination as she looked at him. The desire in her eyes was still there, but it was being overtaken by her mind as it processed, analyzed, and memorized what she saw.
He wanted to joke that he was flattered she wanted to remember his ass forever, but he bit it back. She was comfortable enough to touch him, and he’d stand there and endure it all night if that was what she wanted.
He’d probably come all over his hand, but he didn’t care. He tightened his grip on his cock, desperate to hold back as she moved to the other cheek, giving it the same treatment.
“Baby girl, you’re killing me,” he muttered. Then he cursed himself and wanted to snatch the words back, but it was too late.
Her lashes fluttered as her gaze lifted to meet his, and then he saw the moment it clicked in her head just what she was doing.
Her face flamed, and she wrenched her hand back like she’d touched an actual flame.
Damn it.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, mortified.
Unwilling to let her spiral, he released himself and spun around, leaning forward to cup her chin in his hand.
“Naomi, I want you to touch me. I always want you to feel safe enough to know my body is yours. Only you get to touch it. Only you get to enjoy every part of it. It’s yours to do whatever you want with. ”
She stared at him like she wasn’t sure she was hearing him correctly. Until, finally, she breathed, “I like your tattoos. I’ve wanted to trace them since I first saw them. I still should have asked first.”
“You don’t have to ask, sweetheart.” He released her chin, took her hand, and placed it on his ribs. Her fingers trembled against him. “This is yours. You can do whatever you want. Never be embarrassed, because, Lord knows, I’ve been waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to.”
She blinked, but her hands smoothed over his ribs and then down to his abs, tracing each ridge.
He’d never been so glad he worked out in his life. He’d do every ab workout known to man for the rest of his life if she kept looking at him like that and touching him this way.
When she stilled her hand just above his lower belly, inches away from his cock, he couldn’t hold back his groan. She stilled, looking at him from beneath her lashes, biting her lower lip. He straightened away from her, waiting, letting her decide what she wanted.
If she dropped her hand, he’d consider the matter done, put his clothes on, send her to bed, and then grab a cold shower.
A very cold shower.
Finally, she whispered, “Ink, I really want to touch you.”
“You are touching me, Naomi,” he rasped. “I’m not doing this to pressure you. We can stop right now.”
“But you’re so hard. Doesn’t that hurt?”
Fuck, yes, but it was the sweetest kind of pain.
“Nothing I haven’t felt before, baby. It’ll pass.”
She looked up at him, assessing. Finally, she asked, “Do you want me to touch you?”
“I want you to do what you feel most comfortable with. What would you like to do?”
For the love of God, please don’t drag this out much longer. One touch from her and he’d embarrass himself by spilling into her hand.
“I … I want to touch you, but I’m not sure what to do with the piercing. I … I really want to make you feel good, Ink. I’ve … I’ve wondered what you’d taste like too, but I don’t know … I haven’t done anything like that in a very long time.”
Heaven or hell, he wasn’t sure which one he was in.
Calling on every ounce of self-control he possessed, he took her hand and slowly brought it toward him. Her hand encircled him at the base, and he gritted his teeth to keep from groaning when she tightened her grip.
“All you have to do is what feels good, baby. Explore me and figure out what feels best. When you feel good, I feel good too. You can play with the piercings, but be gentle. Yeah, like that,” he croaked as her hand moved slowly up until it reached the first ladder, and she carefully ran her thumb over it.
The sensations were intense, and his head fell back on his shoulders.
Heaven and hell. This was a mixture, and one of the best there was.
“Does that feel good?” she murmured, and he looked down at her. The sight before him was almost too much.
She was on her knees on the couch, the blanket forgotten, her other hand wrapping around the underside of his cock and wiping away at the pre-cum with her thumb. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulder, resting lightly above her hard nipple, and her pussy taunted him.
“Perfect,” he croaked. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
Her lips curved at the praise, and he wasn’t sure how he didn’t buckle. This woman would have him on his knees soon.
She stroked him, playing with each piercing, tracing them, learning them. Sweat clung to his forehead and slid down his back with every second he strained to maintain control.
Control that nearly shattered when she looked up at him and asked, “Can I taste you, Ink?”
She really was trying to kill him, and all he could do was nod, unable to speak, for fear he’d snap and do something to scare her.
Her eyes brightened, and she added, “You’ll have to help me do it the way you like, but I’m a quick learner. This whole memory thing will come in handy for remembering everything later.”
With that, she slowly drew the head of his cock into her mouth. The hot, wet suction of her lips had his hand coming down to curl into her hair. He needed the anchor. Something to keep from thrusting deeper into her mouth and fucking it.
He groaned, too gone to care who heard. “That’s it, baby girl, you’re doing so good,” he panted, straining to hold back as she took him deeper and more slowly, her tongue tracing along the metal piercings.
Her movements were unsure for a few minutes, testing, until she finally found a rhythm. One that set a steady pace as she studied him, waiting for clues about what he wanted.
“That’s it, Naomi, keep sucking me down,” he gritted out, tugging her hair to guide her. “That’s it, just a little harder. Fuck, yes, just like that. Your mouth is perfect, baby. Fucking perfect.”
She hummed at the praise, and he shuddered. “Baby girl, I’m not going to last much longer if you do that again.”
He cursed when the wicked glint reflected back at him, and her lips stretched as she took more of him, increasing her suction and using her hand in tandem with her mouth.
“Fuck. You want my cum, baby girl?”
She hummed again.