Page 45 of Devilish Ink

I moaned and bucked and he remained still, his pupils blown wide, as he watched me fall off the edge.

The orgasm hit me like a battering ram, electricity crackling across every inch of my skin in waves. I swallowed a scream, my head falling against his neck as my body trembled, the last of the waves fading out of me.

Only then did he let go of my wrists and brush the hair away from my damp forehead. He pulled his fingers from me and rearranged my panties before pulling them away.

I felt the loss of them instantly.

“Perfect,” he whispered before putting both of his fingers into his mouth and sucking off my juices.

Oh my God, what the fuck was he doing?

Shame coated my cheeks.

But his eyelashes fluttered with pleasure and he let out a low appreciative rumble. “One taste isn’t going to be enough.”

He yanked my stool forward and I let out a yelp.

His lips were at my ear when he growled, “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

I shivered, the ache already building up in my core. How could I want him again so soon after coming?

This…never happened.

He pulled back, shifting to readjust his thick bulge. “I finished you…now finish me.”

Right. This is when he expected me to suck him off or jerk him—

He grabbed the tattoo gun from my tray station and placed it into my hands before settling back into the chair.

For a second my mind short-circuited. “You mean, finish your…tattoo?”

The side of his lips twitched up. “Yeah. What did you think I meant?”

No, no man evergaveme pleasure without demanding the same in return.

Surely, he was just pretending to be a generous lover.

But he just lay there, his erection just as hard and present.

“But…” I waved at his bulge with my gun. “But you’re….”

“Hard?” he offered.

“Yes,” I blurted. “Don’t you want to…”

“Come?” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

My cheeks burned. “Yeah.”

He must be dying to come.

To my utter surprise he shook his head. “Not until you trust me.”

It wasn’t my intention to tattoo the couple naked. I’d worked on a sketch earlier that day and the man and woman had been swathed in clothes, a plaid skirt for her, a red flannel shirt for him.

Had I lost myself so completely in my work that I’d accidentally tattooed them naked? Was my desire that overwhelming?

The idea frightened me even as it thrilled me.

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