“I don’t want you to give up a damn thing.” I kissed the inside of her knee and used my hands to pull her legs apart. She said my name, but I ignored her because it had been way too long since I’d been this close to her shiny, sweet center. She was already glossy and wet. She shivered under my touch and tensed as I leaned closer so that I could breathe her in as I slid a finger through her pouty, pink folds. “All I want is to be part of the future you’re creating. I only need a slice of it, and I’ll give you a slice of mine.” She couldn’t be the only thing that mattered to me, because my entire world would crumble if things didn’t work out between us. I’d come too far to fall back down that slippery slope. “Remember the guy I told you I was locked up with? The one who used to own a tattoo shop?” She mumbled an affirmative but it was barely a sound because my fingers were stroking her, sliding inside of her and slipping over her clit, twisting and pressing down with each pass. Her hips lifted on the edge of the bed and she didn’t argue in the slightest when I lifted one of her legs and braced it on my shoulder. I sank my teeth into the inside of her thigh and grinned against the sting as she yelped in response. Good thing her roommate wasn’t around. There was going to be no mistaking this for quiet cuddling.
“I talked to him before I left Texas. He gets out of jail in another month or so, and I asked him if he would be interested in getting out of the gang life. I thought maybe he could move out here and we could go into business together. You were right about art. I love it, but I can’t imagine sitting in a classroom having someone else critique what I do. I thought Emilio could teach me not only how to run a tattoo shop but also how to tattoo. I think it’s something I might enjoy doing, and if it turns out not to be my thing, I can just run the business end of it. I don’t think I’d be a bad silent investor, and I dig the idea of giving someone in a shitty situation a way out.”
I curled my finger against her silken passage and honed in on the spot that made her eyes cross and her toes curl. The way she moved against me and wrapped her hand around my wrist was the same as all of my most favorite memories. I dragged my nose along the crease where her leg met her hip and sighed when her hips lifted toward my open mouth. I let out a little hum of approval and told her, “I’ll be around, but I won’t be in your way. We’ll make this work.”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond. My mouth was watering, and I had to have a taste before I lost my mind. I covered her clit with my lips and tugged. She came all the way up off the bed and clutched her hands in my hair. There was a lot less of it to hold onto now, but she made do. She lifted the leg that wasn’t over my shoulder onto the edge of the bed, dug her heel into the mattress as she rode my face, and writhed against my flicking tongue. She fucked herself on my fingers until illicit, sexy sounds filled both the room and my head. I dragged the edge of my teeth over the trembling flesh I had between my teeth and felt her entire body bow. She gasped my name and pulled on my hair hard enough that it hurt.
I never wanted to be without this again.
I never wanted to go without her again.
She made making the right choices easy, and she made trying to be the right choice for her a challenge I was ready to face head-on.
She whimpered and twisted wildly under my mouth and hands. There wasn’t a single place on her that I would consider cold. She melted against me and rushed liquid and warm everywhere I touched. She was close to the edge, pent-up emotions pulling her closer and lifting her higher and higher up the harder I worked at her, but I didn’t want her to go over without me.
This wasn’t the end either of us were facing alone, it was the beginning we got to face together.
I sucked hard on that tiny bundle of pleasure and gave it one last swirl with my tongue. I let her ride my fingers a little bit longer, tapping her g-spot and winding her up to the point I could see she was ready to snap. Her chest was flushed. Her eyes were wide and dark. Her nipples were pulled into points so tight they looked painful, and her teeth were embedded in her lower lip so deeply I was surprised she didn’t draw blood.
She was beautiful.
She was broken.
She was mine, and I was going to do whatever it took to keep it that way.
I asked her to hand me my wallet. While I scrambled with shaking hands to pull a condom out, she finally got her hand on my cock, and I almost fell on top of her as my legs turned to Jell-O. She circled the shaft with her hand and used her thumb to trace the throbbing vein that ran along the bottom. She circled the tip, slowly and deliberately. Her lips landed on the taut muscles right above my belly button, and I had to reach out and put my hand under her chin before she blew my mind by blowing me. I wouldn’t last. The second her mouth touched the tip, I would be done for, and this was a moment I wanted to last.
“We’ll have to save that for the encore, Reed. I want to make it through the first act before you get your mouth on me.”
Her eyebrows lifted but she shifted back on the bed to make room for me as I crawled between her spread legs and made myself comfortable at the notch between them. I sighed in heavy satisfaction as her warmth surrounded me and sucked me in as I glided my erection through her slippery folds. The head of my cock bumped into her swollen clit, and we both jolted in response. I placed a sucking, searing kiss on the tip of one of her breasts and closed my hand over the other as I braced myself on my forearm over her head. This tiny bed really didn’t have a lot of space for either of us to move, so she curled her legs over my hips and sank her heels into the curve above my ass as I situated myself at her entrance.
I groaned against the side of her throat, and her sigh shifted my hair as I let myself sink into her slow and steady. Anywhere she was happened to be my favorite place to be, but being inside of her, making myself at home against her sensitive walls and in her wet heat was my second favorite. I belonged there; it was a place she kept secret and special just for me.
She was still achingly tight and outrageously responsive. She squeezed and clutched my cock in the best way possible, and her chest rose and fell to brush against mine like she was trying to catch her breath after a race. It was clear she missed this as much as I did. It was obvious she belonged to me as well as with me, the way I belonged to her.
I rolled the velvet bud of her nipple back and forth and started to move as I kissed along her neck. She shivered against me and rocked her hips up in a greedy manner. I laughed into her ear and put my mouth over hers so I could catch and savor every cry and every plea. Her legs tightened around me as I started to move faster, push deeper, asking for more, taking what was mine.
She pulsed around me, body quickening and fluttering along each stroke. She made me harder than I thought I’d ever be. Her softness was intoxicating and sensual as she writhed and begged for release beneath me. I let her work herself up until she was practically bucking against each thrust and demanding I go deeper, thrust harder, fuck faster. When she was as out of control as she always seemed to make me, I let go of the nipple I was torturing and moved my fingers back between her legs. She swore in relief and immediately let sensation take her over the edge. Her pleasure rushed furious and frantic across my pounding erection, and her body tightened to the point I almost couldn’t move. I was being strangled in desire and choked in passion, and nothing had ever felt better.
My orgasm unfurled from the base of my spine and raced through the rest of my body. She wrung every single scintilla of pleasure out of me, leaving my limbs heavy and hard to move as I collapsed on top of her, sweaty and spent. I kissed the side of her head as I struggled to roll off her so that I wouldn’t crush her. I was surprised when she refused to let go of me so that when I finished rolling over, she ended up sprawled across my heaving chest, her hair everywhere as we stuck together with sex and perspiration.
She was tracing the shape of a heart on my chest when she asked, “You have it all planned out, don’t you, McCaffrey?”
I threaded my fingers in the hair at her temples and kissed the crown of h
er head. I needed to pull out of her and ditch the condom before all those plans I’d meticulously been working on were blown to hell. While the idea of tying her to me forever through a baby didn’t freak me out nearly as much as I thought it would, we were both too young, too new, and too unsteady for that kind of complication. Besides, I promised her I wouldn’t derail her future, and I meant it.
I lifted her up and set her down next to me so I could climb to my feet. “First time in my entire life I’ve ever looked past the day I was currently struggling to make it through. It was easy though . . . when I looked ahead all I saw was you, Affton.”
She smiled, and it made me smile. I was so glad I wasn’t numb anymore. It would suck not to experience all the great and exciting things this girl made me feel. She was right . . . I was wide awake. She forced me to open my eyes.
“You’re all I see, too, Cable. And I love the way you look standing there in my future.”
I would never stop proving to her that I had earned my spot there or make her ever question her place in my forever.
This was our beginning. . . .
Affton
Ink Addict Tattoo Shop ~ Four years later
I SWEPT THROUGH the doors of Cable’s shop and was immediately greeted by not only the pretty, heavily tattooed girl behind the counter but also the ever-present buzz of busy tattoo machines. I spent a lot of time in the eclectically decorated, brightly painted building, so the sound was nothing new. Cable’s art was splashed across the walls, and there was no longer any question in his mind, or anyone else’s, that he was indeed an artist. I hardly noticed it over the tingling excitement that was whipping through my entire body. I had a smile on my face that stretched as wide as the East Bay, and I was practically bouncing up and down on my toes as I reached the counter.
The girl seated behind it lifted her purple-tinted eyebrow and gave me a grin. “Good news, I take it?”
I liked all of Cable’s staff, but Van was my favorite. She was the same age as me and was just finishing up school for a graphic design degree. She wanted to design book covers and websites for authors, which I assumed would be a pretty cool gig. Cable hired her after his third receptionist asked if she could switch to apprenticing under Emilio. Cable’s old cellmate had only been in town for a couple of years and had already made a name for himself as one of the best on the West Coast. Tired of hiring help and shuffling people around, he made sure he found a replacement who loved the industry, appreciated the art, but had no interest in becoming an artist. He was not only a good boss but a savvy businessman on top of it. Van was a godsend, and she was the closest thing I had to a best friend, next to Jordan.
“Great news. Is he busy?”
It was a dumb question. Cable was always busy. His brain and his hands didn’t stop. He was Emilio’s first apprentice and best student. For someone who had hardly any experience under his belt when it came to the art and talent of tattooing, Cable picked it up like he was made to do it. I think he thrived in the creative environment. He found his outlet. And while Ink Addict was his baby and his pride and joy, it was just the tip of the iceberg in all the different pots he had his spoons stuck in. He invested in a surf shop down in San Diego. He was the financial backer for a bar. He offered up the initial investment in a clothing start-up, and he helped develop an app that aided addicts who wanted to find help and find it quickly. So, even though he depleted a huge chunk of his trust fund paying back all the debt he accrued through the accident, building up this place, transforming the empty barbershop next to it into a livable space he could call home, and paying me the amount his mom owed me, he was doing just fine making a living on his own. Who would have ever thought that once he got sober and started really living his life clean, he would be such a force to be reckoned with?
“He’s got a client, but they’ve been at it forever. I would say he’s only got twenty minutes or so left on her.” Van looked at the clock shaped like a T-rex as she answered.
I nodded and slipped around the desk so I could wind my way through the shop to the back where Cable had his station set up. His was the only station that was enclosed and private. It used to bother me considering the amount of naked woman he had in there day in and day out, but when he explained he needed to shut everyone else out in order to concentrate on what he was doing, I couldn’t fault him for wanting the barrier between himself and the activity of the rest of the shop.
I stopped when Van reached out a tattooed hand and grabbed my arm. “Hey. I’m super proud of you. We all are.”
I nodded and wrinkled my nose so I wouldn’t cry all over her. “Thank you.” They all knew how important this next step was to me. They all knew how hard I worked and how much I sacrificed to reach the next level. It was touching to have my accomplishments recognized instead of ridiculed.
She squeezed my arm and winked at me as the chime over the door dinged. “Drinks later to celebrate.” It wasn’t a question.
“Absolutely.”
I waved to a couple of the other guys who lifted their chins in greeting. Emilio was bent over his drawing board and not with a client, so I swung by his chair really quick to get a congratulatory hug. Milo was as distractingly good looking as Cable. Van was the one who started calling him by the shortened version of his name, and since he never told her to knock it off, it kind of stuck. He didn’t really look like a Milo; he was too dangerous for that. He was all dark hair and golden eyes that saw way too much and gave away too little. His edges were even rougher and more jagged than my boy’s, and at first, I was terrified of him. He wasn’t unpredictable and wild like Cable. He was too quiet, too contemplative. I got the feeling that he was always up to something and none of it was good. Eventually, I got over any reservations I had about the ex-con. He was a good mentor for Cable and an outstanding business partner. He seemed to have left most of his demons behind when he moved out to California, but every so often I could see they caught up with him. He was not only Cable’s confidant, he was also his closest friend. My boy still struggled to connect, to attach and let others become attached to him, but Milo was in. He was family. He was loved.
After another congrats on my good news and another promise to throw back celebratory drinks later, I made my way over to Cable’s station. A sliding silk screen painted with cherry blossoms that looked like something from a high-end sushi restaurant served as the door. It was mostly see-through but offered enough privacy that he could work in peace and his client wouldn’t feel confined or exposed in the small space. I rapped my knuckles on the surrounding wood to alert them to the fact I was there and slid open the screen.
He was working on a girl who was probably around my age. She had dyed black hair, blunt cut bangs, and a ring through her bottom lip. She was lying on her side facing me, her shirt pulled up and tucked into the bottom of her bra as he worked on something that covered the entirety of her ribs. It appeared to be a steampunk-inspired butterfly, intricate and detailed. It was very cool, and I told her so. She grimaced up at me, obviously in pain, but got out a short, “Thanks.”
Cable had expensive wireless headphones covering his ears. I knew he was listening to something loud and aggressive as he worked. He wasn’t one to chat with his clients. If they wanted friendly and engaging, they went with one of the other artists in the shop. If they wanted art, and if they wanted expensive skin, they came to him. He didn’t do flash. He didn’t do cobbled together ideas. All he did was custom, one-of-a-kind pieces that were brilliant and beautiful. He was picky about who he worked on and who he gave his art to, so it was a good thing he made money other ways. No one liked a temperamental tattoo artist.
He finished the line he was working on and lifted his buzzing machine off the girl’s skin. Sensing someone behind him, he looked up at me, those dark eyes still able to undo me with little effort. He had on latex gloves that were slick with blood and ink, so I reached out and lowered the headphones off his head so they circled his neck. I kissed the corner of his mouth as h
e lifted a questioning brow in my direction.
“You get in?” He’d been almost as anxious as I had been waiting on the acceptance letter. No one knew how important it was to me as well as he did.
I clapped my hands together in front of me and grinned like a lunatic. “I got in.” I wanted to scream it from the top of my lungs, but it came out as a whisper.
His grin was as big as mine, and my heart swelled at the pride that lit up in his eyes. “Of course, you did, Reed. Was there ever any doubt?”
I rolled my eyes at him. Of course, there had been doubt.
My sophomore year was much tougher than I anticipated. Keeping my GPA up had been a struggle. Not only was the school work tougher than I imagined but my dad had suffered a mild heart attack while climbing a fourteener in Colorado. It all threw me off my stride, and so had the pressure of juggling school and my relationship with Cable. He lived in an artsy, industrial area of San Francisco called the Dogpatch. He converted an empty storefront into a sprawling apartment right next to the tattoo shop. It wasn’t the world’s longest commute by any means, but between his working hours and my endless studying, we both found ourselves letting our relationship slide. He was too tired to come to me; I was too stressed to make time for him. Before either of us had realized it, we’d gone weeks with barely a phone call between us or any kind of contact. We were drifting away from one another, and it didn’t seem like either one of us had the strength to pull the other back in. The current was carrying us farther and farther away from each other.
But then my dad almost died, and before I could get the whole tearful panicked explanation of what happened out to Cable, he had us both on a plane and on our way to Colorado. He didn’t leave my side once while dad had surgery. He didn’t bend. He didn’t break. He held me together when I fell apart, and I wanted to kick myself for not trying harder to hold onto him. I remembered how it felt when I let him go before and I never wanted to be there again. Neither did he. When we got back home after my dad was declared hearty and whole, we had a heart to heart about making our relationship more of a priority, about putting one another first. I decided I would rather commute back and forth from his place to school than risk that chasm opening again. I moved in and relished every second of sharing my life with him.