Page 10 of Devilish Ink

I was fascinated by the Medusa tattooed on the top of her chest with snakes fanning out across her collarbones looking like they were moving as she breathed. The falling rose petals along the pulse of the left side of her neck.

They were all done in dark lines, the shading made up of dot work. Splashes of what looked like watercolour staining the pieces.

She spoke in that soft lilt of hers, her breath caressing the back of my neck, only offering crumbs of herself as an answer to one of my many,manyquestions about her.

Where did you grow up? Which of the cities in Europe was your favourite? What do you love to do outside of art? Where did you study? Who are your idols? Did you climb the Eiffel Tower when you were in Paris? Did you leave a lock behind on the cliff walk of Cinque Terra?

I wanted so much more of her than she was giving. Surely she had to know she was making me hungry for her, desperate for her.

I’d heard her laugh earlier and it’d been like the sound of fucking angels. This tinkling girlish melody, so different to the way she presented herself with her “fuck off” bad girl aesthetic. I wanted to hear it again. And again.

So I flirted. I teased. I made sexual innuendos trying to coax that laugh from her.

But all it seemed to do was make me harder and harder.

I only realised I’d let out a low groan when she shut off the gun and the vibration stopped, the silence of the studio loud in my ears. Interrupted by the occasional snap from the neon light, the rare passing of a car, headlights slashing through the crack in the drapes.

Ry—she’d introduced herself as Ryleigh, Ry to her friends, so she was alreadyRyto me even if we’d just met—rested a gentle hand at the small of my back, sending a rush of heat through my cock.

I repressed another groan.

“Is it getting to be too much?” she asked.

What was I supposed to say to that?

No, Ry, it’s you.Youare turning me on to the point of madness.Youare too much.Youare all too much and yet not enough.

“It can be a lot,” she said, stretching her arms overhead, the hem of her shirt riding up so I could see a strip of inked skin across the top of her skirt.

Fuck. I wanted to slide my hands across that patch of skin. To drag my tongue across it to see how she tasted.

I tore my eyes away before she caught me staring.

“I’m fine,” I lied, but it came out croaky, my throat tight.

She studied me, as if she was trying to peel back my lies.

Fuck. You can’t look at me like that, Ry. You’re going to make me crack and I’ll do something I’ll regret to my brother’s girlfriend.

“No shame in taking breaks,” she said.

I shook my head.

I grit my teeth and forced a smile.

“Really, I’m fine,” I said. “Keep going.”

A tendril of her long black hair slipped across my skin as she leaned over me. It felt like a feather’s touch but it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

“You’re tensing up though.” She ran her fingertips over the muscles along my back as if to make a point.

They were strained to the point of trembling. Her touch made me ache, made my cock throb painfully. I had to dig my fingernails into the leather to stop from grinding against the table.

Fuck. She was making it worse. Making it so fucking hard to hold myself back. And she had no fucking idea.

No fucking idea what her nearness did to me, the madness it infected me with. The way her touch made me want to wrap my fingers around her wrists. To leave my own hand-shaped mark on her covered throat.

Thank God I was handcuffed to this table. I may have grabbed her if I hadn’t been, pulled her down on top of me, forced my tongue into her mouth, ground my cock against her, sought out her nipple with my teeth.

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