Page 10 of Skin Deep

“Fuck.” Her voice was a moan. Her head lolled back as she clenched around him. She was tight, even tighter than he remembered, so he dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips and willed himself to be patient.

She shocked the hell out of him when she pressed herself downward. She took three-quarters of his length in with one movement, sending stars spinning in his vision. She bore down, beads of sweat breaking out along her forehead, but seemed stuck until he slid a hand between them, rubbing his large thumb over the center of her pleasure.

She cried out, melting around him, and he seated himself inside her. They froze for a moment, his green eyes looking into her blue, as though neither could believe that this was finally happening, after so many years and so many dirty, filthy dreams.

She seemed at a loss for words, and he understood that this wasn’t usual for her. He loved that, loved being the one to make this incredibly strong, mouthy woman lose control.

Circling his thumb over her clit, he watched her eyes blur, then took over all control.

“Move.” He surged upward into her and savored the vibration of her gasp. “Move on me.”

He expected her to argue, to open that sassy mouth. A delicious thrill skirted down his spine when she did nothing of the sort, instead doing what he’d ordered and feeding into his arousal.

He worked her clit with his thumb until he felt her tighten around him, her knees digging into his sides, her heat holding him tight. He moved faster, harder, and when she clenched around him and cried out, satisfaction that he’d brought her pleasure brought his own arousal soaring sky-high.

Before she could regain her senses, he slid his hands up to her waist and over her rib cage to cup her breasts. Fuck, but he’d dreamed of these fantastic tits of hers. Never in his life had he considered himself even the least bit wild—the Vaughan family didn’t do wild—but something about those heavy mounds of flesh, with the silver barbells piercing her taut nipples—it turned him on like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

He couldn’t help himself. Catching the adornments in his fingers, he tugged on them and watched her eyes cross as the pleasure-pain swept over her. She shuddered, and he rolled her nipples in his fingers. Without warning, she cried out again, the cleft between her legs contracting and squeezing his cock so tightly that he couldn’t hold out anymore.

His orgasm started at the base of his spine, spreading outward until his entire body was caught in the throes of pleasure. He rode the waves with his stare fastened on hers, the two of them shuddering as they came together, each of them ratcheting the other higher with just the memories and fantasies that hovered in the thick, sex-smelling air between them.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d left Four Sisters Ink knowing that he was in trouble.

Now, as he urged the woman of his dreams to ride the last waves of her own pleasure on his cock, milking his own orgasm from his flesh...

He was pretty sure that his life was about to change forever.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE REMEMBERED NOW.

She remembered why she’d run away from Fred that night so many years ago. She’d gone into the encounter thinking of sex as something fun, a physical release. Sex with Fred, however, had cracked open her rib cage and given him access to her trembling heart. If he’d taken that heart and squeezed it in a fist, she might have been able to tuck her emotions away again, but instead he’d cupped it tenderly, as though it was meant to be treasured.

It had scared the hell out of her and had sent her running away before he could do so much as cajole her name out of her, let alone a phone number. She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again, yet here he was.

Cracking her wide-open yet again. Nope, nope, nope.

“That was fun.” She slid down off him, not an easy task given the sheer size of him. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she gathered her tank top and jeans and started to dress herself, movements brisk. “I’ve got work to do now, though.”

She wasn’t looking directly at him—that was rather like looking straight at the sun—but she watched his brow furrow in her peripheral vision. He moved slowly, languidly, as though he was feeling as sleepy and sated as she was.

Turning her head slightly, she watched as he hiked his pants back up to his waist, securing them with a fancy-looking leather belt. His stomach was flat, striped with more abs than a man who wore a suit for a living should have. His chest was also hard, dusted with reddish-gold hair, and the sheer size of everything about him made her mouth water all over again. It also had anxiety coiling in her stomach.

It might have been five years since that first encounter, but she didn’t feel any more ready for these feelings than she had back then. So even though she knew it wasn’t great manners to kick him out right after sex—a reverse wham, bam, thank you ma’am—she needed some space, and she needed it now.

She opened her mouth to tell him he needed to go, but before she could get out a word, he closed the space between them. With two fingers underneath her chin, he claimed her mouth once again in a kiss, hot and wet and nearly as dirty as sex. Her brain short-circuited, so that when he stepped back, she could only blink up at him with dazed eyes.

“I’ll see you soon.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. He cast her that devastating grin that had once brought her to her knees, then turned on his heel and left her shop. The bells hanging in the doorway tinkled merrily as his head brushed the top of them—good Lord, he was tall.

And then he was gone. Her breath exhaled on a whoosh, and her knees suddenly felt like they could no longer support her. She sank down into her tattoo chair, rising again when something crinkled under her weight.

It was a sealed white envelope, the kind with the little plastic window in the front. Beneath that plastic was her name and the name of her shop, in official type.

She knew the envelope hadn’t been there before Fred, so he must have left it, which seemed odd. Still, it had her name on it, so she shrugged and slit the paper open.

It was a letter printed on official Vaughan Enterprises letterhead, and signed, Fred Vaughan—In-House Counsel. She scanned the contents once, then returned to the beginning and read it again more slowly as her teeth started to grind together in irritation. By the time she pulled out her phone to FaceTime her sister Meg, she was ready to breathe fire.

“Uh-oh.” Meg’s face morphed from a happy smile to instant concern when she saw Amy’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

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