Page 66 of Yours Truly

“You sure the stencil looks good?” he asks, causing my eyes to veer up to him. Trace is smirking and I responsively roll my eyes. “Kidding,” he says.

He reaches out, fingering the key as I take my position. “Does this bother you?” he asks softly, somehow quieter than the machine, but I can still hear him.

I shake my head. “No.”

He strokes the key a few more times before folding his arms behind his head. The needle hits his skin and my instincts take over, following the purple lines with precision.

“I can’t believe what that key goes to,” he says thoughtfully.

I snort, because when I think about the fact that Trace Calhoun is on my table—that I have a table at all—and his famous cock is in a cage and I’m at the helm? “Fuck, you and me both.”

Another minute of tattooing and I add, “I think it’s sexy, personally.”

“What about it is sexy?” he asks, but not with condescension. And when I glance up at his face, I see genuine curiosity. As if he knows I’m checking to see if he’s defensive or salty, he quickly adds, “I mean, I think it’s hot, too. I just wanna know why you think it’s hot.”

“I like the idea of making things playful,” I say, almost surprised by how easily the truth comes. “In my last relationship—and I’m not saying we’re in a relationship—but with Rhett, there was so much pressure on the sex to be a certain way. He really needed me to scream and moan and tell him he’s the king.”

“Did you?” he asks.

“I think the better question to ask was, was he?” I retort, smirking as I finish the edge of the fuse, swiping my cloth over it to make sure it’s perfect.

He snorts. “Well, was he?”

I send him a pointed glare. “He was not.”

At that moment, Deuce and Connor appear, their heads tilted to eye the design. “Don’t say anything,” I blurt out, “because it’s a surprise.”

Deuce winks at me before tossing a nod to Trace. “All right, Con and I are heading out early, got some shit to do. Trace, lock up and don’t forget to set the alarm.” He looks at me. “Ivy, don’t forget to set the alarm.”

“Hey!” Trace protests playfully. “I won’t forget.”

Connor squeezes my shoulder. “Great work, Ivy. See you tomorrow. Later, Trace.” A few moments of baited silence pass where I wait to hear the door click, and then… we’re officially alone.

“Okay, back to our talk… did you?”

I roll my eyes, hating the answer but knowing I have to tell him the truth. “I did play along. And that was part of it. I hated feeling disingenuous, and that made the sex… not fun.”

“Sex should always be fun,” he says slowly, his voice suddenly rawer and deeper than before. My skin prickles.

“I agree. And… that’s why I like… it,” I say, unable to say chastity cage aloud, afraid Connor or Deuce may overhear despite the fact I know they’re gone and my fear is totally irrational. Plus, Deuce already knows. Still, I struggle a bit. “But I also like the exchange of power, too. I mean, Rochelle does it full time and they never swap roles. If it were me, I’d like to swap roles. But just knowing that’s possible— knowing I’m with a guy who will relinquish control the same way he expects me to do… it’s fucking hot.”

I want to glance up at him, to study his face and pull apart what I think it means, but I don’t. I keep my eyes on the prize, and continue to keep my focus on outlining. He’s quiet, so I find myself rambling.

“I mean, it’s not 1950. If women want their turn at being dominant, leading sex and exploring their own desires, why shouldn’t they have that? Men get to do that all the time. They get to smack our asses in doggy style, they get to spit into our open mouths and slap our cheek to tell us to swallow it, they get to use our mouths like pussies, stick their dicks in our asses, hold us by the throat, tell us to take it—why shouldn’t women get to experience that? Because we don’t have a penis? I’m sorry, but I have a womb. I make life. I think I’ve earned the right to tell a man to suck my strap, for God’s sake.”

The outline is complete, so I let my eyes wander to his, and find them glazed over, hooded as he stares up at me.

“I agree completely,” he murmurs.

“You have a… weird look on your face,” I say as I switch the needle out from the cartridge, dipping it into the prefilled cap on my tray. I hope he’s patriotic because this Firecracker is.

“I just… I agree. I mean, I’ve never been in a switch relationship?—”

“Switch?” I question as I get started on the body of the firecracker.

“When you’re both dominant and submissive, at different times, depending.”

“Ahh,” I reply, my eyes veering off to his crotch for a shameful moment.

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