Page 113 of Show Me How
“Got a distraction right here if it starts to,” I muse.
“You’ll distract me more than yourself. Then, you’ll really wind up with a botched tattoo.”
“Is that what I’m doing, Millie?”
She stretches to the side and pokes the needle into the ink before returning it to my chest. “Wasn’t that your plan?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m working.”
My chuckle is deep and loud. “Multitask, then.”
She scoots further up my lap then, the needle hovering over my chest as she looks at me. There’s heat in her gaze, a vibrant want that she’s trying to trap behind blunt words. I feel it too, though. Feel it so intensely that I’m wondering how easy it would be to pull my dick out of my jeans and push her panties aside long enough to get a single inch inside of her.
“Careful,” I warn roughly.
The quirk of her lips is anything but.
33
MILLIE
My movements are automatic.Comforting, almost, despite how new they are.
The feel of the vibrating machine in my hands freaked me out at first, but with every stroke of it along Shade’s skin, I grow more comfortable with it. My work is terrible despite the movements becoming easier. The lines are crooked, and the curves are slightly squiggled.
I stare at the black portion of the design and focus on not jerking my hips forward hard enough that I send the needle piercing through his chest. The tension radiating off him is doing more to distract me than his handful of my backside or the steady stroke of his thumb over my bare stomach. I’m too few moments away from discarding the tattoo gun and begging to mark him in an entirely different way.
“Millie,” he says, my name sounding like a curse.
What I want to say is already twirling around my tongue, tasting like a bad decision. If I let myself speak, it’ll escape, and I don’t see how we could ever move past it. He’d either reject me outright or accept me and then regret it after.
I keep it to myself and start on another section of the design. The chunky letters are the easiest part to tattoo. I’ve avoided the pool of ink, knowing that’s going to be the hardest.
His large hand follows the upward curve of my ass until he can stick his fingers beneath the string of my thong and loop it around one of them. I hardly get the needle off his skin before bucking forward, my other gloved hand smearing the excess ink on his chest.
“Bryce told me something a few weeks ago,” I ramble, breathless.
He loosens his pull on the string but doesn’t release it. “What’s that?”
“She said some people get turned on while getting tattoos. And that I should ask you about that.”
“Fucking Bryce.”
“It’s true, then?”
Because I’m not the one getting a tattoo right now, but I’m having a hard time not thinking about the tightness between my legs. And if the colour to his throat and the rigid feeling of his thighs beneath me isn’t a betrayal of him feeling the same way . . .
“How badly I want you right now has nothing to do with the tattoo you’re giving me, but yeah, it’s true.”
“How badly is that?” I whisper, holding the tattoo machine like I’m one moment from chucking it across the studio.
His eyes tighten at the corners, head shaking in refusal. “Finish the tattoo, Millie. Before I don’t let you.”
“Just answer my question,” I plead, my pulse skipping too many times. “Please.”
The way he’s touching me changes then. Caution turns to possession, making my arousal flame higher, singeing the both of us. I let a moan slip free when he follows the band of my thong to the front and dips below it, into the gusset. He finds how badly I want him and leans his forehead against my chest, cursing.
