Page 109 of Bad Wolf

“My dad has ones that mean something, ya know. Like his aren’t a fashion statement—they’re badges of honor, Scott’s too but…” he shrugs again.

“I love it. I can’t imagine being in a tattoo artist’s chair for that long though. This one hurt like a bitch.”

“This little itty-bitty thing?” He teases, tickling my neck making me squirm.

“Yes!” I squeal.

“Will you tell me about it.”

“The tattoo?”

“Yes, and more about your time in Miami.”

I take his hands in mine and draw him around me into an even tighter hold. My head falls back against his shoulder and I give him a quick peck when I turn my face into his neck.

“We’d moved out of the motel and managed to secure a short-term lease on a place, but my God, was it awful. I’d been working at the club for a month, and just couldn’t shake the loss of you. I could hardly breathe. Eat. Sleep. Somehow I kept it together at work, but the rest of the time,” I sigh, “I was so lonely without you.”

His hold on me tightens further still. Like he’s trying to meld us together, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I walked past this dinky tattoo parlor and peeked inside. A woman beckoned me in. It was cool inside, a welcome break from the relentless heat, but it didn’t feel cold or stark and it was spotless. I mean, it gleamed.”

My mind instantly takes me back to that little shop. Designs lined the walls, and the place was painted purple.

Heather was covered in tattoos. Elaborate pieces coming together like patchwork. An artist in her own right, her skin her canvas.

“She didn’t pressure me or show me any designs. Didn’t talk me into having any ink. Just asked about my day, about me, and before I knew it, I was telling her the whole sorry story.”

I pause to look up at him. Take in his handsome face. The days-old scruff lining his jaw. His kissable lips. My hand snakes upward and sifts through his dirty blond hair that’s beginning to curl in the steam.

He’s gorgeous.

“I never told her your name or what sport you played, but it turns out she’s the only one I ever ended up confiding in. She made me a coffee when the next client didn’t show and continued to listen, and when I’d finished, she pulled me in for a hug. She’d been doodling, which is weird seeing as that’s how you ended up with yours,”

He nods.

“Anyway, she had drawn loads of Ace of Hearts sketches. They were tiny, but they called to me. I sat down in that chair and just went for it.”

He presses his pillowy lips to it again. Like he just can’t help himself. Then he unwraps himself from me and with a little shimmy and a leg shift, he’s spun me to face him.

“I love that you carried me with you. That you loved me enough to brand yourself with a reminder of what we had.”

“Knox,” I gulp, lifting my hands to cup his face. “You aren’t just branded on my skin for the world to see. You’re branded across my heart. Imprinted on my soul.”

His eyes bore into mine. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stares. And then he surges forward, his wet hands are in my hair and his lips are taking mine in a hungry claiming kiss.

He lifts onto his knees, the move forcing me further up the bath to the other end, water sloshing over the side and cascading down onto the tiled floor.

He doesn’t seem to care about the flood though. He just tangles his tongue with mine, never letting up, never stopping. Searching my mouth, bruising my lips, swallowing my gasps and moans.

His hands leave my head and grasp at my thighs roughly. Too eager, too desperate. Lifting us both out of the water, my ass suspended, he hooks the backs of my knees over each side.

He stretches out his right arm, opening a drawer with the tips of his fingers, and then frantically rummages around for what I’m guessing is a condom. His hand retreats clutching two gold packets, and then hurriedly rips at the foil with his teeth, sheathing himself in the blink of an eye.

In less than a second, he’s positioned at my entrance, and in a lust filled snap of his hips, he’s filling me with his enormous cock in one forceful thrust.

I gasp his name at the intrusion. Stretching and molding around his impressive dick while I throw my arms around his neck. Anchoring myself to him. Holding on for dear life as he tunnels into me over and over. Driving me into the hard porcelain with every thrust.

“You’re mine and I’m yours,” he says through ragged breaths. “We belong together. Say it.”

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