Serious Ink (10 page)

They weren’t on a streetside this time; though the apartment’s windows were curtainless, the blinds were tightly shut, granting them total privacy. She pressed her body to the front of his, reveling in the feel of muscle and heat against her hips, belly and breasts, exactly the degree of firmness she’d imagined.

Also firm was the hard rod of his cock, already stiff, an unmistakable presence between their bodies. The feel of it sent a thrill through her – one that made everything inside her draw up tight as heat flared between her thighs. She wasn’t surprised; Noah was the type of man who inspired fantasies simply by walking into a room. He had that look, that presence, and she’d noticed it immediately, as nearly any woman would have, but since then he’d shown her other, even more attractive aspects of himself.

Not that she didn’t appreciate his physical attributes. God, did she. He felt good against her, and her scalp prickled beneath his palm as he cradled her skull, slipping his tongue into her mouth and kissing her more deeply than he had on the streetside.

She kissed him back, letting her tongue tangle with his. Her heart beat so hard that she could feel her pulse radiating throughout her body, and each beat seemed to push them a little closer. Already, they were so close that even the smallest of movements – her every breath – created friction between their bodies, making her hyper-aware of his erection between them. It seemed to swell further as the tide of lust rose high inside her, and her pussy dampened as she imagined slipping her hands beneath his t-shirt and jeans, feeling him skin-to-skin.

He flexed his hips, reinforcing her fantasy as his shaft rocked a little higher up her belly, sending ripples of anticipatory pleasure through her core. Longingly, she thought of the large bed in the first bedroom.

Maybe he’d read her mind. Raising his mouth from hers but maintaining his hold on her hair, he broke off their kiss.

Before she could say a word, he ran the hand that had been resting on her waist up the side of her body, sending her breath rushing past her lips as he caressed one of her breasts.

She was fully dressed, but it felt amazing. Beneath the cover of her jacket, shirt and bra, both her nipples went hard. Why hadn’t she at least taken her jacket off? She was too hot for it, both temperature-wise and figuratively. If being touched by him felt this good with so much on, she could only imagine what it would be like with nothing between them.

As a fresh rush of desire filled her, she eyed the arms that held her, letting her gaze travel slow and admiringly over the swirls of ink, the bulges of muscle. Today was the first time she’d seen so much of his arms – the first time she’d seen him in as little as a t-shirt. This was still so new – they were so new
together
. That in and of itself was exhilarating, but as he removed his hand from her breast and wrapped her in what could only be described as an embrace, she couldn’t see growing tired of him, even if it turned out he was a slob, or a slacker when it came to dishes.

As she breathed in his scent and basked in his body heat, it was hard to imagine that the days she’d spend living under the same roof as him would be anything less than thrilling.

Besides, she really was a shower-hog – or so Paul had always claimed, anyway – so she could overlook a few possible faults in her new roommate. After all, he had plenty of good attributes.

His hold on her tightened, and she felt the muscles in his body shift as he looked away, toward the bedroom. They were mere feet from it – from the bed – and she could feel the temptation pulling at him just like it pulled at her.

Neither one of them resisted. The apartment was so empty; no obstacles stood in their way. One minute they were in the hall and the next they were sinking down onto the mattress, still half holding each other, lips slipping together again.

When the kiss ended, she finally unzipped her jacket, tossing it aside, tired of the heavy layer between them. After that, she did what she’d been longing to do – slipped her hands beneath his t-shirt, letting her fingers slide against ridged muscle and her palms rest on hot skin.

He pulled the shirt over his head, revealing everything.

He was just as heavily tattooed as she’d imagined. More so, even. Ink swirled all over his chest, forming images and words that flowed together perfectly. The ink below his collarbones stood out most boldly, black script that spelled out
here today gone tomorrow
. She traced the words just for the pleasure of touching him there.

Beneath the script, his torso was one huge, rippling canvas for a single tattoo. A phoenix. The bird soared across his chest, rising from ashes, wings spread, their tips extending across his shoulders. It was beautiful, the design brilliant despite the fact that it had been done without color, all in black and grey. Somehow, that made the bold imagery even more striking.

His body tensed beneath her touch, muscles going taut. He was in great shape – all lean muscle, inked all over. He could’ve easily been a model on one of Hot Ink’s front window posters. But which tattoo had Jed done for him? Not the phoenix, obviously – that was clearly healed, and had to have taken much more than a single session to complete. One of the smaller pieces on his arms, then.

 “Which one of these tattoos is new?” she asked, looking for the telltale signs of healing ink among the other designs that must’ve taken him years to accumulate.

Noah touched his forearm, guiding her gaze to where a lion swirled among the other designs in his sleeve, stylized in black ink and perfectly integrated. When she looked closely, she could see that the design was peeling a little, shedding a carbon-copy of the image that remained in his skin, the new ink a stark ebony.

“Nice,” she said, because it was. Not that she’d ever expect anything less from Jed. “Is that supposed to be Schubert?”

Noah’s lips quirked. “That’s how Schubert sees himself, I bet.”

She traced her way over his shoulder and down his arm, stopping at the edge of the new tattoo, not wanting to irritate his healing skin.

He took one of her hands and pushed up the long sleeve of her shirt, exposing the floral design that flowed down the edge of her forearm, to her wrist. Abby had done it for her several years ago – that was how Zoe had discovered Hot Ink. When she’d gone in for her tattoo, they’d had a sign up advertising for a receptionist. She’d been hired within the week.

“I like this,” Noah said, tracing the colorful blossoms with a light touch that made her skin pebble all over. “Noticed it as soon as I saw you behind the counter at Hot Ink. It’s pretty, like you.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks and she knew she was probably blushing the same shade of soft pink that shaded the center of half the tattooed flowers’ petals. “Thanks. The pink flowers are lilies of the valley – they were my mom’s favorite flower. The blue hydrangea blossoms are for my dad. He claimed not to have a favorite flower, but I remembered these being in a bouquet he gave my mom once and I thought they were especially pretty.”

The hydrangea blossoms were spread out, scattered as if by wind instead of contained in the clusters they naturally grew in. That way they intermixed with the lilies, blending in a graceful swirl of pinks and blues.

“Your mom’s not around anymore?” Noah rubbed one of the tiny pink blossoms, causing extra heat to bloom on the surface of her skin.

“No. She passed away a few years ago. She and my dad were very close, even up until the end of her illness – that’s why I wanted to get this tattoo. Not just to remember her, but to remember them together. My dad is still alive.”

A familiar weight made itself known in her chest, a dragging presence that never really faded, but flared up whenever she thought of her father. He was still around, but he wasn’t his old self anymore.

“It’s nice,” he said, touching her hand again, letting his fingers twine with hers. “Do you have any other tattoos?”

Her heart skipped a beat as she eyed his chest full of ink again, and a wicked smile curled her lips. “I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?”

It worked; he tucked his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, breathing a long sigh as he lifted it slowly, exposing her inch by inch until finally, he was pulling it over her head.

Her ink was modest compared to his. He ran his hands over her mostly bare skin, pausing to cup her breasts before finding the tattoo on her shoulder.

It was a colorful, stylized design with a crescent moon and stars, Abby’s custom work. Zoe had gotten it just because she loved it – no grief, no special reason.

“I like this one too,” he said, his breath rushing hot against her skin before he pressed his lips against the tattoo.

A frisson zipped down her spine as she relished the first time he’d placed his mouth somewhere on her body besides her lips. It was easy to imagine receiving similar treatment in other places, or doing the same to him. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she gripped him, breathing a sigh.

Her fingertips slipped over a little ridge of unexpected texture.

It was a scar. The curving line was clean, though the flesh was permanently raised.

“It’s just a surgical scar,” he said when he raised his lips from her skin.

“What happened?”

“Separated my shoulder. Fractured a bone into too many pieces to let heal on its own.”

“Ouch.” Sympathy pain flared in her own shoulder, dull and fleeting.

“Yeah. That was years ago. Doesn’t bother me too much anymore.”

She let her fingers slip over the ridge again, then over smoother skin, all the way over his side and down to where his jeans hung low on his hips.

He sucked in a breath when she brushed her hand over the bulge straining the front of his jeans.

She barely resisted the urge to do the same. She could feel his hardness, see the shape of him, and it had her pulse racing. She wanted more, to touch and be touched – everywhere. She was still mostly dressed, though.

Like he’d read her mind, he shifted his hands to her back.

Her heart sped when he unhooked the clasp of her bra, easing the straps over her arms.

His hands were hot against her breasts and the feel of him cradling them instantly raised her body temperature, too. An ache flared in the center of her chest, deep and hot, as he swept his fingers over their curves, teasing her nipples.

They were already hard and went even harder as he circled them, his breath rippling through her hair.

Her hand still rested in his lap, and she gripped him through his jeans, letting her fingers close in a semi-circle around his shaft.

He groaned, squeezing her breasts and leaning close so that his lips brushed her jaw, her neck.

She tipped her head to the side, running her hand up the length straining his jeans and settling her fingers on the button above.

When Noah kissed the side of her neck, the rush of his breath and scrape of his teeth combined to send a shiver of delight racing through her. These were the sort of things she hadn’t been able to help imagining when he’d walked through the door at Hot Ink, only they felt even better than she’d anticipated. Her fantasies had been like black and white images, and this was the real deal, in vivid color.

He’d leave a mark on her neck. She knew and didn’t care. Unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, she released the hard rod of his dick, pulling down the waistband of his underwear too so it could rise freely.

He was everything he’d felt like – hard and thick against her hand when she gripped him, his skin velvet-smooth. Everything inside her drew up tight as she stroked him, touching him from root to rounded tip.

He was uninked below his hips; there, a brief strip of unmarked skin faded into dark hair. He was so heavily tattooed that seeing that little bit of undecorated skin seemed erotic somehow – something most people would never lay eyes on, even though they could hardly miss his ink if he wore anything less concealing than a suit. She could only see it – only touch it – because his jeans were fully unzipped, gaping open between his hips.

His hands were still on her breasts. She didn’t want him to move them, so she relinquished her hold on him to unbutton her jeans, sliding out of them as he pinched her nipples lightly, teeth dragging slow and gentle over the arch of her neck.

God, it felt good, and she wasn’t even fully out of her pants yet. As gracefully as she could, she yanked them down over her ankles and cast them aside.

He removed one hand from one of her breasts, kneading the other as he slipped his fingers into her panties, immediately sliding them deep below the waistband, barely skimming her swollen clit before touching her below, gently tracing the lips of her pussy.

She was swollen there too, and wet. Throbbing, especially now that his knuckles were straining against the lacey material of her panties.

Yes, she’d purposely worn lace panties. She hadn’t known this would happen today, but he was so sexy he made her want to wear lace panties any time she knew she’d be in the same room with him. Just because. Just in case. Now, she was glad she’d listened to the lust-struck little voice in the back of her mind.

She was extra glad – and more than a little surprised – when he thrust a finger inside her, moaning against her neck as he pushed deep, then dragged the digit slowly down her inner wall, making her pussy shrink around him.

She moaned too, losing what little breath she had left in her lungs in the process. It was just a finger, but having that little bit of him inside her was so exhilarating it had to be killing off brain cells just to feel, like a drug. All the little aches he’d incited in her body – her core, her breasts, her lips – flared, demanding more.

He gave it to her, rocking her back onto the mattress and nudging a knee between her thighs, opening them so that she lay beneath him on her back, legs spread much wider than before. Kissing her mouth instead of her neck now, he pressed a second finger inside her, stretching her in a way that had little starbursts flashing against the backs of her eyelids as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Now that they were horizontal, the panties didn’t last long. He withdrew his fingers from inside her long enough to pull them off, then went back to touching her, this time massaging her clit with the pad of his thumb as he pushed two fingers in and out of her.

Her hips bucked involuntarily against his hand, and unmistakable pressure mounted inside her as he broke the seal of a hard kiss, dragging his lips over her neck and collarbone, latching on to one of her nipples.

The pull of his mouth against her breast plunged her into complete sensory overload. A few moments ago, she hadn’t even been naked. Now she was sprawled beneath him and being touched inside and out – tasted. Everything he did, he did just fast enough to make her dizzy and just slow enough to make her ache more deeply. Soon that ache would shatter, giving way to a climax that would take her breath away, if she could catch it in the first place.

She never got a chance. As he fucked her harder with his fingers, rubbing her clit, she slipped over the edge.

Pleasure rolled through her in crushing waves, wiping everything else from her mind. She writhed, caught between the mattress and his hard body, his mouth and hands. When she arched her back and her breast was pressed firmly against his face, he bit her nipple lightly.

She would’ve sworn if she could’ve said anything at all. Not because it hurt – it didn’t; at this point, everything he did to her felt good. A part of her feared that she moved too wildly, that his hand would slip and she’d lose precious split seconds of pleasure in the absence of his touch.

He never faltered though, just kept it up, moaning again, like he felt her bliss too. That made it all the more enjoyable, even as the intensity began to fade and she came crashing down from her peak.

His fingers were still inside her, thick, rigid and sliding slowly down her inner wall. He raised his head as he withdrew them, leaving her empty.

She opened her eyes, which she’d shut when all the sensations had become too much and sight had been a burden, a distraction. Now, she stared, drinking in his image as fresh desire coursed through her.

His jeans were still shoved down around his hips – his underwear, too – exposing the V of muscle there and his hard cock, from broad base to tip. Above, his torso was an expanse of ridges beneath the black and grey shadow of his phoenix tattoo, begging for her touch.

She pressed one hand against his chest, sliding the other below to grasp his shaft.

He was hot and rigid to the touch, just like before – no, even more so. A thrill swept through her, echoing her recent pleasure, as she imagined having him inside her.

She didn’t have to wait long. After a few moments of breathing into her hair as she stroked him, he rose from between her thighs, kicking off his jeans and underwear.

The sight of him fully naked was a new thrill. Cock rising from his lap, he sat on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the edge. Those weren’t tattooed – all his ink was above the waist. “Hope you’re not offended,” he said, turning green eyes on her as he bent, reaching under the bed. “I bought these after you said you’d think about my offer to live here.”

“These” turned out to be condoms. An entire unopened box.

“Why would I be offended?”

“I don’t know. Being roommates doesn’t necessarily have to mean … this.” He let his gaze sweep slowly and deliberately over her naked body, then glanced down at himself.

“I kind of think it does,” she said, letting her gaze rest just as purposefully on him. “For us, anyway.” She couldn’t imagine resisting him. She didn’t
want
to imagine it, let alone try it. Even rolling over onto her side and simply lying still, without touching him, while he opened the box, felt like an exercise in self-control. She wanted more of him – how could she not, especially after what he’d just done?

His gaze intensified, but he shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders rippling slowly. “I really did want to help you out. With the whole eviction situation, I mean. I didn’t invite you here just to get you in bed. I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole.”

“I know you didn’t.” If she’d thought that, she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation to live there. Sleep with him? Maybe. He was completely irresistible. But not live with him, even temporarily. No way. “I don’t think you’re an asshole.” She meant it, but it was kind of hard to keep a straight face while saying it. As if she could think of Schubert’s benefactor as a heartless womanizer.

He’d retrieved a condom from the box. Meeting her eyes again, he tore the package open. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been thinking of this ever since I first laid eyes on you.” His gaze grew a little more intense as he pinched the tip of the condom, rolling the transparent sleeve down over his shaft, fingers sliding against the sides of his erection. “Fuck, I couldn’t help it. Still can’t. I want you, Zoe. And I’m going to keep wanting you. I’ll probably be a shitty roommate after this. Never leave you alone – no concept of personal space.”

He leaned toward her, laying a hand on her thigh.

Her gaze gravitated toward the thick shaft rising from his lap, veined hardness straining the thin layer of the condom, stretching it like he’d soon be stretching her.

“Right now I feel like you’re giving me way too much personal space.” She ached for him – inside, outside and all over. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close and tipping her head back.

He kissed her hard, tongue delving deep and tangling with hers as he utilized his grip on her thigh, pulling her onto his lap, so that she straddled him.

A thrill raced through the center of her, even before he guided his dick to her cleft, letting the head nudge her sensitive skin. “Come here.” He ran his hand up her thigh, gripping one of her ass cheeks instead, pulling her hips close and flexing his own.

She was so wet, he slid inside easily, breaching her entrance with the head of his cock.

He didn’t stop there – in fact, he hardly paused. One moment he was barely inside her and the next he was buried to the root.

Maybe this was why he’d fucked her so thoroughly with his hand before moving on to this. If he hadn’t, that first hard thrust might’ve actually hurt. As it was, her ready body stretched to accommodate him, aching in a good way.

She felt the burn in her inner thighs too, a consequence of being sprawled across his lap, her bent knees on either side of his hips. For a tense, satisfying second or two, they were simply
together
, united by the thick length he’d thrust inside her and the resulting friction, the way her body hugged him back, automatically demanding more.

Then he moved, hips rocking hard beneath hers, driving that length of flesh deep into her again and again. It wasn’t a slow start, wasn’t an easy one. It was a
good
one though – one that let her feel how much he wanted her, how much he must’ve been holding back when he’d given her that first climax. Already, she could tell there’d be a second. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed hard, holding on tight, letting her nails bite into his shoulders.

A telltale disparity in the texture of his skin sent a disturbing thought skittering over the surface of her mind. She was digging her nails into his scar, into the crescent of deliberately broken and healed-over flesh. Hastily, she eased up, pulling that hand away.

“Don’t,” he said, half grunting as he pushed into her, hitting a place that made her see stars when she blinked.

Don’t what – don’t touch him there again? Had she hurt him? He’d said it didn’t bother him much anymore, but…

“Don’t let go,” he said, voice rising and falling with his rhythm. “I like when you hold onto me. Hard.”

Maybe she’d overestimated the sensitivity of an old scar – after all, the raised flesh was white, the color of a wound sustained years ago. Tentatively, she gripped his shoulder again. Still, she was careful not to sink her nails into the place where he’d been cut – that just felt wrong.

He rewarded her with a groan and another hard thrust, and another. She was getting used to the rhythm now, to the feeling of having him almost perpetually buried balls-deep inside her. Used to it, but not tired of it. God, if she’d known she’d end up doing something that felt
this
good with him, she would’ve wrapped herself around him ages ago. Maybe on her desk at work. Now there was a thought…

“Fuck, Zoe.” He squeezed the ass cheek he’d been cupping, simultaneously slipping a hand behind her head, letting his knuckles get tangled up in her hair, pulling. “Kiss me.”

When their lips met, he ran his tongue along the seam of hers, teasing for a split second before thrusting inside.

They stayed that way – locked together with her riding him as he held her steady with a hand on her ass and another in her hair – until it simply became too hard to breathe.

Mostly, she accredited her shortness of breath to the fact that she could feel tension mounting in her core – familiar tension. Everything inside her was drawing up tight, and each time the head of his dick rammed against a certain spot, she was another heartbeat closer to another orgasm. He was fucking her so hard it felt like she’d shatter into a million pieces when she came, right there in his lap.