Page 65 of Yours Truly

“Okay,” I check behind me again. The door is still closed. “A Firecracker.”

Juniper howls. “Oh my God. That’s so cute!”

Both of my sisters know that I love when Trace calls me Firecracker. “It’s cute. I’ll take a picture of the sketch and send it to you.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to be working on right now instead of talking to me?” she asks, the mother in her coming out. I can’t wait until she has kids of her own, because she was great at helping raise Dolly and me.

“Yep,” I admit. “But I’ve been sketching firecrackers since the first time he called me that. I’ve got the one I want to use ready. Just need to run it through the stencil machine.”

There’s a knock at the door. “You good?” Connor calls.

“Mm-hmm,” I call back, closing my notepad, slipping my pencil through the loop. “Gotta go. See you tonight,” I say to my sister. She says goodbye, and then I’m walking through Ink Time, on my way to tattoo the Trace Calhoun.

Err, Trace Wade.

Turning the corner, I find Trace laid out on the tattoo chair, his arms behind his head. “My afternoon session was canceled.”

“Oh no,” I reply, straddling the rolling chair as I take a seat. I open my sketch book and get to work getting the stencil made, my back to him. I want my back to him right now because the sight of him in that chair, knowing his cock is where I put it? My pussy is weeping. “Everything okay?”

“I canceled it.”

My stomach bottoms out as I turn, blinking at him. “Why?”

He sits up, unbuttoning his jeans after undoing his belt. With a gentle tug, his pants slide down his hips and he leans back. “Thought I might be sore after my session with you.”

“It’s a small tattoo,” I deadpan. “Your entire body is covered in ink.”

He winks, and that simple gesture sends a wave of pleasure rolling through my lower half, leaving my legs wobbly. Glad I’m sitting.

“Want to see it or do you want it to be a surprise?” I ask, hoping he’ll choose the latter. I really want to see his face when I unveil it to him. I love that first look expression. I’ve seen him experience it with clients, I’ve seen Connor experience it, too. And I’ll never forget the awe in Rochelle’s eyes when she first laid eyes on her chastity tattoo.

The expression of seeing something so beautiful but also, so fitting for who you are, how it becomes part of your identity and your story, and today, I get to make that happen for Trace.

It’s special. Tattoos are special, and I’ve always known it.

But now making it happen for other people is incredible.

I got emotional when I finished Rochelle’s tattoo, mostly because it was her dream and my art and those two things came together to create a powerful moment for both of us.

Will I have that with Trace? I don’t know. Maybe receiving tattoos aren’t special to him anymore.

What I do know is no matter his reaction, I’m going to feel the same way I did with Rochelle.

Amazed.

“Surprise me,” he says, after a thoughtful pause. “I’m not normally a surprise guy. In fact, the last surprise was a bad one, and kind of set me off on this trajectory…” He trails off a minute, staring down at the blank space on his body before his eyes find their way to mine again. “You know, the man whore, boozing one?”

I snap on my gloves. “I’m familiar.”

He smiles, all white teeth and stubbled jaw, his long hair framing his face, partially curtaining the dark ink on this throat.

He’d make beautiful babies. And seeing those strong hands with his classic gold watch holding a baby to his bare, inked chest is almost getting me pregnant at just the thought.

“You ready?” I ask, crossing and uncrossing my legs to find the right position. Definitely not to ease the ache building inside me.

“I’m all yours, Firecracker.”

The machine vibrates in my palm and my heart races, adrenaline spearing through my veins as I lower my hand to his body.

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