supposed to lie under those skillful hands for an hour or so when she now had the remembrance of just how skillful those hands were on other parts of her body?
It was her own damn fault for pursuing him. She should’ve waited until the tattoo was done, at least.
She settled on the table. A moment later, he knocked and reentered with her permission.
He’d done most of the lines that he needed to during her first session. Today would be mainly fill-in to really make this bird fly. She couldn’t wait.
“How have you been?” he asked, and Gabby turned her face toward the direction of his voice. She still couldn’t see him; he was closer to her ankles. Was he avoiding her? “You look great,” he went on before she could answer. “Like you’re in a much better place than the first time you came in here.”
Thanks to you . “Oh yeah, I’ve been awesome. How about you?” Do you think about me? Dream about me? Was it as good for you as it was for me?
“Can’t complain.”
There was no way he could not think about it. Why did she care? She’d already decided it was a one-time thing and that she wouldn’t let herself be affected by him. She supposed she hadn’t really prepared herself for the possibility that he wasn’t affected by her.
“I want to touch you so fucking bad.”
She nearly came off the table. Had she heard him correctly? His voice had been so low and husky, it might’ve been a remnant from one of her feverish dreams about him, come back to cruelly haunt her.
She lifted her head and looked back at him. His gaze roamed over her ass, her back where his art waited to be completed, and finally to her face. She sucked in a breath when the full force of those heated eyes hit her. “Ian…”
“I know.” He chuckled, snapping on his black gloves. “We’ll get through this. I’ll even keep my hands to myself, though it’s gonna be fucking torture.”
Somehow, knowing that it was torture for him made her feel better. At least she wasn’t the only one pathetically turned on. She could know that he was right there with her. Smiling to herself, she put her head back down and listened to his movements as he prepared to start.
“It’ll be the same for me,” she murmured.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, I’m gonna shut up before either one of us gets something started that we shouldn’t.”
Aww, no fun. But smart. Very smart.
“Ready? Relax, sweetie.”
Oh God, how could she? That voice slid over her like a warm caress. His warm caress. The tips of his gloved fingers touched her. She closed her eyes and suppressed a groan.
“This healed up really well,” he said. “Beautiful.”
She couldn’t reply. All her thoughts were focused on the ache pooling between her legs and the panic of knowing she had to lie here and take it without moving. The sting of the needle hit her, and she flinched, so awash in pleasure that the introduction of pain was almost more than she could stand.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. She had to be strong and get through this, get it over with and done today. Another session with him might kill her. And hearing his voice through all of this might kill her too, but she needed it to take her mind off the pain. “Talk to me,” she pleaded.
He paused to wipe her excess ink. “Hmm. What do you want me to say?”
Are you hard right now? She giggled. “I don’t know. It’s always easy to talk until someone asks you to, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“About eight years.”
“Wow. What made you want to?”
“At first to piss off my stepdad. I came home with my first tattoo at eighteen, and he told me how trashy it was. I’d always loved to draw, but I’d never considered it as an option until that moment.”
“Ah, rebellion. No wonder you and Brian get along so well.”
He gave a short laugh, but it didn’t contain one iota of humor. “I guess it sounds
It was her own damn fault for pursuing him. She should’ve waited until the tattoo was done, at least.
She settled on the table. A moment later, he knocked and reentered with her permission.
He’d done most of the lines that he needed to during her first session. Today would be mainly fill-in to really make this bird fly. She couldn’t wait.
“How have you been?” he asked, and Gabby turned her face toward the direction of his voice. She still couldn’t see him; he was closer to her ankles. Was he avoiding her? “You look great,” he went on before she could answer. “Like you’re in a much better place than the first time you came in here.”
Thanks to you . “Oh yeah, I’ve been awesome. How about you?” Do you think about me? Dream about me? Was it as good for you as it was for me?
“Can’t complain.”
There was no way he could not think about it. Why did she care? She’d already decided it was a one-time thing and that she wouldn’t let herself be affected by him. She supposed she hadn’t really prepared herself for the possibility that he wasn’t affected by her.
“I want to touch you so fucking bad.”
She nearly came off the table. Had she heard him correctly? His voice had been so low and husky, it might’ve been a remnant from one of her feverish dreams about him, come back to cruelly haunt her.
She lifted her head and looked back at him. His gaze roamed over her ass, her back where his art waited to be completed, and finally to her face. She sucked in a breath when the full force of those heated eyes hit her. “Ian…”
“I know.” He chuckled, snapping on his black gloves. “We’ll get through this. I’ll even keep my hands to myself, though it’s gonna be fucking torture.”
Somehow, knowing that it was torture for him made her feel better. At least she wasn’t the only one pathetically turned on. She could know that he was right there with her. Smiling to herself, she put her head back down and listened to his movements as he prepared to start.
“It’ll be the same for me,” she murmured.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, I’m gonna shut up before either one of us gets something started that we shouldn’t.”
Aww, no fun. But smart. Very smart.
“Ready? Relax, sweetie.”
Oh God, how could she? That voice slid over her like a warm caress. His warm caress. The tips of his gloved fingers touched her. She closed her eyes and suppressed a groan.
“This healed up really well,” he said. “Beautiful.”
She couldn’t reply. All her thoughts were focused on the ache pooling between her legs and the panic of knowing she had to lie here and take it without moving. The sting of the needle hit her, and she flinched, so awash in pleasure that the introduction of pain was almost more than she could stand.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. She had to be strong and get through this, get it over with and done today. Another session with him might kill her. And hearing his voice through all of this might kill her too, but she needed it to take her mind off the pain. “Talk to me,” she pleaded.
He paused to wipe her excess ink. “Hmm. What do you want me to say?”
Are you hard right now? She giggled. “I don’t know. It’s always easy to talk until someone asks you to, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“About eight years.”
“Wow. What made you want to?”
“At first to piss off my stepdad. I came home with my first tattoo at eighteen, and he told me how trashy it was. I’d always loved to draw, but I’d never considered it as an option until that moment.”
“Ah, rebellion. No wonder you and Brian get along so well.”
He gave a short laugh, but it didn’t contain one iota of humor. “I guess it sounds
Similar Books
