Page 17 of Christmas with Four Tattoo Artists

His words were my undoing. With a final, desperate cry, I released around him once more, my body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over me. I felt Finn tense beneath me a moment later, his own climax hitting him as he released. Our bodies trembled together, riding out the storm until we were both spent and breathless.

I laid my head on Finn’s chest as we recovered. He wrapped his arms around me, and for a moment it felt as if we were the only two people in the room. After a few moments we unraveled from each other and sat up on the couch. I was still flushed and high from the rush of the last climax, my body pleasantly tingling with the aftermath. I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, casually laying it across my body, much of my nakedness still exposed. My eyes met the intense gazes of Kai, Andrew and James, the silent promise of more in each one making my pulse quicken all over again.

James tossed me the half-empty whiskey bottle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You've earned it, darlin’," he drawled, a lazy smirk curling his lips.

I laughed, my hands slightly shaky as I accepted the bottle. The amber liquid was warm as it slid down my throat, the harsh bite of the alcohol a welcome contrast to the softness that had consumed me moments ago. I passed the bottle to Kai next, our fingers brushing in the exchange, the sensation hinting at what might be to come.

“What’s on your mind, gorgeous?” Kai asked before taking a pull of the whiskey.

I grinned. “Just thinking about how much fun that was…” I trailed off.

“But?” Kai asked, raising an eyebrow.

I chuckled, not even sure how to continue. My mind was alive with fantasies, all of them dirty, and all of them very, very greedy.

Chapter 7

Finn

Was I already addicted?

Every detail of our night together was etched into my brain; her soft gasps of pleasure, the sight of her flushed skin in the dim light, the sensation of her writhing beneath me. The taste of her mouth, intoxicatingly sweet with a touch of the whiskey we'd shared, still lingered on my tongue. Even the sound of her sharp intake of breath when I'd filled her for the first time echoed in my ears.

Remembering how responsive she'd been, how she'd met my every thrust with one of her own caused a rush of desire to wash over me, more potent than any I'd felt before. Her fire, her spirit, had sparked something in me I hadn't felt in a long time.

I couldn't shake the image of the satisfied smile painted across her face as she basked in the aftermath of our shared climax. Her tousled hair splayed out over her shoulders, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, her eyes shining with a lustful gleam that mirrored my own… every single moment was a memory to be savored. And I couldn’t get over the naughty grin that’d formed on her face whenever she’d caught the gazes of the guys during our fun. The woman loved being watched.

"Finn?”

The barista’s voice yanked me out of my daydreaming. I looked up to see her holding a steaming cup of coffee, her eyebrows raised in anticipation. I blinked, coming back to the present. The warm, inviting ambiance of the coffee shop was a stark contrast to the raw, unfiltered passion of my memories. The smell of freshly ground beans and the soft hum of conversation around me became a backdrop to the vivid recollection of sex with Julia.

Collecting my coffee, I settled into a high-top table, the hot ceramic warming my hands. I let out a deep, contented sigh. I hadn't been sure what to expect when we proposed the idea to Julia, but I'd be damned if she didn't blow away all of my expectations. If that night was any indication of what was to come, I was in for a wild, wonderful ride. The only question was when I would get to taste that intoxicating sweetness again. As I took a sip of my coffee, I couldn't help but smile. If it were up to me, it wouldn't be long.

Not long at all.

The guttural growl of a motorcycle cut through the quiet chatter of the coffee shop. My eyes remained on my cup, my mind still lost in thoughts of Julia, a smirk spread across my lips. I knew that sound well—the deep rumble of a custom Harley Davidson, as familiar as my own heartbeat. Andrew and his love for his bike were as legendary in our circles as our tattoo parlor.

The Harley was a gleaming beast of black and chrome, a true monster of a bike. Andrew had a penchant for the dramatic, and his motorcycle was no exception. It was custom-built to his specifications, aggressive and sleek, and it carried an air of authority that was as much a part of Andrew as his ink-covered skin.

A pair of softer engines followed close behind, no doubt Kai and James. Kai drove a matte-black Dodge Charger, an unapologetic muscle car, all horsepower and attitude. The low growl of its engine could get the adrenaline pumping in anyone, and Kai loved it.

James, on the other hand, favored the classic. His ride was a vintage Ford Mustang, cherry red and restored to its former glory. The car was a beauty, a testament to his love for the timeless.

The door to the coffee shop swung open abruptly, letting in a gust of cool December air. The three men made their entrance, an undeniable wave of energy radiating from them. Tattoos peeked out from beneath their leather jackets and shirts. Conversations dulled and attention shifted as they barreled through, their commanding presence swallowing up the small café.

The guys chuckled at the bemused looks on the barista’s faces as they grabbed their coffees, then made their way to my table. Their boots thumped rhythmically against the wooden floor, adding a bass line to the soft jazz playing in the background.

“Look at lover boy over here,” Kai started, slapping a hand onto my shoulder as he slid into the seat across from me. His silver-gray eyes were alive with amusement.

James chimed in next, a broad grin splitting his face, “Lover boy is an accurate description. Just look at the man, he’s fucking smitten.”

The words were spoken as a barb, but they carried the undertone of the kindhearted banter that went with our usual ball-busting.

I spoke as they dropped into their chairs. “Nah, it’s not so serious. You assholes are acting like I’m writing her love poetry or some shit. Not love, more like pure, unadulterated lust.”

A burst of laughter erupted from Andrew as he sipped his black coffee. He set his cup down, his laughter echoing around us. “Right. Just make sure you don’t get the two mixed up, Romeo.”

A lopsided smirk formed on my face as I took a satisfying sip from my own steaming cup of coffee.

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