Page 119 of No Apologies
Skylar swallowed hard and shook her head. She couldn’t speak, because he was right. Her heart was racing and she could barely catch her breath. It wasn’t just the pain that turned her on. It was Colt.
“All this time.” He muttered more to himself than to her as he settled next to her hip and grabbed his pen, “All this time you were thinking about the dirty things I could do to you in this chair, weren’t you?”
She nodded and he groaned.
“I fuckin’ knew it. I knew it and I couldn’t do a goddamned thing about it.” He swiped the alcohol wipe over her thigh and then tossed it aside, “But now you’re mine and I’m gonna make all your dreams come true, angel.”
As soon as he put the needle to her skin, she whimpered and the bastard chuckled. It had always been a distinctive kind of torture when Colt put a tattoo on her body. Because he was right and it made her wet and achy and always left her wanting. But this? This was a whole new kind of hell because he teased her the entire time.
As the machine hummed and the needle punctured her skin over and over again, Colt talked to her. Crude, lewd and wildly suggestive comments about what he was going to do to her mostly. He told her about how hard she made him and about all the times he’d wanted to slip his hand under her clothes and find out if she was wet for him. And when he did just that, when he slid his free hand up between her legs and ran his finger down the seam of her body they both moaned.
“You’re soaked through.” He growled and his voice was gravel, “Such a naughty angel. You need it so bad.”
“Colt, please.” She whimpered, trying and failing not to shift her hips up for more of his touch.
“Uh uh. Not yet. We’re finishing this damn tattoo.”
Skylar bit her lip and nodded. She didn’t want to finish the tattoo. She wanted him touching her, inside her, now, right this second. She didn’t want him to finish the tattoo because she’d just have to come up with another one for him to put on her skin so they could do this all over again.
And again. And again. And again.
She held her breath as Colt went back to his work. Her head fell back against the chair and she bit her lips to keep from crying out. It felt so good and knowing that he was going to make love to her after only made it better. He kept one possessive hand on her mound, occasionally swiping his finger over her clit just enough to keep her right there on the edge. And he continued to talk to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, how much he’d wanted this and for how long.
“You’ve gotta be still angel.”
“Can’t. I can’t.” She whimpered, only realizing that her hips were shifting again of their own accord when he moved his hand to her hip to hold her still. “Colt, please.”
“God, I love you.”
Warmth suffused her chest at how easily he said it now, “Love you too. I need you baby. Please.”
“You’ve got me.”
He swiped the alcohol wipe over her skin again and she barely felt it. She felt raw and overexposed. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity until it had blended into one long, continuous ache that was pure bliss. And then Colt removed his hands and she shivered at the loss.
“Colt?”
“Look at it.” He ordered, his voice low and gruff, “I’m done. Look at it.”
Her entire body was languid and unresponsive. It took her a moment to collect herself enough to twist her leg around so that she could see his finished work. It was beautiful but she’d known that it would be. It was exactly what he’d drawn her. Lace and roses and chains, softness and strength, but when she pulled her legs further open and looked at the mark on the inside of her thigh where the two sides met, the part of the tattoo that had hurt the most because the skin there was so sensitive, she gasped.
“Oh my God…” Her heart tripped up and tears blurred her vision.
“Shit. You don’t like it.”
“No.” She grabbed Colt when he shifted uncomfortably and she thought he was going to pull away from her, “No, I don’t like it. I love it. It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
And it was. Her vision cleared enough that she could see it again and she stared. He’d marked her skin for real this time. Permanently. Just like she’d told him she wanted him to. Because there, amid the lace garter that he’d designed, was his name.
His name, on her skin, branding her as his.
“Colt, it’s perfect.” She reached for him and drew him up until she could frame his hard face between her hands, “I love it and I love you.”
“You’re mine, Skylar. I love you and I’m never letting you go.”
She smiled softly, “I don’t want you to.”
He kissed her then and the kiss was as gentle and reverent as any kiss they’d ever shared. He showed her with his kiss the same thing he’d showed her time and again in the past weeks. He loved her more than he knew how to say maybe but he showed her with the way he touched her, treated her and looked at her. When he broke the sweet kiss she pouted and he smiled.
