Page 76 of The Tattoo Artist

“Oh, fuck Alex.”

He groans, thrusting into me. I gasp with pleasure, beginning to feel it. He looked beautiful, the way he grabs onto the headboard-his abdomen tensing.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”

As he continues to move inside me, the pleasure intensifies, wrapping around us like a warm embrace. I arch my back, meeting his every thrust with a gasp of pleasure, my body responding eagerly to his touch. With each movement, the tension in my muscles melts away, replaced by a delicious wave of sensation that washes over me in relentless waves.

I clutch onto him, my nails digging into his skin as I lose myself in the rhythm of our lovemaking. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, a symphony of passion that echoes in the air.

As he drives deeper into me, I feel myself teetering on the edge of release, the pleasure building to a crescendo that threatens to engulf us both. I tighten around him; we were both sweating-our bodies moving together. His lips find mine, and he kisses with this urgency. I could feel him wanting to release.

“Ares-I need to...”

“Cum.” He whispers, “go on angel.”

With his words spurring me on, I surrender to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that crashes over me, my body convulsing as I reach the peak of ecstasy. I cry out his name, my voice echoing in the room as I succumb to the intense pleasure coursing through me.

His hands press over my mouth.

Feeling my release, Ares’ movements become even more frantic, his thrusts growing more urgent as he drives himself closer and closer to the edge. “Ares…”

With a final, guttural groan, he finds his release, his body trembling with the force of his climax.

He slides the condom off and chucks it onto the floor before crawling on top of me, he brushes his thumb over my lips. He kisses my open mouth, and I close it around his.

He settles down beside me, and I rest my head onto his bicep whilst my fingers trail the tattoos on his neck.

“I love you.” I whisper, my hands resting on his cheek.

My heart finally felt at peace.

“I love you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ALEXANDRA JONES

AUNTIE CORALINE HAD BECOME FIXATED ON HOW much I had grown, constantly commenting on our supposed resemblance. But truth be told, we looked nothing alike. No offence to Auntie Coraline, but she was the polar opposite of me in appearance and beliefs. As we sat together, surreptitiously whispering, I couldn’t help but giggle at her candidness.

“So, they’re still into the Jesus stuff?” She inquired, nodding towards my parents, who were busy cooking the potatoes in the kitchen.

“I would hope so,” I smile. “We’re still Catholic,” I reply, trying to stifle my laughter. Auntie Coraline rolls her eyes playfully, and her nonchalant attitude toward religion always intrigued me.

“You old sobs are so boring,” she teased, leaning in closer. “Come on, talk to me... any boys in your life?”

Auntie Coraline is my favourite Aunt, mostly because she is the only one in the family who isn’t stuck up and judgy. It has nothing to do with religion, she is simply different compared to everyone else. I consider her a breath of fresh air, she had a way of cutting through the seriousness and just being herself, unapologetically. She never believed in God, questioning why a divine being would punish good people? And sometimes I would question that for myself, especially after finding out about my memory loss. Was it a consequence? For doing sinful things unmarried. Is this Gods punishment? Because it feels like one, forgetting the love of my life and having to remember them bit by bit.

However, while I understood her point of view on some levels, my Catholic upbringing made it hard for me to completely disregard my faith. Because that’s what religion is all about, faith.

She yanks my arms from under my chin to grasp my attention, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Well? Any one Miss Jones?”

I watch her watch me.

Why is she looking at me like that?

“No. I haven’t met anyone.” I rub onto my nose. Oh my god!

“Liar!” She whispers out loudly.

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