Page 100 of Connor's Claim

What if the words were his rejection?

I didn’t want to know. He finished the third then reached for my thigh, a fourth following quickly.

What if it told me of his hate?

With the word complete, Connor pulled out of me and flipped me over. My eyes stayed closed. My mouth shut.

He tugged away the torn shirt and cupped my breasts, sinking down to suck one nipple while the needle pierced the underside of my other breast. My lips parted. He’d threatened to ink me there when we’d first had sex over a tattoo session.

‘Property of Connor Michaels’, he’d warned would be written across my chest, but the scribing on the underside of my left boob was another brief single word.

The conclusion of this ink work came with a short delay. A moment of him playing with me, getting himself hard to return to forcing his way into my body once more alongside the vibrator. Ruining my pussy, not that I cared.

Alternating his thrusts with the vibrator, he built me up more and more, his drawing session suspended so he could take his time with me. I had to be crazy. That was my only rationale for how I luxuriated in his touch. How I welcomed the sting of pain and pleasure I’d always associated with him and which now had a focal point. The happiness and fear. The safety and panic.

The love which had once combated the pain of needing to let him go.

When the needle returned to my skin at my hip, I almost laughed. Another orgasm, another word. Still, I didn’t want him to speak them.

Then Connor moved up my body, bringing the gun close to my face.

The pulsing and throbbing between my thighs couldn’t distract me from the fear of his finishing act. His rejection across my forehead would end me for certain.

Warm, careful fingertips guided my head to one side. Brushed my hair away. The needle landed behind my ear, and a new word was laid down.

Relief dizzied me.

Connor discarded the gun and lazily jerked into me until he delivered a new, somehow poignant climax. Then he withdrew. The toy was removed. With care, he treated the tattoos with some product and taped over them.

Without another word, tattooed or spoken, he was gone.

Chapter 34

Everly

He didn’t return. I waited, slept, passed a panicked night, then woke on Sunday morning with new determination.

Taking care not to disturb or even peek at any of my tattoos, I prepared myself for the day, choosing the smartest of my casual clothes and styling my hair as if I had a day of work ahead of me.

I did, but of a kind I’d never imagined before.

A quick check of the calendar on my phone gave me a green light to proceed, and I grabbed my work bag including my ID and pass which had lain forgotten for a week, then centred myself for what I needed to do. All the insanity and dangerous thoughts had left me with only one conclusion. A solitary course of action I needed to take.

Just like I’d discussed with my new friends.

At the last second, I caught sight of my pill packet on the bedside table. I hadn’t taken one on Friday night. Or yesterday.It was like I’d lost my mind, or perhaps it was the other way around and I was finally seeing clearly and acting for myself.

Crossing the room, I swept the packet into the bin, then turned on my heel and left the apartment.

On the ground floor of the warehouse, I found my way to the management office. Knocked.

Arran opened the door, his gaze curious. “Shade isn’t here. I can’t tell you where he is.”

Meaning he didn’t want to be found. I ignored the stutter of my heartbeat. “I know. It’s you I wanted to see.”

He gestured for me to come in, taking his seat behind the big desk. I perched in the visitor’s chair under the bright spotlight, the tattoo on my butt cheek stinging.

“I’m not sure if you know, but I’m a skilled events coordinator,” I said.

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