Heart of a Tattooist: Dark Romance MC Club Alpha Bad Boy Obsession (Tattooist Series Book 3) by Lexy Timms Page A
Authors: Lexy Timms
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her writhe below his touch. His fingers withdrew, spilling her oils, and she cried out as tactile feeling ran through her body: Heat, friction, and the sensation of being filled, but not enough.
His tongue continued to describe slow circles around her clitoris. Her gasps grew long and low. Her eyes fluttered closed then opened again. His breath met her wet flesh, and created a heightened sense of longing and wanting that had her bottom lifting and her hips arching as she sought to get closer to the source of her pleasurable torment.
Her cries rang out in the still kitchen. Her heels banged against the island. She moved closer and closer still to an orgasm, one that would shatter her.
He waited until she was right on the edge and begging for release, then he stood up, undid his pants quickly, and entered her with one long thrust. Her walls took him in, her oils spilling over his heated flesh. Her hands went to his back and her nails scratched deep through the fabric of his shirt.
They moved quickly, neither of them able to wait. The tide swept over them, sending them falling into ecstasy.
His weight pressed her deeper into the hard and unyielding surface of the island. He braced himself on one arm and breathed heavily, then slowly recovered.
Mitch withdrew from her, leaving a thin dribble of his come across her upper thighs. She sat up slowly and with his help. “I think I just set myself up for a really bad joke about dinner there.”
She howled laughter. “If I wanted to do you like that, yeah.”
He helped her down. “Here, let me get you a shower.” He led her to what had to be his bedroom. “I’m going to get us some food. Real food. Help yourself to something to wear if you like.”
She nodded and then walked into the closet. The closet was as big if not bigger than some of the hotel rooms she had lived in over the years. The whole place smelled like his skin and cologne, and she stood in there for a long time, just smelling the scent and letting happiness wash over her.
There were still so many things to think about, though.
Was she going to stay there in Nashville or move on? If she did stay, how was she going to manage seeing Mitch and not getting consumed by him and whatever this thing between them was?
She put all that aside and headed into the shower.
* *
Mitch looked up to see Cara walking back into the kitchen and his heart almost stopped. His cock, however, sprang into immediate life.
She had put on a shirt, a button-down that skimmed the tops of her thighs and made him wonder if she was naked below it. Her hair was wet and shining and her eyes had a sleepy look that was unintentionally and wholly sexy.
He said, “I hope you like steak.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
His eyes went wide. “You ate chicken.”
“Yeah, I eat chicken and fish.”
“Oh shit.” He stared down at the steaks, now nicely charred. “Um, okay…”
“I’m kidding, Mitch. I used to be vegetarian for a while.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “What happened?”
“Bacon. It’s what usually happens. Bacon is the demon of vegetarian back-sliders all around the world.” There was a funny little smile on her face, and he had the feeling he was being let in on some kind of inside joke he didn’t really understand and might never.
He said, “I like bacon.” He slid the steaks onto two plates and added a small mound of whipped potatoes and another of glazed carrots. “Before you get too happy about my skills, I order those make-it-yourself dinner boxes. So this was pretty much done before I even got started.”
“It looks great.” She leaned over to sniff the steam rising off the plates and the shirt gaped open to reveal the shadowy outlines of her breasts.
“More than great.”
They took their plates outside to the balcony. The mountains rolled away and the pool made soft susurrating sounds that mingled with the cicadas and the sound of the night birds.
She asked, “Does it usually take all
His tongue continued to describe slow circles around her clitoris. Her gasps grew long and low. Her eyes fluttered closed then opened again. His breath met her wet flesh, and created a heightened sense of longing and wanting that had her bottom lifting and her hips arching as she sought to get closer to the source of her pleasurable torment.
Her cries rang out in the still kitchen. Her heels banged against the island. She moved closer and closer still to an orgasm, one that would shatter her.
He waited until she was right on the edge and begging for release, then he stood up, undid his pants quickly, and entered her with one long thrust. Her walls took him in, her oils spilling over his heated flesh. Her hands went to his back and her nails scratched deep through the fabric of his shirt.
They moved quickly, neither of them able to wait. The tide swept over them, sending them falling into ecstasy.
His weight pressed her deeper into the hard and unyielding surface of the island. He braced himself on one arm and breathed heavily, then slowly recovered.
Mitch withdrew from her, leaving a thin dribble of his come across her upper thighs. She sat up slowly and with his help. “I think I just set myself up for a really bad joke about dinner there.”
She howled laughter. “If I wanted to do you like that, yeah.”
He helped her down. “Here, let me get you a shower.” He led her to what had to be his bedroom. “I’m going to get us some food. Real food. Help yourself to something to wear if you like.”
She nodded and then walked into the closet. The closet was as big if not bigger than some of the hotel rooms she had lived in over the years. The whole place smelled like his skin and cologne, and she stood in there for a long time, just smelling the scent and letting happiness wash over her.
There were still so many things to think about, though.
Was she going to stay there in Nashville or move on? If she did stay, how was she going to manage seeing Mitch and not getting consumed by him and whatever this thing between them was?
She put all that aside and headed into the shower.
* *
Mitch looked up to see Cara walking back into the kitchen and his heart almost stopped. His cock, however, sprang into immediate life.
She had put on a shirt, a button-down that skimmed the tops of her thighs and made him wonder if she was naked below it. Her hair was wet and shining and her eyes had a sleepy look that was unintentionally and wholly sexy.
He said, “I hope you like steak.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
His eyes went wide. “You ate chicken.”
“Yeah, I eat chicken and fish.”
“Oh shit.” He stared down at the steaks, now nicely charred. “Um, okay…”
“I’m kidding, Mitch. I used to be vegetarian for a while.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “What happened?”
“Bacon. It’s what usually happens. Bacon is the demon of vegetarian back-sliders all around the world.” There was a funny little smile on her face, and he had the feeling he was being let in on some kind of inside joke he didn’t really understand and might never.
He said, “I like bacon.” He slid the steaks onto two plates and added a small mound of whipped potatoes and another of glazed carrots. “Before you get too happy about my skills, I order those make-it-yourself dinner boxes. So this was pretty much done before I even got started.”
“It looks great.” She leaned over to sniff the steam rising off the plates and the shirt gaped open to reveal the shadowy outlines of her breasts.
“More than great.”
They took their plates outside to the balcony. The mountains rolled away and the pool made soft susurrating sounds that mingled with the cicadas and the sound of the night birds.
She asked, “Does it usually take all
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