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“I’ve wanted this tattoo since I was twelve,” she said.
Twelve? Just how much of a secret badass was this girl? “You wanted a tattoo when you were twelve? Shouldn’t you have been . . . playing with dolls or something at that age?”
A shoulder rose in a negligent half shrug. “I did that, too, but my Barbies were bank robbers who drove fast cars.”
He snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Didn’t you want a tattoo when you were twelve?”
“Maybe of Super Mario or Michelangelo.”
“The painter?”
“The turtle.”
She grinned at him, and then stood on her toes, peering around curiously as if he’d brought her to Disneyland. “I’d bitch about this being an expensive and wildly inappropriate date, but I want this tattoo too much to object. You’re so getting laid after this.”
“I would have gotten laid sooner if we didn’t have this appointment.”
She squeezed his hand hard and looked up at him with undisguised lust. “You do realize this is the best date I’ve ever been on, even before the sex.”
He sighed as though she were pushing her luck. “You expect me to put out, too?”
“What?” she asked innocently. “You didn’t expect to get out of fucking me just because you’re spending money on me and let me drive your car, did you?”
Get out of it? She’d be lucky if he didn’t drag her down a deserted hotel hallway after this.
Chapter 7
The sound of Loke’s deep laughter still rang in Addison’s ears as Fox led her down the deserted hallway toward the room number on the key, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care that he knew what she and Fox were about to do.
Fox had bossed her through the whole tattoo, making her stay still while Loke’s machine had sewn the ink into her skin. She’d twitched once and the large men had turned it into an opportunity to offer to hold her down.
But it was Fox’s constant attention that had her so damn horny she could barely walk. He hadn’t done anything sexy to her during the tattoo, but between what had happened before they got here and the fact that he was pure, unadulterated hot, she was a complete mess. Her shoulder blade burned and her mind swam with giddy euphoria.
“Why was Loke laughing at me when we left?”
“He was laughing at me,” Fox grumbled. “He suggested that maybe I needed them to hold you down while I fucked you too.”
“So what’s the problem?” she asked innocently. “You like tying me up. Having them hold me down wouldn’t be that different.”
“Don’t even go there, little girl.”
She smiled up at him and he arched a brow.
“You were moaning like you were getting off on it.”
Getting off on it? Well, maybe a bit, but he didn’t need to know that. “I was not!” Had she been? She didn’t remember any porn star vocal sequences, so he had to be teasing her. Either that or he’d been horny and misreading every sound she made. “Quit fucking with me.”
“You sounded like you were going to come. Every guy in the shop wants to stick his dick in you now.”
“They do not. Not for real.” The alternative was too intimidating to consider. She liked excitement, but she had limits. Three men at once—let alone large, mean-looking men—weren’t her idea of a fun time. She didn’t even want to contemplate it.
Fox was walking so fast she was practically jogging to keep up. He whirled on her, then crowded her backward until the wall stopped her from going farther, narrowly missing both her shoulder blade and one of the wall sconces in the richly wallpapered hallway. The hint of sexual aggression in his eyes was even more lovely than the decor.
“Listening to you moan like that . . .” He made a sound of exasperation. “You had me keyed up before we even left my place, then you just had to make the whole thing sound . . . orgasmic. Next time you get a tattoo I’m gagging you.”
“Oh, and having me moan and drool around a gag is going to turn you off—or them?” The other guys had discussed all of the possible sexual positions involving four men and one woman while Loke had been working on her. It had been an enlightening and somewhat terrifying discussion, to say the least.
