“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely, baby.” I cup her hand and entwine our fingers, and she gives a delicate squeeze.
“I have something to ask you.”
I swallow, the food in my stomach like concrete. “What’s that?”
“Will you give me my first tattoo?”
A person’s first tattoo is the cherry-taker. It’s taking a pristine canvas and making decorating it.
“What are you thinking?” I’ll need to know that first. I’m good, but there are others who are better at certain things and I only want the best on my baby. I rock a hand on her back.
“I…I drew something.”
“Do you have it with you?”
She pulls out her phone and opens it. And staring me back is a simple rose between two entwined hearts.
“That’s Jess’s birth flower in the middle.”
“And the two hearts?”
“Me and you making something special.”
It is special and it’s definitely something in my wheelhouse. I really don’t want anyone looking at her body and I know where I want to put it down, but it’s up to her.
“Where do you want it?”
Her chest rises and falls quickly and I know how that sounded.
I clear my throat as her eyes hood. This session is going to get interesting. I look at my clock. The design should take about forty minutes giving us about thirty left before we have to be back.
What can we do in thirty minutes? Twice.
9
Jolie
I’m on my stomach with my shirt off. My hands above my head my breasts creating bubbles to my sides. Kash has been the consummate professional. The tattoo is on my upper shoulder. I’ll see it when I want to, but it won’t be visible all the time. The first needs to be just for me…and him.
I have to admit, it’s not as bad as I thought, but it takes a while to get used to that incessant hum.
“Do you start to drown out that humming of the machine?” I ask.
He finishes up a line and pull off, wiping away excess ink. “Actually, lately it’s kind of been irritating me.”
“Why’s that?”
“I think there’s been something bothering me and the sound just exacerbated it.”
I turn my head to see him. “And what’s bothering you?”
“I’d found something that was different and I didn’t act on it. I’m not that guy. When I want something I go for it.”
I sigh and whisper. “I hope so.”
He returns to the design and in what feels like a few minutes he stands up and looks at it from a different angle, shading more and developing the depth, at least that’s what he says.
I just lay there and enjoy the moment. Even with the gloves on, I can feel the warmth of his hands. I can sense how much care he’s taking.
“Umm…do you ever get turned on when you’re doing a tattoo?” I ask and he chuckles.
“I’m a man, Jolie. There’s places I’ve tattooed that leave nothing to the imagination.”
“Like?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“No, I think I do. I want to be able to understand what you do and what it means to you and what it does to you.”
His face nears mine and the machine stops. “Here’s the deal. Yes, occasionally I have an attractive woman under my hand and my body has a reaction, but baby, it’s only primal. It’s nothing but a fleeting thought.”
“And none of the women have tried to take things farther?”
He starts cleaning up and my exposed upper body feels as the time lingers.
“Kash?”
He turns around, wiping off his hands. Squatting in front of my face so we’re eye-to-eye, his face is stoic.
“They’ve tried. None succeeded.”
“None?” I asks with a healthy ounce of skepticism. “I mean, look at you…and I’m sure those women weren’t bad to look at.”
“You’d be amazed how a bad personality can change the shape of a face and body, Jolie. And how an amazing personality an only emphasize the curves of a great one. Like you. When you sat next to me in that bar, did I know I wanted you from the start…hell, yes. But did you convince me that I wanted you forever…fuck, yes, baby.”
“Are we alone?” I ask.
That cocky, one side-lifted smile rises as his right eyebrow cocks with intrigue. “Why?”
“I’m thinking that we should christen this bench in.”
“Are you okay to do that?”
I remember back to how he filled me and a long shiver runs my spine, ricocheting off my skull and zipping back down to my pussy. “Go slow.”
“Oh, baby, I’m going to take my time. You deserve every second to be all about you.”
I roll over and his eyes caress my skin. The browns in that hazel melt to gooey centers. He licks his lips and when his eyes get to the top of my shorts, I can see him mentally undressing me, but why remember when it’s in the flesh.
I slip the shorts down my legs.
“Fuck, babe, commando?”
“I left so quickly, I’m out of clean underwear, so I figured…”
His gaze meets mine. “If I told you every day for the rest of our lives that you’re more beautiful than the day before, I’d be grossly understating the truth.”
I reach out and work his belt buckle on his jeans. They slip over his hips and round ass. He’s already growing and I need to see him. I reach into those boxer briefs and lift his cock over the edge as he pulses in my hand.
“Fuck…been a few months.”
I whimper as my body tightens, winding the spool of ecstasy. When I let go, this will be the big bang. But not yet.
I stroke him as his hands search my body. His lips following in their path. Inch by inch he works his way from my neck down. Sliding over my nipples, stopping to flick his tongue against the peaked nubs, and then continuing on his quest for the gold. And I’m ready for him to find the treasure.
His hand gets there first and I writhe as he’s gentle. Caressing me with long strokes.
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, fuck yes.”
He rubs over my clit just a little harder, the pressure sending a cascade of precursor zips and zings through my cinched core. His finger slips inside of me as his mouth squares up with my clit.
I moan as his tongue licks along the pearl that holds the TNT of my body. He rubs my internal walls, finding just the places that make me gasp and pant faster, harder, shallower.
“Kash, I want you.” I try to keep my release at bay, but he doesn’t stop.
“Baby, I want to taste that sweet juice. Come for me, Jolie.”
I can’t stop it. He owns me. He owns my body, my soul, and my heart. And here on his sacred shrine, my body pulses with an energy only he can bring out of me. I cry out his name and then whimper through the echoing blasts of heat.
“Fuck,” he strokes himself, “That was beautiful.”
“I want to be on top so I can control things,” I tell him as he raises the head just a little and climbs on while I climb over him. I slip his T-shirt over his head and suckle at the nipple that he has pierced. The man decorates his body and the one tattoo that means the most to me is the one on his ribs that says “Trust”.