Page 54 of Wretched Soul
“For you, Lily.”
When I’d gone with Reid to the tattoo artist in Las Vegas, I might have been more than a little drunk, but I already knew what I wanted. The alcohol just made it easier to decide to place it where it felt right. And I don’t regret it.
A laugh tickles her throat. “Hold on,” she says, tracing the stem of the flower. “Lilies don’t have thorns.”
I hook my finger under her chin and lift her gaze back to mine. “This one does. I think today proved that.”
Her lips roll inward as she fights the smile. She shakes her head. “If you’re trying to distract me from my task, it won’t work,” she says as her hands reach for my belt buckle. When she looks down, she glances at the lily again and swallows hard. “I love… it.”
She unbuckles my belt, but then her hands move lower and she traces the contours of my erection. Her soft touch isn’t nearly enough. I want her gripping my cock, and I have to resist the urge to take over. My girl needs to take back some control after what I did today, and I’m going to give her that even if it kills me.
I tip back my head and clench my jaw to tamper down the groan as she pulls my belt through the loops of my jeans with a snap. The belt drops to the floor with a loud clatter.
“You could help by kicking off your boots,” she suggests while she tugs down my zipper.
I hook the toe of one boot against the heel of the other, and as my foot slips free, I kick it into the air. The other boot follows just as Lily pulls my jeans down over my thighs. She drops to her knees and even as I’m contemplating grabbing her by her ponytail again, she looks up at me.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” she says, reading my mind. “You’re not even close to deserving your prize yet.”
My jeans are at my ankles and she helps me step out of them. Then she’s tugging at my socks.
“I was hoping the tattoo might have softened those barbs of yours,” I say.
She rises up on her knees and her fingers hook inside the waistband of my only remaining item of clothing. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m still feeling very thorny.”
I manage to cover my laugh with a cough, but it’s raw need I choke on when she sets my cock free and my boxers drop to my ankles. I can feel her warm breath as she brings her mouth closer. And then she fucking blows on the beads of precum.
“Jesus, Lily,” I hiss, but as my hips thrust forward, she pulls back.
I kick off my boxers as she rises to her feet. In all my fantasies, I’ve never pictured Lily standing in front of me fully clothed while she inspects my naked body, but it’s one I’m going to replay over and over again.
Chapter 17
Lily
Ihave to remind myself that I’m still mad at Shade as I trail my hand over his bare chest. His rigid cock presses against my stomach as I lean forward and my lips graze the inked outline of a lily. His skin is rough where it’s still healing. He permanently marked his skin for me, and not just anywhere, but over his heart. How the hell am I supposed to process that after what’s just happened?
I lift my gaze and Shade’s deep green eyes snare me, drawing me closer. The moment my chest presses against his, he seizes on my weakness. He grabs my ponytail as he brings his lips to mine, but his attempt to regain control fails when I cover his mouth with my hand.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “You still need time to think about what you did today. Now, let go of my hair and let me do my thing.”
When I uncover his mouth, his lips quirk. “Your thing?”
I keep my features neutral, giving nothing away, which is something I’ve learned from him.
Shade bites his lower lip hard enough to turn it white, but then he sighs. His hand drops back down to his side.
“Good b…” I press my lips together, preparing to form the letter B, but Shade’s eyebrows shoot up.
“You dare say it, and I might have to bend you over that table and show you there’s nothing good about thisboy.”
I refuse to look over at the rustic-looking kitchen table, or imagine being fucked over it. Instead, I sigh casually, like my panties aren’t already soaked through, and step away. As I begin to circle Shade, my hand trails over the tattoo of the eagle’s head peaking over his right shoulder.
Shade’s neck muscles tense beneath my touch as I follow the bird’s beautifully inked talons that look as if they’re digging into his shoulder. Its wings spread out across his right arm and shoulder blade. My brow furrows when I get my first view of his back. Instead of the eagle’s tail I’m expecting, the mythical creature has the body of a furred beast with a lion’s back paws and tail.
My fingers travel to his other shoulder and the tattoo of a medieval weapon. The metal club has an elaborate head with lethal spikes.
I rest my hands on each of Shade’s shoulder blade. “A mace, and a griffin,” I whisper, transfixed by the images. “Why?”
