Page 23 of Pretty Evil

“Do you?”

“I said, what if?” I say with a roll of my eyes, and he grins.

“I can give you a rose anywhere you want.”

“How?”

My heart starts racing as he lifts my chin up and stares at me with a dark expression that causes ripples of pleasure to flood through my body.

“I can tattoo your skin. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“What now?” I’m shocked and he nods as he sits up and pulls me up with him.

“I have the equipment and often give my staff tattoos to pass a long flight. I could decorate your skin and make it a memorable experience.”

“You could?” I shake my head slowly. “How can I trust you not to make a mess of it?”

“You can’t.” He grins wickedly. “But you asked for a wild adventure and I’m offering you that.”

“Okay then.” My heart is racing as I agree to the most reckless thing I have ever done and that’s saying something, considering where I am now.

“Where do you want it?” He says over his shoulder as he moves from the bed and heads over to a cupboard.

“Where nobody will see it, of course. I’m not that stupid.”

He throws me a wicked grin and I can’t help returning it. Then he says, “Lie back.”

“You’re doing it here. Are you crazy?” I say in shock, and he shrugs.

“Of course. I have everything I need here, and so you may as well be comfortable.”

I am seriously wondering about my sanity as I lie naked on the stained sheets from the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done and prepare for the next one.

There is no time to change my mind as he advances with a box that resembles one a beautician would carry.

I watch as he sets his equipment up and sits beside me, an alcoholic wipe in hand and then drags his hand across my body and says huskily, “Where will it be?”

“On my ass. You appear to be interested in that, so why not there?”

His low chuckle makes me smile, and he nods.

“Turn over and don’t move.”

I do as he says and bury my face in the soft pillow, wondering if I should be admitted to an asylum. It appears that control and madness go hand in hand and I’m not sure which one of us is crazier.

I feel the wipe against my skin and prepare to regret my impetuousness as something drags lightly against my ass.

“I’m drawing your tattoo, tiger.”

“It had betternotbe a tiger, asshole.” I growl and he leans down and whispers, “No. I’ll be the one with the tiger tattoo by the end of this flight.”

It shocks me because, for some reason, that has touched me more than anything. Would he really do that? Ink a tiger on his skin to remind him of this.

I fall silent as he works and only when the whine of the needle permeates the air do I suffer a moment of anxiety.

“Relax little one. I’ll be gentle.” He reassures me but I cry out as he begins and grip the sheets in my fist as he drags the needle against the soft skin of my ass.

“Relax.” His hushed tones command me, and I try to think of anything else than what is happening now. I cry into the silk pillowcase, regretting my impetuousness and then, as the pain subsides, he drops a soft kiss on my ass, causing me to freeze immediately.

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