Page 67 of Yours Truly

A quiet moment passes between us before he says, “Can I admit something?”

I stop the machine and look at him, nodding.

“I’m… very aroused right now.”

I’m suddenly breathless, my mouth dry as I struggle to respond. “It’s… probably the location. The vibration through your hip bone, down to your groin. With the cage, the pressure… that makes sense.”

“Yeah… that makes sense.” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s mostly being with you, though.”

I keep my focus on the tattoo, filling in the effervescent candy apple red. It’s my favorite red, rich with blue undertones, vibrant and breathtaking, but crimson too in some light. It looks perfect against his slightly sunkissed skin tone. Then again, I don’t think any color would look bad on Trace.

“Ivy,” he murmurs. “I mean that.”

Heat dances over my cheeks, sliding down my neck and back. Beneath my bodysuit, my nipples crest as my arousal ramps.

I glance behind me, and then around me, knowing what I’m doing is a risk. Knowing it’s disrespectful to Deuce.

But no one is here anymore.

It’s just us and some cameras. With footage we can technically erase.

I pull off a glove and slip my hand beneath his t-shirt, rubbing my fingertips around his nipple, flicking and pinching the tip. He sucks in a breath, then exhales, huffing out a rugged groan.

“Fuuck,” he sighs, squirming a little in the seat.

“Hold still, Mr. Wade,” I reply, using the name I know he wants to go by now. I respect that he wants to turn over a new leaf, and I will support him in any way I can. That’s what you do for the ones you love.

Stealing my hand away, I put a glove back on and return my focus to the tattoo, happy that I'm almost done. Not that I want it to end—I think I could live in a happy bubble of tattooing him forever.

“Almost done,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady and calm, as if I’m unaffected by his squirmy state. After a glove and needle change, I use the last cap of ink for the explosion, using Barbie pink for the fade. Beneath me, he stays still, but when my eyes move to his, I find him in a state.

Droopy eyelids, lips parted, nostrils flaring, one of his hands now needlessly stroking his chest. “Ivy,” he breathes, my name rolling off his tongue like smoke on the water.

When I make the last pass, I begin the process of cleaning him up, ignoring his calls for my attention. The more time that passes, the more I feel the shift in dynamic.

He’s so used to women bending to his will, falling to his feet, giving him anything he wants. But with the key to his cock around my neck and him lying beneath me, my name on his lips, him begging for my attention, I know this is exactly what he needs.

Freedom. Freedom from being Trace Calhoun.

“I like that you dropped Calhoun,” I tell him as I make the final cleaning pass over his new ink.

“I’m ready to move on, to move forward,” he says, my gaze sliding to his as I snap off the black rubber gloves and toss them in the bin. “With you.”

Taking advantage of sitting in a chair on wheels, I roll myself up the length of his body, and lean over him, stroking my hand through his hair. With our eyes locked, I sift my other hand up his shirt, and find his nipple again.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I had no idea I liked that until now.”

“Until me,” I correct.

“Until you,” he agrees hoarsely. “Kiss me,” he groans as I make slow, sensual circles around one nipple, sliding my hand along his carved, warm chest to find the other. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for two days.”

With a tough pluck of his nipple, he groans and I smile down, slowly lowering my mouth to his.

Dusting my lips against his, I close my eyes, absorbing the warmth radiating from his mouth, and the electric buzz in my veins of being so close to him. His breath is mint and coffee scented, and when I finally let my lips crush against his, the stubble on his chin grates my skin and sends a pulse between my legs.

Opening my mouth, I let my tongue discover his, taking in all that coffee and mint, my legs clenching. He squirms in my chair as I drag my thumb over his nipple, my heart pounding as a feral groan tears out of him, flooding my mouth.

I break the kiss and smile down, loving the needfulness in his eyes, the gentle swell in his lips.

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