Page 61 of Give Me What I Want

I was on the inside. I was safe.

Straightening up and pushing down my shorts, I slipped on another condom, something I always had handy, spread her legs wide, and sank into her. She didn’t need any warming up, and that fact alone excited me even more. She wanted me, and as long as she felt that way, I’d never be pushed aside.

She could keep ‘dating’ Ro, and she could keep fucking the other guys, because it might be wrong, but if we worked together, kept it secret, she would never leave us. The rest of them thought that this brought them closer together. They were right, in a way that they didn’t really seem to realise. It gave us all a deep connection, one that solidified our group. United us.

The outside world would never know what we did. We could protect Beatrix from judgement, and she could hold us all together.

I continued to fuck her up on the kitchen counter, her head pressed against the cupboard above as I pounded into her, not caring that the other guys were only a few feet away watching a new series on the huge TV.

She bucked her hips, and for a moment, guilt struck a sharp chord. I missed a stoke, but the feeling passed before I could even consider pulling out, and then her nails dug into my ass cheeks, her pussy gripped my cock, and when I came, burying my head between her tits, I felt like I was king of the fucking world.

Hours later Ronan had his arm slung over Bea’s shoulders as we walked the streets of Zurich, making our way to the private tattoo studio that had come so highly recommended. Bea had made a call while we were eating lunch. Her impulsive nature was something that I had mixed feelings about, sometimes her choices were awesome, and sometimes they were bloody awful.

This one though was fucking fantastic. She had declared that she had an itch that needed to be scratched as we had sat down after cleaning up, and of course, Cole had made a crude joke about using his dick to help her out. She batted his arm playfully, then went on, complaining that it had been too long since her last tattoo, and that she had this gap between two pieces on her thigh that she wanted filled. Once again, Cole made a joke. Then Ro had piped up, saying that he wanted something too, as did Mav, and before we knew it, we were all agreeing to get our first piece of matching ink.

She had managed to convince the dude to go in on his day off, and he was waiting for us outside when we arrived, a vape in hand, a bottle of water in the other.

“How’s it going?” he asked as he showed us up a flight of stairs and into a bright, airy room that had a handful of couches set up and insane art hung on the walls.

“Pretty fucking good,” Ro declared as he made himself comfortable on a small sofa, gesturing for Bea to take the black, cling-wrapped couch. “Thanks for coming in, I’m sure you have other shit to do this afternoon.”

“Actually,” the guy—Zander—said cooly, “I was just chilling until the show tonight.”

“The show?” I asked, moving to one of the walls to inspect the artwork on it. An impressive hand-drawn collage of dead celebrities.

“Yeah, you know, if you wanted to thank me properly for this you could let me and my buddies come backstage later?” I turned to face him, realising that when he had said show, he meant ours.

Ro laughed. “Bro, like you even have to ask.”

Zander’s face lit up, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m gonna tell the guys, they won’t believe that we’re gonna meet One Last Time.”

My stomach dropped, and I opened my mouth to complain but Bea shot me a hard glare across the room, bringing the rant that was sitting on the tip of my tongue to a halt. The words died away, leaving a bad taste in my mouth, and I swallowed hard as I glared back at her for long enough to feel a weird pang of guilt, again.

“If we knew you were an OLT fan, we’d have dragged them here with us,” Mav said, defusing the tension in the room. Luckily, Zander didn’t seem to have even noticed the way that Bea and I were staring at each other. He brushed Mav off with a cool ‘It’s all good, man’, and grabbed a tablet, spinning the screen to face us as he showed off the design he had thrown together.

“I love it,” Bea exclaimed, bouncing on the couch. “You are amazing, Zander. Guys…” She looked around at us all. “What do you think?”

The design was perfect. Exactly what she had asked for, and I had to admit that I was feeling pretty excited to get it on my skin. It was simple, something I’d have never actually chosen if I had been on the spot trying to come up with something. A heart, a banner through the middle with Deity scrolled across it in our familiar brand of gothic lettering. The banner was imperfect, made to look battered and torn. It felt symbolic of the struggle to make it to the top.

I loved it, and I knew exactly where I wanted it.

Bea had hers inked in the bend of the hourglass that sat on her thigh, the curves of the heart sitting so perfectly alongside it. Mav and Cole both had theirs a little larger and in the same location on their calves, Cole opted for black and grey to match everything he already had, as Mav requested colour. Ro went smaller, nestling it behind his ear, making the job so much harder for Zander—not that he minded.

Then it was my turn. I sat on the couch and chewed my lower lip as I decided where to place it. Bea had suggested my hand. It would fit perfectly beside the rose I already had covering the outer half of my hand, and the arches of the heart would follow the webbing between my thumb and finger.

Decided, I let Zander put on the stencil, then admired it as he set up fresh inks and needles. Staring at the word, the five letters that meant the world to me, I smiled and felt a twitch below my waist as I considered how it would look wrapped around someone’s throat.

Bea’s throat.

My mouth went dry, my skin chilled, and I dropped my hand, placing it on the armrest, ready for Zander to make the first line. And as he leaned in, focused eyes lasered on my hand, I closed mine. Squeezing my eyes tight shut, blocking out the outside world as that guilt struck me deep again, and the needle dragged.

Fuck.

17

Something felt really off, and it was pissing me off that I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I had this constant feeling of dread, like something awful was coming, but for the life of me, I couldn’t see where it was coming from.

“Ro-bear, you’re doing it again,” Bea complained as I paced the length of the bus, her voice hoarse as she whined. “Eugh, listen to me, that’s awful.”

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