Page 85 of Strelitzias in Spring

“I can’t tattoo like this,” I complain, freaking out even more now that I can feel the obvious erection beneath me. How am I supposed to pay attention to what I’m doing if every time I shift my clit rubs against his dick?

“You had your chance to tattoo normally, but you’re being a wimp. All you have to do is trace the lines; it’s not like you’re performing brain surgery or rocket science.”

“Fine.” Sticking my tongue between my teeth, I bite down, concentrating on the instructions Wolf gave me on how to use the tattoo gun. He attached something to the gun called a trigger switch, making the foot pedal unnecessary for the application. “Okay, I’m doing it. Here it goes,” I narrate, lowering the gun to his chest. Before I even touch his skin, he yelps.

“Ow, fuck, shit.”

“What? Oh my God, what happened?” I rear back, hunting for the source of the pain. Wolf’s face cracks into the biggest, dumbest-looking grin. “God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You love me, princess. But sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He shrugs like he didn’t just take ten years off my life.

“Not funny. I hope this hurts.” Bringing the gun to his chest, I press lightly against his skin and begin tracing the small butterfly that rests over his left pectoral. The design is simple, nothing more than a few curves and lines, but I know that it means something. When he first told me that I was going to tattoo him, I balked and told him, under no uncertain terms, that it wasn’t happening. However, when he told me that he wanted a butterfly over his heart to symbolize me and our relationship, I couldn’t help but cave in.

“Is this even sanitary? I’m straddling you while I tattoo your skin.”

“Should I bury my dick inside you while you do it? Would that make you less anxious?” he asks.

Lifting the gun from his chest, I glare down at him. “Again, not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His hands move from my thighs to my ass, pressing me further against his erection. “Something about you with a tattoo gun is hot as fuck.”

Squirming on top of him, I suck in a breath as he rubs against my clit. “Let go of my ass, Wolf. I will transform this butterfly into a penis with wings if you don’t let me concentrate.”

“Fine,” he sulks, dropping his hands to his side while I finish the tattoo. Not even five minutes later, I pull back and set the tattoo gun on the tray table beside the chair.

“Okay, that’s the best it’s going to get,” I sigh, keeping my eyes trained on the shaky lines and imperfect curves of the butterfly. “You would have done better tattooing it yourself.”

“I don’t care what it looks like, just as long as I know you did it. You have my markings on your body, and I wanted something from you.” He reaches up, cupping my jaw in his hands. “I love you, princess. I don’t know how the fuck we got here, but we’re here. It’s you, me, and these tiny little butterflies, Serena.”

I don’t try to hold back the smile that tugs at my lips. We’ve been trading “I love yous” for the last month, and each time he says it, my heart swells. “I love you, too,” I respond, pecking him on the lips. “Now, is it my turn for a tattoo? I think I’m owed something after this traumatic session.”

His hands clamp down on my ass, squeezing hard before pulling me forward. Capturing my lips in a hard kiss, he lines the seam of my lips with his tongue before working it inside my mouth. Licking into me, I shift against him, grinding into his erection before he wrenches his mouth from mine, breathing heavily.

“You’re a pain in my damn ass, princess.”

38

Bonus Epilogue

Lincoln

I don’t want to be here, staring at happy-as-fuck couples in our backyard while I try to pretend like everything is okay.

Of course it’s not okay; Seraphina brought Mitch the Dick to this party, despite crying to me on the phone for months, telling me how much she hates him. We became friends the first night we met, almost a year ago, and have spent hours on the phone like fucking saps talking about our problems, our dreams, our fucking hopes. She confided in me everything that Mitchell had done to her: the emotional abuse, the total disregard for her feelings, the callous way he’s treated her. It’s pathetic, it’s juvenile, and it’s disgusting.

I made her swear that she wouldn’t get back with him, not necessarily because I wanted her for myself, but because no woman should be constantly belittled. I’m not blind; she’s stunning, with her dark hazel eyes and long brown hair, but she’s about to start her freshman year, while I’m graduating in the fall. I’m not looking for anything, yet I can’t deny the ache in my chest each time I look over at Sera perched in Mitch the Dick’s lap.

Sure, he’s not a bad-looking guy, but he’s a goddamn snake. I see the way he clutches her thigh every time she speaks, the way he not-so-subtly corrects her when she doesn’t agree with what he’s saying. He’s a controlling asshole at eighteen, and I can’t imagine how much worse he’ll be the older he gets.

Focusing back on the conversation in front of me, I hear Sera’s soft, lyrical voice explain, “I don’t think I’m going to do the summer experiential education program. I’d like to work in the library for a few more months while I’m home instead of spending the summer at a camp in Pennsylvania with people from high school I don’t want to see anymore.”

“No, Fin, we’re doing the camp. My parents got us a cabin with Rich and Cory, remember?”

Her name is Seraphina, so just the fact that he’s shortening it to “Fin” pisses me off. I watch Sera wince as she turns to Mitch. “I already accepted the position at the library.”

“You’ll have to tell them you can’t do it then.”

“No, I—”

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