Page 57 of Canvas

The words tattooed on my side.

It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, the pain never completely goes away.

“It says, ‘Bleed with me and you will forever be my brother.”

She doesn’t press me to explain it. I don’t know if I would, at least not right now.

Stepping over to her, I scoop her up. “I promised you I’d wash you, so that’s what I’m going to do.” As I step under the water of the showerhead with her in my arms, I suckle the soft flesh of her shoulder, “I’ll never look at cheesecake the same way again.”

She laughs. “Neither will I.” Then she pushes away from me. “I want to look at what you wrote on me.”

“Alright, I’ll set you down, just don’t put any weight on your leg.” I lower her down and she gets settled on one leg. “Hold onto me.”

She does with one hand as she begins to examine the writing covering her skin.

She doesn’t say anything as her fingers trace the black letters scrawled across her flesh.

My dick starts to swell as I watch her, going right back to the session.

It was so fucking erotic.

Seductive under her arm.

Lust at one hip bone.

Desire at the other.

Want above her heart.

Take up one inner thigh.

Possession up the other.

Hunger across her mound.

She looks up at me, her eyes hooded and her lips parted, as she touches the marking behind her ear.

“Kiss,” I whisper.

She blushes.

“And behind my knee?” her voice is low and sultry.

“Lick,” I murmur. The husky sound of my growing need is loud and clear.

She pulls her lip between her teeth as the water rains down on her, drops dripping from her eyelashes and over her cheeks.

“Can I see it when you’re finished?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reach over and grab the soap, then lather my hands.

My cock is standing straight up again, hard and stiff between us as I wash her curves and slip my hands in her intimate creases, cleaning away the residue of the session. All except for the words.

When I finish with her, she washes me from her prone position against the wall. Her touch, gentle, soft, commanding, does something to me, it unravels a dark, dusty forgotten place inside me, it almost hurts.

When she runs a hand down my shaft and cups my balls with the other, I grab her wrists.

“It’s time for bed, princess.”

I wrap a towel around my waist before I dry her, then carry her to my bed.

My initial plan was to put her in a guest bedroom.

I can’t do that now. Not after what we’ve shared.

This time, I worship her again, licking her body from head to foot, kissing her secret places. Her moans and whimpers are the sweetest fucking sounds. Until I take her again. Her cries begging for God and mercy are much fucking better.

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