Page 20 of Bombshell

The combination of my back pressed up against the doorframe and my legs around Dallan’s waist freed up his hands enough so that he could slide them up my bare thighs and underneath the frothy tulle of the polka dot poodle skirt I was wearing.

“Have I ever told you I fucking love these skirts?” he growled against my mouth as his fingers tightened on my ass, his thumbs sliding underneath the elastic of my underwear.

I shook my head, grinning at him with swollen lips. “No. Not nearly enough.”

I’d always favored the frilly girly outfits from the fifties and sixties when I was a young girl—yet another thing that made me stand out amongst the members of my father’s coven who all preferred duller, more muted tones… the prudes.

It would be a lie to tell Dallan that I never noticed his gold eyes trailing me through the shop when I was wearing dresses and skirts like this—and that it made me preen like some kind of stupid, twitterpated bird.

Because that’s what I was. Completely stupid.

This was a bad idea. Monumentally bad. I’d spent enough time telling myself that our little deal meant nothing more than business… even if Dallan had made it very clear that it was not. Not to him, and if I was being honest, not to me either.

Dallan must have noticed my attention fading because I felt his hand slip in between my thighs and nudge the gusset of my panties aside. “You’re awfully distracted for a woman who’s about to have my fingers deep inside of her.”

I was just starting to frown at him when the tip of his index finger began to press inside of my already wet, traitor of a pussy.

No matter how much I denied it, all Dallan had to do was look at me with those gold eyes of his and I was wetter than the damned rainforest.

“Do you like that?” Dallan asked, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he shot me a shit-eating grin.

I almost wanted to be a brat and tell him no, but as soon as the ridge of his knuckles brushed my clit I let out an involuntary moan that answered his question for me.

“Of course you do,” Dallan practically purred, pleased as punch because he’d drawn that reaction out of me.

Normally, when we collected ink I was in charge. Dragging the ink out of him at the same time that I dragged out his pleasure. But today we weren’t collecting ink and now it seemed like it was Dallan’s turn to take the lead.

A second finger slid in along the first, stretching me. I threw an arm around his neck, my legs starting to shake and wobble as his thumb brushed along my clit and sent a zing of sensation rippling up my back. I was worried if I didn’t hold on, that I’d fall, but I should have known better.

Dallan would have never let me fall. Not in a million years.

“Hang on, Lass,” he growled, his free arm wrapping around my back as he lifted me away from the doorframe and turned to drop me onto the bed.

It was like our last ink collection except somehow it felt completely different as I watched Dallan bring his two damp fingers to his mouth, tasting them before he began to yank at his clothes.

His gold eyes were hot as he slowly unbuttoned each button on his shirt until he was able to shrug out of it and tug at the white tank top underneath. Then he went for the dark jeans.

I began to sit up to pull the fuzzy sweater I was wearing over my head but Dallan stopped me.

“Don’t, leave that for me.”

My insides fluttered as I let myself flop back into the bed to enjoy his little strip show.

Clouds of a deep scarlet color flowed underneath Dallan’s skin, darkening the tattoos inked on his chest and ribcage. Attraction, desire, need. I wasn’t sure what the color signified as Dallan had never explicitly told me, but at the very least I knew the color meant he wanted me.

Kicking off his boots and jeans, my eyes slid down the rigid muscles of his stomach and down to where I could see his boxers tented away from his body, showing off the hard length that I’d been able to feel when he pressed his hips in between my thighs moments ago.

Much to my chagrin, Dallan left those on as he dropped one knee into the bed, weighing it down as he gently pulled my sweater over my head and then began to slip the straps of the dress I was wearing underneath it down my shoulders.

“Sit up a bit, lass,” he directed, his fingers fiddling with the zipper of my dress and tugging it down. “And now for my final trick.”

Then I couldn’t help but laugh as Dallan tugged the dress down past my hips like a magician pulling a tablecloth out from under a table full of dishes.

Had it been anyone else I would have cringed, but Dallan’s silly smile seemed to chase away the last bit of nerves I was feeling as I lay underneath him in just a pair of soaked panties.

“Gorgeous,” Dallan murmured, his voice deepening as gold eyes raked down my body. I glanced down, realizing with a blush that I’d forgotten to trim the freckles on my arms and they were starting to sprout into their usual clovers. For a moment, flashes of all of the people who sneered at my weird halfling body filled my mind. The way Alexander’s coven used to flinch away from my vines or avoid me entirely because they viewed me as an oddity that should never have been created in the first place.

Lifting an arm, I moved to cover them but Dallan stopped me, his fingers threading through mine to keep me from hiding them. “Don’t, you know I don’t mind them.”

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