Page 83 of Addicted Lies

When we arrive at my place, I notice the small smirk on her face as she looks at the front lawn. When I open the door, she immediately explodes with excitement when she sees Felix, and for once, I’m grateful for the little fucker who has brightened her mood.

My impatience grows, though, as she fawns over Felix, but I focus on the fact that she’s here at all. I finally have her back in my home, where she belongs.

Eventually, she looks up at me. Those beautiful blue eyes striking against the honey color of her hair. It’s so strange that I feel like she’s the color in my life. And having her not be in it for so long seemed to drain everything from me. “What did you want to show me?”

“Come with me.” I lead her into the back room where I do my tattoos and start setting everything up. She looks confused, and I ask her to sit in the spot that I’d usually take.

“Why?”

“I want you to tattoo me. I can’t reach.”

“Can’t reach?” she asks. “You want me to tattoo you? That’s not my job. I don’t know what to do. What if I fuck it up?”

“You’re more than likely going to fuck it up,” I smirk but grab her by her hand and gently pull her in. “I’ll show you,” I tell her. I explain how the gun works, how to use the ink, and how to clean my skin, and she listens and takes it all in. She doesn’t ask any questions, but I always knew she was a quick learner.

She pauses as she’s putting on a pair of gloves when she notices me removing my pants.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I can’t reach.” I lie on my stomach on the bed in nothing but a shirt. She’s watching my every move, gripping the tattoo gun tightly, hyperawareness fueling the both of us. I want to rip her clothes off, but I expend what little restraint I have because I want her to permanently mark me first.

Whether she’ll have me or not, I want to always have her markings on my skin.

“What am I doing?” she asks breathlessly, apparently still in disbelief that she agreed to this. Not that I gave her much choice.

I motion to my ass. “I want the exact same one as yours.”

“My heart?”

“Yes.”

She bites her bottom lip. “What if it’s bad?”

“What if it’s great?” I counter. “Besides, it’s on my ass. Even if you fuck it up, I’m not wearing any bikinis anytime soon, so no one else will see it.” I wink, and she laughs, the sound of it drawing away any tension I was holding on to.

Her eyes narrow, as if she’s suddenly serious about the task at hand. It’s the same expression she showed when learning new songs on the piano or when her mother would teach her new recipes. I’ve been silently watching her whenever I could ever since I met her. I was just in denial from the start, but not anymore. I couldn’t deny it anymore if I tried.

Lying here, I try to tell myself that she’s an ugly duckling so my cock doesn’t get hard as I watch her. But it doesn’t work because I know she’s the most beautiful girl in the fucking world, and her hands are about to be on my ass.

“Any second thoughts?” she asks, looking at my ass.

“Not about this,” I reply, then instruct her how to start.

She nods and bites her lip as she listens, then she leans forward. I lie there, completely captivated. I can see her hands are shaking, but she quickly gets the hang of it. When I tell her to add a little bit more pressure, she does. And by the time she’s done with the first half, I barely have to guide her at all.

The minute the tattoo is completed, she puts the gun down and takes off the gloves. Then she studies her handiwork with a small smile, seemingly satisfied.

“It’s actually not bad,” she says, meeting my gaze.

I get up from the bed, go to the mirror, and have a look myself. She’s actually did a pretty good job. When I turn back around, my focus locks on her face. She’s no longer looking at the ink on my ass. Her gaze is trained on my cock, pressing against my boxers. It twitches as if aware of her attention.

Her blue eyes meet mine again, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful—my girl smiling up at me, cheeks flushed with pride and gaze filled with desire.

But what hits me the hardest is the fact that this house doesn’t feel like a home without her in it.

And my heart—not to mention my cock—is led by the leash she’s put on me. I’m insatiable when it comes to her, but not just for her body; I need all of her all the time. And I’m starved when she’s not near.

CHAPTER 39

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