Chapter 9 #2
“Not so much as a flinch,” she murmurs.
“It’s fine. Honestly.”
We let the silence stretch while she concentrates. Forty-five minutes later she wipes the ink, peels the last bit of tissue away, and I get my first clear look.
Heat flushes my skin, but not from the irritation. I did it.
The bird is beautiful. Clean lines. Perfect shading. My skin is pink and a little hot, but nothing like the agony I had braced for, that I had always assumed would be felt if I did this.
“You know,” I say slowly, “this isn’t just a reminder of my autonomy.” She glances up. “It’s also a tribute to my very talented sister, who I’m… Who I’m proud to be getting to know at last.”
Her eyes go huge. Before I fully register it, she’s wrapped me in a hug, her ponytail tickling my face. I hug her back, awkward but sincere, and freeze when I hear her sniffling.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. Fine.” She pulls away just enough to swipe her cheeks. “Sorry. Postpartum hormones. I’m blaming them for everything right now, and no-one can gainsay me.”
If anything, she squeezes tighter for a moment. We stay like that longer than I’d usually tolerate from anyone else, and it’s actually nice.
“Listen,” she says, drawing back. “I’m - I’m sorry, Jacob.”
“For what?” I’m genuinely baffled.
“For…” She wipes her face again. “For not being there. For assuming you were… well, not like Dad, I knew that, but that you were on his side. That you’d chosen him over us.”
“That’s understandable,” I say. “You could hardly be blamed for thinking that.”
“You’re being generous, but it wasn’t OK to judge you without trying to talk to you. I just assumed and…” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”
“I could have made more effort, too. So please, don’t worry.” I manage a small smile. “Besides, I like getting to know you now. You’re much more predictable and a lot less terrifying now you - what?”
She’s laughing. “Nothing. Just… glad you’re you.”
I frown. “Who else would I be?”
She rolls her eyes and strips off her gloves. “You’ll need to keep it moisturised. Don’t scratch it, no matter how much it itches.”
That seems to be the end of that conversation. I think there was more she wanted to say, but I’m often wrong about these things, so I don’t pursue it. “No problem.”
“And, hey…” She shifts, looking uncomfortable again. “Be careful.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll keep it covered, and I won’t pick -”
“No, I meant…” She chews her lip. “Just…”
And it hits me.
She means Tippi.
“Once again,” I say gently, “I am an adult. I can handle myself.”
She gives me a small, resigned smile and lets it go.
Tippi slips her hand into my back pocket as we walk to my car. It feels strange, but oddly endearing. I’m certainly not going to complain about any form of touching from her.
She’s been chattering nonstop since we left: her new mandala segment, what she wants next, whether I’ve ‘caught the bug’. I make noncommittal noises, but my attention keeps drifting back to the text I received from Dad while I was waiting for them to finish.
Dad:
I have had enough of your inexcusable rudeness in ignoring my recent messages. Come to see me tomorrow at 6pm sharp or I may have to reconsider my Will.
I have been dodging his messages, and apparently he’s noticed. I’m not worried about being cut out of his Will, as I don’t want anything from him; but I am tired of the constant drip of unpleasantness. Something has to give. I refuse to spend the rest of his life receiving messages like that.
I can’t imagine he wants anything other than leverage, to remind us he’s our father and we owe him. To force some kind of connection on his terms. But why be so insistent on seeing children who only ever seem to disappoint him?
I’ve finally joined Tim and Sadie in that category by not dancing attendance the second he deigns to summon me.
I don’t want to be his golden boy again.
I couldn’t bear to go back, especially now everyone else has put distance between themselves and him.
I don’t want to betray them, and definitely not just to suit his own wants.
But then again -
“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?” Tippi’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
I jerk my head towards her. Thankfully, she looks amused rather than hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly. “I got a message from my father and it’s… playing on my mind.”
“Oh.” Her expression softens immediately. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I admit. I am not spending a second of my limited, precious time with Tippi Mills talking about my cantankerous sire and his unreasonable, insufferable rudeness.
“OK.” Before I can add another word, she pulls me down by the collar for a frankly X-rated kiss, right here in the middle of the streets. Her tongue glides lightly against mine, and it’s enough to send sparks to the tips of my fingers as I clutch her. “Now, about what I was saying…”
I shake my head a little to clear it, which makes her giggle. “Um… What were you saying?”
“Well.” She runs her tongue up my jugular vein, and it feels ticklish in a way that has my balls tightening.
“To test that you were listening, I did offer to pull you into that alley way right there, and give you a hummer that’ll leave you weak…
But now that I think about it, I think that sounds like a great idea. ”
“A hummer?” I ask weakly.
She throws her head back and laughs. “You’re adorable. It means a blow job.”
“Oh.” My eyes fly wide open. “Oh!”
“That’s the plan,” she says, swiftly kissing my wide open mouth, “to get you saying that over and over.”
“But…” I splutter. “But we could get…”
“Caught?” She shakes her head. “Unlikely at this time in the day. And there’s no CCTV down there.
No-one’s around. Plus, there’s plenty to hide behind.
” I look, and she’s not wrong - pallets and large industrial bins could shield us from view, for the most part.
“But the thing is, the thrill of maybe getting caught? Fuckloads of fun.” She laces her fingers with mine and tugs me towards the narrow entrance.
“Just to warn you, I am absolutely in the mood to take your cock down my throat and swallow everything you give me.”
Holy sh-
I let her lead me to a point in the middle, between a pile of cardboard boxes and what I imagine Tippi would call a ‘dumpster’.
We seem to be behind a couple of restaurants, and the fried smells from the kitchens mingle with the rot stink of the bins.
I am quickly distracted, however, by Tippi pushing me against the brick wall and kissing me feverishly while she pulls at my belt and fly.
“It’s a rush, right?” I nod, not really agreeing, worrying that someone could walk outside the back of the kitchens and see her taking my -
God -
- taking my… cock out, and giving it a few warm, sure strokes with her hand. I may be worried about public indecency charges, but it doesn’t care about that. It’s pulsing in her hand, wanting her to carry on and go further…
For once in my life, I’m going to be cool. I’m going to do the daring thing, or rather, let the daring thing happen, and I’ll just deal with any consequences. If I get arrested, so be it.
And when she drops to her knees and looks up at me, I’m past caring about anything else in the whole entire world. She looks so unbearably sexy like this, teasing the tip of me with her lips and tongue while a faux-innocent expression on her face teases me with anticipation of what she’s about to -
“Shit,” I cry hoarsely, clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the volume. I can hardly be blamed, though - my dick is in her mouth, and it’s so warm and wet and clever, knowing exactly where to massage me with her tongue to make me feel like the top of my skull is rocketing up into space.
“Being so good for me,” she mutters in the most intoxicatingly filthy drawl, before taking me all the way back to her throat. This so good, so… so fucking good…
“Right there,” I sigh as she swirls her tongue on the sensitive skin just under my helmet on the pull up, before her mouth sinks all the way down again.
My brain signals are misfiring; I don’t know if I want her to just let me…
fuck her face, or whether I want her to just do the tongue thing, but it’s all so good, and my balls are tightening so hard I’m gasping.
I manage to stave off coming in her mouth for longer than I thought I could, though to say it’s difficult is an understatement. But I can do it. I. Can. Do it.
Mere seconds before I warn her that I’m about to ejaculate, though… I hear voices.
Two men, talking and laughing. They aren’t too close, but they’re not far enough away, either. Frantically, I look to the sides of this alley, and I can’t see anyone, but any second now, they could, they really could…
And for some reason, that thought tips me over the edge.
“Sorry,” I gasp after I grit my teeth through an intense orgasm, “ I meant to warn you, but I…”
I trail off as I look down at her, grinning up at me and wiping small amounts of my seed off her lips with one finger and licking it up.
How does she always manage to do the hottest things, things that would never have occurred to me to fantasize about?
“It’s all good,” she winks at me, tucking me back in and doing everything back up while I find my sea legs again.
“And it sounds like someone got a hit of the danger rizz. Being nearly caught is fun, right?”
“Right,” I sigh, because I cannot disagree, even though I still feel prickles of alarm at what could have happened. I’m not sure how my boss would feel about me getting banged up in jail for public lewdness; he’s very easygoing, but there are limits.
And yet, if we had been caught, and prosecuted, and I’d lost my job… I can’t say it wouldn’t have been worth it.
She pulls my wrist towards the way we entered. “Come on, I’ll let you buy me dinner. Turkish sound good to you?”