Page 4 of Aries

I turned on my back and he was much hotter at this angle. My new preferred body weight was him on top of me. His cock was already compressed tight inside the latex, looking like it was being strangled and struggling to breath with each of its hot pulses, creating condensation.

“What are you waiting for, Daddy?” I asked. I needed it inside me.

He pushed the tip of his cock inside me, slowly inserting and stretching my lubed hole. But that was the last time he was slow and gentle. He fucked hard, fast, and made sure to work every single one of his muscle groups out on me.

We moved around from floor to wall, wall to table, table to chair, then back on the floor where he filled the condom up inside me. I was exhausted. I didn’t want to move or let him remove his cock as it grew soft inside me.

The moment inspired a thousand splatter paintings. They appeared as flashing visions of color and feeling. I didn’t want the moment to end.

2. GAEL

I’d like to think I never went outside to try and fuck him, but then I’d be lying to myself. When I spot a hot guy, there are only a couple things that go through my mind, the first one being, are they single? Followed up with, do they want to fuck?

My policy doesn’t really take into sexuality because if they’re straight, they don’t stop, stare, and give me a one over with bedroom eyes. And if they do, then they probably need to assess their sexuality, but that’s not something I’m here for them to do. I like my partners to have an open mind but also to know what it is they want, like, and then throw it out of the window because they’re submissive to me.

When Ash left, not a single trace of anything, other than his name. Not even a number. I couldn’t get his virgin skin out of my mind. He was a hot, submissive mess, and I needed more. I wanted so desperately to be the first person to ever mark his skin permanently. I wondered what would’ve happened if he never stood outside my shop and stared inside. I thought he’d been looking at me, but he later told me he was looking at the neon sign.

The following afternoon when we opened, my employees came in none the wiser about what went down in my office. It wasn’t the first time I’d fucked in there, and I hoped it wasn’t going to be the last time either. At my desk, I replayed the feral energy Ash brought out of me.

A knock on my open office door and Brandon walked in. I pushed the screen of my laptop down and took my glasses off. He was tatted, head to toe. I’d done most of it. He handed me a cup of coffee and smiled.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“My friend invited me to Florida for a weekend thing,” he said.

“A tattoo party,” I grumbled, shaking my head.

“Not a party, they know they shouldn’t drink, but sure. And they’re gonna pay a premium for it. The person booking me is obsessed with the art I post on social media. I think they’re one of those influencers, probably just made a bag on some post about suckers that make you shit your body weight.”

I knew he wasn’t asking me for time off. He could have that whenever he wanted, as long as he didn’t have clients in or could easily reschedule. “You got personal liability insurance?” I asked. “If you’re taking the tattoo gun, needles, colors, cleaners, and stuff, you’re gonna need it insured in case it gets lost or damaged.”

“Gael, come on, that shit’s gonna eat into my profit,” he huffed. “You let Jenny take equipment.”

“Because she wasn’t going out of the state, and I trust her more than you,” I told him. “Alternatively, you can promise me with it signed, that whatever you break or lose, it comes out of your check. And make them sign waivers, I can’t have this place held liable for what you do out of it.”

I understood the appeal. I was just like him once, trying to get that bag wherever I could, even if it meant tattoo parties where people took the word party and ran with it.

Just as Brandon left my office, Jenny walked in. “Boss,” she said, snapping her black plastic gloves on. “There’s someone waiting for you. I didn’t think you had anyone on the schedule until later.”

I looked to my watch. I didn’t have anyone until three. “Send them in.”

Brandon stressed me out, I hope he added extra sugar packets to the coffee. I sipped it and felt myself sink into the comfort of my chair. It was the perfect place for fucking, the back support, the plush comfort. The only downside was the leather imprint my sweaty skin had made.

And almost like the devil himself, think of him, and he will enter. Ash walked into my office; his eyes quick to examine every spot our entangled bodies occupied last night in here. He wore sweatpants. Easy access, I wondered. A white tank top and over it, a large white and brown tartan overcoat. Now wasn’t the time for seconds.

“You leave something behind?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then let me help you find it.” I sipped the coffee. It was very sweet.

“My number,” he said. “I didn’t give you my number.” He presented me with a business card. “It’s the only thing that has my number and name on it.” He placed it on my desk.

“Is that all you came in for?” I asked, taking the card.There was his name. Ash Daniels, followed by his title of professional painter, and beneath it, two methods of contact, an email and cell number.

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