Page 29 of Four Tattoos

I manage to keep hold of her legs, but otherwise, all I see is black, my entire world narrowed to the spot where my cock is sinking into her over and over. She’s screaming my name, and though I don’t say a word, her name echoes in my brain and in every cell of my body.

Rose.Fuck, why does it have to be this good with her?

21

ROSE

“That was unexpected.”

Zipper always has me a little off balance, and never more so than tonight. He met me at the door with his usual scowl, and I could’ve more easily imagined him telling me to leave than pulling me in for a kiss. But kiss me is what he did, and that kiss escalated very quickly.

My god, that was good. And I have to wonder if the frustrating mystery of him and his thorny personality made it all the better.

To say it was intense would be an understatement.

He collapsed onto me when he finished, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a different side to him, one I think he very intentionally keeps hidden. But he rolled off of me and his mask is back on now. He’s letting me cuddle with him, though—yes, cuddle—and a couple of his fingers are strumming over my belly, making me think about a second round.

I trace over the jagged abstract art that curves around his shoulder, thinking not for the first time how well these harsh lines suit him. If he were an animal, he’d be a porcupine, and these designs warn the world to keep their distance.

“I can’t quite figure you out.”

In my post-sex haze, I don’t even realize I said this aloud until he says, “We’re very different.”

My head cradled on his arm, I stare at his face, but he continues to look straight up at the ceiling. “You never say much, and sometimes I think you don’t even like me.”

“Sorry,” is all he says, as he keeps the same lazy rhythm with his fingers.

Maybe it’s just sex for him. It’s probably just sex for all of them, of course, and men don’t even have to like a woman to stick their dick inside her. The thought makes my throat hurt, and it’s probably just another side effect of sex that has my emotions getting involved.

He keeps touching me, and the way he’s touching me makes me feel like he likes me, but the look in his eyes doesn’t match his actions.

Maybe I’m being an idiot. I probably shouldn’t even be here. One wild night was one thing, but now I’m being passed around among the men like I’m their toy.

But I like it, so maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as we’re all having a good time, what’s the harm?

A knock on the door startles me from my thoughts. “You done fucking? It’s time to eat.” It’s Mace’s muffled voice, and he doesn’t sound happy.

“Are the others going to be mad?” I whisper.

Zipper grunts and slides his arm out from beneath me, supporting my head with his hand as he does. “I don’t care if they are.”

“I do. I don’t want to come between the four of you.”

The already-hard angles of his face seem to turn even more solid, and I worry that I’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe I already am coming between them?

He doesn’t respond as he reaches for my panties where he’d flung them on the edge of the bed. Again, he kneels before me, this time putting my underwear back on, and doing it with much more care than he took removing them. Once they’re in place, he smooths his hands down over my legs, and adjusts the bottom of my dress after he helps me stand.

In a move that surprises me almost as much as the sex we just had, he takes my hand in his and leads me out of his room and to the bathroom. When I’m done inside, he’s out in the hall waiting for me, and together we go out to the dining room. I brace myself for looks or comments, or maybe even an argument between the men, but for the most part, everyone acts normal.

Hutch aims a teasing, “Glad you could join us,” at Zipper, and then we all sit down to eat.

“Hope you like barbecue,” Christian says as he starts passing containers filled with shredded pork, macaroni and cheese, green beans, and hushpuppies to me.

“Not sure someone could live here on Four Points and not like barbecue,” I say. “Thank you for dinner. This all looks wonderful.”

“We’ll cook for you again when we have more time,” Hutch says, setting a big glass of sweet tea in front of me.

“You spoil me.” So distracted by both my worries and the food, I didn’t even notice that someone had set the potted plant I brought in the center of the dining table.

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