better, and opened Dirty Ink with Jonas.”
    “You own Dirty Ink?” she asked .  I was a little offended by the surprise in her voice but most people are surprised that I was 24 and co-own my own business.  I didn’t exactly look the part of a businessman.
    “Yeah.  Jonas and I went to high school together.  We grew up together in Roseville.  Did our apprenticeships, now here we are, co-owners of Dirty Ink.”
    “I’m impressed,” she echoed my words back to me and I smiled .  I liked that it impressed her.  “And you are an artist you know.  Tattoos are art, they are just on a different kind of canvas,” she said through a yawn.  I completely agreed.
    We fell silent again.  It didn’t take long for her breathing to become even against my chest as she fell asleep.  I liked her being here.  I liked holding her, tiny, little, delicate body as she slept on me.  It just felt right.  She was the only girl I have ever wanted to hold, to cuddle.  There was just something about this girl, Pru, my lovely, little fairy.
    I knew that we make an odd pair.  I was a whole foot taller than her, covered in tattoos and piercings.  She’s, well, not.  She was a prim and proper little college student, who has a dirty little secret in the form of a giant tattoo on her side that I put there but I didn’t think too many people would be seeing it.  I think I preferred it that way.
    I lik ed the way she curled up on me.  How she just seemed to get me.  The way she smelled like something floral but fruity.  It was distinctly Pru.  We may not be a perfect match but she was doing something to my heart.  Something I was not willing to let go.
    I shifted as I started to wake up and felt fingers brushing my hair away from my face.  My eyes slowly flickered open. I found myself exactly where I fell asleep.  Neither of us shifted in the least.  I was still cuddled up on his chest with my legs between his.  His arms were still wrapped around me.  I never actually slept on a guy before Lincoln.  I wouldn’t have thought it would be too comfortable but it was nice.  I slept like the dead.  I liked waking up on him, in his arms, with his sleepy, silver eyes looking down at me.  He was smirking, of course.  He seemed to smirk a lot.
    “Morning, my lovely,” he said his voice still raw from sleep.
    “Morning,” I mumbled in response and blushed, of course.  I was suddenly very aware of the fact that we were naked and his erection was pressed against my stomach.  He knew and wasn’t ashamed in the least that I did too.
    “Come here,” he ordered with a husky whisper as he tugged on my arms.  I scooted up his body willingly.  He gently pressed his lips against mine and I melted into him, morning breath completely forgotten.
    When he pulled his lips away from mine we were both breathing heavily, his center was lined up with mine.  He dropped his head back, closing his eyes, and groaned as he rubbed against me, holding my body tight against his.  “Lovely, we have to stop unless you want more,” he explained through clenched teeth.  Our simple good morning kiss transformed into a full-blown make out session where I was unknowingly rocking against him.
    “I want more,” I confessed quietly against his ear before I gently nipped at his pierced lobe before taking it into my mouth.
    “Oh thank God,” he bellowed before he flipped me on to my back, grabbed a fresh condom out of the drawer in the nightstand, and proceeded to ravish me.
    “I better get home,” I said when we are both breathing evenly again.
    “Want a ride?” he asked raising one eyebrow.  I completely forgot I rode to the bar with Maggie last night and then rode to Lincoln’s in his car.  Transportationless.
    “Yeah.”  Why not?  Walking home was out of the question.  I could call someone, last time I called Maggie, or I could get a cab, but I’d rather spend some more time with him.  If he was willing to drive

Similar Books


Len Deighton

Kiki's Millionaire

Patricia Green

Yes, Master

Margaret McHeyzer

The Big Nap

Bruce Hale

Suicide Squad

Marv Wolfman

Paper Money

Ken Follett

Off Course

Michelle Huneven

Town of Masks

Dorothy Salisbury Davis