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“So what then?”
“Will you just come over here?” I ask, sitting down and swinging my legs over either side of the recliner, tapping the space between my legs. “Hop on up?” I frame it as a question rather than a demand, needing her to be okay with this. I know I’ve pushed her to her limits and fucked things up, but I won’t force her to do anything she’s uncomfortable with.
She stares at me for a while, clearly debating whether she should do as I ask. Eventually she nods her head and climbs up on the recliner so that she’s kneeling between my legs.
“It would be more comfortable for you if you scoot your bum closer and drop your legs over my thighs. I don’t want you getting dead legs from kneeling.”
“Are you suggesting I wank you off, Beast?” she blurts out, her cheeks heating as she drops her gaze from my face to my crotch.
I burst out laughing, and she shifts to move off the recliner. “No, shit. Of course not!” I exclaim, grabbing her hips to prevent her from leaving. “I just want you to be comfortable as it’s gonna take a while for me to do this.”
“What are we doing exactly?” she asks, allowing me to help her shift positions so that she’s facing me with her legs dangling over my thighs, our crotches inches apart. She has to grip my knees to steady herself whilst I pull off my t-shirt and grab the tattoo gun, dipping it into some black ink. My pulse does something funny to my heart and I have to swallow hard at the way it rams against my rib cage, just like my dick is pressing against the seam of my jeans.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble here.
“Put your hand on my chest. Right over my heart, Princess,” I say, ignoring the way her neck and cheeks pink up. She’s as attracted to me as I am to her, there’s never been any doubt about that. My chest swells with possession and it takes a great deal of concentration not to act on that right here and now.
“What?”
“You heard me. Just do it,” I say gruffly to cover up my fucking nerves. Right now I feel every inch a man out of his depth. I’m not usually like this with women. I take the lead, I’m confident, sure of myself. But Kate makes me nervous. She frowns, but does what I ask. I’m pretty sure she can feel the steady thrum of my heart beating beneath her palm, given how much I can feel it pound in my chest from her touch.
“Like this?” she asks, staring at her hand pressing against my chest. My dick springs to life, painfully so.
“Spread your fingers,” I instruct, switching on the gun as I try to keep my hand fucking steady. “I’m going to tattoo around them, so hold still, okay?”
“Why?”
Pressing the needle into my skin just beside the point where the bottom of her thumb meets her wrist, I say, “Because I don’t want to tattoo your fingers by mistake.”
“No, I mean why do you want a tattoo of my hand over your heart?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” I ask, hissing a little as the needle makes its first mark. I welcome it, the slight sting helps to distract me from the growing ache in my balls.
“I’m going to need you to spell this out to me because you’ve got a really bad habit of switching up on me,” she retorts, as I slowly trace the outline of her thumb. It’s not exactly easy to do given our positions, but then again nothing about the pair of us is easy, so it’s kind of perfect. “Beast?” she prompts.
I can feel the heat of her gaze, but I don’t look up mainly because I don’t want to make a mistake, but also because I’m shitting a brick right now. “This isn’t easy for me...”
“You’renervous—?”
“I am.” I stop what I’m doing and nod, meeting her warm gaze. Her eyes are like two pools of dark chocolate and the way she’s looking at me right now makes my dick try and make the great escape out of my jeans.
“It’s just me,” she whispers, the softness of her voice sending all kinds of electrical currents to my balls, making me weep precum.
“Fuck, Kate,” I say, unable to control the need in my voice. When she’s like this, soft and true, I’m a goner. Don’t get me wrong, I adore her sass and whip-sharp tongue, but this, the rarity of her softer side does things to me that I can’t describe. I simultaneously want to protect her from the world and stand by her side whilst she rules it.
“Beast?” She tips her head to the side, shifting slightly. Her thighs pressing down on mine, her scent filling my senses. I’m fucking punch-drunk on her right now as my nostrils flare and I breathe her in.
“You’re notjustanyone,” I say, finding it hard to explain how I feel. At a loss for words, I place the needle back against my skin and trace the side of her thumb.
“Yeah, I know, I’m your boss’s daughter.” The regret in her voice pulls me up sharp.
“No! You’re so much more than that, Princess.Kate…” I add, wanting her to know that I see her for who she is, not the persona her father has encouraged her to be, or the box I put her into to suit my needs.
She falls silent and instead of being a man and growing some big arse balls I fall silent too. For the next half an hour I trace the outline of her hand with the tattoo gun, loving the feel of her warmth seeping into my chest and her soft breaths across my skin. This is what wet dreams are made of.
Eventually I finish, and drop the tattoo gun on the metal table beside us. Kate shifts backwards slightly, lifting her hand, but I’m not ready for her to go just yet, so I grab her wrist, holding her palm in place.
“No. Let me say this with your hand pressed against my chest so you can feel my heart beating beneath it and understand that I’m not fucking with you.”
