He nodded and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips. It was a whisper of an angel's kiss that made my body hum. What made me hum more was when he pulled back and then he turned me around.
"Hold onto the podium." With the press of another button, the podium went flat, wider, and longer, and Bridge said, "All right, grip the edge."
I reached for it, realizing it put me bent over for his viewing pleasure with my arse in the air.
"I do like this view."
"What is this for anyway?"
"You know we all get tattoos stamped on our lower backs when we're initiated."
I lifted my head. "No way."
He laughed. "No, no way. We get tattoos under our rings, so even if someone should attempt to steal one from us, we are always branded as Elite men."
I frowned at that. "Wait, rings?"
He waved his right hand. "My ring."
I frowned. Sure enough, he wore a signet ring on his thumb. "Why have I never noticed that?"
"It's no big deal. I just always wear it."
"Can I see?"
He nodded and rotated the ring until it slid off. Underneath was a tattoo wound all the way around his thumb.
"Toby didn't have one of these."
He nodded. "Yeah. Toby died before he was inducted. So no tattoo, no ring. But his ring was given to your father. It stays in the family."
"Of course it does. Why would it come to me or my mother? It just went to the man who barely saw him."
"I'm sorry, Ems."
I shook my head. Shaking it off. That's not what I wanted to dwell on. "Okay, so you get the tattoo. Here?"
He nodded then pressed another couple of buttons on the side of the podium. Something else rose from the platform. It looked like a small, miniature table, really about the size of a bowl in circumference. But inside were what looked to be a tattoo gun, ink, and oil. "Oh, what is that?"
"The oil is for anyone whose tattoos are fading. Usually, the older members who are inducted into one of the higher levels or have demonstrated great service to the Elite will get a second tattoo or get more ink added to their original tattoo because they're usually faded. The oil is to protect that over the years. And petroleum jelly, of course, for the new tattoo applications."
"This is fascinating. Who does the tattoos?"
"It was Drew's father for a while. Since then it's been different people. And now when we have an initiation, Drew does it."
"Oh, wow. That sounds like it's a big deal."
He shrugged. "It can be. If you take it seriously. But for us at this point, I don't know what we think."
"Ah, the hive mind."
As he slid me down his body. I leaned up and kissed his lips. "So, where are you going to tattoo me?"
"Where would you like your mark?"
I grinned. "My skin is perfection already. I don't need artistic adornment."
He chuckled. "You're afraid of the tattoo?"
"Needles hurt. I have a thing about needles."
He laughed. "Aw, I can give you a little heart. Maybe a little tramp stamp on your lower back?"
"No. It'd be much funnier if you had one. Oh, oh, what about the ones that used to be so popular? Remember the sundial around the belly button? I wonder how those aged."
Bridge snarfed.
I traced a hand over the podium again and leaned over. "All right, do your worst, Mr. Edgerton."
He ran a hand down my back. "Ems, you're teasing a starving man."
"You are hardly starving. Didn't we shag this morning?"
"It's been all day. And it's been a hell of a day. Let's go upstairs."
I shook my head. "No, here. Because I want you to sit in this room next time and think of me bent over like this. Every time someone gets up on this podium, I want you to have this visual."
He leaned forward and kissed the nape of my neck. "You really want to make it impossible for me to concentrate in another meeting again, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. Is that so wrong?"
He laughed at that. "You are a handful."
"You are not the first person to ever tell me that."
I wiggled my ass, and his hands slid over my skirt. "So, what? You want this memory imprinted on me don't you?" His laugh was a deep rumble, and he kissed the nape of my neck again, adding a little nip this time.
"Bridge."
"You, woman, are going to be the death of me."
As he pulled back, I stood up and turned around, grabbing onto his shirt. "That's the plan."
I kissed him deeply as our tongues fused and danced and played, and I could feel his resistance melting. I could feel him giving himself over to the idea. The tension easing out of him and the need in him rising. Especially as the length of his erection pressed up against my belly. He picked me up easily and placed me onto the podium. "Why are you so dangerous?"
"I don't know. You love me either way."
"You are right."
We kissed like that for a long time with me now in a better position for his cock to slide against me. My skirt was a leather, A-line pleated number I’d paired with blue thigh-high stockings and a blue jumper. The stockings were a thicker fabric, and they'd been perfect to walk around in because I didn't feel cold in the stone rooms. He parted my thighs and he stepped between them, deepening the kiss and growling slightly when I whimpered. "Ems. You really want to do this?"
"Oh, I really want to do this."
I reached for his belt, making quick work of it and his zipper. When I pulled out the thick length of his erection, he hissed at the contact with my fingers. "Fuck."
"Mm-hmm," was all I could mutter as my hand glided over the steely satin-covered softness.
"Fuck. Oh Jesus, Emma."
I murmured. "Yeah. You like how that feels?"
His hands tightened on my waist. "You know I fucking do."
"I like how it feels too."
I could almost feel the exact moment when careful, calculated Bridge let go, and my husband took over.
I liked to differentiate between their personalities. Careful, calculated Bridge was the Bridge who was always thinking ahead, weighing the consequences. My husband was the one who took over when he was tired of being in control all the time. The one who let me in. The one who had his walls down.
His hands slid up over my thighs and under my skirt. "You naughty thing. Are you wearing knickers under here?"
I shrugged. "You'll have to reach higher and find out."
As it turned out, I was. He grumbled when he felt the satin of them. But that wasn't a deterrent because he hooked a thumb under the elastic and shifted it aside, and I brought the tip of his engorged cock straight to my folds. We both moaned at the contact, and he took over sliding the length of his erection against my wetness. Fisting his cock at the base, he stroked it over me. "You are so wet."
"Am I?"
"You have been thinking about this for a very long time, you naughty thing."
"Yep, that means I should probably get punished."
He chuckled darkly. "My, my. I'm starting to think you like the little swats on your behind."