Page 35 of You Found Me in the Dark
Her laugh. Her fingers fidgeted with her sleeves when she got nervous. The way her voice got quiet when she was being vulnerable. The way she kissed me like she meant it.
“I’d kiss you until you forgot every reason you ever doubted me.”
I meant every word. And I’d say them again.
I got up, stretched, and wandered into the kitchen. Dax was already gone. He probably headed to the shop early. That meant I could think without him hovering like a nosy older brother.
Coffee first. Sanity later.
While the machine hummed, I stared at the empty counter, arms braced on either side of the sink, and let myself admit the one thing I hadn’t said aloud.
This wasn’t just a crush. It wasn’t some protective big-brother-instinct-turned-soft-romcom storyline. I wanted her. Not to save her. Not to fix her. Just… to love her.
God. That sounded dramatic as fuck. But texting last night? That was the closest I’d ever felt to being seen. And if Wren wanted me the way I wanted her… Then fuck yes, there was gonna be a next time. And this time, I was going to guarantee that we had no goddamn interruptions.
Jesus Christ. Just thinking about her and about the shit I wanted to do to her made my dick twitch in my pajama pants like it was begging for her already. Fuck it. What she doesn’t know won’t kill her.
I slammed my freshly brewed coffee down and headed straight to the bathroom. Cranked the shower up until it was nearly scalding. I removed my clothes, stepped in, and let the water slam into me like punishment. My neck ached, my back was tight, and my dick? Hard and throbbing.
The water was hot, but it wasn’t hot enough to burn her out of my head.
Wren.
That goddamn storm in a hoodie. Smart mouth, soft eyes, the kind of hips a man dreams about grabbing onto while he wrecks her from behind. And those hazel eyes? They undressed me every time she looked up through her lashes. That text she sent about her being on her knees was so fucking hot and unexpected.
I braced a hand against the marble tile, water dripping down my face, my breath already shallow as my hand wrapped around my thick, aching cock.
I started slow. I stroked just enough to feel the tension coil tighter. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way her breath hitched when I touched her. Her fingers were twisting in my shirt while we kissed, pulling me closer like she didn’t want to let go. That fucking look she gave me in the kitchen like she wanted it—desperate, filthy, ready to be ruined right there on the counter. I thought about how she would’ve tasted if I ate her pussy right then and there. I imagined Wren on her knees in front of me, licking the precum that was now leaking out of the head of my dick.
I picked up the pace, fast and brutal now, fucking my fist like it was her. Imagining how tight her pussy would squeeze me when she was about to come. How loud she’d moan when she realized she was milking my cock with her tight pussy. I thought about the noises she would make, and she felt me fill her up.
“Fuuucckkk,” I groaned, voice rough, hips jerking into my hand. She was in my blood. My head. My goddamn bones.
My balls tightened. My jaw clenched. My hand pushed on the tile, keeping me upright as I fucked into my hand, panting as if I was inside of her. I pictured her legs wrapped around my waistand her ankles crossed behind my lower back, pulling me in deeper. The way those pretty gasps in my ear would sound as I made her take every inch of my girthy nine-inch cock.
I stroked harder, ran my thumb over the sensitive tip, and that was it. I came so hard I saw fucking stars.
“Wren,” I growled through clenched teeth, breath shaking as I spilled over my hand and down the drain.
I stayed there, forehead against the tile, chest heaving like I’d just gone twelve rounds.
Fuck.
After a minute, I cleaned the sin off my skin, rinsed the heat from my chest, and stepped out into the fogged-up room. Towel slung low on my hips, I caught my reflection in the mirror—hair wet, eyes dark, jaw tight.
No amount of steam or self-control was cooling this down. Not when I could still feel the ghost of her hands on me. Not when her name was still echoing in my head like a prayer I didn’t deserve to say out loud.
And the way things were going? I had a feeling she wanted me just as bad.
I hated knowing I wasn’t going to be able to see her for the next few days because of work. It is only Tuesday, and my next few days are packed. We are one of the only tattoo shops in Sawyers Cove, and I had fourteen years of experience behind me, so people always came to me.
My style was traditional, I was confident in realism, and could manage smaller designs as well. Dax was my tattoo apprenticeship master or mentor, since that’s a mouthful. After everything with my family fell apart, I fell into tattooing and loved it. I practiced on anything I could get my hands on, different fruit, fake skin Ibought online, and even on myself. I ended up covering those really shitty tattoos up later on.
Eventually, the town’s tattoo shop, Black Pine Ink, put up an apprentice wanted poster, and I applied. When I showed Dax my work, he signed me on immediately. It took me a year and a half to finish my apprenticeship and another two years to have steady clients so I could quit my night job at the diner. Dax is like an older brother to me, and Black Pine Ink quickly became my second home. Eventually, we became roommates too.
Vesper Rowe is the shop’s piercer. She has a small room at the front of the shop where she works on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Dax hired her three years ago as soon as she turned 18. She was a kid who was down on her luck, and he mentored her and helped her turn her life around. Even though she keeps to herself and is quiet, we were like a family here.
The shop doesn’t look like much from the outside. It’s all dark wood siding, green trim, and a weathered sign with the words Black Pine Ink painted across it. Simple. The kind of place you could walk past without even noticing, which was probably exactly how Dax wanted it.
