Page 33 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

I feel a force stir inside me—a restlessness, a hunger I can’t fully grasp. I tell myself it’s just a matter of control. I’m used to things going according to plan. I step further inside, moving quietly, a predator on the hunt.

I approach the bathroom, the sound of the shower growing louder, the steam curling under the door like it’s calling me in. Without hesitation, I push it open.

She stands with her back to me, unaware—water cascading over her skin, dark hair plastered to her spine. Her body glows through the mist, all curves and muscle, bare skin slick and glistening under the spray. I stop in the doorway and take a second just to watch. Just to burn the sight of her into my mind.

The curve of her ass. The dip of her waist. The smooth, wet skin of her thighs. The way the droplets race down her back and cling to the swell of her breasts. She’s art and chaos and temptation all at once.

And I need her.

I strip slowly. First my shirt, dragging it over my head and dropping it to the floor. Then my pants, button by button, unhurried.

She finally turns, startled by the sound of fabric hitting tile. Her eyes lock on mine. Her expression wavers—surprise, defiance, heat. That fire in her gaze is the thing that unravels me.

“Get out,” she snaps, water gliding over the curve of her breast. Her voice is sharp, but there’s a tremble under it. “What are you doing in here?” she adds, more breathless now, eyes narrowing as they rake over me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, stepping inside like I own the space, like I own the heat between us.

“You think you can just walk in and take over?” she challenges, backing up an inch.

A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. She’s infuriating—and impossibly hot. The look in her eyes shifts again—still angry but there’s a hunger there too.

I step in, completely naked now, water misting my skin as I close the distance between us.

She backs up instinctively, hitting the wall of the shower, her body still dripping and glistening. She’s trying to shield herself with attitude, but her eyes betray her. She’s looking at me. All of me.

“How long is this going to take?” I ask, voice rough. It’s not a question. It’s a warning.

She lifts her chin. “You don’t control everything.”

My hand reaches out, fingers brushing her hip—wet, smooth, warm—and I swear I feel her tremble.

But then she moves.

Fast.

Before I can react, she pushes me against the wet shower wall, palms flat on my chest. I barely register the impact before she drops to her knees, water trailing down her body in perfect lines.

She looks up at me through her lashes, hair soaked and clinging to her shoulders, lips parted. “You want control?” she whispers against my skin. “Then try to stop me.”

My cock twitches in anticipation, hard and throbbing and so fucking ready for her.

Her hands wrap around me, slow and almost teasing. She strokes me once, twice, watching my reaction with a wicked smirk on her face. Her thumbs tease the tip, rubbing over the sensitive slit, spreading the precum with maddening patience.

Then her lips wrap around me, warm and wet, and I lose my fucking mind.

“Jesus—Calista,” I growl, one hand flying to the wall for balance, the other tangling in her hair.

She hums around me, tongue swirling, taking me deeper inch by inch until the head of my cock hits the back of her throat. Her hands grip my thighs, nails digging in just enough to hurt.

“You’re gonna make me lose it,” I pant, hips jerking forward despite myself.

She pulls back slightly, licking up the underside of my cock, slow and filthy. “Then lose it,” she whispers. “Come in my mouth. I want to taste how bad you need me.”

Fuck.

Her mouth is perfect—tight, warm, relentless. She starts slow, letting me feel every inch of her lips sliding down my cock, her tongue tracing the underside in a slick glide that makes my breath catch. She bobs her head, picking up a rhythm that has my knees threatening to give, water cascading over both of us like we’re drowning in this heat.

I groan, head falling back against the tile, one hand braced on the wall—but the other? It fists in her soaked hair, tight and possessive, pulling just enough to make her moan around me. The sound vibrates through my cock, damn near making me come on the spot.

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