Page 81 of Stella
“Duh.”
“Is this to impress the club?”
She narrows her eyes, looking immediately angry. “No! I got it because I love my club, and the MC has been a real family to me, my dad and my brother.”
“So you got inked?”
“I guess I did, yeah.”
I want to be furious with her, even though it’s her body and technically she can do what she wants to it. But this skull is fucking huge, taking up the entirety of her shoulders and most of her back. “You know what you’ve done?” I growl close to her ear.
She shivers. “W-what?”
“You’ve made it so I have to fucking stare at that damn skull tattoo while I take you from behind.”
Her breath hitches. “Oh.”
“Oh?” I reach around and spank her ass. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Her eyes burn with desire. “You could be a gentleman and put some salve on it after I shower.”
“Since when did I say I was a gentleman?”
“You didn’t.”
“The club doesn’t know, do they?”
She shrugs. “What’s it to you?”
A slow smile curves my lips. “Did you really not just do this just to prove your worth to Cash and the club?”
“I already told you that’s not it,” she huffs. “Don’t go getting all weird on me. It’s ink, you have plenty, so it’s double standardsto complain about mine.” She nods to my body, and I can’t deny it, but this? This is different. It’s the fucking club patch.
“When did you get it?”
“A week ago.”
I feel furious. Not that she got inked, or that it was during the week I was a complete dick, but because it’s that fucking club all over again. Here they are once more, reminding me how different we are, even when we’re naked.
“Are you really that pissed you get to look at it from behind?” she goes on when I scrub my face and don’t respond.
“You think I want the Rebels reminder every time I’m naked with you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,Detective,I didn’t agree to make this more than one night, if I recall that was you.”
I can’t help it, I run my hands over her ass cheeks, then gently encourage her into the shower touching her lower back.
“Wait, I want to tie my hair up,” she whines.Brat. “I don’t want to get it wet.”
I wait while she does just that, and now I get a birds eye view of that fucking thing glaring back at me.
“It’s fine to get it wet, just not saturate it,” I tell her. “I’ve done this a few times.”
She looks at me over her shoulder. “You’re mad about it, aren’t you?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t, but you’re the one as white as a sheet.”
