Page 39 of Viking Ink

Gah. Now I wanted to know.

Breakfast finished and plates and bowls washed, I headed into the spare room to get a change of clothes. I grabbed my jeans and a warm sweater. Looking around the room, I wondered if I would continue to sleep here or in Simon’s room now we’d finally admitted how we felt.

If I was honest, I would rather sleep in Simon’s room next to him than in here by myself. I loved this room with its soft pastel colours and pretty bedspread, but it felt more like somewhere I could colour and maybe nap—a space I could explore my little side and not worry about anyone walking in and seeing me apart from Daddy. It was so weird how easily I accepted that word for Simon, but it made perfect sense to me. Simon was exactly how I’d imagined a perfect Daddy bear.

We’d barely scratched the surface of what I wanted. The FetLife forums had opened up a whole new range of stuff I wanted to explore, along with the things that Simon had mentioned. What did it say about me that my dick got hard at the thought of being put over Simon’s lap and spanked for being naughty? Ah hell, just the idea of it made my cock stir in my jeans.

Focus on something other than Simon’s big hands on your arse.

Nope, not working.

Now my brain was stuck in a loop—a very not PG rated loop—which was making sitting a bit on the uncomfortable side.

So would having your bottom paddled, my unhelpful brain supplied.

A soft rap on the open doorway had me looking up. Simon stood dressed in his dark Henley and leather jacket. My eyes drifted to his hands. My cheeks heated as I tried to chase the pesky and inappropriate thoughts away.

“I’m nearly ready.” I fumbled with the laces of my old converse, letting out a frustrated huff when I made a mess of it. How had I suddenly forgotten to tie my own bloody laces?

“Here. Let me.” Before I could say anything, Simon came into the room and dropped to his knees in front of me. Taking the laces from my fingers, he quickly tied them. From my spot on the bed I was the same head height as Simon, and I laughed when I noticed his hair was already falling out of its bun. By the end of the day he would give in, frustrated, and put it in a ponytail. I’d never thought about what type of guy I liked until I met Simon. But now I could say with certainty it was tall, muscular redheads with lots of tattoos.

One day, when I was feeling brave, I wanted to make Simon lay down so I could kiss and look at every single one. I blushed at the thought, but knew it was now a goal.

“What’s got your cheeks all red?” Simon finished tying my laces and sat back on his heels, smiling at me.

I reached out and touched the raven wing that peeked out from the collar of his Henley. “You have so many tattoos.”

Simon gave a confused smile. “I do.”

I swallowed nervously as I traced my finger along the wing. “I want to see all of them.”

“Oh, do you now?”

I nodded. Feeling braver, I smirked. “I do, and I want to kiss each and every one, because they are part of you.”

Simon gave a deep, sexy growl. “Fuck, baby, you’re going to be the death of me.”

I giggled, loving the effect my words had on Simon. “Only a little death, Daddy.” My giggles were cut off when Simon leaned in and kissed me. It was the sort of unhurried kiss that I was growing to love, but also the sort of kiss that could derail our plans for heading out if we let it.

Simon pulled away first, smiling. “Tonight, baby bear, I promise to let you look your fill of my tattoos, but right now, we’ve got to get a move on.”

I groaned, knowing he was right. Letting Simon help me off the bed, I tried to adjust myself without Simon noticing.

Fat chance, judging by the grin he gave me.

Okay, I might have made some weird sounds when we set foot inside the Music Shed, and I may have started sweet talking the beautiful Martin acoustic that sat pride of place in the middle of the store while Simon made his way over to the guy who owned the store.

The man was covered in nearly as many tattoos as Simon, and I wondered if Simon had done them.

“Did you want to give her a go?” A young sales assistant came up to where the guitar sat in its stand. My fingers itched to feel the strings beneath my fingers, but I was nervous. This guitar cost more than all the money I had on me.

“It’s a beautiful guitar. I’d be afraid I’d drop it.” I laughed self-consciously.

The young assistant gave me a smile and looked back over to the manager. “Greg, okay if this guy has a play on the Martin?”

“Sure thing,” Greg said, giving me a nod as he walked over with Simon. “We’ve never met, but I used to love listening to you play in the square.” He extended his hand to shake mine.

With the briefest glance at Simon, I shook Greg’s extended hand. “You have a brilliant shop. I could spend hours in here.”

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