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CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Struggle, Succeed, Rewind, Repeat
GRIM - A MONTH LATER
“Shit!” I exclaim, gritting my teeth as Beast presses the needle into my skin, filling in the outline of the rose tattoo with colour. He’s already completed the section on my neck and décolletage, now he’s working on my upper arm. There are two more roses to fill and then it’s done.
“Nearly there,” he says, briefly glancing up at me before focussing back on his artwork.
Two weeks ago we were in this exact same position as he outlined my tattoo, now we’re back to finish it off.
“I think you’re enjoying this,” I grumble, pressing my eyes shut at the bite of pain, whilst waiting for the rush of endorphins to kick in. A lot of people enjoy getting a tattoo, and are addicted to the pain, I can see why.
“Bythisyou mean getting to tattoo the woman I love with my artwork? Of course I’m enjoying it. Biggest buzz of my life so far.”
“Is that so?” I ask as he grins mercilessly.
“Just relax into the pain, I promise that once you embrace it, this whole experience will be a thousand times better.”
“I know what’ll make me feel a thousand times better and it’s not that needle digging into my flesh,” I joke, biting on my lip as a sexy smile spreads across his face.
God, I love this man.
“I guess I could use a break,” he says, resting the tattoo gun on the metal trolley desk next to him.
“Youcould use a break? See, I knew you loved torturing me. I bet you’ve been hard this whole time watching me squirm.”
“Hard as granite,” he admits as I swing my legs over the side of the recliner, and he positions himself between them, his hands sliding up my thighs beneath the skirt of my dress. “Those little whimpers and gasps you’ve been making turn me the fuck on, but you know that already, don’t you?”
“Really, I had no idea?” I hold in a smile.
“Funny.”
“You love seeing me writhe beneath you, don’t you?”
“Fucking love it,” he agrees.
“So, how are you going to make it up to me?” I ask, letting that smile spread across my face as his fingers reach my core and he realises I’m not wearing any knickers.
“Oh fuck, Kate! Are you trying to kill me?” he groans, pressing the palm of his hands against my upper thighs and urging me to widen my legs. Of course I oblige.
“Just a bit everyday. What do the French call it?La petite mort?”
“Little death,” he mutters. “Those French know what they’re talking about because I’m in heaven every time I touch you, let alone come inside of you.”
“Same,” I whisper, pulling up my skirt and revealing my already slick pussy.
His gaze drops to my core as his thumbs gently pull apart my outer lips. “And there’s me thinking you weren’t enjoying getting tattooed. You’re wet, Kate.”
“I wasn’t enjoying it,” I lie.
“Your body tells me otherwise,” he replies, dropping a delicate kiss to my mound as his thumb swirls over my clit. “I will never get tired of tasting you.”
“I’ll never get tired of you tasting me either,” I reply, gasping as he swirls his tongue around my clit then lower to my hole.
“Then we’re both in luck,” he chuckles, sliding his hands over my thighs and around my arse as he pulls me towards the edge of the recliner. “Lean back and put your legs over my shoulder.”
“Shouldn’t we lock the door?” I ask, following his instructions and feeling the sting of my tattoo as I adjust my position.
