Page 20 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
My pulsing thigh interferes with my ongoing thoughts. Instead, the pain blurs everything all at once as I lean against the wall for support.
“It hurts.” He states. Not asking. “Let me give you painkillers and I’ll drive you home in your car.”
Despite the agonizing pain, I don’t want to bother him. “How will you come back?”
He helps me to reach the stool, I sit down while he presses his hand—not directly on my new ink but close enough. And the heat his hand projects is more healing than any type of pill.
“I’ll figure it out. Ask a friend to give me a ride.”
“I would like that very much. Thank you.” I take a deep breath and exhale it out of my mouth.
We arrive at my not-so-state-of-the-art apartment building. Old, lifeless, and plain from the outside. Inside, I managed to design and turn it into the beautiful little home it is.
My home.
My gaze travels to the ludicrous portrait of his large form filling the majority of the space in my tiny car. Kind of hot I won’t lie. Having him next to me in this urgent proximity after all the things he said to me earlier.
He can topple me to the ground with a short-take of inhale and a delicate blow. I would become a puddle at his feet.
“You good from here?” he asks.
“Yeah. Thanks.” My cheeks start to burn. “Sooo… Friday night.”
He licks his lips as if to taunt me but not quite, “Yes.”
“That is if I show up.”
“You will,” he replies with no hesitation.
I lift one eyebrow. “How are you so sure?”
“First, that’s part of the deal,” he leans to my side, his hand moves from the steering wheel toward my thigh, and my breathing quickens. “Second,” he almost touches me but instead clicks the open button of my safety belt, “that’s where I show you what your body was made for.” He smirks and then bites his lip. “Third,” it’s a hundred degrees in here. “I’m yours to collect and if you ditch me again—I’ll come here, lift your ass so high the resounding spanks will echo through the whole building and I won’t stop till you beg me for more.”
A breath gets caught up in my throat while my heart skips a bit. Or a few. Yet the relentless pounding between my legs has no remorse as it gets frustrating and equally arousing.
Crossing my hands and my legs, “You’re insatiable.”
“You have no idea.” He grins, letting a small laugh permeate the air of the cabin space, “I’ll see you soon, wildflower.”
Dylan
IpacethroughLuka’sapartment after five days of treatment at home. I couldn’t sleep much, thinking about the way he looked at me. The feel of his touch. The caressing sound of his voice. And I did use my toys, needing to finish that night on a high note.
The wide apartment has the coziest vibe I have ever witnessed. The warm wooden furniture complements every corner alongside the scattered plants. Cozy rugs with beige wool and blankets covering pieces of the floor.
I up my gaze to the spiral staircase from my sleepover. The best sleep I’ve had in a long time.
“You spent hours cursing in your head when I inked you.” He halts, causing me to bump straight into the firm wall of muscles that he is. “At some point, it got really loud, I was on the verge of pleasuring you just to ease the pain.”
I almost choke on the water bottle he gave me, managing to wipe my mouth gracefully. But fuck! This man says things that open the faucet between my legs in mere seconds.
“How would you know?”
“Not my first rodeo.” He chaffs.
His thumb wipes a slippery drop on my jaw while his other hand rests on my hip, stabilizing my crumbling façade. “Does the ink still hurt?” Nothing but genuine concern emanates from him.
“The inconvenient burn is over. It only aches for a few minutes occasionally. I wrapped it and applied the ointment you gave me every day.”
