Page 80 of Bound By Ink

I rest on my elbows, staring at him as he traces every swirl with his tongue before his heated gaze reaches mine.

“This is the best tattoo I’ve ever done. It’s the only one I’ve given selfishly. It’s the only one that’s purely for me.” I moan as his breath flutters over my damp skin. His gruff voice, a timbre that lights everything inside me. Those blue eyes of his meet mine. There’s a flicker of something in them that I can’t decipher, but I slide one hand down to his cheek.

“I’m glad you did it. If I… I don’t…” I sigh, because what else do I say? That I went in to get another man’s name tattooed on me, a man I thought I loved, a man who manipulated, used and gaslit me, a man who didn’t deserve me, a man who kidnapped me, threatened to rape me, and offered me to his friends. I shake my head, expelling thoughts of Derren from my mind. He doesn’t get to ruin this for me. It was always Killian. It always has been, and it always will be.

“I’m glad you chose it for me.” I smile down at him.

His eyes sparkle as his fingers absently roam across the tattoo.

“You’re mine now.”

“I always have been.” His smile widens, and he reaches over, grabbing my dick. I grunt and flop onto my back, my hips buck into his hand as he lifts my cock. He nuzzles his nose under my balls, inhaling deeply, and my legs instantly sag.

“Fuck, I love the smell of you.” My body is boneless as he licks at my taint. I groan and spread myself wider as his hand gently slides up and down my throbbing dick. I feel the trail of saliva slide down my ass cheeks as he licks under my balls. I groan and thrust into his hand. He grips my thigh, pushing it back and opening me up to him as he pushes his face between my cheeks. He spears my ass with his tongue.

I whimper, every cell tingling with need as I try to get my hips into the right position, my body screaming for his attention. He presses around with his tongue before his finger hovers over my asshole. I groan and chase the pressure, and he chuckles, the ripple flooding through my balls. I groan and try to drop my hips on his finger.

“More,” I gasp.

“I know what you need, Nerd.” The flutter of his breath skates over my skin, like electrical pulses, prickling against my taint.

“I want more.” I gasp as his finger pushes painfully slow inside me. “Killian. Please.”

“Fuck, Nerd. I don’t think I could deny you anything.” He kneels up, his solid dick in his hand, staring down at me, lying bare for him.

“Killian,” I whisper, and he presses the head of his dick against me. My whole body relaxes as he presses harder. I mutter out his name, and he closes his eyes as he pushes further. The burning dissipates as his hips nestle against my balls. The heat in his gaze changes, turning to something hotter, something more than lust. His hands roam up my body, and my arms wrap around him. His lips meet mine, his tongue slides inside my mouth as his hips retreat painfully slowly, grinding inside me at a snail’s pace.

The difference in the feelings is immense; what’s left is overwhelming. Everything so much more intense than when we burst through the door, ripping our clothes off. This feels more significant. I stare into those bright blue eyes, and he mouths, “I love you.”

His hips never falter, and I realise we’re making love. Everything is heightened; my soul binds itself to his. My heart beats for him and him alone, and I hand my body over to him. My mind and everything I have is now his. We rock against each other—hands roaming, lips meeting, tongues tangling as we make love into the early hours, our bodies are bound. To think this started by being bound byink. The tattoo meant to carry another’s name. Now I’m tethered to him with everything I am. Everything he is.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Killian

Chapter 45

I stand in the corridor, and the smell of the warehouse permeates the air. The noise is a rumble that fills the entire space. This is going to be a tough fight. He’s a brawler, an aggressive one at that, but I’ve been keeping tabs on him. I know I can take him. It’s just not gonna be easy. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths as I wait for my name to be called. I try not to let the fact that Scott will be here, watching, cloud my focus.

I hear the crowd roar as my opponent’s name is called first, “Kong”. I shake my head. Heavy rock music fills the space as the crowd goes wild. Strobe lights flicker through the warehouse as he makes his way to the cage.

When he reaches the mat, the lights go bright, and he throws his hands in the air, yelling and beating his chest like a fucking gorilla. The guy’s big. Older than me by a year or two. His body is soft, but he looks strong. That kind of strength you get from life, not from the gym. I stare out from the darkness as he roars, as he prances around the ring. I smirk. At this rate, he’ll have no energy left by the time I get into the cage.

It’s gonna be a hard fight. Dude has hands like pan shovels. His size will make it hard to evade him. I’m fast, though. And while I do train in the gym, it’s not one of these fancy gyms; it’s grimy, back alley, dive bar kinda grimy, but I love it. It made me the man I am today.

The noise from the crowd fades. They call my name. The crowd loses it, significantly more excitement than for my opponent. Whooping and hollering, whistles ring out around the space. I flick my hood up, tilt my head down, and stroll out of the darkness. The crowd erupts, feet stomping, clapping and cheering, but I keep my gaze trained on the base of the cage. People tap my shoulders as I pass through until I reach the edge. I climb the few steps. When I reach the top, I enter the cage, ripping my top over my head and tossing it out of the cage.

My skin is slick with sweat. The heat in here is humid. We step to the middle. The ref gives us his spiel, but I don’t take my eyes off my opponent. He winks at me, blowing a kiss, but I stare stoically. I’m not into gimmicks; my fights speak for themselves. I’m seriously not to be fucked with. We bump fists and step to the edge. I glance down to the roped-off section, quickly tossing Scott a wink before I turn to meet my opponent’s stare, and the bell rings.

He flies at me. Swinging and snarling, trying to dominate straight off the bat. I step to the side. He clips my shoulder. And I bounce in the opposite direction. He spins and kicks, meeting fresh air. I bob and weave as he powers towards me, crashing into me and throwing me to the floor. He wraps his thick arms around me, but he’s relying on his strength and his density. I encircle my legs around him, grappling. I tangle my arms around his neck,gripping tighter, and I throw my fist into his ribs. In the temple. I grip him aggressively; he’s pushing and growling as he tries to buck me off him.

I give him a few kicks to the kidneys and another punch to the temple before rolling out from under him. I bounce up and out of the way. He brings one leg up, kneeling, and exhaling rapidly. His gaze flicks to mine as he stands. A snarl spreads across his face. Kong lunges forward, swinging at me, and I meet him in the middle. I slam my fists into his soft abdomen. He grunts and jabs at me. I take the hits.

Snatching at the back of his head, I bring my knee up, catching him in the ribs. He yells out in frustration as he pushes me off him, flinging a stray fist out, catching me in the face. A sharp pain floods my cheek, but not enough to knock me off my stride. We exchange a few blows before the bell rings, and we separate. I head back to the edge as Jerry takes out my gum shield and gives me a drink.

“Dude’s a wild card. Watch yourself, the way he swings, some of them are gonna catch.”

I just nod. It’s not my first rodeo. Undisciplined fighters, more street-style fighters, aren’t an issue in respect of style. It’s their unpredictability that can lose you the fight. We stand, and the bell rings.