Page 73 of Sinful Bride

Just then, the door reopens and both artists enter. The young woman I don’t recognize approaches Daphne to discuss the designs and placement, while the shop owner, Trev, saunters over to me with a broad grin and extended hand.

“Pasha, what’s up, my man?” He holds up the sketchbook from the front desk. “I see you’ve been at it again.”

“It’s a special occasion. Gotta make it good.”

Daphne glances over at us in the middle of removing her sweater.

Normally, I’d be wary of her stripping in front of people. But Trev doesn’t even look in her direction and I know him to be a decent guy with a strict code of professionalism. I can trust him.

“Your man here is quite the artist.” Trev lays tracing paper over the design and gets to work transferring it for the inking process. “I’ve made some good money off his designs.”

“Loose tongues get cut.” I give him the tiniest smile so he knows I’m joking.

Mostly.

Trev shakes his head, but he doesn’t reveal any more of my secrets.

I position the chair so I can watch the process unfold on Daphne’s shoulders. God, I want her.

It’s not just the fact that she’s growing into this confidence, this aura. It’s not just the fact that she’s getting my family crest permanently inked onto her skin.

It’s also the fact that she’s never been tattooed before. Not a single mark on her body other than a splatter of freckles where the sun has kissed her.

And here she is, half-naked in a tattoo parlor on the other side of town. Her first tattoos will be the names of her husband and her child.

She’s changing so fast I can hardly keep up.

We make small talk with Trev and Kayla as they work. Just like how Trev keeps his focus on my neck and shoulders, Kayla maintains her gaze on Daphne and I can tell it’s putting my wife at ease.

As if I’d ever see anyone but her. It takes a couple of hours to finish the preliminary outline of my wife’s name on my skin. Trev positions the design for Taty over my heart in a way that flows into the flickers of the fire now embracing my shoulder and kissing my neck for the rest of my life.

A fire named Daphne.

“You know the drill, man.” Trev finishes pressing the plastic wrap to the fresh ink. “I’ll send home the instructions for reminders, though.”

“Sounds good. And it looks great, as usual.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah. This is all you, man. I’m just the copy-paste machine.”

I hand him a thick stack of cash as he cleans up. He knows without asking what it means. Wordlessly, he gathers up his tools and helps Kayla do the same. The two leave the room to us.

“What do you think?” I turn my head as much as I can to study the swirls of fire enveloping Daphne’s name on my chest. “I’m getting the rest of it?—”

Warm, soft, hungry lips capture mine and cut off whatever I was about to say.

The chair shifts under me. It takes me a second to register the fact that my wife has climbed on and is now straddling my lap.

“I want you,” she breathes. Her fingernails scrape down my sides and pull a low groan from my chest. “Fuck, I need you.”

“I’m right here, baby.” My hands find her ass and grab hard, pulling her onto my lap so she can feel how much I need her, too.

We make out just like that, grinding and panting together until we’re both wild with aching desire. Daphne is ravenous—careful to move around the wrapped ink, but not so careful where she nips and scratches and marks me with her passion.

More.

I want more.

It’s like she can read my mind. One moment, she’s straddling my lap; the next, she’s kneeling between my thighs and working my jeans open.

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