Page 73 of Please Hate Me

Lucian’s jaw went tense as he stalked toward me. His button-down fluttered to the ground behind him as he approached the table. The vine tattoos on his arms didn’t continue to his chest like I thought they might. Instead, incredibly detailed roses climbed up his ribs and onto his chest. His abs were bare, but under his belly button was a crudely drawn smiley face.

“Is that‘yes, sir’ or‘no, sir’?” he growled.

My heart lurched.

“No, sir.”

He looked down his nose at me like he was considering whether to pick up a piece of garbage he’d found on the floor. The disdain in his gaze filled me with shame and excitement.

“So, you’re just willfully disobeying me?”

That felt like a trick question.

“... Yes sir?”

The muscles in his arms twitched as he crossed them over his chest.

“Open your mouth. Now.”

Why did he want me to do that?

“I saidnow.” Danger coated the edge of his voice like poison dripping from a blade.

I swallowed hard as I complied.

“Tongue out.”

My lips parted, and I stuck my tongue out as far as I could.

Without hesitation, Lucian spat in my mouth. The lingering cinnamon flavor from his toothpaste coated my tastebuds. This was disgusting, degrading, and so hot it caused me to groan. Idrew my tongue back in and swallowed. He smiled, and I basked in his silent approval.

“Now get on your hands and knees. I’ll adjust the chair.”

He helped me turn over, positioning me on my hands and knees with my face against the back of the chair. His uncharacteristically gentle hands held me in place, moving each part of the chair until I didn’t have a choice but to arch my back like a kitten. My breasts pressed to the leather below, and I could hear Lucian shuffling around—a whoosh of paper, followed by soft banging on a metal tray. My exposed skin started to grow cold as Lucian took his sweet time doing whatever the fuck he was doing.

Eventually, he came close to me, kneeling before my face. He held up a blister pack containing one blue needle cartridge.

“As you can see, the pack is closed.” He flexed the sides of the plastic, showing the paper covering was securely attached. He then flipped it over and pointed to the date printed on the back.

“And it doesn’t expire until next year. This needle is completely sterile.”

His knees cracked as he stood to walk away, and my heart skipped. It was nice of him to show me this, but there was one slight problem.

“I’m pregnant. I can’t get tattoos.”

The unmistakable sound of snapping latex gloves filled the room.

“That’s why I was doing some research. It’s true, you can’t get a tattoo... unless it’s under extremely sterile conditions.” The tearing of a package and the smell of rubbing alcohol followed his words.

“Plus, I’m not using ink. Just the needle.”

It felt like my eyes were going to bulge out of my skull, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. This... felt like a lot.

“I promise I would never do anything that puts the baby at risk.” His voice was calm. “Do you trust me?”

I considered everything going on and took a deep breath. He showed me the needle was clean, he sanitized my skin, and he wasn’t using ink. Lucian was taking all the precautions to ensure this was safe. He was just going to scratch me up a bit and call it a day.

My trust in Lucian was completely implicit.

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