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It’salittleafterseven when I finish with my last client of the day, and while I clean my station, I listen to Crew trying to work his new online planner, all but beating it to get it to work. With a tattoo gun, he’s incredible, but when it comes to other forms of technology, he’s absolutely hopeless.
“I can hear you laughing back there,” he calls over his shoulder, forcing a smile across his face as his client walks out the door, leaving us alone in the shop to finish closing up for the night.
“Me? No,” I laugh. “I would never.”
He groans and quickly switches the loud music off, probably just as eager to get out of here for the night as I am. It’s a Friday night, and as a general rule, we usually don’t get out on a Friday or Saturday night until after ten or eleven. Hell, I don’t even know what to do with myself.
Crew turns off the lights at the front of the shop, leaving just enough light from the back for me to finish up what I’m doing, and as he waits for me, he strides to my chair, perching his fine ass on the edge. He’s silent for a while, watching me as I sanitize my station, and when I cut in front of him, his hand snakes out, gripping my wrist.
I pause, my gaze lifting to his as his thumb brushes along the inside of my wrist. His other hand lifts, bracing against my waist, and my knees tremble as the tension in the room becomes almost too much to bear.
His dark eyes linger on mine before slowly trailing down my body and to my arm—the arm he’s been working on for the past six months. “When are we going to finish your sleeve, Ky?” he asks, his tone so deep that I know that’s not really what he’s asking me. Not even close. He wants to know when we’re going to stop tiptoeing around each other. When we’re finally going to give in and admit that we’d be great together.
“Crew,” I warn, shaking my head as I gently pull my wrist free, only his other hand tightens on my waist and holds me close. “Don’t force this.”
“I’m not forcing anything,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my shoulder and slowly trailing down, making goosebumps spread across my body. His gaze lingers on his touch as though he can’t wait to devour me. “I know where you draw the line, but fuck, Ky, sometimes I wish I could destroy it and bend you over this fucking chair.”
He pulls me in closer, and I step right in between his open legs, hunger pulsing through my body at the thought of just how well this man could fuck me. God, he would have me falling to pieces, ruining me for any other man.
I brace one knee on the chair, high between his strong thighs, and lean forward, breathing him in. God, he’s fucking delicious. His hand shifts from my waist, trailing around to my ass and firmly squeezing, not even close to easing the need pounding through me.
My gaze shifts down, taking in the tatts dancing down the thick column of his neck and disappearing beneath his shirt. They appear again at his defined arms, snaking all the way down to his fingers. I put half of them there. Hell, Crew let me use his body as practice when I first started, and he’s part of the reason I’m so good at what I do. Without him, I don’t know where I’d be.
Feeling that devious stare lingering on my face, I force my gaze to trail back up to his, and the burning desire I find there only makes me want him more. “This is a bad idea,” I murmur.
Crew shakes his head, gripping both of my hips and lifting me onto his lap, lowering me down so I straddle him, feeling just how hungry he is for me. “Ain’t nothing bad about this, baby,” he rumbles, pulling me in until my lips brush over his.
I groan, wanting this so damn bad, and before I can convince myself otherwise, I close the gap and give in to my every desire. My lips fuse with his, and I feel the second his body relaxes as though he’s been waiting for this very moment for way too long. He kisses me back, his lips moving effortlessly against mine, and damn it, it feels so right.
He doesn’t wait, reaching for my tank and pulling it over my head, and I let him, not willing to hold back. We’ve been here before, many times, and it usually ends with nothing more than his cock slamming into the back of my throat or his face between my legs, working my cunt until I come on his tongue. But something feels different about this one.
I’m not down to stop, not tonight. If we’re doing this, then he’s going to give me exactly what I want.
The second my shirt falls to the ground, he reaches around me, unhooking my bra and letting the straps fall down my arms. I toss it aside and Crew works his lips down my body, stopping at my neck and making me groan.
I tilt my head, needing so much more, and the way his tongue works over my sensitive skin has that need growing stronger. Desperation claws at me, and as if reading that hunger, Crew grasps my ass, lifts me off the chair, and as he walks us over to my table, his lips close over my nipple.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, tipping my head back.
He sets me on the table, and with my hands free, I bunch my fingers into his shirt, pulling it over his head and putting that delicious torso on display. He’s so fucking strong, built as though he were carved from stone. I need to feel him against me.
My heart races, and my body shakes with nerves that shouldn’t be there, but it’s Crew. This means something. We’ve both wanted this for so long, I just hope we can figure out where to go from here because I can’t afford to ruin this relationship between us. Apart from being the guy I’ve fantasized about every night when I slide my hand under my blankets, he’s also one of my closest friends.
“Stop thinking so much,” he growls, his hands back on my waist.
Fuck. He’s right.
I need to enjoy this. I need to be here in the moment, feeling every inch of him.
I shake the thoughts from my head and drop my hands down his body, quickly working his belt before popping the button on his jeans. As his tongue flicks over my nipple, I cry out. “Oh God, Crew,” I groan, arching my back and pressing harder against him. “I need more.”
“I got you, baby,” he tells me, his deep, raspy tone making my eyes roll in the back of my head, hunger pulsing through me like never before.
Reaching inside his pants, my fingers curl around his thick, velvety cock, and his low groan sends me into a needy frenzy, but it’s nothing compared to the sound that rumbles through his chest when my small fist starts pumping up and down.
“Fuck, Ky. Just like that.”
My head tips back, as he releases my nipple and settles his lips against the base of my throat, slowly working up to the sensitive spot just below my ear. My other arm scoops around his neck, and I dig my fingers into his shoulder.
