Page 9 of Ink

I don’t expect it and it’s clearly louder than anticipated. The noise forces Ink up from the couch and he tugs his pants back in place. His gaze turns toward the hallway and into the darkness. “Bunny?”

I don’t have an excuse. I’m here. I’m clearly here. I’m standing in one tiny little shadow. If he flicks on the light, he’ll see me.

What do I say? There’s no explaining my way out of this.

I drag in a deep breath as he steps closer. “Hey. How are ya? I’m thirsty. You thirsty?” I divert away from him and open the fridge, grabbing an absurdly large bottle of water. I open it immediately, chugging down the liquid to buy time. Maybe in the time it takes me to drink this, he’ll forget he was masturbating, and I’ll forget I was watching.

“I don’t know what you just saw.”

“What?” I swallow down more water. Clearly, he knows I saw something. I can’t act dumb. Well, I could, but I’m not sure what good that would do anyone. “It’s… masturbation is normal. It’s okay. I took your bedroom. You had nowhere to do your thing. It’s no big deal.” My breath is in short supply as I speak.

He stares toward me then looks away quickly. His phone is the only light in the room. I glance toward it, curious about what he looks at to get off. Maybe I want to hurt my own feelings. I mean, it seems like that’s what I’m looking for. Part of me expects a guy like Ink to be looking at something really kinky like whips and chains or domination of some sort, but it’s not any of that. It looks like a picture.

Oh God! There’s another woman. He’s looking at another woman’s picture. Of course he’s looking at another woman. He probably has loads of women he looks at, or he has one special woman that he adores and misses terribly right now. She probably lives in another state and he’s jerking off to her pictures because it’s all he has. I’m such an idiot!

My stomach hurts. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care that he’s into another woman or that another woman is into him. That’s okay. He’s gotta be almost fifty years old. He’s too old for me, anyway. Besides that, I have a baby on the way that needs to be my focus.

I can tell myself all these things, making solid points, negotiating a reasonable stance with the reality of the night, but I lean in anyway, ready to compare myself to this blonde on his phone. It’s then that I realize… she’s me.

“Fucking hell.” He swipes my photo off the screen and tucks it into his pocket. “That’s embarrassing as fuck.”

My face heats and my stomach clenches while my heart does loop-de-loops. I’m still, like a statue, unsure of what to say or how to act.

He was looking at me.

Me.

The me that’s me standing right here.

That me.

Ink leans against the counter with his big hand over his face. “Well, I guess that kinda lets the cat out of the bag.”

“There was a cat in a bag?” Why do I insist on being an idiot?

He smiles and turns toward me. His heavy frame is square and straight, and his gaze is steady on mine.

The energy in the room has shifted. I can’t explain how, but I know why.

He walks toward me, lands his big hand on my throat, and leans in. “You were making noises in the hallway. Did watching me turn you on?”

My eyes lift to his and then down again. My palms are sweaty, and my knees are weak. Suddenly, I’m a sixteen-year-old girl and the biggest guy on the football team is asking me to prom. Worse than that, he’s asking if I was masturbating to him masturbating, which only makes me want to masturbate more.

No. It makes me want him to fuck me more.

My thighs ache. I squeeze them together hoping the yearning will stop, but it only makes it worse.

He lifts my chin until our eyes meet again. “You were, weren’t you? You were touching that pretty little pussy while you watched me.”

I drag in a staggered breath and nod shallowly. I don’t know why I’m so shy all the sudden. A second ago, I was in the shadows, rubbing my clit with reckless abandon while I watched him.

Now, I’m shy putty, desperate to be molded.

He grins and leans into my neck, breathing warm heat against my shoulder before biting and nibbling my sensitive skin. He does this all the way down my chest until he reaches my nipples. His shirt is still in place, but he doesn’t let it stop him from biting down hard.

I jump and pull back out of surprise, but I like it. I want his marks all over.

His cock twitches in response to me, pushing against my stomach.

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