Page 63 of Inflict

It was only when he had stopped to give his hand a break, and then started again on the outline of the second flower, did Evelyn finally move for the first time. Her thighs tightened together suddenly, and the movement damn near caused his needle to slip off course.

“Stop moving,” Connor said, his one hand curving around Evelyn’s thigh to squeeze gently as he brought down the needle again, “or you’ll be the one feckin’ this up, love.”

“Yep.”

He stopped again, the buzzing of his machine quieting as he released the trigger and glanced up. Maybe it was the breathless tone of her agreement that had caught his attention, or even the way her thighs tightened again as her muscles clenched.

Evelyn’s eyes stayed closed, but Connor knew the moment he looked at her face—he didn’t need to see her eyes to know exactly what was going on with her. He’d thought the nervousness she’d shown was because of the pain of the needle, as most people didn’t prefer pain. He’d assumed like most, she would slip into a sort of meditation where the sting stopped hurting, and she focused on something else.

He was wrong on all accounts.

Well, mostly.

It was the pain that had made her nervous, clearly, but not because it would hurt. Rather, her nervousness had come, likely because of how she would react to the pain and be unable to hide it.

Her lax lips, pinked cheeks, and flushed skin screamed at him. And when her eyes finally did open? Blown, full pupils, dilated with pleasure, stared back at him.

She liked it. Not in the way some did, where tattooing and pain walked hand in hand as an almost therapy of sorts. No, Evelyn really liked it. Her expression was damn near euphoric, and Connor couldn’t once bring a memory to mind of a client who looked similar to the way Evelyn did in that moment.

Had he been between her thighs, eating her cunt like a starved man finding water for the first time, and then stared up at her, he had no feckin’ doubt her expression would have been the same.

Beautiful.

High.

Sinful.

Perfect.

Hadn’t she told him the other night in his bed that she’d learned to cope with things like pain by learning to enjoy it? He should have listened more closely.

Connor cleared his throat, setting his machine at his side on top of a clean paper towel as he tried to ignore the throbbing of his growing cock. Evelyn watched him through her lowered lashes, her tongue peeking out to wet her lower lip as her fingernails drummed against the glass.

“You should have told me that’s what it was before we started,” Connor said.

“And how should I phrase it exactly, huh?”

Connor kept his hands on his thighs, determined not to let them reach out and grab her like he wanted to. Her condition to pain was about as interesting to him as his affliction to her enjoyment. He liked that too much, and that was dangerous for him and for her.

“A warning would have been grand, that’s all I’m saying.”

Evelyn’s gaze dropped to his groin, but Connor made zero effort to hide the length of his erection straining against his slacks. “You don’t mind.”

“Doesn’t matter how my cock feels about the situation; it isn’t doing the work on your body, I am. This isn’t a thirty-minute session, lass. It’s an extended piece, which means you’re going to keep moving and twisting like you just were, and I can’t have that when I’m trying to feckin’ focus on my work.”

Most of that was true.

He also would have preferred to know just because.

“I can’t … help it,” Evelyn admitted, her gaze dropping his as her cheeks pinked again.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

Why did the world hate him so much?

Not only did it throw a beautiful woman at his feet for no apparent reason, but Evelyn herself didn’t even have an answer to help him along in figuring her out. And now … now, not only was she testing his patience and worth on a daily basis, she was going to test his will, too.

She was just like him, but in a different way.