Page 126 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, I’ll have you know––”

His fingers slide lower and dig into my butt as his cock stiffens against my stomach.

“You were saying?” he prods, his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“I was saying you should take me home now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, mimicking him from a few seconds ago.

With a low laugh, he lets me go and reaches for the vaseline, slathering it against my fresh tattoo, wrapping it in cellophane, and pointing to my shirt he’d neatly folded on the table where I’d been lying. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“And then?”

“We get some food. Watch a movie. Hang out with Peanut. And once she’s tucked in for the night, you climb on top of me, and I make you orgasm. Any other questions, babe?”

“Nope.” I smile sweetly and tug my shirt over my head. Once my face pops out the other side, I add, “I think that about covers it.”

32

Maddie

When I see a familiar figure trudging up the sidewalk to Etch ‘N ink with a car seat hanging from one arm, I catch myself grinning like a lunatic. I can’t help it. Ever since he gave me my first tattoo––hell, even before––things have been…perfect. Which is terrifying but pretty freaking amazing too.

With Penny’s diaper bag strung across his chest, Milo pushes open the glass door and greets me, “Hey, Mads.”

He and I have been alternating shifts at work every day, each of us taking turns watching Penny while the other is at the shop. And even though it kills me to be away from her, anytime I see them together, I feel like I could cry an ocean of happy tears.

I grin back at him and stand on my tiptoes, brushing my lips against his stubbled cheek. “Hey. How was she?”

“An angel, like always.” He sets the car seat at my feet. “Did you grab some more ointment for your tattoo? It was looking a little crusty––”

“Ew.” My nose wrinkles. “And yes. I took some more from your booth. How long does it take for these to heal, anyway?”

“Four to six months.”

“Four to six months?” I screech. “And it’s only been a week? Are you freaking kidding me?”

“Don’t worry. The outer layer of skin should heal up within two to three weeks. But you still need to keep up with the aftercare. We clear?”

“Yes, Mister Bossy Pants.”

His smile turns wicked as he pulls me into his chest and murmurs, “I like it when you call me––”

“You. Me. In the breakroom. Now,” Jos orders Milo when he sees us in the reception area, effectively interrupting our banter.

What the hell?

Milo hands me the diaper bag as he eyes his boss warily. “There a problem?”

“We need to talk.”

With a nod, Milo presses a quick kiss to my cheek and mutters, “I’ll call you later, yeah?”

Jos points his finger at me. “You. Stay. We’ll be out in a few.”

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