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Nico grins, giving me another wink. “It’s gonna give you a rush,” he promises. “Here we go.”
Then the needle finally bites into me… and it fuckinghurts. The pain is like a thousand bees stinging me, all at once without letting up.
I suck in a sharp breath, and something deliciously dark flares to life in Dante’s eyes.
“Looks so fucking good on you,” he says in a throaty whisper.
I have no idea if he’s referring to the bold red lines Nico is inking into my skin, or to what the pain is doing to me, but I get my answer when he slides the hand he’s been resting on my thigh up between my legs and rubs his thumb over my clit through my pants.
Both. He definitely likes both.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe out, spreading my legs for him a little as the pain starts to get even more intense.
Nico’s totally focused on the tattoo, his back toward Dante as his hands move with steady determination over my skin, but there’s no way he can miss the way my breath quickens or the tiny droplets of sweat beading up on my skin as I force myself to stay still through the addicting onslaught of pleasure and pain the two men are subjecting me to.
I’ve got no idea if he knows what Dante’s doing to me or if he thinks those are just my reactions to the needle, but I also don’t have it in me to care. Not when Dante’s obviously bound and determined to wreck me.
“You’re taking that ink so fucking well, princess,” he says, his wicked fingers a counterpoint to the steady thrum of pain. “My mark’s gonna be on your body forever.”
“Yes. god,yes,” I pant, then bite my tongue before I go any further even though the effort of working so hard to stay quiet when he’s doing all he can to make me scream for him is almost more than I can stand.
Nico smirks. “Gonna do this center section for you now. It’s a solid block of color there, so you’re definitely gonna feel this next bit.”
“She already feels it,” Dante says in a low rumble, grinding down on my clit. “She feels it, and she fucking likes it. Ain’t that right, princess?”
“Bastard,” I whisper, fisting my hands until my nails dig into my palms as the pain twists around the pleasure he’s got rising inside me, merging them together until I can’t tell where one stops and the other begins.
Dante chuckles, low and dirty. “Love you too, beautiful.”
“Shit,” I gasp. I’m still not used to justhearingit like that, and the words push me over the edge, threatening to fuck up my tattoo as the orgasm rolls through me.
Dante smirks, but I can’t even be mad. I can’t be anything for a few minutes as the aftershocks shudder through me.
Thankfully, Nico pulls the tattoo gun away from my skin for a second, and I decide not to think about the fact that he obviously knows damn well how Dante was distracting me from the pain. Actually, when Dante rolls his stool forward and not-so-subtly nudges Nico to the side to lean down and kiss me, I don’t bother thinking of anything at all, so high on endorphins that I barely feel the final few passes of the tattoo gun when Nico snorts and shoves Dante out of the way again to finish it up.
Once Nico gives me some care instructions and steps away, I look up at Dante. “What do you think?” I ask, feathering my fingers over the deep red ink visible through the clear wrap Nico covered my new tattoo with.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Dante says, his eyes locked onto mine.
“Thanks, brother,” Nico says dryly. “Glad you appreciate my work.”
Dante laughs. “Okay, yeah. The ink looks good too. Your work is stellar, Nico, as per always.”
“Damn fucking right it is,” Nico says, clapping Dante on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you two up front, yeah?”
“It really does look good, princess,” Dante says more softly once Nico leaves us alone. He pulls me upright, then unwinds my shirt from around my breasts and shakes it out before easing it back over my head and brushing his fingers over the new ink. “I ain’t seen anything yet that doesn’t look good on you and doubt I ever will, but nothing is hotter than seeing this kind of proof.”
“Proof of what?”
He stares at me, a slow, sinful smile spreading across his mouth. “You know what.”
My breath hitches, and yeah, I do. But I lift my chin anyway, my heart beating in a deliciously quick counterpoint to the way the swooping lines of the new tattoo throb on the other side of my chest.
“Tell me.”
He pulls me in, tipping my head back even farther for a searing, possessive kiss. Then, while I’m still reeling from that, he finally answers my question. “I’m fucking in love with you, and seeing you permanently decorate yourself with something I made, choosing my marks, my art, to go on your body like this? That’s all the proof I need to know you’re really mine.”
The art may be abstract, but clearly, Dante understands exactly what getting this tattoo means to me.
