Page 63 of Connor's Claim

“Keep drawing on me. Score my knuckle while I finger-fuck ye.”

He tapped the counter to bring my attention back there, and I focused on his knuckles, noting fully the black lines that scored and crisscrossed him there. There were hundreds. On both hands, hashing out his fingers.

I went still. “Are those a record of your conquests?”

Connor teased my entrance. “There’s one for every time I had a dirty thought about ye. I hurt myself to make it stop, including when I pierced my dick, then it became an addiction.”

My disquiet turned to wonder. I spread his fingers, examining them one by one, then gazed down to where he held me between the legs, counting more than I could guess. “So many.”

“I had to change it to once a month because I ran out of space.”

All this time and he’d thought about me like that? My heart thrilled in happiness, and fresh need streaked through me.

Connor pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck. “I never stopped thinking about ye.”

One long finger eased inside me, and lazily, he opened me up. I winced at the rebound of slight pain from so much use.

He noticed. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Good. Need ye to feel me for days.”

He removed his hand and wrangled his jeans, then his hard dick slid between my legs, getting slick in my arousal but not going inside. I peeked at the window again. People down on the cobbled harbour path far below could look up and maybe see in, or someone in the fancy tower block apartments further along the river could spy on us.

Then again, they could’ve already got an eyeful all yesterday evening judging by what he’d told me.

“Give me the details of what you did to me in the night,” I asked.

“Pick up the gun and mark me,” he countered.

I breathed through utter need and took up the tattoo gun, my fingers shaking. “I love your ink. I could never have any but…”

His dick glanced over my clit then back. My words dried up.

A fresh challenge awoke in me, and without any further thought, I touched the needle to my knuckle, scoring myself like he’d done to himself over and again.

Showing him how those lustful thoughts were shared and giving myself an exquisite burst of pleasure-pain to add to the mix of desire in me.

Connor huffed a laugh. “Aye, ye could. Now I’ll need an even darker line for how ye just made me feel.”

Holding his hand steady, I found a tiny patch I could draw on and drew the needle over his skin.

Connor fucked inside me.

I yelped a cut-off sound of pleasure but forced my brain to stay on track to turn the black dot into a solid line. He returned his free hand to my breast and tugged on my nipple, timing it with a series of strokes which stretched me and filled me so well.

“I placed ye in front of that window and cut off your clothes. Your naked body needed me so much, your pussy was desperate to be owned. Ye leaked for me, Everly, even asleep. I fucked ye over and over again. I took everything I needed as often as I liked.”

I whimpered, and inside, he hit a place that sent sparks through me.

The knowledge that he’d lusted over me long after we’d parted smashed out another brick in the wall I’d put up to protect myself from memories of him. Still holding the tattoo gun, I splayed my hand on the counter, mindless, and jerking with his increasingly frantic thrusts.

“How many times?”

“Did I fuck ye? I lost count.”

Again, I touched the needle to my knuckle. Ink welled, and my skin stung in the second line I drew. I added two more in the opposite direction, a tally, and undisguisable now.

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