Page 112 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
Dorrian stopped tattooing. “This isn’t going to work. She has to stay still if you want this to turn out good.”
Gedeon stood up, and the glistening fingers he held in the air summoned me. I lunged, grabbing his wrist and sucking, twirling my tongue between the two digits. The taste of her on him was so addictive I could live off it.
I licked my lips to collect every last drop. “Delicious,” I mumbled hoarsely, my vocal cords half-refusing to work, as frozen as the unreadable expression on his face.
Dorrian cleared his throat. “Ahm, can I continue?”
Gedeon extended a hand to her. “Come.”
“But he hasn’t finished the tattoo,” she objected, fixing her dress. If it was my choice, she would have been naked from the second the door had closed. It also would have meant Dorrian would be lying on the floor right now, glassy-eyed, instead of inking her. Or simply kicked out into the hall, if Gedeon had anything to say about it.
“Stand. Up,” he ordered.
She peeked at me before rising and hugging herself with one arm, keeping the right outstretched, avoiding an accidental look at her mostly done tattoo.
Gedeon turned her armrest-free chair around, so the left side faced the small table, and pointed to the seat. “Sit.”
Did I situate myself there immediately? Yes. Yes, I did.
“You are going to ride Zion while Dorrian finishes the tattoo,” he told her.
“I am not,” she scoffed, her face flushing a brighter shade of pink.
“You will not remain still if you do not have one of us getting you off. I want to claim you out in the hall, in front of everyone. So be a good girl, take Zion’s cock out and sit on it, and Dorrian can complete your tattoo.”
I leaned back and spread my arms. “I’m all yours.” My cock, my blood, my sanity.
Hesitantly, she unbuckled my leather belt and tugged my zipper down. My hips bucked at the feel of her only an increment of an inch from me. But then she curled her fingers around my length, stroking me up and down, twisting and squeezing at the tip, and I clutched the edges of the seat as a jumble of grunts left my mouth.
“Now,” Gedeon growled.
She straddled my legs, and I gathered the fabric covering her up, revealing her arousal glinting along her pussy, so perfectly ready. She positioned me at her entrance, and I gritted my teeth at her juices coating my tip.
Her nails dug into my shoulder and her gaze met mine right as a feeble whimper fled her, it all speaking volumes. She wasn’t going to resist anymore. Or play pretend. She was going to take what she wanted, whether she said it aloud or not.
The pure desire reflected in her eyes unraveled me. I thrust upward, seeking to connect us.
Her gasp was so intoxicating it froze me, and I slowly relaxed in my seat. I could survive one more second in wait for her. Because with the ink adorning her skin, she wasn’t escaping anywhere.
Clutching both of my shoulders, she paused with the first inch inside her. “How does it feel, pretty boy?”
“Not enough.” I yanked her down, and my hips collided with her upper thighs as I plunged inside her deeply. I lost my breath.
She yelped, clenching repeatedly as she adjusted to the sudden stretch.
I pressed my forehead to hers. “You’re so godsdamn tight.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re tiny,” she teased, and squealed when I pinched the soft flesh above her hipbones.
“Such a dirty birdie.”
She contracted around me. “Not pretty anymore?”
“Fuck,” I ground out as she moved her hips, and she snickered.
Gedeon jerked his chin to Dorrian. “You can continue.”
“Can you put your arm back on the table?” he asked.
