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“Do you do their tattoos?” My head points towards the Dirty Souls emblem on the desk.
“Yeah,” he admits, stepping around the desk, and coming towards me.
“Is that why you didn’t want me to come here, you didn’t want me to know that you know them?” I ask as he gets closer and he shakes his head, his thick lips pouting.
“My dad hates them, says they’re evil. Are they really as bad as everyone says they are?” Nyx nods back at me this time and I notice how his eyes are focusing on my lips like he wants to kiss me, and I just need a little bit more information before I can let that happen.
“You don’t need to keep anything from me, Nyx, nothing's gonna change the way I feel. I’ve told you that.”
He lunges for me and our conversation ends the moment his lips touch mine, he kisses any more questions I have for him out of my head and I don’t even care that he’s using it as a tactic.
His tongue slides between my lips, while his hands force my jeans and panties off my hips. I wriggle out of them until they’re a pile on the floor and Nyx lifts me up by my ass, holding me tight to his waist, while his lips remain pressed on mine. He crushes me between his body and the nearest wall, his hands desperately fumbling between us to loosen his belt and take out his cock. I feel it press against my entrance, and he growls into my neck as he slowly pushes it inside me.
It burns like a hot rod but it’s nowhere near as painful as it was last time, and it doesn’t take me long to adjust to him again.
He pushes in and out of me, attempting slow and soft but I can feel he’s holding back on me.
I grip at his T-shirt, my legs trembling around his waist as he buries his head into my shoulder, and I watch our reflection in the mirror opposite. His tight ass cheeks hang over the top of his jeans as he rolls his hips into mine and I feel something start to climb inside me. Reaching higher and higher, until I can’t contain it. I call out his name as I feel myself tighten around him, my fingers scratching at his skin… and that seems to trigger him.
He stops treating me like glass and slams into me deeper, his hands gripping clumsily at my skin and his fingers digging into my flesh. Sweat trickles from his skin onto mine as he fucks me into the wall so hard, I swear I feel it shaking. A long agonizing groan comes from his throat as he empties inside me. And he holds me still, his shoulders heaving up and down as he keeps my thighs tight around him and steadies his breathing
I can’t tell if it’s my heart thumping so fast against my chest or his, and I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him even closer.
“I’m sorry for coming here,” I whisper. And he pulls his head away and looks at me confused.
“You got nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he tells me with his strong arms clutching around my waist, and his still hard cock rooted deep inside me.
“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” I admit, my words seem to make his whole body tense and he clings to me for ages in silence, his body pressed against mine and his forehead touching the wall over my shoulder. Eventually, his hands slide up from my waist to cradle my face, his body the only thing keeping me pressed into the wall. He looks straight at me, his face serious.
“You’re the closest anyone’s ever got,” he promises, pressing his forehead against mine this time, the bridge of his nose lining up with mine.
“When you’re ready to let me in, I’m here,” I whisper, and I notice how the smile he gives me back doesn’t quite make it to his cheeks. He backs away, pulling out of me, and works on doing up his jeans while I pull mine back on.
“It suits you,” he says gesturing his head to the hoodie I’m wearing.
“Oh, this. It’s real comfortable.” I’m about to take it off and return it but he shakes his head at me
“Keep it. I prefer it on you.” Coming at me from behind he wraps his bulky arms around me. The light kiss he presses just below my ear sending a shiver rippling all over my skin.
“So, this is where you work?” I shrug out of his arms and sit on one of the chairs. “Nyx Anderson, student by day, tattooing bad boy bikers by night.”
“Something like that,” he breathes out, straddling the stool beside me.
“Don’t you need a special license to tattoo people, I thought you’d have to be older,” I shrug, still taking everything in and realizing that my boyfriend is super fuckin’ cool. If that's what he even is. We haven’t really had that discussion yet. Maybe we should?
“The club kinda make up their own rules, no one argues ‘em.” Nyx laughs to himself.
“Just don’t tell Abby about this for Christ’s sake, last thing I need is for everyone to know. The club prefers to keep things private,” he says, suddenly sounding serious.
“Pinkie promise.” I giggle, holding out my little finger for him. He narrows his eyes and stares at it like he doesn't understand.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never made a pinkie promise with anyone before.” I laugh even louder, and Nyx looks back at me blankly.I show him, using my other hand to lift his, and wrapping my little finger around his.
“I pinkie promise that I won’t tell a single soul, that you’re a badass tattooist,” I vow.
“And what happens if you break it?” he flicks his chin at me, creasing an eyebrow curiously.
“Oh Nyx, no one ever breaks a pinkie promise. It’s the secret eleventh commandment.”
