Page 30 of Ink

“Do you know why I am going to give you everything?”

Her eyes begged me to answer the question quickly, but I simply smirked.

Painting her flesh was such a fucking turn on. Marking her permanently to remind her who owned her now–not just in body but soul as well. Blood seeped through the ink and when I finished the last looping letter, I set the gun aside to swipe and disinfect her skin one-handed.

Seeing the product of my obsession had my heart beating a rhythm that matched the screaming pulsations of my rock-hard cock. I smiled down at Xiomara and the new tattoo I’d given her, marked forever on her flesh for everyone to see.

Property of Ink.

Chapter Twelve

Xiomara

PropertyofInkin cursive, swirling letters glared at me from the top of my breast. The liberties he took with my own body should have infuriated me, and yet I fought hard not to squirm beneath him because I was so fucking turned on. So close to falling into that blissful release that would leave me mind-numbingly boneless.

The pain of the tattoo gun piercing my flesh had caused desire to flow freely through me. Pairing that with the curl and thrusting of his fingers?

My body was on fire. Every piece of me felt electrified, shock waves threatening to blast through every fucking crevice. It wasrightthere, the sensation of wanting to implode, yet so far away at the same time.

It made me furious.

And yet truth be told, being claimed? I wanted it. I wanted to belong to someone like him. Someone who had an entire club at his back. Someone demanding. Possessive. Someone who would protect and care about me. I didn’t care that he probably did illegal shit. I didn’t care that he marked me without permission, because I’d given him my fucking heart and soul from the moment he’d gone to my house without even knowing it.

Even if we hadn’t kissed.

As soon as he tossed the now silent tattoo gun off to the side and stared down at his own handiwork, a sigh left me. Our eyes caught, flared. We reached for one another, our mouths colliding for the first time ever in a sudden vicious fight for dominance. I yielded to him, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. Our bodies plastered together and I hissed against his mouth at the sting I felt against my breast.

Yet he wasn’t careful. If anything, my pain spurred him on and only made me wetter. He grasped at my newly tattooed breast in his hand, squeezing the spot he’d marked as his own.

Property of Ink.

I was his now. I belonged to him. His Vieja, his Old Lady. I was a MC wife, and I’d be protected by him and the club. That sense of security, that sense of fucking promise, was something I’d always needed and wanted.

And I finally had it.

I moaned, rubbing my lower half against him.

“Fuck me,” I pleaded, tearing my mouth away from his. “Fuck me right here.”

He tore at my jeans, slipping me out of my clothes. He stripped himself until he was naked in front of me. My breath caught, eyes tracing the lines of dark ink that circled his entire body. They curved across his muscles and over his veins, images of skulls and devils, of Catrinas and flor de cempazuchitl, of big breasted women and Mayan imagery.

He was a god.

I swore I whimpered right then, causing him to chuckle as he laid himself over me. Just like last time, he entered me in a single thrust. I was still sore from him yesterday, but the pain was entirely too pleasant and wanted. I groaned as his bare cock slid in and out of me.

I didn’t give a fuck that he was bare. I’d take another pill, get a prescription, do anything if it meant I got to feel every pulsing, thick inch.

My hips rose to meet his and soon, he was thrusting hard, wrapping his hand across my throat to keep me pinned to the chair. I gasped for breath once again, digging my fingers into his chest. He leaned down as I marked him with the crescents of my nails, and he took my mouth in his.

The kiss was everything. When he broke away to trail his tongue down my neck, only to scrape his stubble across my tattooed breast, I felt myself falling into a steadfast orgasm.

I whirled and cried out, falling, falling. I was sure I was screaming his name.

He grunted in my ear, cumming inside me like he’d done yesterday.

That marking was intimate in a way that made me tremble.

When we came down from our bliss, Ink wrapped me in his arms and held me close. It was different from yesterday. A display of affection I craved as he held me close, pushing strands of my hair aside.

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