30. Inked by Tink
Chapter 30
Inked by Tink
CHARMING
T he fluorescent lights of the tattoo parlor, Inked by Tink, are a stark contrast to the warm seductive lights of the Poison Apple where the girls just finished their shift.
Cinder moves with purpose, her combat boots thudding against the tile as she strides up to the counter. Each time they connect to the ground, I get a little harder. She’s back in fishnet, adorned in her many piercings, and dark makeup. And I’m obsessed.
Goldie and Snow flank her with their ripples of laughter, their camaraderie a living thing in the cramped, ink-scented space.
“We need a tattoo,” Cinder announces to the artist.
My bride downs the last of her massive pumpkin spice latte and chucks it into a trash bin a couple feet away like she’s done the exact same movement here at least fifty times.
Behind the counter stands a figure almost too vibrant to belong to the dreary surroundings—a pixie-like woman whose punk-rock presence is topped with a wild mane of spun gold. Her bangs are curled perfectly, and a kerchief that screams 1940s glam falls back to her high, full ponytail. Her tattoo-laden skin is a vibrant tapestry telling tales of deep magic and wild forests.
The delicate features of the tattoo artist’s face are enhanced by bold makeup and piercings that glint under the fluorescent lights. Her skin, a golden tan like sun-kissed sand, seems to radiate with its own inner glow.
More than that, two iridescent wings tinged with pale green and purple extend out behind with ethereal elegance. Tink doesn’t hide the fact she is pure fairy, though she operates in the middle of the dense human population of Boston.
Tinkerbelle, the tattoo artist whose name is whispered in both reverence and awe across the Common World, smiles at Cinder. The artist’s needles weave not just ink but with a touch of fairy magic, capturing the essence of one’s spirit in her art.
Tink arches a pierced eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over us like a beacon through her heavy-framed green glasses. “Looks like we've got a party. Who's first?” Her eyes blink in recognition when she catches sight of me. “Long time no see, Kai.”
“Tink,” I say with a quick salute.
The girls turn to stare at me with surprised expressions.
“You’ve been to Inked by Tink before?” Goldie puts a voice to the shocked look on Cinder’s face. Which is really only a slight widening of the eyes, but for her, the reaction is as earth shattering as I’ve seen.
“Not exactly,” I say, slipping my hands into my pockets.
“Princey-Poo gets whatever he wants, so years back he flew me out to Europe to tattoo him,” Tink explains with a smug little smile.
I shrug. “It was during the two years I spent at Oxford in the Common World.”
“The ink did look familiar,” Cinder says almost to herself as her eyes drop down my body. They stop above my crotch where the Midnight crown is etched in my body forever. Hot prickles race along my skin under her probing gaze.
I didn’t ask for the crown. I don’t want it now. Not in life and not on my flesh, but Tina’s magic spoke to her. She said the pixie dust ink knows best.
Hard to argue with that.
“Didn’t have time to jump across the pond,” I explain, clearing my throat, “so I had her come to me.”
“And I did, in fact, come,” Tinkerbelle says slyly.
The slow sweep of her lashes reminds me of the mini party we had after she finished my tattoo. We’d soaked ourselves in gin and sex for a job well done. We parted as friends.
Cinder stiffens. It’s almost imperceptible, but it happens in her shoulders and face.
My stomach inexplicably drops at her change in demeanor. Is she . . . no.
Wait, is she jealous?
Snow steps forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, enough ogling princey-poo.” Snow addresses Tink. “I've heard about how awesome you are, and I want to be tatted. I want something fierce, like me.”
Tink’s grin broadens as her wings flutter, “Well come on back my dear and I will divine your design.”
Snow follows dutifully. “I want something that pops. Can we do that? I know my skin is really dark.”
The artist lets out a tinkling laugh as she leads Snow behind a curtain. “Oh don’t you worry, it’s gonna be pure magic.”
Goldie follows Tink and Snow.
Before Cinder can do the same, I grab her arm and spin her around. “It was a long time ago.” I rush to explain.
“Sure,” Cinder says. There’s that distant, untouchable expression on her face again. As if she couldn’t give a single solitary fuck about me. But I’m learning to see through her mask. And I know she’s bothered.
Pulling her to a different curtained area where Tink administers piercings, I press my lips to hers the moment we are alone.
For a little human with anemia, she’s surprisingly strong as she pushes me back. I obey, letting her.
“I don’t care,” she says with vehemence, as if I’m annoying her with my attentions.
Hell no, you can’t run away in your little glass slippers from this, my dark-wing darling.
“ I do.” I envision pressing the words into her skin until she believes me.
For a minute, I’m sure she’s going to sweep out of here to join her friends.
She yanks me down so our lips collide in a hungry kiss.
“I don’t care,” she reiterates, albeit breathlessly as she claws me, devouring me with the same fervor that I’m giving.
Liar.
Instead I say, “I know.”
Cinder climbs me like a tree until her legs wrap around my hips. My hands easily scoop her tiny, perfect little rear as we continue to kiss like the world is ending.
Though she tries to keep me from pressing my tongue into her mouth at first, I persist until she gives me access. I don’t care that her piercing burns my tongue. I tangle mine with hers, tasting her dark sweetness.
Soon the coppery taste of my blood mingles between our mouths. She tries to pull away, but I grip her by the throat. My fingers weave in between the spikes on her collar. Unlike her piercings, the jewelry and adornments on her clothes aren’t true silver, so I can touch all I want without consequence.
For a moment, I think she’ll freak out. She likes to be in charge. I'm breaking the rules.
An erotic half groan, half mewl escapes her.
Oh. Oh.
So it really is just the fangs that freak my little spicy Queen.
Or maybe she is learning to trust me?
Something inside me laughs at that. You aren't worthy of her trust, she knows that. No one would trust you with a plant even if you were born in a greenhouse.
Cinder’s hips buck against the crotch of my black jeans forcing a friction that makes my aching dick throb.
Oh fae fucks I’m so hard, I could drill into a wall. Instead, I set her on the edge of a counter and reach under her skirt. My other hand is still wrapped around her throat.
“Do you know what these fishnets and these little skirts do to me?” I rasp.
She shakes her head, purple eyes glazed and unfocused. Every part of her communicates what she wants— more.
“You make me rock hard. It’s almost impossible to keep from unzipping my pants and fisting my dick whenever I set eyes on this little getup. I wouldn’t even care if anyone saw me jerking off to the punk princess of two realms.”
The fishnets are thigh high, held up by garters.
Fuckity, fuck godsdamn.
Don’t blow your load, Charming.
Putting my raging arousal aside, I run my index finger up along the pleather underwear that keeps probing eyes from seeing too much when she’s dancing up on the bar.
They are too strong a fabric for me to easily rip or even pull aside. Her hips buck harder as I rub the underwear against her most wanting part.
Catching sight of the reclining chair for Tink’s customers, I get an idea. I effortlessly pick her up—gods, she’s so small I need to make sure she’s better fed in Midnight—and swing her around, depositing her on the chair. I drag her underwear down her legs before spreading them. I lift her skirt, putting that pussy on perfect display. It’s so wet and ready I just know my fingers or prick would slip right in so effortlessly before she strangles the cum right out of me.
When I step away, she growls.
Literally growls.
Fae lords, she’s incredible.
“Now, now,” I say as I snap a pair of surgical gloves on. “Don’t be like that. daddy’s gonna take care of you.”
“Daddy?” she says flatly, raising an eyebrow. Despite her unimpressed expression, her fingers turn bloodless where they clutch the arms of the chair and her thighs glisten with her desire.
“Shh,” I hush her. “Or you won’t get dessert.”
With that, I swipe a gloved fingertip up her slit. Her body jerks as if hit by a live wire.
“Fuck.” She bites her lower lip as if it’s too much. “It’s never felt like?—”
She cuts herself off.
“Oh no. That’s not going to fly,” I say. “You are going to finish that statement.”
I sweep the digit up and down her glistening seam, occasionally dipping in ever so slightly.
Those pale cheeks flush as she shuts her eyes against either my demand or the sensation. My other hand wraps around her throat again. It forces her eyes open. They are even more dazed and glazed than before.
“It’s never felt like what?” I ask.
I roll my gloved thumb over her clit. Protected by the latex, I don’t have to worry about the silver burn.
Cinder is moaning and thrusting her hips, still holding onto the chair arms for dear life.
“Tell me like a good girl, and I’ll give you what you want.” My voice is rough with need.
Her eyes meet mine with a fiery purple defiance. “It’s never felt this good. Like I want more. Like it’s not a chore. Like I don’t want it to end.” The words come out like an accusation like she’s angry. She resents the confession being forced from her. But I’ll make it worth her while.
My chest swells to nearly the breaking point even as I plunge two digits into her sweet center. She chokes on her gasp of surprise.
“Good girl,” I coo as I pump my fingers into her.
Her moans of pleasure get louder as I finger fuck her. “Whoa there, baby. You’re getting a bit loud and while I love it, I don’t want anyone to come interrupt us.” With that, I move my hand from her throat until I’m pushing my fingers into her mouth. She gladly takes them in, her tongue undulating against them, sucking them as if they were a dick.
I keep talking to distract myself from the almost uncontrollable urge to unzip my pants and shove my cock down her slutty little throat. “Not that I’d stop. All your friends could come in along with Tink and I’d still pump this lil’ snatch until you’re frothing and coming your brains out.”
Cinder’s hips buck and she moans and sucks at my hand harder. My gloved thumb rolls over that piercing. It’s a game to keep generating this little sound she makes at the back of her throat and the flutter of her eyes. Every time I hit it, I gain five points. Like a video game.
“Because you’re my bride. And even if this engagement is fake, I’m yours for the duration and you’re mine.” Five more points to me. “I don’t want anyone else. In fact, there is no one else now that there is you and this perfect little cunt.” I remove my fingers from her mouth to push her top up. She’s not wearing a bra and those little piercings glint devilishly at me from her erect nipples. I tweak and squeeze them until she’s left gasping.
Her legs begin to close so I extract my hand. A needy sound of protest escapes her. I land a sound slap on her pussy and she jerks. “Be a good girl and keep those legs open for daddy.”
“Please,” she begs. Another five points. I’m up to thirty-five total.
“You want to come for daddy?” I taunt, giving the other nipple an extra squeeze.
“Please, Kai.”
Kaboom.
Her use of my name breaks my every wall, like a bulldozer exploding through cement bricks.
It’s then I go to work. My fingers piston into her, curling up to hit that spot I know makes her lose her mind. Even when my wrist starts to ache, I don’t slow down. I’m a prince on a mission.
Her hips lift and raise back almost as if it’s too much for her, but I know I’m pushing her higher and higher until?—
The cry of sexual pleasure that escapes from her mouth is coupled with her body shuddering and bending. I don’t stop pounding into her, chasing her orgasm, elongating it.
“That’s it, let them hear you. Let Tink hear how I pleasure you. You may not care, but I sure as fuck do. I need you to know I only want to do this for you, to you. Because you come more beautifully than anyone I’ve known.”
I can tell from the way her eyes flutter and how her cries choke off that she is trying to suppress it now, so no one does hear, but it’s too late. Cinder can’t suppress what’s been set into motion. She can only come on my hand as I grip her by the throat and force her to finish.
“And if you let me,” I choke out. “I’d feast between your legs. I’d lick up your desire like a starving man. Like it was my last meal and you're the only thing that can sustain me.”
My mouth turns dry as I think of tasting her pussy. And I cannot deny her blood sings to me as much as her body does. The lust is folding me over and over until I’m a tense knot of want. I want to sink into her, I want to take from her. I want her blood sliding down my throat. I want to penetrate her with my dick and fangs. I want to claim her, mark her, so everyone knows she’s mine, and I’m hers.
Swallowing hard, I close my eyes, pushing the need back. I won’t do that to her.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice how we’ve both slowed down until she pushes my hand from between her legs. A reedy little moan escapes her even as she does it. The flush of her blood pressing against her pale cheeks, throat, and bare breasts only causes my bloodlust to surge.
I have to stay in control. Even though she’s left a little sexy mess on the chair. Oh fuck me. . .
“Kai,” she says, pulling my attention back. She pushes off the chair and on wobbly legs walks to the counter, sits on it and spreads her legs, putting her at the perfect height. “Fuck me, daddy.”
My hand flies to the bulge of my pants as I squeeze myself to keep from popping off right then.
But I don’t need to be told twice. I unzip and thrust into her, making sure to keep my lips on hers.
I can’t control myself. My hips rampage into her impossibly tight, hot wetness. She strangles my cock, dragging extra friction of force across my piercings only heightening my need to come. My balls are so tight and ready to shoot off.
In mere moments, I’m spurting my release into Cinder, gasping and moaning, completely at her mercy. Cinder’s grip firmly tugs at my hair, grounding me as I lose all reason and sense. There is only my dark princess.
“I’m yours, only yours,” I punctuate with a kiss.
One half of her lips quirk up in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “For now,” she confirms.
Maybe it’s because I exerted the fuck out of myself just now, but I suspect it’s what she just said that has my heart sinking, spiraling down into my stomach cavity.
For now.
The tinkle of the front doorbell signals new arrivals to the parlor.
“Hey, when you guys are done fucking in there, make sure to clean up before you come out,” Tink yells.
Cinder buries her head in my chest as I suppress a chuckle.
“Got it, boss,” I yell back before we go about righting ourselves. I pocket the gloves, knowing one day they may be all I have left of Cinder.
It’ll be for the best. She deserves better. But I can pretend I deserve her. For a little while.
When we step out of the curtains, I’m surprised to find a very tall silver-haired man with a scar running down his face standing next to a striking redhead. They both are damp from the rain coming down outside now, dripping a little puddle onto the tile floor.
“Uh hey,” the redhead greets Cinder, her surprised expression slowly morphing to a smug knowing grin.
They know each other.
“Hey Red,” Cinder says, her mask off indifference back on despite her messy bangs and the smell of sex permeating the air.
Ah yes, Red. The other friend who got engaged before Goldie. The blonde bombshell told me all about it.
The silver-haired man is staring me down like he is trying to put spikes through my head.
“Prince Kaison Charming, a pleasure to meet you,” I say, sticking my hand out to the alpha male.
He simply stares at it before his lip curls with a slight sneer.
“We’re here to support Snow in getting her first tattoo,” Red explains, her green gaze bouncing back and forth between us.
“Cool,” is all Cinder says.
My nose wrinkles. “Does it smell like wet dog in here to you?”