Read Online Dedicated Ink by Ranae Rose - Free Book Online

his shirt over his head and she smoothed her hands over his torso in broad strokes, her nails dragging here and there, making his skin pebble. Unable to resist any longer, he reached around her slender body and unhooked her bra clasp.
    The flimsy satin slipped away, the straps sliding down her colorfully-inked arms like ribbons. Her breasts were round and full, swollen in a way his imagination hadn’t done justice. A darker pink than he remembered, her nipples stood erect, demanding his attention and making his mouth water.
    Her hands were so small compared to his; he’d noticed that the first time he’d met her. They looked smaller than ever as she cupped her own breasts, lifting and squeezing a little, almost killing him with the sight. Her fingertips dented the curves of flesh and her nipples peeked from between them as she breathed a sigh, touching herself in a way that could only be described as a massage, and eventually drew in a sharp breath.
    “Do they hurt?” he asked, clued in by the little dent that appeared in her lower lip.
    “They ache.”
    “Let me do that.” Carefully, he slid his hands beneath her breasts, displacing hers and letting the full weight of the twin swells fill his palms. They were heavier than he’d realized; her overworked bra had provided more support than he would’ve guessed. He relished the burden, cupping and rubbing, letting her hot flesh warm his hands.
    She moaned and her nipples brushed his fingertips, irresistibly stiff. Lowering his head, he captured one between his lips, ran his tongue over the tip and sucked it lightly, cautious of her reaction.
    She gasped, then pressed a hand to the back of his head, pulling him tighter against her chest.
    His response was instinctual; he sucked harder, drawing her sweet flesh deep into his mouth and placing a hand against the small of her back, holding her close.
    One of her hands wandered to his thigh, and she squeezed him there, her nails biting softly through the denim. Each ragged breath she drew made his dick a little harder, until it hurt not to be inside her.
    Releasing her nipple, he paused to tease the other one with tongue and lips before devoting his attention to her panties, which he tugged down over her hips and legs.
    Her pussy was swollen, pink, wet. She was bare there, as she had been the time before; only ink decorated her skin, trailing down her ribs and snaking around her hips in stylized flourishes that reminded him of vines. They directed the eye toward the flushed triangle of smooth, unmarked skin between her hip bones.
    He rubbed his fingertips across the bud of her clit, eliciting a sigh from her, then touched her below, where he slowly pushed two fingers into her perfect heat and pressure, breathing a sigh of his own.
    She widened her thighs, sending him sliding deeper, until her knees were precariously near the edge of the couch cushion. “Here,” he said, withdrawing his hand from between her thighs and gripping her gently by her hips, guiding her until she climbed over his lap, straddling him.
    In that position, she was completely open to him, her legs resting on the outsides of his. He pulled down the waistband of his underwear, tugging his jeans lower too, so his cock was free to meet her slick flesh.
    The head bumped her clit, then slid higher, gliding against her smooth skin. He grasped himself by the base of his shaft and guided it back to the swollen nub again, rocking his hips a little.
    Her thighs trembled against his as she gripped his shoulders, anchoring herself to him with a grip so firm he’d probably have little bruises there the next day. Taking that as encouragement, he continued to massage her clit with the head of his dick, teased by the wetness that was dampening his erection, courtesy of her pussy.
    When she rocked her hips too, grinding against his shaft, pleasure tightened the muscles in the small of his back, pooling at the base of his spine. The feel – and sight – of her rocking